“It’s like the Disneyland Castle with minarets instead of the European turrets.” Her eyes were wide as she stared ahead through the vehicle’s windscreen.
He’d never heard such an enthusiastic description of the palace but conceded the Turastan Palace was like something out of a fairy-tale.
“The majority of Turastan brides have been Europeans over the last few centuries. The main section of this palace was built nearly two hundred years ago for a Bavarian bride, and added to significantly during that time. Each addition kept the original theme.”
“I’ve seen pictures of it, but it’s more incredible in reality.”
Guards saluted as their vehicle entered through the magnificent golden gates.
“Welcome, Sabihah.” An unusual mix of pride and pleasure stirred within his chest as he welcomed her. Strange. He’d never felt like this when he’d brought any of his friends from university home for the holidays.
On deeper analysis, he realised that he was also pleased and proud to introduce Sabihah as his fiancée to those within his family home. It was a misplaced sentiment because she hadn’t been his choice of wife. Yet, curiously, that pride was there.
“So, what next, Khalid?” Her question jolted him out of his disturbing acknowledgements.
“You’ll be shown to your rooms where you can rest for a few hours. Then we’ll meet with my father and he’ll inform us of the plans he’s made.”
“I think I can feel the fatigue setting in. I’ll probably be seriously jetlagged for a few days, so it’ll be good to rest. I guess you’ll welcome some time to sleep, too? You didn’t sleep much on the plane.”
“I won’t be resting. There will be things I need to attend to.” Seeing Inaya and explaining the situation to her was at the top of his list.
***
Four hours later, a servant led Sabrina through the magnificent palace to an elaborately ornate reception room to meet with King Hassan.
Sabrina was feeling so much better after a rest. The part of her that wasn’t dreading the political role she’d have to play was actually fascinated by her visit to Turastan.
Her suite was sumptuous with every conceivable modern convenience but presented in a way that still held some old-world charm. She’d given in to the maid’s insistence that she enjoy the decadent sunken bath and be massaged with exotic oils while she awaited an audience with the king. The warm bath water had been a relaxing treat, and she’d been so exhausted by that stage, she’d fallen asleep on the massage table.
Yet despite all of that relaxation, Sabrina had been tightly wound the second she’d been awakened to ready herself for her meeting with the king. A quick phone call home to Helen had been stressful. The older woman had been full of misgivings and expressed her worry for Sabrina’s safety. Had Sabrina told Helen about her plans for a temporary marriage to Prince Khalid, the poor lady would have most likely suffered a stroke.
“Princess Sabihah. Welcome.” King Hassan entered through enormous doors on her left. “I trust your accommodation is to your liking?”
“Everything’s beautiful and very comfortable, thank you.” A quick glance beyond the king told her that Khalid was not following his father into the reception room.
“Khalid will join us later.”
She noted censure in the king’s words. “He’s been detained?”
The king avoided her eye contact. “My son is at another meeting.”
No prize for guessing where he had gone and who he was with.
Inaya.
Sabrina’s chest tightened.
He’d told Sabrina he intended to meet with the woman he desired as his bride as soon as he returned to his home country. She wondered how Inaya was reacting to his explanation of his forthcoming marriage. If Sabrina had been in Inaya’s shoes, it would traumatise her beyond belief to think of Khalid marrying another woman even if the marriage was only on paper. But she wasn’t Inaya—the woman he loved. Sabrina was the other woman—the woman who was coming between the crown prince and his fiancée. She had no right to feel the envy that gripped her when she thought of Khalid and Inaya together. She’d had no right to enjoy Khalid’s kisses, to want more from him.
He’d had no right to kiss her.
Was he holding Inaya in his arms right now … making love to her?
“Sit down, Princess Sabihah,” the king invited, indicating the lounges strewn with brightly coloured cushions. “We will have some refreshments.”
She slammed the door shut on her thoughts and did as the king bade. Now she needed to get answers to the crucial political situation she found herself in. That had to be her sole focus.
“King Hassan, I’m anxious to know how things will proceed. When will Mustaf relinquish his rule of Rhajia? In fact, how is that going to come about?”
The king smiled sadly as he sat opposite her. “Unrest among the country’s generals has been growing for years but there’s been no alternative other than your cousin, Hamil. Both Mustaf and his son are said to be sadistic to the point where some feel they teeter on the edge of insanity.” A servant entered the room holding a silver tray with a slender teapot. Sabrina knew a pang of nostalgia as she looked at the Arab-style pot with its elongated spout. Her mother had loved the aromatic, spiced tea that was a favourite in this region.
“The generals will support your ascension to the throne,” the king was saying. “You will be embraced. Mustaf will be ousted.”
As his words registered, she stared at him in disbelief. “Aren’t these the same generals who supported Mustaf’s rise to power and the assassination of my parents?”
“No!” The king held up a hand. With a pointed look at the servant, he waited until the tea had been poured and the servant left before speaking again. “Although I have never had enough proof to bring Mustaf to trial, what happened to your parents was all his doing. I know he had mercenaries on his payroll that did his bidding and I’m convinced they carried out the assassination. Your father was revered for all the progress he made in Rhajia and for his fair rule. The Rhajian generals are loyal to the throne, so with your father dead and you presumed dead, Mustaf was the next in line. It’s only for that reason your uncle was able to rule. You’ll be acknowledged and supported as the rightful ruler and I’m determined to find proof to bring Mustaf to justice for the crimes he’s perpetrated against your countrymen—even if I can never find enough proof to put him on trial for the murder of your parents.”
There was no doubting the king’s sincerity.
Sabrina picked up the delicate teacup and took a sip of the hot brew. “How are the Rhajian military going to oust Mustaf? Will innocent people be harmed in the process?”
“That’s possible but highly unlikely. You are scheduled to meet with the council tomorrow. Once the members of council are convinced of your identity, they’ll acknowledge your right to rule Rhajia. Word will be sent immediately to some of the older Rhajian generals. Mustaf will be seized within the Rhajian palace when he’s least expecting it.”
“Just how do you plan to convince them?”
The king smiled as he reached for his tea. “You look like your mother. You’ve been living with Helen St. George all these years, and if I’m not mistaken that’s your mother’s pendant you wear around your neck.”
Sabrina’s fingers flew to the necklace.
“The national flower of Rhajia,” the king stated. “It’ll bear the mark of the Royal jeweller who created it for your mother on the occasion of her first wedding anniversary to your father. It was one of a kind.”
Sabrina turned the pendant over and saw the familiar marking. The pendant had become a part of her—the one tangible link she had to her parents. She’d never removed it, but she’d never known its history. Her voice was very quiet as she said, “My father gave it to me the last day I saw him.” Through the tears that stung her eyes, she saw that King Hassan was also emotional. “Will this be enough proof?” She forced the words out to break the moment.
&
nbsp; “There’s always DNA, however I doubt Mustaf will consent to providing any as it will prove without a doubt that he’s related to you. However his reluctance will be proof enough given your appearance and the necklace.”
She shook her head. The proof of her identity seemed to rest on circumstantial evidence. “It’s said that all of us have a physical double.”
They were interrupted again by a servant. This time the servant carried plates of food and the aromas made Sabrina’s stomach rumble.
“Oh!” she exclaimed as she recognised the dishes of baked dates and falafel with tahini. “Your chef must be psychic. These are my favourite foods and I haven’t eaten them since I was away at university.” Without waiting to be served, Sabrina reached forward and took a baked date. She almost moaned in pleasure as the treat tantalised her tastebuds.
The king beamed. “If I’d had any doubt of your identity, it would be gone. The little Princess Sabihah I knew used to eat baked dates and falafel until her stomach ached!”
Sabrina grimaced and shifted on her seat in embarrassment. She had been a little chubby as a child. Her parents had always lectured her on eating in moderation, even while they’d indulged her in the delicacies of the region.
As the servant bowed his leave, the king grew serious. “Things will proceed quickly through political channels, but it may be necessary for the military to intervene if Mustaf refuses to step down.”
“I can’t see Mustaf giving in easily.” Although she was trying to resist, her eyes strayed to the falafel.
“No.” King Hassan picked up a pair of serving tongs and placed the food on her plate. Her mouth watered. “But your return will be embraced by your people. Uniting our two countries through your marriage in two days’ time will be a source of celebration for both nations.”
The food was forgotten as Sabrina sat bolt upright. “Married in two days? That’s impossible. It’s way too soon.”
King Hassan merely gave her a benevolent smile and took another sip of his tea. “The announcement has been made. Preparations are underway and will be completed in time.”
“But—”
“The Australian government has agreed to renew Helen St. George’s passport urgently. You would like her to be present at the wedding ceremonies?”
“Of course, but—”
“I will have an aide contact her and make the arrangements immediately.”
Whoa. Panic pricked across her chest, up her neck and all the way to her forehead. “Wouldn’t it be better to wait until Mustaf is deposed before the marriage goes ahead?”
He sat forward and there was a small chink of china as he replaced the teacup onto his saucer. “Your marriage to my son will illustrate to all that I believe in your identity and that we’re honouring the arrangement made with your father.”
“But there’s no point in getting married if, for some reason, Mustaf cannot be removed from his ruling position.”
The king gave her a sharp look. “Don’t worry, Mustaf will be deposed.”
Two days. The timeframe was alarming.
It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? A quick marriage, a divorce as soon as possible and a speedy exit back home to Australia knowing the Rhajian people would no longer suffer under Mustaf’s rule. It was what she’d insisted on. Now it was all happening, she wondered at the wisdom of her plans.
“Does Khalid know about this?” she asked a little breathlessly.
“I have not yet had a chance to speak with Khalid about the time frame of your marriage ceremony.” In that moment, he reminded her of Khalid. He sat back casually, looking supremely confident that all would proceed according to his plan.
Sabrina wasn’t sure he’d be so relaxed when he told his son. Khalid was bound to deliver a heated protest.
Khalid had probably been in so much of a hurry to be reunited with Inaya that he’d left before his father had a chance to warn him of the marriage plans. She raised a hand to her left temple which started to thump as she was overcome by a feeling of powerlessness. She was trapped in a situation of her own making and uncertainty rode roughshod through her.
“Tomorrow, after the council meeting, you will accompany Khalid to a local hospital where he will open a new ward. It’ll be the opportunity for you to appear in public and in an official role prior to your wedding. I assure you security will remain tight.”
He may have organised bodyguards and the military to protect her from enemy bullets, but King Hassan seemed blithely unaware he’d fired a couple of deadly bullets himself and how they were tearing through her attempts at composure.
Two days. The words ricocheted again.
“It was a long flight. I’d like to return to my rooms and rest now, King Hassan.” I’d like to return to my rooms and never resurface.
“Of course.” He stood and offered her his hand. “We’ll talk again this evening, and if there is anything at all you need, you merely have to ask one of your maids.”
She took her leave of him.
Alongside her official escort, she placed one foot in front of the other on the rich rugs of the long, opulent corridor heading towards her suite in something of a trance.
“Sabihah.” Khalid’s voice jolted her from her dazed state.
Her eyes flew to his face. She was like an addict needing another fix of him as she drank in the now familiar features.
He issued an order for the escort to leave them.
“You’ve been with Inaya.”
Oh my God. She’d greeted him with words that sounded like the accusation of a jealous woman. Which, she told herself firmly, she wasn’t.
“Yes,” he confirmed, giving her a curious look.
“I … I,” she stuttered as she felt heat burning her cheeks. “Khalid, your father has just told me we’re to marry in two days.”
He took her by the elbow and marched her a short way down the corridor and through a door into what looked to be a private study. She had no time to fully appreciate the beautiful wooden bookcases that lined one of the walls. Once the door was closed behind them, he turned to her, his face all hard planes. “I would have thought you’d be happy to marry so quickly, Sabihah,” he said, his eyes burning into hers. “Marriage is what you wanted. What you demanded.”
It was true and now he was going to hate her for it. Hate her for forcing him into a marriage he didn’t want and for stopping him being with the woman he loved. She didn’t want him to hate her. She wanted him to understand, but did she even really understand herself why she’d forced the marriage idea upon him?
She groaned. “I’m sorry. I should never have insisted. It was the only thing I could think of. It seemed the only way out.”
But it hadn’t been her only option.
She could have refused to come. She could have tried to outmanoeuvre Mustaf—created a new identity for herself, abdicated, disappeared from his radar so those around her weren’t in jeopardy.
She looked down at the plush red rug on the floor, concentrating on tracing the intricate patterns woven into it. Once she’d secretly yearned to be married to this powerful alpha-male. He was the guy she’d had the most enormous crush on as she’d surfed the internet for his images. The young man she’d watched through the window. The one she’d wished had been her intended rather than his brother, Hazim.
Surely she didn’t still feel that way?
No. That was then. This was now.
Besides, it wasn’t to be a real marriage. What she had proposed was on paper only.
Short-term.
Steeling herself to face him again, she wished she hadn’t. He looked thunderous. “You cannot back out now,” he declared. “The announcements have been made.”
Her head pulled back. “You knew!” He could have warned her. “I … How did Inaya take the news?” Heat scorched along her cheeks and burned at the very tips of her earlobes.
“What difference does it make to you?” His tone was full of disdain.
“Khalid, please, you hav
e to believe I never meant Inaya any harm.”
“You weren’t thinking of anyone else but yourself when you made your proposal.”
“I was,” she denied hotly. “I was thinking of the safety of my students, of Helen, and the future of the Rhajian people.” But as soon as the words were out she knew the proposal she’d made affected Inaya and him in the worst possible way. She bit her lip and hung her head once more. “I wasn’t thinking of you or Inaya. I’m sorry for that,” she added in a small, contrite voice. “Would it help if I went to speak with her? To explain?”
“No.” The single syllable was as savage as the crack of a whip.
She took a step away from the heat scorching her from his eyes and found she’d backed up against the desk. “But it would probably help if I reassured her the marriage will be temporary and that I don’t have any designs on you.”
He moved a step closer. “But that wouldn’t be true, would it?”
She felt her eyes widen as they met the shrewdness of his. Her breathing stalled.
“Stop lying to yourself and to me, Sabihah. You want this marriage and you want me.”
Sabrina swallowed hard to try to lubricate the dryness in her throat. “Khalid, that’s not true. It—”
Dear Lord. How could she deny it? He knew the effect he had on her. Knew she’d gone up in flames when he’d kissed her.
“It’s just as well you feel the passion thrumming between us because I feel it too.” Reaching out, he traced the outline of her lips with the tip of his index finger. “We’ll marry as you intended, but it will not be a paper marriage.”
Fighting the urge to close her eyes and tilt her head to offer him full access to her mouth, she pulled to one side instead to break the contact. “Khalid, stop. You don’t really mean that. You love Inaya.”
He gave a harsh laugh. “My feelings for Inaya don’t matter. There’ll be no marriage with Inaya now.”
“No!” Her voice was stricken. What had she done? Kept apart a couple who should be together? She placed her hand on his forearm. “She’s upset now, but she’ll calm down. She’ll want to wait for you.” If he truly loved a woman, she knew he’d be worth waiting for.
The Defiant Princess Page 12
