The Defiant Princess

by Alyssa J. Montgomery

She felt her jaw slacken. It took her a few moments and a couple of mental replays to comprehend his words. Khalid’s admission was an amazing revelation. He’d enjoyed a never-ending stream of beautiful women on his arm and, if the reports were to be believed, in his bed. Surely if he could have come between her and Hazim marrying, what he felt must be something more than purely physical. Relief, and something more than relief—something she couldn’t identify or name—flooded through her. It may have been hope. It might have been elation. But, whatever it was, it was fleeting because exasperation soon took hold. “You’re telling me you want me but you don’t love me.”

  He nodded. “Don’t underestimate the power of desire, Sabihah. What I feel for you is intense.” He leaned back on his arms.

  “So, you’ve never been in love?”

  After a lengthy silence, he got to his feet. “Once, I thought I was in love …”

  “Dr Namir?” As painful as it would be, she had to know.

  “No. It was when I was at university in the UK. I was mistaken. It was a long time ago and not something I care to discuss.” He reached out his hand to her.

  “What happened?” She accepted the hand he offered and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

  “No. No more questions. The subject is closed. Content yourself to know that you are my wife and I desire you. From this day, there will be no other woman in my bed.”

  This was too important to her to brush over and she was far from content to simply accept a relationship based on monogamy. “Just because you don’t believe in romantic love, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” she persisted “What if you do fall in love one day?”

  “I won’t.” He dropped her hand, turned and began to stride away from her toward the tent.

  “I’ve craved love all my life, Khalid.” She scrambled after him. Even more revealing than the physical nakedness she’d exposed to him already that evening, she was about to bare herself emotionally to him in a way that made her much more vulnerable, and she needed to make him listen. “Do you really want to trap me in a loveless marriage?” She reached out and caught his arm to get him to stop and give her his full attention. “Do you think that’s what I deserve?”

  He came to a stop and shot her an irritated look. “What I think is that you will be happy with the passion that’s between us and the work we can do together to make our two countries strong and our people content. I think you’ll come to understand that my duty to my country demanded I do whatever it took to get you to come here with me. In time you’ll realise you can both trust and respect me.”

  She twisted her lips as she removed her hand from his arm. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  “Come, Sabihah.” His tone warned her that he would brook no further discussion on the topic of love. “You’ll be sore tomorrow if you don’t come now and bathe with me.” He didn’t wait for her response as turned toward the tent again.

  The reference to their shared intimacy heated her blood and addled her mind.

  She took a few steps toward the tent with him as she tried to come to terms with all he said. He desired her but didn’t love her. He had no intention of divorcing her but that didn’t mean she was powerless. It didn’t mean that she’d stay in a marriage she didn’t want.

  But what are my options?

  She couldn’t divorce Khalid and deny him the throne of Turastan. If she simply separated from him, she could return to her unmarried life in Australia—but suddenly that held no appeal

  She regarded Khalid closely. By his own admission he desired and cared for her. He’d said it would’ve been hard for him to watch her marry Hazim.

  Khalid may not believe in love, but what if she could turn his passion for her into love?

  He was hell-bent on making this marriage permanent. If he was serious about forsaking all other lovers, would marriage to him be such a bad thing? Apart from the attraction between them, when he spoke about her being his wife, about belonging with him, she knew a sense of satisfaction. Since her parents’ death she’d never truly belonged with anyone. Looking deep into her own soul, casting aside the resentment that she’d been railroaded into her current circumstance, she had to admit that being with Khalid felt right. At this moment she felt more complete than ever before. It was a start.

  “The thought of working alongside you to help Rhajia holds more appeal now than it did when I thought about the prospect from my living room in Australia. Now that I’m back here, I do feel a sense of belonging, of homecoming.”

  His steps slowed, then he came to a complete halt. Again, he offered her his hand. She looked at it for a moment then decided to take a gamble. “We’re married for now,” she told him.

  “Then come, my wife.”

  She placed her hand in his, amazed at how right it felt despite everything he’d just revealed to her. “As far as I’m concerned, this is temporary,” she warned. “There has to be a loophole somewhere we can find and exploit.” She didn’t want him to think she was a pushover, and she certainly didn’t want him to guess that a small part of her was hoping she could succeed in making him feel more than lust for her.

  “We’ll see.” The two words challenged her and he was all autocratic desert prince as he led her toward the tent. She didn’t want to think or to argue anymore. Life was short. Tonight, she was in a fantasy location with the man she’d dreamt about for years. The man who’d initiated her into lovemaking in the most incredible way. Tonight, she would dwell on the fact that Khalid was her husband and he desired her. She would forget that he didn’t love her.

  Tomorrow, in the harsh light of day and surrounded by the inhospitable desert, reality would return and she’d deal with it then.

  The ringing of Khalid’s mobile broke into her thoughts.

  With a sound of irritation he reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew the phone. He looked at the number, let go of her hand and said, “I have to take this.”

  He might be annoyed at the interruption, but if this had been a real marriage based on love, his phone would’ve been switched off. She was unaccountably riled that he could be so focused upon her one minute and answering his phone the next.

  Khalid’s expression gave no clue as to the nature of the call, nor did his short, sharp responses.

  Just who the hell dared phone him on his wedding night and why hadn’t he told them where to go? So much for looking after her comfort.

  Her ears strained, hoping to make out the voice at the other end. Surely he wasn’t accepting a call from another woman when he’d just vowed she’d be the only one sharing his bed?

  The call ended fairly quickly. Khalid turned toward her but there was no contrition on his face.

  “The man who tried to kill you in Australia has implicated your uncle in your attempted assassination. The Arab Council are about to place Mustaf under arrest.”

  Chapter Ten

  “That’s fantastic news!” Sabrina could hardly contain her delight.

  “It will be when I know he’s actually behind bars.” Khalid slipped the phone back into his pocket. “The Council wishes to arrange your coronation ceremony as soon as possible.”

  Sabrina’s joy dulled as she faced the enormity of her responsibility. “So they believed me?”

  “You’re the image of your mother and the pendant you wear has been verified by the royal jeweller as having been made especially for her. You’ve been living with your former nanny all these years and gave a DNA sample to prove your relationship to the Rhajian royal family. The facts are all there. The Council does not need Helen to testify.”

  “So, what happens now?”

  Khalid took one step to close the distance between them, swept her up into his arms and kissed her passionately. “Now, we enjoy the remainder of our wedding night.”

  “Oh.”

  “I promised to bathe you,” he told her as his long strides carried them the remaining distance to the tent. “You need to know that I keep my promises.”

  Insi
de her head, questions about Rhajia clamoured to be answered. They could not compete with the awareness of Khalid’s strength, of the sensation of his hot, bare flesh against her cheek, or with the sensual promise in his eyes. Having still not recovered her breath from his kiss, each inhalation was short and shallow. Her pulse sprinted toward an uncertain finish line.

  Once inside the tent Khalid placed her on her feet and stood close behind her, his arms around her waist. “Welcome to the bridal tent,” he said huskily.

  “It’s magnificent,” she exclaimed as she surveyed the richness of drapes, wall tapestries, rugs and cushions. “Just like something from an Arabian Nights film set.”

  But more magnificent was the man behind her. The faint prick of stubble from his jaw against the softness of her temple was another reminder of his masculinity. Automatically, she leant back against his hard body as his lips trailed along her cheek. Heat suffused through her as she felt the firmness of his erection pressing into her back.

  He dropped his arms and caught her hand, leading her to a draped-off section of the tent. Sabrina followed willingly. Tonight, she would follow wherever he led her. Tomorrow … She let the thought hang, refusing to go there.

  Khalid’s seduction of her began all over again. He undressed her slowly, kissing the flesh he exposed and worshipping her with his hands and his eyes. She fell deeper under his spell, his sensual mastery overloading her senses.

  “Now, my bride, your bath awaits you.”

  The warm, scented water of the deep bath was pure heaven when she stepped into it.

  “You’re not joining me?” The tub was certainly big enough for two.

  “My pleasure will be in bathing you,” he promised.

  Her disappointment in bathing alone was short-lived. Khalid’s ministrations with the soap and sponge, especially the gentleness he employed when he reached the tender area between her thighs, transported her to another dimension. It was hard to credit that this dominant alpha-male could be so sensitive and generous in his attention to her.

  Each of his strokes was sweet torture, building her need of him until she could stand it no longer. She cried out in frustration and didn’t try to hide the aching desire for him that she was sure must be mirrored in her eyes. She reached for his shoulders and drew his head down to kiss him. “Make love to me again.”

  “You’ll be too sore,” he rasped against her mouth.

  “No.” She traced his full lower lip boldly with her tongue tip.

  A deep throaty sound signalled the snap of his control. He raised her wet body from the tub and carried her out to the large bed. Disregarding the fact that she was dripping wet, he lowered her to the mattress.

  Sabrina was lost. He made exquisite love to her with his mouth until she writhed and bucked beneath him as she reached her climax. And, when he would have pulled away, she demanded more. Insisted that he join his powerful body with hers, rejoiced in the size of him as he stretched her newly-discovered flesh. Frantically, she rocked her hips rhythmically with his until they reached their peak together and cried out in unison.

  ***

  Some time close to dawn, with Sabihah snuggled in close to him, her head pillowed against his chest, Khalid felt strangely replete. Sharing a bed in sleep wasn’t something he’d done previously. He’d never tolerated the after-sex closeness that his former lovers seemed to crave, yet having Sabihah cradled against him seemed natural. Watching her sleep, he felt an intimacy he’d never experienced.

  He ran his fingers over her smooth forehead then along the silkiness of her fair hair, marvelling again at the sheer perfection of her features, the luminescence of her complexion. He couldn’t allow himself to wake her—she would be exhausted. Despite the indications that her sexual appetite was just as healthy as his, he would be a beast to possess her again when her previously untried flesh must be sore and sensitive.

  He’d already made love to her more often than he’d intended because of her urgings. He hadn’t expected his virgin bride to be so incredibly responsive or so willing to learn. Apart from her initial shyness, she’d lost her inhibitions and demanded full access to his body, to know him completely and to learn what pleased him most.

  And by God, she had pleased him.

  She’d wanted to know everything at once but despite being a willing and proficient student in his lessons of lovemaking, he wanted to take things slowly. He would enjoy initiating her into new pleasures over time. They had the rest of their lives to share.

  Without conscious thought, he exhaled a deep breath of satisfaction. Some part of his brain cautioned him to pull away from her, but he ignored the warning.

  Sabihah was his wife. He didn’t need to keep her at arm’s length. And this incredible peace he felt in having her sleep in his arms was because his future was settled.

  Unlike past lovers, this woman would share common goals with him in spheres other than the bedroom. Once Mustaf was arrested, Khalid would have achieved the goals his father set for him. There would be no threat to Turastan’s water supply, Lalita would not have to marry Mustaf’s son and Sabihah would assume the throne of Rhajia. Khalid and Sabihah would work together to unite their two countries and ensure peace and stability. That he and his bride were sexually compatible was a bonus. There wasn’t anything more to this deep feeling of fulfilment. There couldn’t be. He had vowed he would never lose his heart again.

  ***

  Sabrina woke to the touch of Khalid’s fingers against her cheek and the sounds of a flurry of activity outside the tent.

  “Good morning.” Khalid’s voice was as rich as the scent of the freshly brewed coffee he offered her, and every bit as desirable.

  “Hi.” She scrambled upright, hoping she didn’t look a mess. She registered the heaviness of her limbs as she moved, the slight ache and tenderness of muscles she hadn’t realised she possessed. Heat pervaded her body as she replayed Khalid’s lovemaking in her mind.

  “Would you like coffee?”

  His question rammed home the fact that this man, her husband, knew her body more intimately than any other, but didn’t know whether she drank coffee in the morning.

  “Thanks.” She avoided his eyes but was all too aware of the brush of his fingers against hers as she accepted the cup. Her body was so in-tune with his, so alert to his presence.

  “Our plans have changed. We leave today for Rhajia.”

  She nodded, understanding why the honeymoon would have to be cut short even though part of her yearned to spend more time alone with Khalid. Rhajia was the priority.

  “The border is only an hour’s drive from here. We’ll travel by car to the capital. It’ll be good for you to pass through some of the towns en route.”

  “Mustaf is safely behind bars?”

  Khalid’s teeth clamped together. “He fled the palace before the Arab Council guard could arrest him.”

  Sabrina’s fingers tightened around the handle of her coffee cup. “He was tipped off?”

  “Evidently.” Khalid stood up from the bed, his annoyance revealed in the grim set of his mouth.

  “And have you learned who it was that told Mustaf about my existence?”

  “No.”

  Placing her cup down, Sabrina chewed her lower lip with her upper teeth. “That isn’t reassuring.”

  “We have every available person working on both the capture of Mustaf and tracking the source of the leak,” Khalid told her. Although he sounded confident on the surface, she picked up on his frustration. “In the meantime our security team will assure your safety.”

  “Wouldn’t it be safer to fly to the capital rather than travel by road?” Fear squeezed at her heart. Her parents had been assassinated on that road.

  Khalid sat next to her again and framed her face in his hands. “I swear on my life, I will ensure your safety, Sabihah.”

  She didn’t doubt the sincerity of his words, nor did she understand him. He didn’t love her, yet he was willing to lay down his life for her.
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br />   He brushed a kiss over her lips. “While you have been sleeping, I have reviewed the plans for our journey with our head of security. I can’t guarantee that one of Mustaf’s extremists won’t make an attempt to harm us, but I’m certain we’ll both be safe.”

  With the strength of Khalid’s vow it was easier to conquer her fear than she would have expected.

  She placed her hands over his. “I’ve understood the danger since I was fired at in my living room. I know Mustaf has to be stopped and Rhajia needs a ruler.”

  His lips claimed hers and she found herself leaning into his kiss, responding hungrily, wanting to prolong it and deepen it. All too quickly, Khalid pulled away and stood. “You tempt me but you need to get dressed and have breakfast.”

  The regret in his voice made up a little for his sudden withdrawal.

  He indicated a tray of fruit and yoghurt she hadn’t noticed. “We leave within the hour.”

  ***

  The grand palace of Rhajia in the capital city, Shaliadan, loomed before them. Khalid didn’t find it as impressive as the palace of Turastan, although it was sinfully magnificent when compared to the buildings around the palace walls. While the palace had become more impressive during Mustaf’s reign, the mud brick homes of the ordinary citizens had been left to deteriorate. Some of them looked as though they should be condemned.

  Beside him, Sabihah stiffened. He studied her as she looked straight ahead.

  “Do you remember the palace?” he enquired.

  She closed her eyes and gave a brief nod. He took her hand in his, knowing her return to the palace was distressing her, and hoping his support would provide her with some comfort.

  With each hour they spent together, Khalid found his respect for his wife growing. The questions she asked about her birth nation were intelligent. Her mind was quick to absorb the information he delivered and to analyse and appraise the various difficulties Rhajia faced.

  At the first village they’d come to, she’d expressed a desire to go and walk among the people. The security team assessed it as safe for her to do so and she’d spent almost an hour there. The villagers had been a little wary at first. News of Mustaf’s pending arrest had not reached them. Yet despite rejoicing at the news of the dictator’s expected deposition, it was clear they were also celebrating Sabihah’s return. Her warmth, interest, and compassion won them over as she walked through the village and conversed with them. They were connecting with her as an individual—not just as the person who would overthrow Mustaf and not simply because she was King Akram and Queen Karen’s daughter.