The Sheikh’s Contract Bride
Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To Judi McCoy for always being there.

And Sandra Ferguson for the same reason.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

SINCE she was headed for the seventh level of hell, now would be a good time to sunscreen her soul.

Alina Bethia Farrah knew truth was the best way to avoid the burning issues of the afterlife. And she’d admit to not always valuing honesty as much as she should have. But, as much as she hated pretending, she’d made a promise to switch places with her identical twin and stand up to the man her sister couldn’t—His Royal Highness, Malik Hourani, the Crown Prince of Bha’Khar.

Beth had only ever had her sister to count on, and Adina was the only person who had ever loved her. Her request was the emotional equivalent of bleeding or being on fire. Saying no wasn’t an option.

But now that Beth was here in the palace, waiting to meet the Prince, the reckless spirit that had convinced her she could pull this off completely wimped out. As she stared at her suitcases lined up on the exquisite marble floor of the entryway, the deception that in her L.A. apartment had felt noble—wrong thing, right reason—now just seemed wrong.

She was pretending to be the woman who was going to marry the sheikh because her sister wanted out of the marriage agreement.

As the firstborn by two minutes, Addie had been betrothed by their father, the Bha’Kharian ambassador to the United States, to the royal heir. Now, Addie was torn between being disowned by the father she adored or marrying a man she’d never met. Neither alternative was appealing, especially after she’d begun dating a man—possibly the man.

It had been several years since she’d come of age, and she’d begun to hope the sheikh had forgotten their arrangement. But only a few weeks ago he’d begun the process of finalizing their betrothal with wedding vows—and he wanted to do it sooner rather than later. That was when Addie had come up with the idea of switching places.

Outspoken Beth had often run interference for introspective Addie when they were children, and had assumed her identity. But this wasn’t about which twin had broken the lamp or hadn’t eaten her brussels sprouts. This secret could have international repercussions.

Beth didn’t like secrets. But she liked her sister’s situation even less. Beth had once fallen for a guy like the sheikh, a man from a politically connected family who believed it was perfectly all right to be married and have a mistress. He felt entitled to play by different rules because he was a powerful man. Now her sister was engaged to one of the world’s most powerful men, and Beth could only imagine what rules he lived by. This arranged marriage was just wrong, and somehow Beth would get Addie out of it.

Now she waited for the Crown Prince in the apartment where the royal intended, or in this case her facsimile, would stay until the wedding. Nervous, Beth paced and checked out the place. The living room was spacious and bright, and filled with expensive art—paintings, blown glass, and figurines. French doors opened onto a balcony overlooking the Arabian Sea, and when she pulled the doors wide the breeze blowing off the ocean cooled her hot cheeks.

She could do this. She and her twin were interchangeable; no one could tell them apart, not even their father. This should be as easy as falling off a log, especially with a guy who’d never met either of them.

The knock on the apartment door startled her, even though she’d been expecting it—maybe because she’d been expecting it.

Letting out a long breath, she walked through the apartment, then opened the door—and stared like a fool. The man standing there was tall and dark and—Wow. Handsome was an understatement.

Pulling herself together, she said, “Hi.”

“I am Malik Hourani.” With the barest movement of his shoulders and head, he executed a respectful bow.

“The Prince?”

“Indeed,” he said.

“How do you do?”

“I do very well.” His dark eyes glowed with male approval. “Although I regret that I was not there when your plane arrived.”

“Technically, it’s your plane.”

“That is true,” he said seriously. “But I did want to greet you and was unable to do so.”

“That’s all right.” She’d been relieved. “I was told that you’d be tied up with business until this evening.”

“Things went better than I had expected and I am grateful as I was eager to meet you. Welcome to Bha’Khar, Adina Farrah.”

First hurdle crossed. At first sight he believed she was Addie. Her heart started thumping really hard. She had no more time to prepare herself. Here he was in the flesh. And very nice flesh it was—what she could see of it. The expensive black suit hid a lot, although it fit his tall, muscular body perfectly. His lean cheeks and straight nose were exceptionally attractive. But it was his mouth that mesmerized her and, she suspected, commanded the attention of any female who was still breathing. There was an innate sensuality to his lips, a defined curve as if carved from stone, yet they were soft with the promise of passion.

Beth had never met a man who instantly made her want to know what his mouth would feel like against her own. Not until now. That was definitely a distraction, and she so didn’t need it. She needed to keep her wits sharp and come up with a plausible reason for him to call her by a name she would actually answer to.

“Hardly anyone calls me Adina,” she said.

“Why?”

Good question. And this was where the truth worked.

“Everyone calls me Beth, for Bethia.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “It’s my middle name. Our parents didn’t think it through when my sister and I were named. Adina. Alina.” She shrugged.

“You are twins.”

“We are.” Her heart pounded as she waited for him to recognize her deception, even though there was no reason for him to suspect anything. When he waited patiently, she said, “You can imagine the confusion when our names sound so much alike. So I became Beth.” Always best to go with as much of the truth as possible.

“Is that how you would prefer to be addressed?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Then Beth is what I shall call you.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Please call me Malik. I wish to put you at ease.”

So he had noticed her nerves. Hopefully he’d chalk it up to the circumstances. “Being an ambassador’s daughter, I learned the proper form of address for distinguished persons at an early age. It’s difficult for me to relax old habits and training.”

“That is understandable. Think of it this way. Sometimes I am called His Royal Highness. Sometimes Sir. Occasionally I am called things not fit to repeat in front of a lady.” He grinned suddenly, showing very white teeth against his tanned skin. “However, in private, as we are now, my given name is preferable.”

Was it her imagination or had his voice dropped and become sexier on the word private? Was it also her imagination that the oxygen in this room had suddenly thinned, making her want to take long, deep breaths?

“Malik it is, then,” she said, trying to relax. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Beth.” He held out his hand.

She put hers into his palm and felt the warmth and strength of his long fingers. Then the tingles started. They danced up her arm and settled in her breasts, as if he were touching her there. His dark eyes turned smoky and intense, as if he felt the same flash of heat.

“Yes. Okay. Introductions accomplished,” she said, pulling her hand from his. Again she couldn’t think straight. It was as if touching him short-circuited her brain functions.

“Indeed.” He nodded toward the other room. “Let us sit and relax, get to know one another.”

“All right.”

She backed away from him, then turned and went into the living room, grateful that she made it all the way to the sofa without her legs giving out. Relaxing wasn’t going to happen. She had a feeling that even if she wasn’t pretending to be her sister she’d be a fool to let down her guard around this man. The aura of confidence and power surrounding him—the very qualities that had landed her in trouble before—were compelling and exciting.

“I wish you to tell me everything about yourself,” he said.

Was that an order? The imperious tone touched a nerve before the words sank in. “But we’re betrothed. Don’t you already know everything?”

He unbuttoned his suit coat, revealing a snow-white shirt and flat abdomen. Then he sat a foot away and met her gaze. “It is impossible to know everything. I know you were raised in the United States until attending boarding school in Switzerland and college in France, where you received a degree in Art History. I know we are betrothed because your father is my father’s trusted ambassador and friend. May I ask how he is?”

“Fine.” The last time she’d seen him, and she couldn’t remember when that was.

“I am pleased that he is well. He has assured me of your impeccable background and speaks very highly of you. But I have been supplied only with details.”

The devil was in the details. She hated this, and it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him what was going on, but she decided to wait. “Well, I don’t know what to say.” And that was definitely the truth.

He met her gaze and his own darkened. “I prefer to act as if we had met by chance. I wish the facets of your individuality to be revealed as we indulge in the dance of learning about each other. I like surprises.”

That was good. If he ever found out she wasn’t who he thought, he was in for a big surprise. The thing was, when she and Addie were kids, who dressed alike and wore their hair in identical styles, it had been far easier to fool everyone. They’d both gone to finishing school, but Beth had become a teacher and Addie could throw a formal dinner party for the population of a small country.

“Prepare to be surprised,” she said. If her cover was blown and the pretense stopped here, Addie would pay a high price. The best plan was to tell the truth when at all possible. “I’m a teacher—high school English.” And this ruse was how she was spending her summer vacation.

“That is a detail I did not know. So you have a career?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like teaching?” His expression appeared to be one of genuine interest, not an aha-you’re-lying-and-now-you’re-busted look.

“Yes.”

“And children?”

“I like them very much. Why do you ask?”

“Because I am expected to produce an heir to the throne.”

“Then you be pregnant and go through childbirth.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her sister wouldn’t have slipped up like that.

He frowned. “You do not want children?”

“Someday I’d like to be a mother.” But she didn’t expect it to happen. Not without love. And she really didn’t expect that.

“Will you miss it when we are married?”

“What?”

“Teaching. Your career.”

So it was expected that being his bride would be a full-time job, one for which her sister had been exquisitely trained. But he’d asked her, Beth, and she’d worked hard. She loved her job and felt she really connected with the teenagers she taught. “I have to be honest.”

“I expect nothing less.”

“I would miss it very much. Is that a problem?”

He sat back as he thought. “It is a bridge we will cross when the time comes.”

Spoken like a powerful politician, she thought. Translation: we’ll do it my way, and it doesn’t matter if your heart gets broken. The woman he married would be subject to this attitude. But Beth wasn’t the woman he was supposed to marry, thank goodness.

“Later works for me,” she said.

“What do you think of Bha’Khar?”

“I haven’t seen much yet,” she admitted. “But I remember going to the open-air market when I was a child. My mother used to—”

She had a sudden, vivid vision of smells and sights and sounds, and the safe, secure feeling of her hand in her mother’s. The emptiness inside her was like a black hole that swallowed up all the light. A part of her had stayed empty ever since her mother had abandoned her and Addie to be raised by a stern, autocratic father. The scandal and abandonment had devastated Beth, but her twin had taken it even harder.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing.” The knot in her stomach said different, but this wasn’t the right time to discuss it. While she was in the country she planned to see her mother and tell her to her face exactly what she thought about someone who would abandon her children. And, more than that, Beth wanted to know why she’d done it.

Speaking of interrogations, Malik was asking most of the questions. It was time to take the heat off herself and learn about him. For Addie’s agenda to extricate herself from this contract, she told herself, not her own reluctant curiosity about a man who had shown a romantic streak in that “dance of learning about each other” remark.

“Tell me about you,” she said.

He thought for a moment. “I will soon be the King. From birth, I have been in training to assume the throne and lead my country and my people into more prosperity than we currently enjoy. My father has been a great example and has challenged me continuously to surpass him.”

“Where did you go to college?”

The question slipped out before she could stop it. That information was readily available if she had cared to look. She hoped he was not offended that she hadn’t bothered to find out.

“I was educated at the Wharton School, one of the most prestigious business colleges in the eastern United States. I have a Master’s Degree in Economics.”

Very impressive, she thought. So he was smart. That would help in running the country. It wouldn’t help on the attraction front. A smart, good-looking man with a sense of humor was too easy to like.

“What are your intentions toward my—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Toward me. I mean, what do you expect of a wife?”

“This is beginning to sound like a job interview,” he said.

“Really? Have you ever had a job interview?”

“Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “Since you’re first in the line of succession, you have the position in the bag, so to speak. How would you know what it feels like to be interrogated about your ability—or lack thereof—to do a job?”

“You are correct. There is no interview. Which is why the successor to the King is held to a higher standard. More is expected.”

“Is the same expected of a husband? And what about the woman you marry? Since she—I—was born into it, does that mean she—I—have to work harder at being a wife?”

He frowned. “I had not thought about it.”

“Newsflash, Your Highness, the clock is ticking. It’s time to think about it.”

Malik detected an edge in her voice. Not only that, he had noticed immediately that she was nervous. It was evident in the tightness of her mouth, the hooded expression in her light brown eyes and the swiftness with which she had removed her hand from his when he’d introduced himself.

In another woman he would have taken it as proof of a hidden agenda. After being played for a fool and betrayed by such a woman, he was wary of pretenders. But Beth had reason for this show of anxiety. Meeting her betrothed for the first time was worthy of an acute case of nerves.

He had to admit to some nervousness himself. He had only seen her in photographs. Beauty was not a requirement for his bride; truthfulness and integrity were of more importance. However, he had been exceedingly pleased by her features.

He liked the shiny dark hair that framed her oval face and fell to her slender shoulders. The silk blouse tucked into the small waist of her suit pants clung to her breasts and highlighted her pleasing curves. But that was not all that had surprised him. There was a strength about her that had not been apparent in the pictures passed on to him by her father.

The eight-by-ten photographs did not capture the three-dimensional woman. The warmth. Vibrancy. The spirit that had flashed in her eyes when she’d said the clock was ticking on their betrothal.

“Do you feel too hurried in the business of this marriage?” he asked. “I do not wish to create excessive pressure.”

“I’ve always known about it,” she said, speaking slowly and apparently choosing her words with care. “But there was no firm date.”

By his own choice. He had lost his heart to a woman who had pretended to be something she was not. His error in judgment had nearly been made public and it had been necessary to inform the King. The incident had embarrassed him personally and professionally, and, worse, had deeply disappointed his father. The poor judgment he had exhibited had cast doubt on his ability to be an effective leader. Afterwards, Malik had not wanted an emotional commitment of any kind. He would have put off taking vows indefinitely, except that it was a way to prove he would commit everything to his duty. Unlike women, duty was constant and without pretense.

“My father has expressed his wish to retire. He wants me to assume leadership responsibilities as soon as possible.”

“I see.” Sitting on the edge of the sofa, she folded her hands in her lap. “But you could be King and take over the government without getting married? Right?”

“You are correct. But, as I said before, it is my duty to produce an heir to the throne and the child must be legitimate. That requires marriage.”

A fact the King had pointed out when Malik had attempted to delay the inevitable. His father had also firmly stated that marriage gave a man stability and dignity, both of which were desirable qualities in an effective ruler. Because his bride had been selected based on impeccable lineage, and raised to be obedient, to put her patriotic duty before personal pursuits, there would be no chance of another embarrassing incident.

However, Beth was a teacher, and that detail had not come to his attention. Her father had no doubt felt it unimportant, but Malik disagreed. It boded well for her maternal skills—a desirable trait in the woman who would bear his children.

“Still, what’s the rush?” she asked.

“Besides the King’s retirement? It is simply time to fulfill our destiny, and yours is to be the Queen of Bha’Khar. To take your place by my side in the service of our people.”

Her big eyes grew bigger. “Oh, wow—”

“Something troubles you?”

“Yeah. Queen of Bha’Khar? That’s a pretty overwhelming thought.” Something akin to panic stirred in her gaze.

“I do not understand. As you said, you’ve always known what was in your future.”

“Yes.” She stood. “But knowing and doing are two different things. Kind of like being exposed to the flu, then losing your lunch.”

He stood and looked down at her. “I understand that a good deal of your experience and upbringing happened in the United States, and Americans are more casual. It is one of their most unique and charming qualities. But I wish to make certain I understand what you are saying.”

“I’m sorry.” She sighed. “That came out a bit harsher than I intended. I simply meant that it’s one thing to know what’s going to happen and quite another to actually go through the steps. Like being condemned—”

He held up his hand. “You are not making it better.”

“Sorry.”

“May I ask you a question?”

“Do you have to?”

He refused to be distracted by her teasing or her beauty. “In all of your instruction on protocol, diplomacy, and etiquette, were you ever once told that it was politically incorrect to compare royal life to the flu or a death sentence?”

Her chin lifted slightly as she said, “I’d like to be clear on something as well.”

“I am happy to discuss anything with you.” He noticed that she had not answered his question. “What is it you wish to know?”

“Are you really all right with having your bride picked out for you? Like a tie? Or a pair of shoes?”

“You are hardly a tie.”

She started pacing. “But you know what I mean. What if we don’t get along? What if I snore? What if we don’t get each other’s sense of humor? What if you don’t have one? What if—”

He held up a hand. “Clearly you have reservations about the betrothal.”

“Yes,” she said with great feeling. “Don’t you?”

“No.”

She had been chosen and educated in the proper behavior of the wife of the King. Together they would guide this country into a powerful position in the global community. That was all he needed to know. And she had not once mentioned the matter that he would have expected a woman with doubts to bring up.

“Are you not concerned about love?” he asked.

“No.” Her tone was rife with unexpected passion.

“You do not wish to be in love?”

“Not even for money,” she confirmed. But her gaze lowered just before she turned away and started pacing again. “Love is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“I agree.” He knew why he did not wish to experience the emotion again, but he was most curious to know what had poisoned her against it.

“That’s good.”

“Yes. Accord is something to be treasured between a man and his wife. That bodes well for—”

“Wait.”

“What?” he asked.

“Just because neither of us wants to be in love it doesn’t get us on the same planet with accord. Love is simply one issue. There are billions of things to think about.”

“Again, I agree. After we are married we will have the rest of our lives to work out these things.”

She stopped in front of him. “And there’s my point. A man and woman contemplating spending the rest of their lives together usually work the big stuff out before they get engaged.”

“Royalty is different.”

Her look was wry. “No kidding.”

“Is your father aware of your misgivings? Have you discussed this with him?”

Her gaze skittered away. “He’s more into issuing proclamations and orders than in having actual discussions,” she answered, which was not an answer at all.

“If you do not accept the time-honored tradition of this betrothal, then why did you come all this way to marry me?”

“That’s the thing,” she said. Her gaze was direct when she met his. “I came all this way to talk you out of it.”

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU came halfway around the world to change my mind about an honored Bha’Kharian tradition?”

Beth winced when he put it like that. She’d come because her sister had begged her. Addie needed time to figure out how to break off the engagement without alienating their father. Anything less than blind obedience would result in being cut out of his life as if she’d never existed. Addie was terrified to take that step and close the door on her relationship with the only parent she had.

Beth wasn’t as docile as her sister and said what was on her mind—a flaw that had already damaged her relationship with her father. Raised without a mother, she understood why Addie was desperate to preserve her remaining family connections. If not for her sister, Beth would have grown up in an emotional vacuum. She’d have no blueprint for love. Granted, she’d been burned by the emotion, but better to have loved and lost, as the saying went. She couldn’t stand by and do nothing when the sister who’d taught her to love might be cut off from it.

Talking Malik out of this tradition made perfect sense for everyone. Putting herself in his shoes—knowing that his bride had been chosen and he’d had no say in the matter—maybe she had a better than even chance of making him see reason. For God’s sake, he was going to be King. Shouldn’t he have a choice about the woman who would help him shoulder that responsibility?

She looked up at him. “Sometimes change is good. Shake things up.”

“Sometimes the old ways are better.”

“All right,” she said, tapping her lip. “But you never answered my question about whether or not you’re okay with not choosing your own bride.”

“There are advantages to letting others with nothing clouding their objectivity do the picking.”

“Picking?” She put her hands on her hips as she met his gaze. “You make me sound like a ripe plum.”

“On the contrary, plums are sweeter and more docile. Aside from those two things—” he shrugged “—I am well pleased with the selection my father made.”

Beth didn’t know if she’d just been complimented or insulted. Or both.

“Well, of course you’re pleased. What’s not to like?”

“Please explain.” He folded his arms over his chest and gave her his full attention.

“An arranged marriage works in your favor because you’re a powerful man.”

He shook his head. “I do not understand what that has to do with anything.”

Was he deliberately being obtuse? “Being in a position of power means you get to control everything. You can set the rules. Nothing about this situation works in my favor.”

“Nothing?” He frowned. “Do you find me unattractive?”

“No.” What she wanted to say was Good God, no. “You’re very handsome.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Does my personality displease you?”

“Since we just met, it’s too soon to tell. So far you seem okay.”

He nodded. “Is the palace not to your liking? You object to living here?”

“Oh, please. What I’ve seen of it is gorgeous, and you know it.”

“Then I am at a loss to understand your objections.”

“My objections have to do with the fact that there’s more to marriage than pleasing looks, personality and a palace.” When put like that, it occurred to her that perhaps her standards were a tad high. “There’s something to be said for a normal courtship.”

“Define this for me.”

The fact that he needed a definition for normal should have been a big clue. But she was supposed to be impersonating her sister, and Adina was nothing if not cooperative. “Okay. The average courting ritual goes like this: girl meets boy. Girl is wildly attracted to boy. Girl gets to know boy and falls in love. Bha’Kharian tradition for choosing its Queen is robbing you of this experience.”

“Me?” he asked. “Or you?”

“Both of us.”

“In the spirit of girl getting to know boy, I am told that I am quite a catch.”

She’d heard her father tell Adina the same thing. “It’s just that marriage is a big step, and pretty scary when one doesn’t know one’s intended from a rock.”

He walked over to the French doors and looked out for several moments, then turned. A frown had replaced the good-natured expression on his face. “I do not believe anyone has ever compared me to a rock.”

“That’s just an expression. It means that I don’t know you—”

“I understand the expression. But there is something I do not comprehend. In your training to be the Queen of Bha’Khar, it should have been explained that the period of engagement is the time to become acquainted.”

“It was explained.” Probably. But the step-by-step rules of courtship were still being violated. Father picks boy. Girl is engaged to boy. Girl meets boy and, after too brief a time, girl marries boy. And they live happily ever after? The odds were so against that.

She walked over to him and the breeze from the ocean cooled her face. Looking into his dark eyes, she asked, because she sincerely wanted to know how he felt, “What if it goes badly? What if you don’t like me? What if I don’t like you? What if we—?”

He touched a finger to her lips to silence her. “Do you always borrow trouble?”

“What if I do? Is that a deal-breaker?”

He laughed. “If I did not know better I would think you are deliberately trying to make me dislike you.”

“Is it working?”

“I do not know.”

“Do I need to try harder?”

“That depends on your purpose. I have not yet made up my mind about you. And you should not form an opinion about me, either.”

“I’m not pre-judging—”

“I disagree. You came all this way to talk me out of this marriage, which means you have already closed your mind to the possibility that this arrangement could be a good thing.”

She didn’t see how it could be good, but that only proved his point. “What if I have formed an opinion already?”

He took a step closer. “Let go of your preconceived ideas.” He touched his finger to her chin, nudging it up so their gazes locked. “Give me a chance to prove that I am indeed a good catch.”

Beth didn’t know whether to let out the breath she was holding or breathe deeply and overdose on his spicy, exciting scent, letting it invade and conquer her senses. A gleam stole into his eyes, a look that both excited and unnerved her. It was a purely masculine expression, full of male confidence in his power to get what he wanted.

There was little doubt in her mind that he would pull out all the stops in his mission to prove his worth, and seduction was right at the top of his list. While her romantic parts quivered with enthusiasm, her rational parts struggled to prevail.

“Malik, I have no doubt that you’re a perfectly nice man. It was not my intention to insult you, and I apologize if I have.”

“Your misgivings are understandable.”

She wasn’t sure if his easygoing manner made the situation better or worse. Although he was very attractive and charming, she had no reason to believe he was any different from the man who had discarded her in favor of his already chosen, politically correct wife. If anything, Malik was more powerful, and therefore more dangerous.

If it was up to her, she would tell this sheikh to take a flying leap. But it was Addie’s choice. And, because her sister was choosing a time out, Beth was there to make sure she had it. In that spirit, she needed to dial down her opposition. “Thank you for your patience, Malik.”

“You can repay me with patience of your own. Let us get to know each other. We will give it a chance and see what happens. Then if either of us has doubts we will choose an appropriate course of action.”

In essence, he was asking for a truce. It would make things easier if he was a jerk and she could tell him what to do with his engagement.

On the other hand, if Malik decided this arrangement didn’t work for him either, and called off the wedding, Addie would be off the hook and their father couldn’t hold it against her. So, truce it was.

She smiled. “How can I say no?”

Nine out of ten women would be overjoyed to be his betrothed, yet Malik found himself with number ten. Surprisingly, the idea did not rankle as he would have thought. Obedience was a pleasing characteristic in a woman, but after meeting Beth he realized a fawning fiancée would be boring.

He was most curious about this lovely, stubborn young woman who challenged him at every turn. When she’d called him a powerful man, the edge in her voice had warned him it was not a compliment. Oddly enough, he was looking forward to this courtship, to the opportunity for changing her mind about him and discovering the source of her misgivings about marriage.

Malik walked into his dining room and touched the control that lowered the chandelier illumination to a romantic glow. Then he lit the candles on either side of the fragrant flower arrangement gracing the table. He had a bottle of the finest champagne cooling in a silver bucket and crystal flutes waited expectantly, as did he.

Beth would be here any moment, and the dance of learning about each other would continue. Excitement hummed through him, and he realized he had not experienced such a level of anticipation in longer than he could remember. Of course, it had been a long time since he had met such a fascinating woman. The last time it had happened he had been fooled. It was comforting and convenient to know there was no chance of repeating the same mistake with his betrothed.

He checked his appearance in the beveled gilt mirror in his suite’s circular entryway. Every hair was in place, and he’d shaved a short while before—in case he kissed her, which he very much wanted to do. His silk shirt, open at the collar, and his dark pants evoked just the right informal tone, which was important, as he wished to put her at ease.

He heard a knock, so soft it would not have been audible had he not been standing near the door. Beth stood in the doorway, a vision of heaven in a high-necked, sleeveless white linen dress with a wide black belt that drew his attention to her small waist. It was a simple, elegant look, full of sophistication. The allure was in what he could not see as much as in what he could. Then he met her gaze and noticed the wariness in her large eyes—brown eyes, filled with flecks of gold.

He bowed slightly. “Good evening, Beth. Please come in.”

“Thank you.”

As she passed him, her subtle floral fragrance filled his head with visions that had nothing to do with gardens and everything to do with twisted sheets and bare flesh. Instead of entering, she stood and looked around. Of course she would be curious.

“Welcome to your new home,” he said. “This is where we shall live after we are married.”

“About the whole marriage thing—”

“Beth.”

She turned to look at him. “What?”

“You promised to give it a chance,” he reminded her.

“Promise may not be the right word. As I recall, my exact words were ‘How can I say no?’”

He grinned. “Nevertheless, your response implied your agreement for us to get to know each other. In the spirit of that, I would request that for the duration of the evening you refrain from any negative references to a state of marriage between us.”

“Is that a proclamation?”

“It is a heartfelt plea. And, under the circumstances, it is quite open-minded of me.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, as he’d hoped they would. “So, Your Highness, can we talk about your humility?”

“Of course.” He held out a hand and indicated the French doors off the living room. “Wait for me on the terrace and I will bring champagne.”

“Is that an order?”

He did not miss the wary expression on her face, or the edge in her voice. Clearly she was expecting him to seduce her. It was a tempting thought, but that was not his plan. Not yet. No, tonight was all about charming her. There was a full moon, a warm breeze, and the fragrance of jasmine mixed with the scent of the sea. Mother Nature would wrap them in romance.

“Not an order. A suggestion. I simply thought you would enjoy the view and the fresh air.”

“I see.” Without further protest or a backward glance she walked through the living room and onto the terrace.

Malik opened the champagne and poured golden liquid into flutes, then carried them outside. He handed one to Beth.

“To what shall we drink?” he asked.

After thinking for a moment she said, “Loyalty.”

That seemed an odd choice, but with his own painful lesson fresh in his mind he highly approved of her toast. “And honesty.”

As they touched glasses, a musical tinkle sounded. Then Beth sipped from her flute as she gazed out over the sea. The moon’s light created a silver path on the water, and the rhythmic cadence of the surf on the shore drifted up.

“Great view,” she said.

“Yes.” But his gaze was not on the sea. Malik was wondering if there was a more beautiful sight in the world than Beth by moonlight. And if his thoughts continued in that manner he was not at all certain he could resist her. “So, tell me more about yourself,” he said, studying the long, graceful column of her neck revealed by her upswept hair.

The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what happened to make you believe that love is not all it is cracked up to be.”

“Oh, you don’t really want to know about that.”

“On the contrary. I believe it is at the heart of your resistance to marriage.” Sipping from his glass, he studied her as she weighed his request.

“All right. There was a man. I met him when I was in college and there was an instant connection.”

“You are in love with this man?” The idea produced a knot of resentment in him that seemed out of proportion to the amount of time he had known her, and that vexed him.

“Not anymore.”

“But you were?”

“I thought I was.”

“What happened?”

“He made me believe I was the only woman for him. Then he broke my heart when he married someone else.”

The knot inside him eased somewhat and made rational thought easier. Then he realized something. “Surely you were aware that, as my betrothed, you are not permitted to give your heart to another man?”

“It was only my heart, Malik. To my everlasting shame, I couldn’t help it. But at least I didn’t compound my mistake by sleeping with him.” She did not look away, but met his gaze directly.

They had just toasted honesty, and he had no reason to doubt her. “I believe you.”

She sat on the low stucco wall surrounding the terrace and sighed. “I bet you’re sorry you asked.”

“Your candor is refreshing. The truth is not always easy, but it is preferable to pretense.”

She was just sipping champagne and started to cough.

Malik sat next to her and took her glass. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and cleared her throat. “I swallowed wrong.”

“I do not like it when that happens. I also do not like the thought of you and another man.” That was the truth.

“As the relationship ended badly, there’s no real harm done.”

“I disagree.”

“So you’re going to hold it against me?” Was that hope in her voice? “If so, there’s always the option of calling off the wedding. I can certainly understand if that’s what you decide to do. Just say the word and I’ll go back to America and—”

“On the contrary,” he interrupted, noting that when she was nervous she was inclined to talk too much and too fast. “I believe a woman whose heart has known love once is more likely to look for it again.”

“Even though I told you I don’t want to be in love?”

“Even then.”

“You’re wrong.” She shook her head and her full lips pulled tight. “I never want to feel that way again.”

“Why?”

“If I’d never loved I never would have cried. And I promised myself it was the last time I would cry over a man.”

He could understand the sentiment. He had made himself a similar promise about not being vulnerable to the charms of a woman. In his father’s esteemed opinion Malik had shown poor judgment, and it could not happen again. Yet Malik’s duty was to marry and produce an heir to succeed him on the throne. A love that burned him like wildfire would be unacceptable. And that was why marrying the woman chosen by his father was the solution. With Beth he could aspire to a fully contained warmth and respect.

Their shoulders brushed as they sat side by side and stared into the romantically dimmed light of the suite. Malik felt the soft skin of her forearm graze him and flames of desire heat up his blood.

“I feel compelled to point out that our betrothal is a good thing in light of your experience.”

“How do you figure?”

“You can have all the benefits of marriage to the King of Bha’Khar without the messiness of dealing with love.”

“So I can be like a man?” She met his gaze. The gleam of mischief mixed with challenge darkened her eyes.

The look was growing on him, but in no way prepared him for what came next. She smiled a smile that seemed to steal all the air from his lungs.

He picked up one of her small hands, then touched his lips to her knuckles. Satisfaction filled him to see the gleam in her eyes replaced by awareness. But, like her, he did not wish to be vulnerable to love. He was most pleased that they were in agreement, because his betrothed was quite a tempting combination of spirit and beauty. Theirs was a contract, a business arrangement, and that suited him well.

He brushed his thumb over the spot on her hand that he’d just kissed. “I cannot order or proclaim that you fall in love with me. But, little one, you will never be like a man.” His voice dropped into the deeply seductive range. “And this man is extraordinarily grateful for that fact.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.