The Defiant Princess Page 6

  He nodded with impatience. “Yes.”

  “Then you are the man to whom I’m betrothed—the man I must marry.”

  Chapter Four

  Marry.

  The word brought Khalid’s finger tapping to an abrupt halt and ricocheted around his brain like a deadly bullet—severing nerves, paralysing the centre responsible for breathing, and damaging all his powers of comprehension. At least, that was how it felt.

  Incredibly, his heart beat on. Blood thundered past his ears. Shock was replaced by suspicion. Sensation returned slowly as he forced himself to unclench his fists. Eventually he regained enough control to inhale and exhale deeply.

  Betrothed?

  His teeth were still clamped together and he was aware that a muscle ticked in his cheek as he turned to face Sabihah. His shoulders stiffened even more as his eyes bored into the crystal blue depths of her gaze.

  What was she up to? Was he a pawn being played by his father with this woman as his accomplice?

  “Well?” she demanded, sitting straighter in the chair.

  “Have you spoken with my father about this?”

  The tilt to her head conveyed genuine incomprehension. “No. It’s just occurred to me.”

  Khalid’s thoughts were in chaos. None of this visit was going according to his plan. This Rhajian princess wasn’t supposed to have any idea of her identity, let alone of their parents’ betrothal arrangements.

  Unwilling to give her a glimpse of his inner turmoil, he eased himself into the chair opposite her and made his movements deliberately slow as he assumed a relaxed posture. He kept his tone casual as he asked, “How do you know of the arrangement made between our parents?”

  The only show of her tension was the way she clutched her hands together firmly in her lap. “Apart from reading about myself on the internet, I remember meeting Prince Hazim as a child.”

  Khalid recalled Hazim had been horrified at the entire arrangement. A young man in his first year at Oxford, he’d been introduced to an eight-year-old child, just over ten years his junior, and told she was the girl he was to marry. Khalid had been angry on his behalf, but simultaneously thankful it had been his brother, the heir, who was to sacrifice himself in an arranged marriage.

  How things changed. Now Khalid was expected to offer himself up for the good of his nation.

  “I remember meeting you, too,” Sabihah continued.

  Khalid struggled not to grimace. On the one occasion they’d met, the then chubby little Princess Sabihah had followed him around the palace halls all afternoon. Hazim had been highly amused when she’d tried to capture Khalid’s attention and attempt to interest him in playing with her dolls. Hazim had even suggested to their father that it should’ve been Khalid and Sabihah who were betrothed.

  To Khalid’s relief, Hazim’s plan had fallen upon deaf ears. The betrothal agreement between Hazim and Sabihah had been firmly in place.

  Looking at her now, Khalid had to admit that Sabihah was much more interesting as an adult than she’d been as a child. Far from being chubby, she was slender with feminine curves in all the right places. Her traffic-stopping beauty rivalled, and perhaps surpassed, the supermodels he’d dated. Sabihah looked like she belonged on a catwalk rather than as a teacher at a small, outback school. She’d look even better sprawled naked across his bed, languorous and sated after a session of intense lovemaking.

  The quiet clearing of her throat refocused him. Instantly, he was disgusted at his loss of control over the direction of his thoughts. He was here with an important national purpose and yet everything about this situation threw him off-balance. Resentment clawed through him, for he was a man used to being very much in control. In the space of an afternoon, this young woman had undermined his control and surprised him more than once. She had the upper hand and it didn’t sit well with him.

  “Are you married, Khalid?”

  Just the mention of the word still made the hairs rise on the nape of his neck. “No.”

  Her long, lush eyelashes swept downward for a second, and his attention was caught by the rise and fall of her full breasts against her shirt. His lips parted and he knew an urgent desire to explore her breasts with his mouth. The thought of stripping her naked and suckling on the nipples that peaked so prominently against the fabric covering them was all-consuming. He imagined laving them with his tongue until she was crying out with need. And then he wanted to—

  “So, I’m right to assume that now your father has found me, we are betrothed?”

  The slightly higher pitch, the breathiness of her voice and the strain in each of her words had him searching her face. He drank in her high cheekbones, pert nose, and flawless complexion. Her generous lips simply begged to be kissed. The blood hurtled to his groin, making him shift in his chair. It was imperative he shut down that part of his brain.

  She spoke about betrothal. Where was she headed with this? Surely she must be seeking assurance he wasn’t here to claim her as his bride—that he wouldn’t hold her to the agreement their fathers had made. A modern young woman raised in a Western country would not wish to marry a stranger.

  He could relate to that. Although he’d inherited a responsibility to rule Turastan, he would choose his own bride. Marriage wasn’t something he’d enter into lightly. As a Turastani royal, divorce was out of the question. That was why he’d decided to marry a woman he was compatible with—a woman who would be elegant and regal in her role as the queen, but not demand anything too much from him on a personal level. A woman who could claim his respect and loyalty but never his heart.

  Inaya.

  Guilt washed through him in an onslaught of forceful waves. Mentally undressing and making love to Sabihah was forbidden ground when he was determined to marry Inaya. He wasn’t a callow youth who’d let lust rule his head. He would master his hormones, which reacted out of turn to Sabihah. Marriage to Inaya would work, and he’d remain faithful to her. Loyalty was something he’d demand and reciprocate.

  He shrugged. “My father would like to think the betrothal arrangement made by our parents still stands, however—”

  Sabihah stood. “Then, that’s the answer to the problem.”

  Khalid couldn’t credit her response. Was she actually suggesting they marry?

  “I will marry you, Khalid,” she rushed out as her hands moved in quick agitated circles. “If we get married—”

  “You haven’t been asked,” he cut in sharply.

  She stilled immediately, then sat back down. “You said we’re betrothed.”

  “These are modern days. My father and yours were of a different generation. Neither of us has to comply with their wishes.”

  As he purposely crossed one leg casually over the other and tried to keep his cool, she jerked to her feet again and positioned herself at the back of her chair. “But through our marriage, you could gain control of Rhajia and the country would no longer be under Mustaf’s rule,” she said.

  “No. Marriage is out of the question.”

  She took a step toward him, then retreated. God, but the woman was as wound up as a spring and wasn’t thinking clearly. Her plan to marry him was ridiculous. Despite the political advantages that would be gained and the raging sexual chemistry between them, he knew nothing about their general compatibility—except that she’d opposed him at every turn since he’d arrived.

  Yet, if she was as passionate in her lovemaking as she was in her arguments …

  He compressed his lips in displeasure. The last time he’d felt anything close to this level of sexual desire he’d been a youth. He’d learnt the hard way that it was imperative he never lose his head again to lust. It was a lesson well-learned and embarrassingly painful to remember. Moreover, the attraction he felt for Sabihah was more potent than that he’d felt for the woman who’d made a fool of him. That was enough to warn him to stay away.

  Sabihah was dangerous to his equilibrium.

  Inaya was his choice.

  “Did you belie
ve after all these years that Hazim would come to claim you as his bride?” he said as the thought dawned on him.

  Her head snapped up. Initially, he thought hurt cloaked her features, but then the blue depths of her eyes flared with anger. Her lips twisted into a scornful expression. “Yes. For many years I lived under exactly that illusion. I believed it because it’s what my father told me. It was the agreement made between our fathers.”

  “But you’ve been living in Australia for years.” He couldn’t assume his casual pose any longer. Planting both feet on the ground, he sat forward. “Surely you couldn’t have wanted to marry Hazim—a man you’d only met once when you were a child.” He couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice.

  “I didn’t believe I had a choice. Even though my ties with Rhajia seemed more distant, I still felt a loyalty to my father and his ideals. I still believed in him and the promises he made to me.”

  There was deep sadness in her face as she sat back down. For a few seconds there was a strange tugging sensation in his chest. Ignoring it, he looked at the slump of her shoulders and knew he needed to press on her loyalty a little more.

  “If that’s the case, why do you resist my attempts to persuade you to return to Rhajia?”

  She held out her hands, palms upwards and gave a shrug. “It’s too late. I don’t feel the burden of my father’s wishes anymore. My father died. Nobody came for me.” She shrugged again. “It’s just too late.”

  “Then why do you want to marry me?”

  “There is no way I’d ever want to be married to a man like you,” she scoffed. “But it does seem to be the best solution to this entire mess.”

  A man like him?

  Khalid recoiled inwardly at the disdain of her words. Nobody spoke to him like that. He was used to women throwing themselves at him, not rejecting him. Even without his looks, women recognised he was a very wealthy, powerful man. The combination drew them like iron filings to a magnet. Yet Sabihah, spectacular in her rage, appeared to have little respect for him. Before he could delve more into her statement, she continued.

  She pointed at him. “I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t want Mustaf to know I existed. I don’t want to rule Rhajia, and I certainly don’t want to be your wife.”

  Each statement was accompanied by a slight increase in volume. Anger shimmered off her. The hot-blue fire burning brightly in her eyes was arousing even while the idea of marriage to her went completely against all his plans.

  “We don’t need to stay married,” she said. Her eyes sparked at him with determination. She stood up and took a step toward him, so she finally had the advantage of height. “In fact, the quicker the marriage is over, the better. We just need to get married, get all the paperwork signed so you can take over, and then you can get on with ruling Rhajia and I can come back here.”

  Did she really think it was so simple?

  He resisted the urge to get up and kiss some sense into her. Instead he rested his hands on the armrest and tried to appear indifferent to the stimulating energy she projected.

  “You’re proposing a temporary marriage?” His voice was tight. The words conjured up the temptation of having her in his bed for a short interlude. It was impossible, but he was only human and the idea very much appealed to his baser male instincts. Instincts he was having a great deal of difficulty managing right now, which was another first for him.

  “Not really a marriage,” she said quickly. Her hands went up to her temples for a second. “In fact, not a real marriage at all. Just our signatures on the paper, me staying in Rhajia for as little time as possible to be convincing, then we can state irreconcilable differences or something and get divorced.”

  He bit back a curse. That this woman, even if she was a princess, could propose marriage to him on such casual terms was insulting. How could she stand there and talk about them marrying on a name-only basis? How could she deny the chemistry between them? She was deluding nobody but herself. If she were his wife, she would be his wife in every way.

  But that wasn’t going to happen.

  As incredibly desirable as he found her, he didn’t want all the passion the blue-heat in her eyes promised if marriage was the price. A wild, erotic affair? Yes, he wouldn’t have had a problem with that had he not already been planning marriage to Inaya. But, if he was to rule Turastan, then it was Turastan that was to be his true wife and mistress. The role of his queen was to stand by him, perform royal duties with dignity, and produce heirs. He already had a course he’d mapped for his future and she didn’t feature in it.

  As he stood, she backed away. “There’s more than one flaw in your plan, Sabihah, but the biggest is that I have already chosen the woman I wish to marry.”

  Her shoulders sagged, her face fell, and all the vibrancy and fight drained out of her. “Oh.” Avoiding his eyes, she sat back in the chair. “I see.”

  Why did his victory in putting her back firmly in her place feel like a loss?

  Silence stretched between them as he turned the tables and stood over her.

  “Your fiancée … Would she … I mean, if she knew of the plan … If she knew it wasn’t a real marriage, would she be prepared to wait to marry you until we were divorced?”

  His eyes widened slightly in response to her incredible cheek.

  “I just can’t see any other way,” she told him in a voice heavy with desperation. She fidgeted with her fingers in her lap. “I don’t want Mustaf to continue to rule Rhajia, but I can’t be the ruler either.” She stopped fidgeting and put her hands up in an imploring gesture. “You could rule, and though you don’t possess all the skills your brother did, you’d have to be better than Mustaf.”

  Once more her words slapped at him. Rage boiled in Khalid’s veins. That this supposed Princess would be so insulting beggared belief.

  “I may not possess all the skills my brother did, but I certainly possess more diplomacy in my little finger than you possess in your entire body.” Each word was delivered in razor sharp tones. He looked around the room, wondering if they kept any hard alcohol in the place because a couple of hours with this woman was driving him to drink! The lace-edged curtains and floral fabrics didn’t inspire him to search. He’d probably only find crème sherry or some brandy for their Christmas pudding.

  When he looked at her again, he noted she’d cringed back into the chair and eyed him as though he would hurl deadly throwing knives in her direction at any second.

  “I’m so sorry.” She raised the fingers of one hand to her mouth in distress. “That was insulting, and I didn’t mean to be.”

  “Even worse that your insults were uttered without intention. You’ve just proved, beyond any doubt, that you’d be totally unsuitable as Rhajia’s ruler. God only knows what sort of diplomatic messes you’d plunge your country into each time you opened your mouth.” He’d have to speak with his father and find another way.

  She straightened and her chin thrust forward again in defiance. ‘You’re not exactly known for your experience in international affairs, Prince Khalid. Unless, by international affairs, you mean ones that take place in the bedroom with foreign women.”

  Khalid was torn. One part of him wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled for daring to speak to him that way, the other part of him wanted to kiss her into senseless submission.

  “Is that a challenge, Princess?” He took a step forward and leaned to place a hand on each armrest. “Do you require first-hand proof of my experience in international affairs? Is that why you wish to become my wife?”

  “That’s just the sort of egotistical, arrogant comment I’d expect from someone like you.” Even as she shrank back further into the chair, she retaliated. Her retort proved she wasn’t a woman who would back-down easily. “I’ve already told you, the one reason I’m proposing a name-only marriage is to find a solution—a better future for Rhajia, and to protect anyone I’m close to. I have no interest in marrying you for your charm or body.”

  �
��Good.” He straightened and moved away from her. “Because I have no interest in being shackled to a shrew for a wife.”

  Inaya would be calm. Respectful. Dutiful. The wife he needed.

  “We are at an impasse, Prince Khalid. I won’t return and make a claim for the throne if I am to be held to that position permanently. A marriage to you can end in a quick divorce. You rule, I return, and everybody wins. Those are my terms.”

  Her words were grounded on her own lack of understanding of the situation, but they reminded Khalid of all that was at stake. First priority was to get her back to the Middle East. Despite his misgivings about her ability to rule wisely when she seemed to say whatever she thought without regard for the consequences, returning her to Rhajia was the only way Mustaf could be deposed.

  “If I agree to the betrothal arrangement, you will accompany me to Turastan?” He could say yes to the betrothal without technically agreeing to proceed with the marriage.

  For a moment, she paled. He watched as she pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. “Yes.”

  Khalid suppressed the acid guilt nagging at him. He was being less than honest for the first time in his life and it didn’t sit well with him. He justified his deception because this situation was larger than both of them. The needs of those who suffered under Mustaf’s rule must be put ahead of their own. War between the two nations must be averted, and his sister could not be sacrificed in a marriage to Hamil. Those were the stakes.

  Besides, it wasn’t as though Sabihah wanted to be married to him. She’d made that very clear. What she didn’t realise was that her naive plan to hand control over to him upon a divorce was a legal impossibility. The ruler of Rhajia could only be a blood relative. Mustaf would legally assume power again the minute she left the country, and nothing would be resolved.

  “Do you have a current passport?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I went to New Zealand last year.”

  “Then we shall leave tomorrow.”

  “Hold on—”

  “No. There’s no time to waste. You need to be in Turastan. The Arab Council needs to be notified of your existence, and Mustaf must be deposed as quickly as possible.”