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Jewel in His Crown
LYNNE GRAHAM
A virtuous wife is worth more than rubies… Sheikh Raja al-Somari knows that sacrificing his freedom for the good of his country isn’t a choice; it’s a duty. But he’s going to have to use more imaginative tactics to convince his new bride…Yesterday Ruby Sommerton was an ordinary girl, going to work and gossiping with her flatmate. Now she’s a princess – and is waiting nervously in the bedroom of the Prince’s desert palace! Ruby has a lot to learn – about being royal, how exhilarating nights with her new husband can be…and that an heir is top of his agenda!



‘If you are not prepared to consider a normal marriage what are you suggesting?’
‘A total fake,’ Ruby replied without hesitation, a hint of amusement lighting her unusually serious eyes. ‘I marry you, and we make occasional public appearances together to satisfy expectations, but we’re just pretending to be an ordinary married couple.’
The Prince concealed his surprise and mastered his expression, lest he make the mistake of revealing that inflicting such a massive deception on so many people would be abhorrent to his principles. ‘A platonic arrangement?’
Ruby nodded with enthusiasm. ‘No offence intended, but I’m really not into sex.’
I’m really not into sex, she had confided—and, like any man, he was intrigued. Since she could not make such an announcement and still be an innocent, he could only assume that she had suffered from the attentions of at least one clumsy lover. Raja surveyed her with a gleam of sensual speculation in his dark eyes. Far from being an amateur in the same field, he was convinced that, given the right opportunity, he could change her mind on that score …

About the Author
LYNNE GRAHAM was born in Northern Ireland and has been a keen Mills & Boon
reader since her teens. She is very happily married, with an understanding husband who has learned to cook since she started to write! Her five children keep her on her toes. She has a very large dog, which knocks everything over, a very small terrier, which barks a lot, and two cats. When time allows, Lynne is a keen gardener.
Recent titles by the same author:
BRIDE FOR REAL (The Volakis Vow) THE MARRIAGE BETRAYAL (The Volakis Vow)
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Jewel
in His Crown
Lynne Graham


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE
THE beautiful brunette lay in the tangled bed sheets watching her lover get dressed. Prince Raja al-Somari had black hair and exotic dark golden eyes. Exceptionally handsome, he was pure leashed power, muscle and magnetic attraction. He was also a wild force of nature in bed, she reflected with a languorous look of sensual satisfaction on her face.
As his mistress, Chloe, one of the world’s top fashion models, certainly had no complaints. But then Chloe was excessively fond of rich men, money and fabulous jewellery. Her prince from the oil-rich country of Najar in the Persian Gulf was staggeringly wealthy and he delivered on every count, so naturally she didn’t want to lose him. When a plane crash had killed the bride in the arranged marriage being planned for Raja, Chloe had breathed a secret sigh of relief for such an alliance could well lead to the end of the most profitable relationship she had ever had. And even if another arranged marriage lurked on the horizon, Chloe was determined to hold onto her lover.
Raja watched Chloe finger the glittering new diamond bracelet encircling one slender wrist as if it were a talisman and his mouth quirked at her predictability. Although the demands of his position had made it difficult for him to see her in recent months, Chloe had subjected him to neither tantrums nor tears. Like most Western women he had met since his university days in England, she was as easy to placate as a child with a shiny new toy. In return for the complete discretion he demanded from his lovers, he was extremely generous but he never thought about his bed partners when he was away from them. Sex might be a necessity to a man of his appetites, but it was also simply an amusement and an escape from the weight of responsibility he carried. As acting Regent and ruler of conservative Najar, he could not openly enjoy a sex life without causing offence.
Furthermore, Raja was always aware that he had much more important issues to worry about. The recent appalling plane crash had devastated the people of Najar and its neighbour and former enemy, Ashur. The future of both countries stood on the edge of catastrophe. For seven years war had raged between oil-rich Najar and poverty stricken Ashur and when peace had finally been brokered by the Scandinavian state leading the talks, the two countries had added a more personal cultural twist to the agreement before they were satisfied that the peace would hold firm. That twist had been an arranged marriage between the two royal families and joint rulership that would ultimately unite Najar with Ashur. Having spent most of his adult life as a businessman before serving his country, Raja had accepted that he had to marry Princess Bariah of Ashur. That she was a widow well into her thirties while he was still in his twenties he had accepted as his royal duty to put the needs of his country first. And his country and his people did desperately need a fresh blueprint for a lasting peace.
Unfortunately for all concerned, a tragedy had lurked in the wings of the peace accord. A fortnight earlier, Bariah and her parents had died in a plane crash. Shorn of its entire ruling family in one fell swoop, Ashur was in deep crisis and the court officials were searching frantically through the Shakarian family tree for a suitable heir to the throne who could take Bariah’s place as Raja’s bride and consort.
His mobile phone buzzed and he lifted it.
‘You have to come home,’ his younger brother Haroun told him heavily. ‘Wajid Sulieman, the Ashuri court advisor, is already on his way here. According to his aide, he is very excited so I expect that means they’ve found another bride for you.’
It was the news that Raja had been waiting for, the news that honour demanded he hope for, but he still had to fight the crushing sensation of a rock settling on his chest to shorten his breathing. ‘We must hope for the best—’
‘The best would be if they couldn’t find anyone else to marry you!’ his youthful sibling opined without hesitation. ‘Why are you letting yourself be forced into an arranged marriage? Are we still living in the Dark Ages?’
Raja’s lean bronzed features were as impassive as he had learned to make them in the presence of others. He rarely spoke without consideration. His wheelchair-bound father had taught him everything he knew about kingship. ‘It is necessary that I do this.’
‘Trouble?’ Chloe asked, blue eyes bright with curiosity as Raja set down the phone and lifted his shirt.
‘I have to leave immediately.’
Chloe scrambled out of bed and pressed her lithe pale body to his. ‘But we were going out tonight,’ she protested, looking up at him with wide, wounded eyes while being careful to look and sound hurt and disappointed rather than accusing, for there was very little Chloe didn’t know about keeping a man happy.
‘I’ll make up for it on my next visit,’ Raja promised, setting her to one side to resume dressing.
He was trying not to wonder who the Ashuri representatives had found for him to marry. What did the woman’s identity matter? Hopefully she would be reasonably attractive. That was the most he could hope for. Anything more would be icing on the cake. He suppressed the thought that he was as imprisoned by his royal birth as an animal in a trap. Such reflections were unnecessarily dramatic and in no way productive.
His private jet whisked him back to Najar within hours and his brother was waiting in the limo that met him at the airport.
‘I wouldn’t marry a stranger!’ Haroun told him heatedly.
‘I do it gladly for you.’ Raja was grateful that his kid brother had no such future sacrifice to fear. ‘Right now, after a long period of instability, tradition is exactly what the people in both countries long to have back—’
‘The Ashuris are broke. Their country is in ruins. Why don’t you offer them a portion of our oil revenues instead?’
‘Haroun!’ Raja censured. ‘Watch your mouth. Until we find a feasible framework for this peace agreement we all need to practise great diplomacy.’
‘Since when has the truth been a hanging offence?’ Haroun argued. ‘We won the war yet you’re being bartered off to a bunch of boundary thieves, who were still herding sheep when our great-great-grandfather, Rashid, was a king!’
Conscious that many Najaris would agree with his sibling, for the war had sown deep enmity and prejudice between the people of both countries, Raja merely dealt the younger man an impatient appraisal. ‘I expect a more balanced outlook from a young man as well educated as you are.’
At the royal palace, the grey-haired and excessively precise Ashuri court advisor awaited Raja’s arrival with an assistant and both men were, indeed, wreathed in smiles.
‘My apologies if our timing has proved inconvenient, Your Royal Highness. Thank you for seeing us at such short notice.’ Bowing very low, Wajid wasted no time in making small talk. A man on a mission, he spread open a file on the polished table between them. ‘We have discovered that the only legal and marriageable female heir to the Ashuri throne is the daughter of the late King Anwar and a British citizen—’
‘A British citizen?’ Haroun repeated, intrigued. ‘Anwar was ruler before Princess Bariah’s father, King Tamim, wasn’t he?’
‘He was Tamim’s elder brother. I recall that King Anwar made more than one marriage,’ Raja remarked. ‘Who was the lady’s mother?’
The older man’s mouth compressed. ‘His first wife was an Englishwoman. The alliance was brief and she returned with the child to England after the divorce.’
‘And what age is Anwar’s daughter now?’ Haroun was full of lively curiosity.
‘Twenty-one years old. She has never been married.’
‘Half English,’ Prince Raja mused. ‘And still very young. Of good character?’
Wajid stiffened. ‘Of course.’
Raja was not so easily impressed. In his experience women who coveted the attentions of a prince were only looking for a good time and something sparkly to sweeten the deal. ‘Why did King Anwar divorce her mother?’
‘She was unable to have more children. It was a love match and short-lived,’ the older man commented with a scornful compression of his lips. ‘The king had two sons with his second wife, both of whom were killed during the war.’
Although Wajid was repeating information he was already well acquainted with, Raja dipped his head in respectful acknowledgement for a generation of young men had been decimated by the conflict that had raged for so long. As far as he was concerned if his marriage could persuade bitter enemies to live together in peace, it was a small sacrifice in comparison to the endless funerals he had once been forced to attend.
‘The name of Anwar’s daughter?’
‘The princess’s name is Ruby. As her mother chose to leave Ashur, the royal family took no further interest in either mother or daughter. Unfortunately Princess Ruby has had no training or preparation for a royal role.’
Raja frowned. ‘In which case she would find the lifestyle and the expectations very challenging.’
‘The princess is young enough to learn quickly.’ The court advisor rubbed his hands together with unfeigned enthusiasm. ‘Our advisors believe she can be easily moulded.’
‘Have you a photograph to show my brother?’ Haroun questioned eagerly.
Wajid leafed through the file and extracted a small photo. ‘I’m afraid this is several years old but the most recent photograph we have.’
Raja studied the slender blonde in the miniskirt and tee shirt, captured outside the Ashuri cathedral in their capital city. It was a tourist snap and the girl still had the legginess and slightly chubby and unformed features of adolescence. Her pale colouring was very unusual in his culture and that long blonde hair was exceptionally attractive and he immediately felt guilty for that shallow reflection with his former fiancée, Bariah, so recently laid to rest. But in truth he had only met Bariah briefly on one formal occasion and she had remained a stranger to him.
Less guarded than his elder brother, Haroun studied Princess Ruby and loosed a long low whistle of boyish approval.
‘That is enough,’ Raja rebuked the younger man in exasperation. ‘When can I hope to meet her?’
‘As soon as we can arrange it, Your Royal Highness.’ Not displeased by the compliment entailed in Haroun’s whistle of admiration, Wajid beamed, relieved by Raja’s practical response to the offer of another bride. Not for the first time, Wajid felt that Prince Raja would be a king he could do business with. The Najari regent accepted his responsibilities without fuss and if there was one thing he knew inside out, it was how to be royal. A young woman blessed with his support and guidance would soon learn the ropes.
‘Please, Ruby,’ Steve pleaded, gripping Ruby’s small waist with possessive hands.
‘No!’ Ruby told her boyfriend without hesitation. She pushed his hands from below her sweater. Although it didn’t appear to bother him she felt foolish grappling with him in broad daylight in a car parked in the shadiest corner of the pub car park.
Steve dealt her a sulky look of resentment before finally retreating back into the driver’s seat. Ruby, with her big brown eyes, blonde hair and fabulous figure, was a trophy and he was the envy of all his friends, but when she dug her heels in, she was as immovable as a granite rock. ‘Can I come over tonight?’
‘I’m tired,’ Ruby lied. ‘I should get back to work. I don’t want to be late.’
Steve dropped her back at the busy legal practice where she was a receptionist. They lived in the same Yorkshire market town. A salesman in an estate agency, Steve worked across the street from her and he was fighting a last-ditch battle to persuade Ruby that sex was a desirable activity. She had wondered if Steve might be the one to change her mind on that score for she had initially thought him very attractive. He had the blond hair and blue eyes she had always admired in men, but his kisses were wet and his roving hands squeezed her as if she were a piece of ripening fruit for sale on a stall. Steve had taught her that a man could be good-looking without being sexy.
‘You’re ten minutes late, Ruby,’ the office manager, a thin, bespectacled woman in her thirties, remarked sourly. ‘You need to watch your timekeeping.’
Ruby apologised and got back to work, letting her mind drift to escape the boredom of the routine tasks that made up her working day. When she had first started working at Collins, Jones & Fowler, she had been eighteen years old, her mother had just died and she had badly needed a job. Her colleagues were all female and older and the middle-aged trio of solicitors they worked for were an equally uninteresting bunch. Conversations were about elderly parents, children and the evening meal, never gossip, fashion or men. Ruby enjoyed the familiar faces of the regular clients and the brief snatches of friendly chatter they exchanged with her but continually wished that life offered more variety and excitement.
In comparison, her late mother, Vanessa, had had more than a taste of excitement while she was still young enough to enjoy it, Ruby recalled affectionately. As a youthful catwalk model in London, Vanessa had caught the eye of an Arab prince, who had married her after a whirlwind romance. Ruby’s birthplace was the country of Ashur in the Persian Gulf. Her father, Anwar, however, had chosen to take a second wife while still married to her mother and that had been the ignominious end of what Vanessa had afterwards referred to as her ‘royal fling’. Vanessa had got a divorce and had returned to the UK with her child. In Ashur daughters were rarely valued as much as sons and Ruby’s father had promptly chosen to forget her existence.
A year later, Vanessa, armed with a substantial payoff and very much on the rebound, had married Curtis Sommerton, a Yorkshire businessman. She had immediately begun calling her daughter by her second husband’s surname in the belief that it would enable Ruby to forget the family that had rejected them. Meanwhile Curtis had sneakily run through her mother’s financial nest egg and had deserted her once the money was spent. Heartbroken, Vanessa had grieved long and hard over that second betrayal of trust and had died of a premature heart attack soon afterwards.
‘My mistake was letting myself get carried away with my feelings,’ Vanessa had often told her daughter. ‘Anwar promised me the moon and I bet he promised the other wife he took the moon, as well. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, my love. Don’t go falling for sweet-talking womanisers like I did!’
Fiery and intelligent, Ruby was very practical and quick to spot anyone trying to take too much advantage of her good nature. She had loved her mother very much and preferred to remember Vanessa as a warm and loving woman, who was rather naive about men. Her stepfather, on the other hand, had been a total creep, whom Ruby had hated and feared. Vanessa had had touching faith in love and romance but, to date, life had only taught Ruby that what men seemed to want most was sex. Finer feelings like commitment, loyalty and romance were much harder to find or awaken. Like so many men before him, Steve had made Ruby feel grubby and she was determined not to go out with him again.
After work she walked home, to the tiny terraced house that she rented, for the second time that day. Her lunch breaks were always cut short by her need to go home and take her dog out for a quick walk but she didn’t mind. Hermione, the light of Ruby’s life, was a Jack Russell terrier, who adored Ruby and disliked men. Hermione had protected Ruby from her stepfather, Curtis, on more than one occasion. Creeping into Ruby’s bedroom at night had been a very dangerous exercise with Hermione in residence.
Ruby shared the small house with her friend Stella Carter, who worked as a supermarket cashier. Now she was surprised to see an opulent BMW car complete with a driver parked outside her home and she had not even contrived to get her key into the front door before it shot abruptly open.
‘Thank goodness, you’re home!’ Stella exclaimed, her round face flushed and uneasy. ‘You’ve got visitors in the lounge …’ she informed Ruby in a suitable whisper.
Ruby frowned. ‘Who are they?’
‘They’re something to do with your father’s family … No, not Curtis the perv, the real one!’ That distinction was hissed into Ruby’s ear.
Completely bewildered, Ruby went into the compact front room, which seemed uncomfortably full of people. A small grey-haired man beamed at her and bowed very low. The middle aged woman with him and the younger man followed suit, so that Ruby found herself staring in wonderment at three downbent heads.
‘Your Royal Highness,’ the older man breathed in a tone of reverent enthusiasm. ‘May I say what a very great pleasure it is to meet you at last?’
‘He’s been going on about you being a princess ever since he arrived,’ Stella told her worriedly out of the corner of her mouth.
‘I’m not a princess. I’m not a royal anything,’ Ruby declared with a frown of wryly amused discomfiture. ‘What’s this all about? Who are you?’
Wajid Sulieman introduced himself and his wife, Haniyah, and his assistant. ‘I represent the interests of the Ashuri royal family and I am afraid I must first give you bad news.’
Striving to recall her manners and contain her impatience, Ruby asked her visitors to take a seat. Wajid informed her that her uncle, Tamim, his wife and his daughter, Bariah, had died in a plane crash over the desert three weeks earlier. The names rang a very vague bell of familiarity from Ruby’s one and only visit to Ashur when she was a schoolgirl of fourteen. ‘My uncle was the king …’ she said hesitantly, not even quite sure of that fact.
‘And until a year ago your eldest brother was his heir,’ Wajid completed.
Ruby’s big brown eyes opened very wide in surprise. ‘I have a brother?’
Wajid had the grace to flush at the level of her ignorance about her relatives. ‘Your late father had two sons by his second wife.’
Ruby emitted a rueful laugh. ‘So I have two halfbrothers I never knew about. Do they know about me?’
Wajid looked grave. ‘Once again it is my sad duty to inform you that your brothers died bravely as soldiers in Ashur’s recent war with Najar.’
Stunned, Ruby struggled to speak. ‘Oh … yes, I’ve read about the war in the newspapers. That’s very sad about my brothers. They must’ve been very young, as well,’ Ruby remarked uncertainly, feeling hopelessly out of her depth.
The Ashuri side of her family was a complete blank to Ruby. She had never met her father or his relations and knew virtually nothing about them. On her one and only visit to Ashur, her once powerful curiosity had been cured when her mother’s attempt to claim a connection to the ruling family was heartily rejected. Vanessa had written in advance of their visit but there had been no reply. Her phone calls once they arrived in Ashur had also failed to win them an invitation to the palace. Indeed, Vanessa and her daughter had finally been humiliatingly turned away from the gates of the royal palace when her father’s relatives had not deigned to meet their estranged British relatives. From that moment on Ruby had proudly suppressed her curiosity about the Ashuri portion of her genes.
‘Your brothers were brave young men,’ Wajid told her. ‘They died fighting for their country.’
Ruby nodded with a respectful smile and thought sadly about the two younger brothers she had never got the chance to meet. Had they ever wondered what she was like? She suspected that royal protocol might well have divided them even if, unlike the rest of their family, they had had sufficient interest to want to get to know her.
‘I share these tragedies with you so that you can understand that you are now the present heir to the throne of Ashur, Your Royal Highness.’
‘I’m the heir?’ Ruby laughed out loud in sheer disbelief. ‘How is that possible? I’m a girl, for goodness’ sake! And why do you keep on calling me Your Royal Highness as if I have a title?’
‘Whether you use it or otherwise, you have carried the title of Princess since the day you were born,’ Wajid asserted with confidence. ‘It is your birthright as the daughter of a king.’
It all sounded very impressive but Ruby was well aware that in reality, Ashur was still picking up the pieces in the aftermath of the conflict. That such a country had fought a war with its wealthy neighbour over the oil fields on their disputed boundary was a testament to their dogged pride and determination in spite of the odds against them. Even so she had been hugely relieved when she heard on the news that the war was finally over.
She struggled to appear composed when she was actually shaken by the assurance that she had a legal right to call herself a princess and then her natural common sense reasserted its sway. Could there be anything more ridiculously inappropriate than a princess who worked as a humble receptionist and had to struggle to pay her rent most months? Even with few extras in her budget Ruby was invariably broke and she often did a weekend shift at Stella’s supermarket to help make ends meet.
‘There’s no room for titles and such things in my life,’ she said gently, reluctant to cause offence by being any more blunt. ‘I’m a very ordinary girl.’
‘But that is exactly what our people would like most about you. We are a country of ordinary hard-working people,’ Wajid declared with ringing pride. ‘You are the only heir to the throne of Ashur and you must take your rightful place.’
Ruby’s soft pink lips parted in astonishment. ‘Let me get this straight—you are asking me to come out to Ashur and live there as a princess?’
‘Yes. That is why we are here, to make you aware of your position and to bring you home.’ Wajid spread his arms expansively to emphasise his enthusiasm for the venture.
A good deal less expressive, Ruby tensed and shook her fair head in a quiet negative motion. ‘Ashur is not my home. Nobody in the royal family has even seen me since I left the country as a baby. There has been no contact and no interest.’
The older man looked grave. ‘That is true, but the tragedies that have almost wiped out the Shakarian family have ensured that everything has changed. You are now a very important person in Ashur, a princess, the daughter of a recent king and the niece of another, with a strong legal claim to the throne—’
‘But I don’t want to claim the throne, and in any case I do know enough about Ashur to know that women don’t rule there,’ Ruby cut in, her impatience growing, for she felt she was being fed a rather hypocritical official line that was a whitewash of the less palatable truth. ‘I’m quite sure there is some man hovering in the wings ready to do the ruling in Ashur.’
The court advisor would have squirmed with dismay had he not possessed the carriage of a man with an iron bar welded to his short spine. Visibly, however, he stiffened even more. ‘You are, of course, correct when you say that women do not rule in Ashur. Our country has long practised male preference primogeniture—’
‘So I am really not quite as important as you would like to make out?’ Ruby marvelled that he could ever have believed she might be so ignorant of the hereditary male role of kingship in Ashur. After all, hadn’t her poor mother’s marriage ended in tears and divorce thanks to those strict rules? Her father had taken another wife in a desperate attempt to have a son.
Placed in an awkward spot when he had least expected it, Wajid reddened and revised up his assumptions about the level of the princess’s intelligence. ‘I am sorry to contradict you but you are unquestionably a very important young woman in the eyes of our people. Without you there can be no King,’ he admitted baldly.
‘Excuse me?’ Her fine brows were pleating. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.’
Wajid hesitated. ‘Ashur and Najar are to be united and jointly ruled by a marriage between the two royal families. That was integral to the peace terms that were agreed to at the end of the war.’
Ruby froze at that grudging explanation and resisted the urge to release an incredulous laugh, for she suddenly grasped what her true value was to this stern little man. They needed a princess to marry off, a princess who could claim to be in line to the throne of Ashur. And here she was young and single. Nothing personal or even complimentary as such in her selection, she reflected with a stab of resentment and regret. It did, however, make more sense to her that she was only finally being acknowledged in Ashur as a member of the royal family because there was nobody else more suitable available.
‘I didn’t know that arranged marriages still took place in Ashur.’
‘Mainly within the royal family,’ Wajid conceded grudgingly. ‘Sometimes parents know their children better than their children know themselves.’
‘Well, I no longer have parents to make that decision for me. In any case, my father never took the time to get to know me at all. I’m afraid you’re wasting your time here, Mr Sulieman. I don’t want to be a princess and I don’t want to marry a stranger, either. I’m quite content with my life as it is.’ Rising to her feet to indicate that she felt it was time that her visitors took their leave, Ruby felt sorry enough for the older man in his ignorance of contemporary Western values to offer him a look of sympathy. ‘These days few young women would be attracted by an arrangement of that nature.’
Long after the limousine had disappeared from view Ruby and Stella sat discussing the visit.
‘A princess?’ Stella kept on repeating, studying the girl she had known from primary school with growing fascination. ‘And you honestly didn’t know?’
‘I don’t think they can have wanted Mum to know,’ Ruby offered evenly. ‘After the divorce my father and his family were happy for her to leave Ashur and from then on they preferred to pretend that she and I didn’t exist.’
‘I wonder what the guy they want you to marry is like,’ Stella remarked, twirling her dark fringe with dreamy eyes, her imagination clearly caught.
‘If he’s anything like as callous as my father I’m not missing anything. My father was willing to break Mum’s heart to have a son and no doubt the man they want me to marry would do anything to become King of Ashur—’
‘The guy has to be from the other country, right?’
‘Najar? Must be. Probably some ambitious poor relation of their royal family looking for a leg up the ladder,’ Ruby contended with rich cynicism, her scorn unconcealed.
‘I’m not sure I would have been so quick to send your visitors packing. I mean, if you leave the husband out of it, being a princess might have been very exciting.’
‘There was nothing exciting about Ashur,’ Ruby assured her friend with a guilty wince at still being bitter about the country that had rejected her, for she had recognised Wajid Sulieman’s sincere love for his country and the news of that awful trail of family deaths had been sobering and had left her feeling sad.
After a normal weekend during which her impressions of that astounding visit from the court advisor faded a little, Ruby went back to work. She had met up with Steve briefly on the Saturday afternoon and had told him that their relationship was over. He had taken it badly and had texted her repeatedly since then, alternately asking for another chance and then truculently criticising her and demanding to know what was wrong with him. She began ignoring the texts, wishing she had never gone out with him in the first place. He was acting a bit obsessive for a man she had only dated for a few weeks.
‘Men always go mad over you,’ Stella had sighed enviously when the texts started coming through again at breakfast, which the girls snatched standing up in the tiny kitchen. ‘I know Steve’s being a nuisance but I wouldn’t mind the attention.’
‘That kind of attention you’d be welcome to,’ Ruby declared without hesitation and she felt the same at work when her phone began buzzing before lunchtime with more messages, for she had nothing left to say to Steve.
A tall guy with luxuriant black hair strode through the door. There was something about him that immediately grabbed attention and Ruby found herself helplessly staring. Maybe it was his clothes, which stood out in a town where decent suits were only seen at weddings and then usually hired. He wore a strikingly elegant dark business suit that would have looked right at home in a designer advertisement in an exclusive magazine. It was perfectly modelled on his tall, well-built frame and long powerful legs. His razor-edged cheekbones were perfectly chiselled too, and as for those eyes, deep set, dark as sloes and brooding. Wow, Ruby thought for the very first time in her life as she looked at a man….

CHAPTER TWO
WHEN Prince Raja walked into the solicitor’s office, Ruby was the first person he saw and indeed, in spite of the number of other people milling about the busy reception area, pretty much the only person he saw. The pretty schoolgirl in the holiday snap had grown into a strikingly beautiful woman with a tumbling mane of blonde hair, sparkling eyes and a soft, full mouth that put him in mind of a succulent peach.
‘You are Ruby Shakarian?’ the prince asked as a tall, even more powerfully built man came through the door behind him to station himself several feet away.
‘I don’t use that surname.’ Ruby frowned, wondering how many more royal dignitaries she would have to deflect before they got the hint and dropped this ridiculous idea that she was a princess. ‘Where did you get it from?’
‘Wajid Sulieman gave it to me and asked me to speak to you on his behalf. Shakarian is your family name,’ Raja pointed out with an irrefutable logic that set her small white teeth on edge.
‘I’m at work right now and not in a position to speak to you.’ But Ruby continued to study him covertly, absorbing the lush black lashes semi-screening those mesmerising eyes, the twin slashes of his well-marked ebony brows, the smooth olive-toned skin moulding his strong cheekbones and the faint dark shadow of stubble accentuating his strong jaw and wide, sensual lips. Her prolonged scrutiny only served to confirm her original assessment that he was a stunningly beautiful man. Her heart was hammering so hard inside her chest that she felt seriously short of breath. It was a reaction that thoroughly infuriated her, for Ruby had always prided herself on her armour-plated indifference around men and the role of admirer was new to her.
‘Aren’t you going for lunch yet?’ one of her co-workers enquired, walking past her desk.
‘We could have lunch,’ Raja pronounced, pouncing on the idea with relief.
Since his private jet had wafted him to Yorkshire and the cool spring temperature that morning, Prince Raja had felt rather like an alien set down on a strange planet. He was not used to small towns and checking into a third-rate local hotel had not improved his mood. He was cold, he was on edge and he did not relish the task foisted on him.
‘If you’re connected to that Wajid guy, no thanks to lunch,’ Ruby pronounced as she got to her feet and reached for her bag regardless because she always went home at lunchtime.
The impression created by her seemingly long legs in that photo had been deceptive, for she was much smaller than Raja had expected and the top of her head barely reached halfway up his chest. Startled by that difference and bemused by that hitch in his concentration, Raja frowned. ‘Connected?’ he queried, confused by her use of the word.
‘If you want to talk about the same thing that Wajid did, I’ve already heard all I need to hear on that subject,’ Ruby extended ruefully. ‘I mean …’ she leant purposefully closer, not wishing to be overheard, and her intonation was gently mocking ‘… do I look like a princess to you?’
‘You look like a goddess,’ the prince heard himself say, speaking his thoughts out loud in a manner that was most unusual for him. His jaw tensed, for he would have preferred not to admit that her dazzling oval face had reminded him of a poster of a film star he recalled from his time serving with the Najari armed forces.
‘A goddess?’ Equally taken aback, Ruby suddenly grinned, dimples adorning her rounded cheeks. ‘Well, that’s a new one. Not something any of the men I know would come up with anyway.’
In the face of that glorious smile, Raja’s fluent English vocabulary seized up entirely. ‘Lunch,’ he pronounced again stiltedly.
On the brink of saying no, Ruby recognised Steve waiting outside the door and almost groaned out loud. She knew the one infallible way of shaking a man off was generally to let him see her in the company of another. ‘Lunch,’ Ruby agreed abruptly, and she planted a determined hand on Raja’s sleeve as if to take control of the situation. ‘But first I have to go home and take my dog out.’
Raja was taken aback by that sudden physical contact, for people were never so familiar in the presence of royalty, and his breath rasped between his lips. ‘That is acceptable.’
‘Who is that guy over there watching us?’ Ruby asked in a suspicious whisper, long blonde hair brushing his shoulder and releasing a tide of perfume as fragrant as summer flowers into the air.
‘One of my bodyguards.’ Raja advanced with the relaxed attitude of a male who took a constant security presence entirely for granted. ‘My car is waiting outside.’
The bodyguard went out first, looked to either side, almost bumping into Steve, and then spread the door wide again for their exit.
‘Ruby?’ Steve questioned, frowning at the tall dark male by her side as she emerged. ‘Who is this guy? Where are you going with him?’
‘I don’t have anything more to say to you, Steve,’ Ruby stated firmly.
‘I have a right to ask who this guy is!’ Steve snapped argumentatively, his face turning an angry red below his fair, floppy fringe.
‘You have no rights over me at all,’ Ruby told him in exasperation.
As Steve moved forward the prince made an almost infinitesimal signal with one hand and suddenly a big bodyguard was blocking the younger man’s attempt to get closer to Ruby. At the same time the other bodyguard had whipped open the passenger door to a long sleek limousine.
‘I can’t possibly get into a car with a stranger,’ Ruby objected, trying not to stare at the sheer size and opulence of the car and its interior.
Raja was unaccustomed to meeting with such suspicious treatment and it off-balanced him for it was not what he had expected from her. In truth he had expected her to scramble eagerly into the limo and gush about the built-in bar while helping herself to his champagne like the usual women he dated. But if the angry lovelorn young man shouting Ruby’s name was typical of the men she met perhaps she was sensible to be mistrustful of his sex.
‘I live close by. I’ll walk back home first and meet you there.’ Ruby gave him her address and sped across the street at a smart pace, deliberately not turning her head or looking back when Steve called her name.
The prince watched her walk away briskly. The breeze blew back her hair in a glorious fan of golden strands and whipped pink into her pale cheeks. She had big eyes the colour of milk chocolate and the sort of lashes that graced cartoon characters in the films that Raja’s youngest relatives loved to watch. A conspicuously feminine woman, she had a small waist and fine curves above and below it. Great legs, delicate at ankle and knee. He wondered if Steve had lain between those legs and the shock of that startlingly intimate thought sliced through Raja as the limo wafted him past and he got a last look at her. A woman with a face and body like that would make an arranged marriage tempting to any hot-blooded male, he told himself impatiently. And just at that moment Raja’s blood was running very hot indeed and there was a heavy tightness at his groin that signified a rare loss of control for him.
Ruby took Hermione out on her lead and by the time she unlocked the front door again, with the little black and white dog trotting at her heels, the limousine was parked outside waiting for her. This time she noticed that as well as the bodyguard in the front passenger seat there was also a separate car evidently packed with bodyguards parked behind it. Why was so much security necessary? Who was this guy? For the first time it occurred to Ruby that this particular visitor had to be someone more important than Wajid Sulieman and his wife. Certainly he travelled in much greater style. Checking her watch then, she frowned. There really wasn’t time for her to have lunch with anyone and she dug out her phone to ring work and ask if she could take an extended lunch hour. The office manager advanced grudging agreement only after she promised to catch up with her work by staying later that evening.
As she stood in the doorway, Hermione having retreated to her furry basket in the living room, the passenger door of the limo was opened by one of the bodyguards. Biting her full lower lip in confusion, Ruby finally pulled the door of her home closed behind her and crossed the pavement.
‘I really do need to know who you are,’ she spelt out tautly.
For the first time in more years than he cared to recall, Raja had the challenge of introducing himself.
‘Raja and you’re a prince?’ she repeated blankly, his complex surname leaving her head as soon as she heard the unfamiliar syllables. ‘But who are you?’
His wide, sensual mouth quirked and he surrendered to the inevitable. ‘I’m the man Wajid Sulieman wants you to marry.’
And so great was the surprise of that admission that Ruby got into the car and sat back without further comment. This gorgeous guy was the man they wanted her to marry? He bore no resemblance whatsoever to her vague imaginings.
‘Obviously you’re from the other country, Najar,’ she specified, recovering her ready tongue. ‘A member of their royal family?’
‘I am acting Regent of Najar. My father, King Ahmed, suffered a serious stroke some years ago and is now an invalid. I carry out his role in public because he is no longer able to do so.’
Ruby grasped the fine distinction he was making. Although his father suffered from ill health the older man remained the power behind the throne, doubtless restricting his son’s ability to make his own decisions. Was that why Raja was willing to marry a stranger? Was he eager to assume power in Ashur where he could rule without his father’s interference? Ruby hated being so ignorant. But what did she know about the politics of power and influence within the two countries?
One thing was for sure, however, Raja was very far from being the poor and accommodating royal hangeron she had envisaged. Entrapped by her growing curiosity, she stole a long sidewise glance at him, noting the curling density of his lush black lashes, the high sculpted cheekbones that gave his profile such definition, the stubborn set of his masculine jaw line. Young, no more than thirty years of age at most, she estimated. Young, extremely good-looking and rich if the car and the security presence were anything to go by, she reasoned, all of which made it even harder for her to understand why he would be willing to even consider an arranged marriage.
‘Someone digs up a total stranger, who just happens to be a long-lost relative of the Shakarian family, and you’re immediately willing to marry her?’ she jibed.
‘I have very good reasons for my compliance and that is why I was willing to fly here to speak to you personally,’ Raja fielded with more than a hint of quelling ice in his deep, dark drawl and he waved a hand in a fluid gesture of emphasis that caught her attention. His movements were very graceful and yet amazingly masculine at the same time. He commanded her attention in a way she had never experienced before.
An involuntary flush at that reflection warmed Ruby’s cheeks, for in general aggressively male men irritated her. Her stepfather had been just such a man, full of sports repartee, beer and sexist comments while he perved on her behind closed doors. ‘Nothing you could say is likely to change my mind,’ she warned Raja ruefully.
Unsettled by the effect he had on her and feeling inordinately like an insecure teenager, Ruby lowered her eyes defensively and her gaze fell on the male leg positioned nearest to hers. The fine, expensive material of his tailored trousers outlined the lean, muscular power of his thigh while the snug fit over the bulge at his crotch defined his male attributes. As soon as she realised where her attention had lodged she glanced hurriedly away, her face hot enough to fry eggs on and shock reverberating through her, for it was the very first time she had looked at a man as if he were solely a sex object. When she thought of how she hated men checking her out she could only feel embarrassed.
The prince took her to the town’s only decent hotel for lunch. He attracted a good deal of attention there, particularly from women, Ruby registered with growing irritation. It didn’t help that he walked across the busy dining room like the royal prince that he was, emanating a positive force field of sleek sophistication and assurance that set him apart from more ordinary mortals. Beside him she felt seriously underdressed in her plain skirt and raincoat. She just knew the other female diners were looking at her and wondering what such a magnificent male specimen was doing with her. The head waiter seated them in a quiet alcove where, mercifully, Ruby felt less on show and more at ease.
While they ate, and the food was excellent, Raja began to tell her about the war between Najar and Ashur and the current state of recovery in her birth country. The whole time he talked her attention was locked on him. It was as if they were the only two people left on the planet. He shifted a shapely hand and she wondered what it would feel like to have that hand touching her body. The surprise of the thought made her face flame. She absorbed the velvet nuances of his accented drawl and recognised that he had a beautiful speaking voice.
But worst of all when she met the steady glitter of his dark, reflective, midnight gaze she felt positively light-headed and her mouth ran dry.
‘Ashur’s entire infrastructure was ruined and unemployment and poverty are rising,’ Raja spelt out. ‘Ashur needs massive investment to rebuild the roads, hospitals and schools that have been destroyed. Najar will make that investment but only if you and I marry. Peace was agreed solely on the basis of a marriage that would eventually unite our two countries as one.’
Gulping down some water in an attempt to ground herself to planet earth again, Ruby was surprised by the will power she had to muster simply to drag her gaze from his darkly handsome features and she said in an almost defiant tone, ‘That’s completely crazy.’
The prince angled his proud dark head in a position that signified unapologetic disagreement. ‘Far from it. It is at present the only effective route to reconciliation which can be undertaken without either country losing face.’ As he made that statement his classic cheekbones were taut with tension, accentuating the smooth planes of the olive-tinted skin stretched over his superb bone structure.
‘Obviously I can see that nobody with a brain would want the war to kick off again,’ Ruby cut in ruefully, more shaken than she was prepared to admit by the serious nature of Ashur’s plight. She had not appreciated how grave the problems might be and even though the ruling family of her birth country had refused to acknowledge her existence, she was ashamed of the level of her ignorance.
‘Precisely, and that is where our role comes in,’ Raja imparted smoothly. ‘Ashur can only accept my country’s economic intervention if it comes wrapped in the reassurance of a traditional royal marriage.’
Ruby nodded in comprehension, her expression carefully blank as she asked what was for her the obvious question. ‘So what’s going to happen when this marriage fails to take place?’
In the dragging silence that fell in receipt of that leading query, his brilliant dark eyes narrowed and his lean, strong face took on a forbidding aspect. ‘As the marriage was an established element of the peace accord, many will argue that if no marriage takes place the agreement has broken down and hostilities could easily break out again. Our families are well respected. Given the right approach, we could act as a unifying force and our people would support us in that endeavour for the sake of a lasting peace.’
‘And you’re willing to sacrifice your own freedom for the sake of that peace?’ Ruby asked, wearing a dubious expression.
‘It is not a choice. It is a duty,’ Raja pronounced with a fluid shift of his beautifully shaped fingers. He said more with his hands than with his tongue, Ruby decided, for that eloquent gesture encompassed his complete acceptance of a sacrifice he clearly saw as unavoidable.
Ruby surveyed him steadily before saying without hesitation, ‘I think that’s a load of nonsense. How can you be so accepting of your duty?’
Raja breathed in deep and slow before responding to her challenge. ‘As a member of the royal family I have led a privileged life and I was brought up to appreciate that what is best for my country should be my prime motivation.’
Unimpressed by that zealous statement, Ruby rolled her eyes in cynical dismissal. ‘Well, I haven’t led a privileged life and I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of motivation to fall back on. I’m not sure I can believe that you do, either.’
Under rare attack for his conservative views and for the depth of his sincerity, Raja squared his broad shoulders, his lean, dark features setting hard. He was offended but determined to keep his emotions in check. He suspected that the real problem was that Ruby rarely thought before she spoke and he virtually never met with challenge or criticism. ‘Meaning?’
‘Did you fight in the war?’ Ruby prompted suddenly.
‘Yes.’
Ruby’s appetite ebbed and she rested back in her chair, milk-chocolate eyes telegraphing her contempt in a look that her quarry was not accustomed to receiving.
His tough jaw line clenched. ‘That is the reality of war.’
‘And now you think you can buy your way out of that reality by marrying me and becoming a saviour where you were once the aggressor?’ Ruby fired back with a curled lip as she pushed away her plate. ‘Sorry, I have no intention of being a pawn in a power struggle or of helping you to come to terms with your conscience. I’d like to leave now.’
On a wave of angry frustration Raja studied her truculent little face, his glittering eyes hostile. ‘You haven’t listened to me—’
Confident of her own opinion, Ruby lifted her chin in direct challenge of that charge. ‘On the contrary, I’ve listened and I’ve heard as much as I need to hear. I can’t be the woman you want me to be. I’m not a princess and I have no desire to sacrifice myself for the people or the country that broke my mother’s heart.’
At that melodramatic response, Raja only just resisted the urge to groan out loud. ‘You’re talking like a child.’
A red-hot flush ran up to the very roots of Ruby’s pale hair. ‘How dare you?’ she ground out, outraged.
‘I dare because I need you to think like an adult to deal with this dilemma. You may be prejudiced against the country where you were born but don’t drag up old history as an excuse—’
‘There’s nothing old about the way I grew up without a father,’ Ruby argued vehemently, starting to rise from her chair in tune with her rapidly rising temper. ‘Or the fact that he married another woman while he was still married to my mum! If that’s what you call prejudice then I’m not ashamed to own up to it!’
‘Lower your voice and sit down!’ the prince ground out in a biting undertone.
Ruby was so stunned by that command that she instinctively fell back into her seat and stared across the table at him with a shaken frown of disbelief that he could think he had the right to order her around. ‘Don’t speak to me like that—’
‘Then calm down and think of those less fortunate than you are.’
‘It still won’t make me willing to marry a stranger, who would marry a dancing bear if he was asked!’ Ruby shot back at him angrily.
‘What on earth are you trying to suggest?’ Raja demanded, dark eyes blazing like angry golden flames above them.
More than ready to tell him what she thought of him, Ruby tossed down her napkin with a positive flourish. ‘Did you think that I would be too stupid to work out what you’re really after?’ she asked him sharply. ‘You want the throne in Ashur and I’m the only way you have of getting it! Without me and a ring on my finger, you get nothing!’
Subjecting her to a stunned look of proud incredulity, Raja watched with even greater astonishment as Ruby plunged upright, abandoned their meal and stalked away, hair flying, narrow back rigid, skirt riding up on those slender shapely thighs. Had she no manners? No concept of restraint in public places? She actually believed that he wanted the throne in Ashur? Was that her idea of a joke? She had no grasp of realities whatsoever. He was the future hereditary ruler of one of the most sophisticated and rich countries in the Persian Gulf, he did not need to rule Ashur, as well.
A brisk walk of twenty minutes brought Ruby back to work. A little breathless and flustered after the time she had had to consider that fiery exchange over lunch, she was still trying to decide whether or not she had been unfair in her assessment of Prince Raja. Waiting on her desktop for her attention was a pile of work, however, and her head was already aching from the stress of the information he had dumped on her.
At spare moments during the afternoon that followed she mulled over what she had learned about her birth country’s predicament. It was not her fault all that had happened between Ashur and Najar, was it? But if Raja was correct and the peace broke down over the reality that their marriage and therefore the planned unification of the two countries did not take place, how would she feel about things then? That was a much less straightforward question and Ruby resolved to do some Internet research that evening to settle the questions she needed answered.
While Stella was cooking a late dinner, Ruby lifted the laptop the two young women shared, let Hermione curl up by her feet and sought information on the recent events in Ashur. Unfortunately a good deal of what she discovered was distressing stuff. Her late father’s country, Ashur, she slowly recognised, desperately needed help getting back on its feet and people everywhere were praying that the peace would hold. Reading a charity worker’s blog about the rising number of homeless people and orphans, Ruby felt tears sting her eyes and she blinked them back hurriedly and went to eat her dinner without an appetite. She could tell herself that Ashur was nothing to do with her but she was learning that her gut reaction was not guided by intellect. The war might be over but there was a huge job of rebuilding to be done and not enough resources to pay for it. In the meantime the people of Ashur were suffering. Could the future of an entire country and its people be resting on what she chose to do?
Sobered by that thought and the heavy responsibility that accompanied it, Ruby started to carefully consider her possible options. Stella ate and hurried out on a date. While Ruby was still deep in thought and tidying up the tiny kitchen, the doorbell buzzed. This time she was not surprised to find Najar’s much-decorated fighter-pilot prince on her doorstep again, for even she was now prepared to admit that they still had stuff to talk about. The sheer, dark masculine beauty of his bronzed features still took her by storm though and mesmerised her into stunned stillness. Those lustrous eyes set between sooty lashes in that stunningly masculine face exerted a powerful magnetic pull. She felt a tug at the heart of her and a prickling surge of heat. Once again, dragging her attention from him was like trying to leap single-handed out of a swamp.
‘You’d better come in—we have to talk,’ she acknowledged in a brittle breathless aside, exasperated by the way he made her stare and turning on her heel with hot cheeks to leave him to follow her.
‘It’s rude in my culture to turn your back on a guest or on royalty,’ Raja informed her almost carelessly.
With a sound of annoyance, Ruby whipped her blonde head around to study him with frowning brown eyes. ‘We have bigger problems than my ignorance of etiquette!’
As the tall, powerful man entered the room in Ruby’s wake Hermione peered out of her basket, beady, dark eyes full of suspicion. A low warning growl vibrated in the dog’s throat.
‘No!’ Ruby told her pet firmly.
‘You were expecting my visit,’ Raja acknowledged, taking a seat at her invitation and striving not to notice the way her tight black leggings and shrunken tee hugged her pert, rounded curves at breast and hip. The fluffy pink bunny slippers she wore on her tiny feet, however, made him compress his handsome mouth. He did not want to be reminded of just how young and unprepared she was for the role being offered to her.
Ruby breathed in deep, fighting the arrowing slide of shameless awareness keeping her unnaturally tense as she took a seat opposite him. Even at rest, the intoxicating strength of his tall, long-limbed, muscular body was obvious and she was suddenly conscious that her nipples had tightened into hard bullet points. She sucked in another breath, desperate to regain her usual composure. ‘Yes, I was expecting you.’
Raja did not break the silence when her voice faltered. He waited patiently for her to continue with a quality of confident cool and calm that she found fantastically sexy.
‘It’s best if I lay my cards on the table this time. First of all, I would never, ever be prepared to agree to a normal marriage with a stranger, so that option isn’t even a possibility,’ Ruby declared without apology, knowing that she needed to tell him that upfront. ‘But if you genuinely believe that only our marriage could ensure peace for Ashur, I feel I have to consider some way of bringing that about that we can both live with.’
Approbation gleamed in Raja’s dark gaze because he believed that she was finally beginning to see sense. He was also in the act of reflecting that he could contrive to live with her without any great problem. He pinned his attention to the stunning contours of her face while remaining painfully aware of the full soft, rounded curves of her unbound breasts outlined in thin cotton. Clear indentations in the fabric marked the pointed evidence of her nipples and the flame of nagging heat at his groin would not quit. Angry at his loss of concentration at so important a meeting, however, he compressed his wide, sensual mouth and willed his undisciplined body back under his control.
‘I do believe that only our marriage can give our countries the hope of an enduring peace,’ he admitted. ‘But if you are not prepared to consider a normal marriage, what are you suggesting?’
‘A total fake,’ Ruby replied without hesitation, a hint of amusement lightening her unusually serious eyes. ‘I marry you and we make occasional public appearances together to satisfy expectations but behind closed doors we’re just pretending to be an ordinary married couple.’
The prince concealed his surprise and mastered his expression lest he make the mistake of revealing that inflicting such a massive deception on so many people would be abhorrent to his principles. ‘A platonic arrangement?’
Ruby nodded with enthusiasm. ‘No offence intended but I’m really not into sex—’
‘With me? Or with anyone?’ Raja could not resist demanding that she make that distinction.
‘Anyone. It’s nothing personal,’ she hastened to assure a male who was taking it all very personally indeed. ‘And it will also give you the perfect future excuse to divorce me.’
Hopelessly engaged in wondering what had happened to her to give her such a distaste for intimacy, Raja frowned in bewilderment. ‘How?’
‘Well, obviously there won’t be a child. I’m not stupid, Raja. Obviously if we get married a son and heir is what everyone will be hoping for,’ she pointed out wryly. ‘But when there is no pregnancy and no child, you can use that as a very good reason to divorce me and then marry someone much more suitable.’
‘It would not be that simple. I fully understand where you got this idea from though,’ he imparted wryly. ‘But while your father may have divorced your mother in such circumstances, there has never been a divorce within my family and our people and yours would be very much shocked and disturbed by such a development.’
Ruby shrugged a slight shoulder in disinterested dismissal of that possibility. ‘There isn’t going to be a perfect solution to our dilemma,’ she told him impatiently. ‘And I think that a fake marriage could well be as good as it gets. Take it or leave it, Raja.’
Raja almost laughed out loud at that impudent closing speech. What a child she still was! He could only begin to imagine how deeply offended the Ashuri people would be were he to divorce their princess while seeking to continue to rule their country. What she was suggesting was only a stopgap solution, not a permanent remedy to the dilemma.
‘Well, that’s one angle but not the only one,’ Ruby continued ruefully. ‘I have to be very blunt here …’
An unexpected grin slanted across Raja’s beautifully moulded mouth, for in his opinion she had already been exceedingly frank. ‘By all means, be blunt.’
‘I would have to have equal billing in the ruling stakes,’ she told him squarely. ‘I can’t see how you can be trusted to look out for the interests of both countries when you’re from Najar. You would have an unfair advantage. I will only agree to marry you if I have as much of a say in all major decisions as you do.’
‘That is a revolutionary idea and not without its merits,’ Raja commented, striving not to picture Wajid Sulieman’s shattered face when he learned that his princess was not, after all, prepared to be a powerless puppet on the throne. ‘You should have that right but it will not be easy to convince the councils of old men, who act as the real government in our respective countries. In addition, you will surely concede that you know nothing about our culture—’
‘But I can certainly learn,’ Ruby broke in with stubborn determination. ‘Well, those are my terms.’
‘You won’t negotiate?’ the prince prompted.
‘There is no room for negotiation.’
Raja was grimly amused by that uncompromising stance. In many ways it only emphasised her naivety. She assumed that she could break all the rules and remain untouched by the consequences yet she had no idea of what real life was like in her native country. Without that knowledge she could not understand how much was at stake. He knew his own role too well to require advice on how to respond to her demands.
Royal life had taught him early that he did not have the luxury of personal choice. His primary duty was to persuade the princess to take up her official role in Ashur and to marry her, twin objectives that he was expected to achieve by using any and every means within his power. His father had made it clear that the need for peace must overrule every other consideration. Any natural reluctance to agree to a celibate marriage in a society where extramarital sex was regarded as a serious evil did not even weigh in the balance.
I’m really not into sex, she had confided and, like any man, he was intrigued. Since she could not make such an announcement and still be an innocent he could only assume that she had suffered from the attentions of at least one clumsy lover. Far from being an amateur in the same field, Raja surveyed her with a gleam of sensual speculation in his dark eyes. He was convinced that given the right opportunity he could change her mind on that score.
‘Well, what do you think?’ Ruby pressed edgily as she rose to her feet again.
‘I will consider your proposition,’ the prince conceded non-committally, springing upright to look down at her with hooded, dark eyes.
His ability to conceal his thoughts from his lean, dark features infuriated Ruby, who had always found the male sex fairly easy to read. For once she had not a clue what a man might be thinking and her ignorance intimidated and frustrated her. Like the truly stunning dark good looks that probably turned heads wherever he went, the prince’s reticence was one of his most noticeable attributes. He had the skills of a natural-born diplomat, she conceded, grudgingly recognising how well equipped he was to deal with opposing viewpoints and sensitive political issues.

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