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Bound By His Desert Diamond
Andie Brock


The PlanPrincess Annalina would do anything to end her arranged engagement…including getting photographed in a compromising position with a handsome stranger!The PrinceHer mystery man is Prince Zahir Zahani—her betrothed’s brother—and the kiss that sparks unexpected need in them both traps Annalina and Zahir into a whole new kind of royal bind…till death do them part!The Passion!Having learned the cost of trusting others, Zahir tries to keep Annalina at a distance. But she challenges him at every turn and suddenly giving in to his darkest desires is all Zahir craves…Conveniently wedded, passionately bedded!







The Plan

Princess Annalina would do anything to end her arranged engagement...including getting photographed in a compromising position with a handsome stranger!

The Prince

Her mystery man is Prince Zahir Zahani—her betrothed’s brother—and the kiss that sparks unexpected need in them both traps Annalina and Zahir in a whole new kind of royal bind...till death do them part!

The Passion!

Having learned the cost of trusting others, Zahir tries to keep Annalina at a distance. But she challenges him at every turn, and suddenly, giving in to his darkest desires is all Zahir craves...


Decision made, Zahir took hold of Annalina’s arm.

‘You will accompany me back to the party, where we will seek out the King and tell him what has happened. Then we will announce your engagement.’

The fight was back in Annalina’s eyes. ‘The King won’t marry me now. That’s the reason I just kissed you in full view of that photographer.’

‘We will announce your engagement—not to the King but to his brother, the Prince.’

‘Yeah, great idea! I take it you must be employed more for your brawn than your brains?’

Zahir felt every muscle in his body stiffen at her mocking jibe. He was going to enjoy punishing her for her insolence.

‘The Prince is hardly going to want to marry me, is he?’

‘As of five minutes ago, the Prince has no choice.’

Narrowing his eyes, Zahir watched defiance turn to confusion, and confusion turn to a creeping realisation. A strangely perverse sense of pleasure stole over him.

‘Ah, yes, Princess, I see the truth is dawning.’ Zahir threw back his shoulders, almost enjoying himself. ‘I am Zahir Zahani, Prince of Nabatean, brother of King Rashid. And, as of five minutes ago, your future husband.’


Wedlocked!

Conveniently wedded, passionately bedded!

Whether there’s a debt to be paid, a will to be obeyed or a business to be saved… She’s got no choice but to say, ‘I do!’

But these billionaire bridegrooms have got another think coming if they think marriage will be that easy…

Soon their convenient brides become the object of an inconvenient desire!

Find out what happens after the vows in

The Billionaire’s Defiant Acquisition by Sharon Kendrick

One Night to Wedding Vows by Kim Lawrence

Wedded, Bedded, Betrayed by Michelle Smart

Expecting a Royal Scandal by Caitlin Crews

Trapped by Vialli’s Vows by Chantelle Shaw

A Diamond for Del Rio’s Housekeeper by Susan Stephens

Baby of His Revenge by Jennie Lucas

Look out for more Wedlocked! stories coming soon!


Bound by His Desert Diamond

Andie Brock






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


ANDIE BROCK started inventing imaginary friends around the age of four and is still doing that today—only now the sparkly fairies have made way for spirited heroines and sexy heroes. Thankfully she now has some real friends, as well as a husband and three children, plus a grumpy but lovable cat. Andie lives in Bristol, and when not actually writing might well be plotting her next passionate romance story.

Books by Andie Brock

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

The Shock Cassano BabyThe Sheikh’s Wedding ContractThe Last Heir of Monterrato

Visit the Author Profile page at

millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.


To Roger.

Who has spent far more time discussing manly emotions and reactions and romance in general than he ever signed up for!

Thank you, Con. x


Contents

Cover (#u8d2f48bc-a5f1-5abc-ae5e-458d717c401c)

Back Cover Text (#ue78c9656-f6bc-5a53-8658-32d456e473a3)

Introduction (#u699db263-c05c-5c69-b855-18c33b3da710)

Wedlocked! (#u29171298-9abd-5971-a179-ac79d0ddf8af)

Title Page (#u0eaa0c35-6970-5041-b585-4138b5837806)

About the Author (#ucd57d584-a5a2-552c-9822-3233bcd1abad)

Dedication (#uf8842d24-c7d2-556c-a353-21944d6eb7e6)

CHAPTER ONE (#u11b94b2e-f131-54d7-b8f3-15a9d6db7c35)

CHAPTER TWO (#ub4961403-586a-5877-9b89-29379dee7f15)

CHAPTER THREE (#u9ea5628b-0630-5d5b-8695-a09ba2716a0c)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u9d76d731-2a7c-581b-9876-f522ef0b55b3)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u815984dc-ae63-59bb-84da-574a2b9166f3)

CLASPING THE COLD metal railings, Annalina stared down at the swirling black depths of the River Seine. She shivered violently, her heart thumping beneath the tight-fitting bodice of her evening gown, her designer shoes biting into the soft flesh of her heels. Clearly they had not been designed for a mad sprint down the bustling boulevards and cobbled back streets of Paris.

Oh, God. Anna dragged in a shuddering lung full of cold night air. What had she just done?

Somewhere behind her in one of Paris’s most grand hotels, a society party was in swing. A glittering, star-studded occasion attended by royalty and heads of state, the great, the good and the glamorous from the world over. It was a party being thrown in her honour. And worse, far worse, a party where a man she had only just met was about to announce that she was to be his bride.

She let out a rasping breath, watching the cloud of condensation disperse into the night. She had no idea where she was or what she was going to do now but she did know that there was no going back. The brutal fact was she couldn’t go through with this marriage, no matter what the consequences. Right up until tonight she had genuinely believed she could do it, could commit to this union, to please her father and to save her country from financial ruin.

Even yesterday, when she had met her intended for the first time, she had played along. Watching in a kind of dazed stupor as the ring had been slipped onto her finger, a perfunctory gesture performed by a man who had just wanted to get the deed over with, and witnessed by her father, whose steely-eyed glare had left no room for second thoughts or doubts. As King of the small country of Dorrada he was going to make sure that this union took place. That his daughter would marry King Rashid Zahani, ruler of the recently reformed Kingdom of Nabatean, if it was the last thing she ever did.

Which frankly, right now, looked like a distinct possibility. Anna gazed down at the ring on her finger. The enormous diamond glittered back at her, mocking her with its ostentatious sparkle. Heaven only knew what it was worth—enough to pay the entire annual salaries of the palace staff, no doubt, and with money to spare. She tugged it over her cold knuckles and held it in her palm, feeling the burden of its weight settle like a stone in her heart.

To hell with it.

Closing her fist, she raised herself up on tiptoes, leaning as far over the railings as she could. She was going to do this. She was going to fling this hateful ring into the river. She was going to control her own destiny.

He came from out of nowhere—an avalanche of heat, weight and muscle that landed on top of her, knocking the breath from her lungs, flattening her against the granite wall of his chest. She could see nothing except the darkness of him, feel nothing except the strength of the arms that were locked around her like corded steel. Her body went limp, her bones dissolving with shock. Only her poor heart tried to keep her alive, taking up a wild, thundering beat.

‘Oh, no, you don’t.’

He growled the words over the top of her head, somewhere in the outside world that, until a couple of moments ago, she had quite taken for granted. Now she panicked she would never see it again.

Don’t what?

Anna forced her oxygen-starved brain to work out what he meant. Shouldn’t it be her telling this mad man what he shouldn’t be doing? Like crushing her so hard against him that she was almost asphyxiated. She tried to move inside his grip but the ring of steel tightened still further, pinning her arms to her sides. Her mouth, she suddenly registered, was pressed against flesh. She could touch him with the tip of her tongue, taste the very masculine mix of spice and sweat. She could feel the coarseness of what had to be chest hair against her lips. Forcing her mouth open, she bared her teeth, then brought them down as hard as she could. Yes! Her sharp nip connected with a small but significant ridge of his flesh. She felt him buck, then curse loudly in a foreign tongue.

‘Why, you little...’ Releasing her just enough to be able to see her face, her captor glared at her with ferociously piercing black eyes. ‘What the hell are you? Some sort of animal?’

‘Me!’ Incredulity spiked through the terror as Anna stared back at him, squinting through the dark shadows to try and work out who the hell he was, what the hell he wanted. He seemed somehow familiar but she couldn’t pull back far enough to see. ‘You call me an animal when you’ve just leapt out on me from the shadows like some sort of crazed beast!’ The jet-black eyes narrowed, glinting with all the menace of a brandished blade. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to goad him. ‘Look.’ She tried for what she hoped was a conciliatory tone, though her voice was too muffled from being squeezed half to death to be able to tell. ‘If it’s money you want, I’m afraid I don’t have any.’

This much was true. She had fled the party without even thinking to snatch up her clutch bag.

‘I don’t want your money.’

The rush of fear returned. Oh, God, what did he want, then? Terror closed her throat as she desperately tried to come up with something to distract him. Suddenly she remembered the ring that was still digging into her palm. It was worth a try. ‘I do have a ring, though—right here in my hand.’ She tried unsuccessfully to free her arm to show it to him. ‘If you let me go you can have it.’

This produced a mocking snort from above her.

‘No, really, it’s worth thousands—millions, for all I know.’

‘I know exactly what it’s worth.’

He did? Anna gasped with relief. So that was what this brute was after—the wretched ring. Well, he was welcome to it. Good riddance. She just wished she could get out of her engagement as easily. She was struggling to thrust it upon him when he spoke again.

‘I should do. I signed the cheque.’

Anna stilled. What? This wasn’t making any sense. Who on earth was this guy? Twisting in his arms, she felt his grip loosen a fraction, enough to let her straighten her spine, tip her chin and gaze into his face. Her heart thundered at what she saw.

Fearsomely handsome features glowered down at her, all sharp-angled planes of chiselled cheekbones, a blade-straight nose and an uncompromising jut of a granite-hewn jaw, all highlighted by the orange glow of the Victorian street lights. He exuded strength and power, and his sheer forcefulness shivered its way through Anna’s body, settling somewhere deep within her core.

She recognised him now. She remembered having seen him out of the corner of her eye somewhere amid the flurry of guests at the party, amid the endless introductions and polite conversations. A dark yet unmissable figure, he had been looming in the background, taking in everything—taking in her, too, before she had haughtily turned her profile to him. Some sort of bodyguard or minder—that was who he had to be. She remembered now the way he had hovered at the side of Rashid Zahani, her new fiancé, always a step behind him but somehow in charge, controlling him, owning the space, the glittering ballroom and everyone in it.

But a bodyguard who picked out engagement rings?

Somehow she couldn’t see this towering force of a man lingering over a tray of jewels. Not that that mattered. What mattered was that he took his brutish hands off her and left her alone to carry on making the hideous mess of her life that she seemed so hell-bent on doing.

‘So, if I am not being mugged, perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me exactly why you have leapt out of the dark and scared me half to death. And why you’re not letting me go now, this instant. Presumably you know who I am?’

‘Indeed I do, Princess.’

The word ‘princess’ hissed through his teeth, curdling something in Anna’s stomach. Loosening his arms from around her back, he moved his hands to her shoulders, where they weighed down on her with searing heat.

‘And, in reply to your question, I’m stopping you from doing something extremely foolish.’

‘Flinging this into the river, you mean?’ With a contemptuous toss of her head, Anna opened her hand to reveal the hated ring.

‘That and yourself along with it.’

‘Myself?’ She scowled up at him. ‘You don’t mean...? You didn’t think..?’

‘That you were about to leap to your death? Yes.’

‘And why exactly would I want to do that?’

‘You tell me, Princess. You flee from your own engagement party in a state of high anxiety, position yourself on a bridge with a thirty-foot drop into a fast-flowing river and then lean forward in an extremely dangerous way. What was I supposed to think?’

‘You weren’t supposed to think at all. You were supposed to mind your own business and leave me alone.’

‘Ah, but this is my business. You are my business.’

A wave of heat swept over Anna at the possessiveness of his words.

‘Well, fine.’ She fought to stand her ground. ‘Now you can go back to your boss and tell him that you prevented a suicide that was never going to happen by leaping on an innocent woman—a woman who just happens to be a princess, may I remind you?—and scaring her half to death. I’m sure he will be very pleased with you.’

Piercingly dark eyes held hers, flicking over her like the flames of a newly lit fire, mesmerising with a promise of deadly heat. There was something else there too, an amused arrogance, if Anna wasn’t mistaken. If ‘amused’ could ever be used to describe those forbidding features.

‘In fact I may decide to press charges.’ Anger hardened her voice. ‘If you don’t get your hands off me within the next second, I will make sure everyone knows of your behaviour.’ She jerked at her shoulders to try and dislodge his leaden hold.

‘I’ll take my hands off you when I am good and ready.’ His voice was as dark and menacing as the river that flowed beneath them. ‘And when I do it will be to personally escort you back to the party. There are a number of very important people there waiting for a big announcement, in case you had forgotten.’

‘No, not forgotten.’ Anna swallowed. ‘But, as it happens, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided I won’t be marrying King Rashid after all. In fact, perhaps you would like to go back and inform him of my decision.’

‘Ha!’ A cruel laugh escaped his lips. ‘I can assure you, you will be doing no such thing. You will accompany me back to the ballroom and you will act as if nothing has happened. The engagement will be announced as planned. The wedding will go ahead as planned.’

‘I think you are forgetting yourself.’ Anna fired back at him. ‘You are in no position to speak to me like that.’

‘I’ll speak to you any way I want, Princess. And you will do as I say. You can start by putting that ring back on your finger.’ His hand moved to Anna’s, picking up the ring and sending a jolt of awareness through her. For one crazy moment, she thought he was going to slip it back on her finger himself, like some sort of deranged suitor, but instead he handed it to her and waited as she did as she was told, the sheer force of his presence giving her no choice other than to obey.

With her ring in place, he took hold of her arm with manacle-like force and Anna found herself being turned away from the railings, presumably to be marched back to the party. This was outrageous. How dared he treat her like this? She wanted to spell out in the clearest possible terms that she did not take orders from bodyguards, or ring-choosers, or whoever this arrogant piece of work thought he was. But presumably he was working on the orders of King Rashid...

With her mind racing in all directions, she tried to think what on earth she could do—how she could get herself out of this mess. Physically trying to get away from him was clearly not an option. Even if she managed to escape his iron grip—which was highly unlikely, as the forceful fingers wrapped around her cold skin could testify—she would never be able to run fast enough to get away from him. The image of him chasing and finally capturing her flailing body was strangely erotic, given the circumstances.

She would have to use the only thing she had left in her armoury—her feminine wiles. Drawing herself up to her full height, she let her shoulder blades slide down her back, which had the desired effect of pushing her chest forward, accentuating the fullness of her breasts as they spilled over the tight bodice of her gown. Ah, yes, she had his attention now. She felt her nipples harden beneath his veiled scrutiny, sensing rather than witnessing his eyes delve into the valley of her cleavage. Her breath stalled in her throat, a tingling warmth spreading through her entire body, and she fleetingly found herself wondering who was supposed to be seducing who here.

‘I’m sure we can come to some sort of mutual agreement.’ Her voice came out as a sort of husky burr, more as a result of the sudden dryness of her throat than an attempt at sexiness. Still, it seemed to be working. Bodyguard man was still staring fixedly at her and, even if his granite expression hadn’t softened, there was no doubt she was doing something right.

Raising her arms, Anna went to link them behind his neck. She had no clear thought of what she was doing except that maybe she could persuade him with flattery, or perhaps blackmail him after a kiss—he was certainly getting no more that—so that she could make her escape. It went against her feminist principles but desperate times called for desperate measures.

But before she had the chance to do anything of the sort this hateful man snatched at her wrists, easily clasping them in one hand and bringing them down to her chest at the same time as swinging his other arm around her waist to pull her snugly against him. Anna gasped, the contact with his body, that part of his body, the particular swell of that part of his body, ricocheting through her with clenching waves. Granite-faced he may be, but that wasn’t the only part of his body she had managed to harden.

And, judging by the look on his face, her captor had been taken by surprise too. He was glaring at her with a mixture of horror and hunger, the hand clasping her wrists shaking very slightly before he tightened its grip. Controlling the tremble of her own body, Anna stared back. If this was a small victory, though small was hardly the right word, she was going to make the most of it. Tipping back her head, she trained her eyes on his, forcing his to meet them, to see the temptations that they held, temptations that burned so brightly, even if she had no intention of honouring them. She could sense the quickening of his heartbeat beneath his white shirt, hear the faint rasp in his exhaled breath. She had got him.

‘Princess Anna!’

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light, illuminating their bodies, freezing them against the backdrop of darkness.

‘What the hell?’ A low growl rumbled from Anna’s captor as he spun around to face the photographer that had crept out of the shadows, the shutter of the camera clicking furiously.

Blinking against the glare, Anna felt her wrists being released as this warrior man lunged towards the photographer, clearly intent on murder. But when she went to move, to make her escape or save the photographer’s life—she didn’t know which—he was right back by her side again, pulling her forcefully into his arms.

‘Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not going anywhere.’

‘Come on, Anna. Show us a kiss!’ Bolder now, the photographer took a step closer, the camera flashing all the time.

Anna had a split second to make a decision. If she wanted to get away from this man, avoid being frogmarched back to her own engagement party and forced to announce her betrothal to a man she could never, ever marry, there was one sure way to do it. Standing on tiptoes, she raised her arms to link them behind her captors head, shoving her fingers through the thick swathe of his hair and pulling against his resistance to bring him closer. If this was what the photographer wanted, this was what he was going to get.

With one final, terrifically brave or wildly foolish breath—Anna had no idea which—she reached up to plant her lips firmly on his.

* * *

What the hell?

Shock sucked the air from Zahir Zahani’s lungs, numbing his senses, closing his fists. Plump and firm, her lips had swiftly turned from cold to warm as they sealed his own, the pressure increasing as she raked her hands through his hair to pull him closer. Her breath rasped between them, her delicate scent filling his nostrils, temporarily freezing his brain yet heating every other part of his body. Zahir went rigid, and the arms that were supposed to be restraining her were no more than useless weights as Annalina continued her relentless assault on his mouth. With the blood roaring in his ears, he found his lips parting, his body screaming to show her just where this could lead if she carried on this very dangerous game.

‘Fantastic! Cheers for that, Anna.’

The camera flashes stopped and Annalina finally released him, letting her arms fall by her side. Meanwhile the photographer was already on his scooter, his camera slung over his shoulder.

‘I owe you one!’

Turning the scooter around, he noisily zoomed off into the Paris streets, giving a cheery wave over his shoulder.

Zahir stared after him, suffering a split second of silent horror before his brain finally kicked into action again. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he grabbed his mobile phone. He’d have been able to catch the low life on foot if he didn’t have this vixen to deal with. But his security team would pick him up—get him stopped and get the camera tossed into the Seine, the photographer along with it, if he had any say.

‘No.’ Her cold, trembling fingers closed over the phone in his hand. ‘It’s too late. It’s done.’

‘The hell it is.’ Shaking off her hand, he started to punch in numbers. ‘I can get him stopped. I will get him stopped.’

‘There’s no point.’

He stopped short, the cold determination in her voice halting his hand. ‘And what exactly do you mean by that?’ A trickle of dread started to seep into his veins.

‘I’m sorry.’ Dark-blue eyes shone back at him. ‘But I had to do it.’

Hell! Realisation smacked him across the head. He’d been had. The whole thing was a set-up. This deceitful, conniving little princess had set a trap and he had walked right in. Fury coursed through him. He had no idea what her motive was but he did know that she would live to regret it. Nobody made a fool of Zahir Zahani.

‘You will be sorry, believe me.’ He kept his voice deliberately low, concentrating on controlling the rage that was pumping adrenaline dangerously fast around his veins. ‘You will be more than sorry for what you have done.’

‘I had no choice!’ Her voice was full of anguish now and she even reached out a trembling hand to touch his arm before demurely lowering her eyes to the ground.

Nice try, Princess. But you don’t get to fool me more than once.

Roughly grasping her chin, Zahir tipped back her head so she couldn’t escape his searing gaze. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted her to know exactly who she was dealing with here.

‘Oh, you had a choice, all right. You’ve chosen to bring scandal and disrepute to both our countries. And, trust me, you are going to pay for that, young lady. But first you are going to tell me why.’

He saw her slender body begin to tremble, her bare shoulders hunch against the shiver that ran through her. Bizarrely he itched to touch her, to warm that tantalisingly goose-bumped skin with his hot hands. But he would do no such thing.

‘Because I am desperate.’ Clear blue eyes implored him.

‘Desperate?’ He repeated the word with disgust.

‘Yes. I can’t go back to that party.’

‘So that’s why you set up this little charade?’

‘No, I didn’t set it up, not in the way you mean. I just took advantage of the situation.’ Her voice lowered.

‘You tricked me into following you. You arranged for that photographer to be there.’

‘No! I had no idea that either of you had followed me.’

‘You’re lying. That guy knew you.’

‘He didn’t know me. He knows who I am. There’s a difference. The press have been following me around all my life.’

‘So you are telling me this wasn’t planned?’

Annalina shook her head.

‘Think carefully before you speak, Princess. Because, I have to warn you, to lie to me now would be very foolish indeed.’

‘It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. And that is the truth.’

Despite everything, Zahir found himself believing her. He dragged in a breath. ‘So that...that little display you just put on...?’ He curled his lip against the traitorous memory of the way she had leant into him, the way she had messed with his head. ‘What exactly did you hope to achieve? What makes you so desperate that you would bring disgrace upon your family? Fabricate a scandal to rock the foundations of both of our countries?’

‘Disgrace I can live with. I’m used to it.’ Her voice was suddenly very small. ‘And the scandal will die down. But to be forced to marry Rashid Zahani is more than I can bear. That would have been a life sentence.’

‘How dare you disrespect the King in this way?’ Defensive anger roared in his voice. ‘The engagement will still be announced. The marriage will still go ahead.’

‘No. You can force me to go back to the party, even force me, with the help of my father, to go ahead with the announcement of the engagement. But, once those photographs go online, I’ll be dropped like a stone.’

Zahir stared into the beautiful face of this wilful princess. Her skin was so pale in this ghostly light, so delicate, it was almost translucent. But her lips were ruby-red and her eyes as blue as the evening sky.

He knew with a leaden certainty that she meant what she said. There was no way she was going to go through with this marriage. He could still find that photographer, destroy the photos, but ultimately what good would it do? What was to be gained?

Hell and damnation. After all the planning that had gone into this union, the careful handling, the wretched party... It had taken all his powers of persuasion to get Rashid to agree to marry this European princess at all. Months of negotiations to get to this point. And for what? To have the whole thing thrown back in their faces and Rashid humiliated in the most degrading way. No, he could not let that happen. He would not let that happen. He had been a fool to trust this wayward princess, to believe the empty promises of her desperate father. But the situation had gone too far now—he had to try and salvage something from this mess. He had to come up with a clever solution.

Decision made, he took hold of Annalina’s arm.

‘You will accompany me back to the party and we will seek out the King and tell him what has happened. Then we will announce your engagement.’

‘Didn’t you understand a word I said?’ The fight was back in her eyes. ‘The King won’t marry me now. That’s the reason I just did what I did.’

‘We will announce your engagement—not to the King, but to his brother, the Prince.’

‘Yeah, great idea! I take it you must be employed more for your brawn than your brains.’ Zahir felt every muscle in his body stiffen at her mocking jibe. He was going to enjoy punishing her for her insolence. ‘The Prince is hardly going to want to marry me either, is he?’

‘As of five minutes ago, the Prince has no choice.’

Narrowing his eyes, Zahir watched defiance turn to confusion turn to a creeping realisation. A strangely perverse sense of pleasure stole over him.

Her trembling hand flew to her mouth then made a fist as she stuffed it between her lips, biting down onto her knuckles to stifle her cry.

‘Ah, yes, Princess, I see the truth is dawning.’ Zahir threw back his shoulders, almost enjoying himself. ‘I am Zahir Zahani, Prince of Nabatean, brother of King Rashid. And, as of five minutes ago, your future husband.’


CHAPTER TWO (#u815984dc-ae63-59bb-84da-574a2b9166f3)

ANNA FELT FOR the railings of the bridge behind her, grabbing at the bars to stop herself from sliding to the ground.

‘You...you are Prince Zahir?’

One arrogant, scowling dark brow raised fractionally in reply.

No. It wasn’t possible. The full horror of what she had done gnawed away at her brain. Being caught in a clinch with a bodyguard to get out of her engagement was one thing, but for the ‘bodyguard’ to be the fiancé’s brother was quite another. This went far beyond the realms of scandal. This could cause an international incident.

‘I... I had no idea.’

He shrugged. ‘Evidently.’

‘We need to do something—quickly.’ Panic caught up with her, squeezing her vocal cords, spinning her brain around in her head. ‘We must stop that photographer.’

Still Zahir Zahani didn’t move. What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he doing anything? Anna felt as if she were in a terrible dream, running and running but getting no further away from the monster.

Finally he spoke. ‘To use your phrase, Princess, it’s too late. It’s done.’

‘But that was before I knew... There’s still time to find him, pay him off, stop him.’

‘Possibly. But I have no intention of doing any such thing.’

‘Wh...what do you mean?’ Confusion and frustration held her in their grip, hysteria not far behind. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Because, like you, I intend to take advantage of the situation. We will go back to the party and we will announce our engagement. Just as I said.’

Horror now joined the bedlam in her head. He wasn’t serious. Surely he didn’t mean it? She stared into his cold, forbidding features. Oh, God. He did—he really did!

Releasing the railings, she pushed herself upright, immediately dwarfed by this towering figure of a man who was blocking her way, her vision, her ability to think clearly. ‘No! We can’t. The idea is preposterous.’

‘Is it, Princess Annalina? He glowered down at her. ‘How will you feel tomorrow when those photographs are published? When you have to face your father, your people and the rest of the world? Are you prepared for the consequences?’

Her face crumpled.

‘As I thought.’ His mocking voice echoed in the dark around them. ‘Not quite so preposterous now, is it? You have no alternative but to do as I say.’

‘No. There has to be another way.’ Think, Anna, think. Why did her poor brain seem to have turned to sludge? ‘If the photographs are published I’ll simply explain that it was all a misunderstanding—that I didn’t know who you were...that it meant nothing.’

‘And that would achieve what, exactly? Apart from prove that you are the sort of tramp who goes around seducing total strangers on the eve of your engagement and that your fiancé’s own brother was caught in your trap. I would never subject Rashid to such humiliation.’

There was a second of silence.

‘But we can’t just swap!’

‘We can and we will. The arrangements are all in place. A commitment has been made between our two countries—between your father and the Kingdom of Nabatean. He has offered your hand and it has been accepted. Nothing will stand in the way of that.’ His shadowed face was as hard as stone. ‘The commitment will be honoured.’

‘But the commitment was to your brother—not you.’

‘Then perhaps you should have thought of that before you ran away and started this whole debacle, betraying the trust my brother had put in you.’ Anna lowered her eyes against the force of his biting scorn. ‘Fortunately for you, it makes no difference which brother honours the commitment. The same objectives will be achieved either way.’

‘And that’s it? Honouring the commitment is all that matters to you?’ She thrashed about, trying to find a way out. ‘How can you be so unemotional? This is a marriage we are talking about, a bond that has to last a lifetime.’

‘Don’t you think I know that, Princess?’ Lowering his head, Zahir hissed into her ear, sending a bolt of electricity through her. ‘Don’t you think I am fully aware of the sacrifice I am making? But, if it is emotion you are looking for, I must warn you to be careful. To expose my opinion of you would be straying into a dark and dangerous territory indeed.’

Cloaked in menace, his words settled over her like a shroud. Anna bit down hard on her lip to control the shiver. She didn’t entirely know what he meant by that chilling statement. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

‘And if I refuse?’ Still she tried, squirming like a worm on a fish hook.

‘All I can say is, to refuse would be extremely stupid.’ He paused, weighting his words with care. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that you already have one failed engagement behind you. Another might cause considerable speculation.’

A sharp jab of pain went through her. So he knew about that, did he? About her humiliating broken engagement to Prince Henrik. Of course he did. Everyone did.

Tears were starting to build now, blocking her throat, scratching at her eyes. Tears of frustration, self-pity and wretched misery that her life had come to this. That she should be forced to marry a man who clearly despised her. A man who was as terrifying as he was alien—an arrogant, untamed brute of a man the like of which she had never come across before. She hadn’t begun to process the extraordinary reaction between them when she’d kissed him, the shockingly carnal way his body had responded. That would have to be for another time. But she did know he would never make her happy—that was a certainty. He would never even try.

‘You have brought this upon yourself, Princess Annalina.’ Somewhere outside the buzz of her head she heard him relentlessly press home the point. ‘You have forced my hand, but I am prepared do my duty. And, ultimately, so must you.’

His damning statement was the final nail in the coffin.

And so it was that Anna found herself being unceremoniously marched back to the hotel to meet her fate. With Zahir’s arm around her waist, propelling her forward, she had had no choice but to stumble along beside him, needing two or three stiletto-heeled steps to match his forceful stride as he rapidly navigated them through the Parisian streets. Her heart was thumping wildly, her dry breath scouring her throat as she tried to come to terms with what she was about to do—tie herself to this man for ever. But with the heat of his arm burning through the sheer fabric of her dress she found herself trying to fight that assault, the whole shimmering force of his nearness, his muscled flesh, his masculine scent, leaving her brain no space to cope with anything else.

Finally outside the hotel Zahir turned her around to face him, his gaze raking mercilessly over her pale face. With the light spilling from the hotel, they could see each other more clearly now, but Anna had to tear her eyes away from his cruelly handsome features, afraid of what she might see there. Her gaze slid down the broad column of his neck to the open buttons of his shirt, the grey silk tie tugged to one side. And there, plainly visible against the exposed olive skin, was the livid red mark—the bite, where she had sunk her teeth into him. Instinctively her hand flew to her chest.

Alerted by her stare, Zahir swiftly moved to do up his shirt and straighten his tie, his knowing glare spelling out exactly what he thought of her barbarism.

‘We will go in together,’ he began coldly. ‘You will talk to our guests and behave in the appropriate manner. But say nothing to anyone about the engagement. I will find my brother and tell him of the new arrangement.’

Anna nodded, swallowing down her dread. ‘But shouldn’t I be there when you speak to your brother? Don’t I owe him that?’

‘I think it’s a little late for the guilt to kick in now, Annalina. We are way past that. I will deal with Rashid and then explain the situation to your father. Only then can we announce our engagement.’

Her father. In her frenzied state Anna had almost forgotten the man who had brought about this hideous debacle in the first place. It had been King Gustav who had insisted that his only child should marry King Rashid of Nabatean, leaving her no room to argue. Not after she had already let him down once, let her country down, by failing to secure a successful match between herself and Prince Henrik of Ebsberg—something that still both humiliated and swamped Anna with relief in equal measure.

A cold, heartless man, King Gustav had never recovered from the death of his wife, Annalina’s mother, who had suffered a fatal brain aneurysm when Anna had been just seven years old. The shock had been too much for him and it seemed to Anna that a part of her father had died with her mother. The loving, caring part. It seemed that just when she had needed him most he had turned away from her. And had never turned back.

He would be utterly furious to find out that she had messed up again—that she was refusing to marry Rashid Zahani and was chucking away the chance to provide financial stability for Dorrada. At least, he would have been, if she hadn’t had an alternative plan to offer him. For the first time Anna felt a tinge of relief about what she was doing. Zahir might be the second son but everything about him suggested power and authority, far more so than his elder brother, in fact. She suspected that her father would have no problem accepting the new arrangement. Somehow she had to find it inside herself to do the same.

She looked down, concentrating on arranging the folds of her dress, all too aware of the fire in Zahir’s eyes as they licked over her, missing nothing.

‘You are ready?’

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

‘Very well, then, we will do this.’

The arm snaked around her waist again and together they ascended the red-carpeted steps, the hotel doorman ushering them in with a polite bow.

The scene inside the ballroom appeared even more daunting than when Anna had fled less than an hour ago. More people had arrived, swelling the numbers into the hundreds, and they were milling around beneath the magnificent domed ceiling of the gilded room, illuminated by dozens of huge chandeliers and watched from above by carved marble statues. The air of anticipation had increased too. Anyone who was anyone was here, the great and the good from a host of European and Middle Eastern countries gathered at the invitation of King Gustav of Dorrada for a celebration that had yet to be disclosed.

Not that it took much working out. Presumably everyone in the room knew what this party was in aid of—or at least thought they did. It was common knowledge that King Gustav had been trying, and failing, to make a good marriage for his only daughter for some time. And the newly formed kingdom of Nabatean desperately needed entrée into the notoriously closed shop of ‘old’ Europe. The fact that the party was being held here, in one of the oldest and most exclusive hotels in Paris, right at the heart of Europe, bore testament to that and was certainly no coincidence.

Anna looked around her, the heat and the noise thundering inside her head, shredding her nerves, fuelling her panic. Zahir had left her side and gone in search of his brother, which should have been a relief, but bizarrely only made her feel more vulnerable and exposed. She could see her father in the distance and her heart took up a shaky beat at the thought of what he was about to be told. Of what they were about to do.

Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she took a deep gulp, followed by a deep breath, and, pulling on what she hoped was the suitably starry-eyed expression of a fiancée-to-be, set about mingling with her guests.

It was not long before Zahir was by her side again. Taking her arm, he steered her away from the curious stares of the small group of people she had been trying to converse with, guests who were clearly starting to wonder what was going on. Anna didn’t know who else had witnessed it, but a few minutes ago she had caught sight of Rashid skirting around the edge of the room. Their eyes had met for a fleeting second before he had lowered his head and hurried from the ballroom.

‘The necessary arrangements have been made.’ Zahir’s voice was steely with determination. ‘It’s time for the announcement.’

So this was it, then. Part of her thought she might wake up at any moment, that this was some sort of crazy dream—no, correction, nightmare. But as she slipped her arm through his, felt herself being pulled to his side, her whole body lit up to his nearness. Her heart thumped as the smooth fabric of his dinner jacket brushed against her bare arm, pinpricks of awareness skittering across her skin. This was real all right. This was actually happening.

As they moved across the floor of the ballroom the guests parted to let them through, something about the purposefulness of Zahir’s stride or maybe the mask-like expression on Annalina’s face, halting their conversations as they turned to look at them, curiosity glinting in their eyes.

Silencing the orchestra with a raised hand, Zahir waited a second for complete quiet to descend before he began.

‘I would like to thank everyone for coming this evening.’

Anna heard his calm words through the roaring of her ears. She could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes trained on her.

‘We are here to celebrate the coming together of two great nations—Dorrada and the Kingdom of Nabatean. Our countries are to be joined together by the age-old tradition of matrimony.’ He paused, scanning the room, which had gone deathly quiet. ‘I would like to formally announce that Princess Annalina and I are to be married.’

There was a collective gasp of surprise, followed by furtive whisperings. Obviously Princess Annalina was not marrying the brother the guests had been expecting. Then a small cheer went up and people started to applaud, calling out their congratulations.

Anna’s father appeared by her side and she felt for his hand, the little girl in her suddenly needing his reassurance. The smallest squeeze of encouragement would have done. Anything to show that he was pleased with her. That he loved her. He leant towards her and for one hopeful moment Anna thought he was going to do just that, but all hopes were dashed when he whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t you dare let me down again, Annalina.’ Extricating his hand, he took a glass of champagne from the proffered silver tray and waited for Anna and Zahir to do the same. Then, refusing to meet his daughter’s eye, he cleared his throat and proposed a toast, instructing everyone to raise their glasses to the happy couple and the future prosperity of their joined nations.

Anna gripped the stem of her glass as their names were chorused by the guests. Beside her she could sense Zahir, all rigid authority and unyielding control, while the false smile she had plastered across her face was in danger of cracking at any moment. In terms of appearing to be a happy couple, she doubted they were fooling anyone. But that wasn’t what this was about, was it? This betrothal was a straightforward business deal. Anna just wished that someone would tell her stupid heart.

The next hour was a torturous round of introductions and small talk as Zahir swept her around the room, making sure she was welded to his side at all times. He moved between the ministers and ambassadors of Nabatean, the diplomats and high-ranking officials of Dorrada. It was blatantly nothing more than a networking exercise, making contact with the people that mattered. Congratulations were swiftly swept aside in favour of discussions about policies and politics, Anna left smiling inanely at the wives of these important men, and forced to display the stunning ring on her finger for them to coo over yet again.

Finally finding themselves at the entrance to the ballroom, Zahir announced in lowered tones that they had done their duty and it would now be acceptable for them to leave.

Anna gave a sigh of relief but, looking up, she was immediately caught in the midnight black of Zahir’s hooded gaze. Suddenly she felt awkward, like a teenager on her first date. ‘I will say goodnight, then.’ She went to turn away, desperate to escape to her hotel room, to be free of her captor, at least for a few hours. More than anything she wanted to be alone, to have time to try to come to terms with what she had done.

‘Not so fast.’ With lightning speed, Zahir laid a restraining hold on her arm. ‘This day has not ended yet.’

Anna’s heart skipped a beat. What did he mean by that? Surely he wasn’t expecting...? He didn’t think...? Heat flared across her cheeks, spreading down her neck to her chest that heaved beneath its tight-fitting bodice. Somewhere deep inside her a curl of lust unfurled.

‘I can assure you that it has, Zahir.’ She touched primly at her hair. ‘I don’t know what you are suggesting, but for your information I intend to go to bed now—alone.’

‘You flatter yourself, young lady.’ Scorn leeched from his voice. ‘For your information, I do not intend to make any claims on your body.’ He paused, eyes flashing with lethal intent. ‘Not tonight, at least. But neither will I be letting you out of my sight. Not yet. Not until I feel I can trust you.’

‘What do you mean?’ Desperately trying to claw back some composure, she folded her arms across her chest. ‘You can hardly keep me prisoner until our marriage.’ Even as she said the words the terrible thought struck her that maybe he could. He was a man of such power, such authority, it was as if his very being demanded to be obeyed. The glittering lights of the ballroom had only accentuated his might, his towering height, the long legs and the broad, muscled shoulders that refused to be tamed by the fine material of his dinner jacket. Anna had noticed several women openly staring at him, their refined good manners deserting them in the face of this ruggedly handsome man.

‘Not a prisoner, Princess. But let’s just say I want to keep you somewhere that I can see you.’

‘But that is ridiculous. I have given you my word, made the promise to my father. We have announced our engagement to the world. What more do I have to do to convince you?’

‘You have to earn my trust, Annalina.’ His eyes roamed over her, flat and considering. ‘And that, as I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear, may take some time.’

‘So what are you saying?’ Anna bristled beneath his harsh scrutiny. ‘That until I’ve earned this so-called trust you’re not going to let me out of your sight? That hardly seems practical. Not least because we happen to live on different continents.’

Zahir shrugged. ‘That is of little consequence. The solution is simple—you will return with me to Nabatean.’

Anna stared back at him. His knowing gaze was doing strange things to her head—making it swim. She must have drunk too much champagne.

‘That’s right, Princess Annalina.’ Cold and authoritative, he confirmed what she feared. ‘We leave tonight.’


CHAPTER THREE (#u815984dc-ae63-59bb-84da-574a2b9166f3)

ANNA PEERED OUT of the window as the plane started to descend, the sight of the dawn sky making her catch her breath. Below her shimmered Medira, the capital city of Nabatean, glowing in the pinks and golds of a new day. Her first glimpse of the country that would be her new home was certainly a stunning one. But it did nothing to lighten Anna’s heart.

The little she knew about Nabatean had been gleaned during the first panicked days after she had been informed that she was to marry King Rashid Zahani. There had been a bloody civil war—that much she did know—when the people of Nabatean had fought bravely to overthrow the oppressive regime of Uristan, eventually winning independence and becoming a country in its own right again after more than fifty years.

There had been mention of Rashid and Zahir’s parents, the former King and Queen of Nabatean, who had returned after living in exile, only to be murdered by rebel insurgents on the eve of the country’s independence. Details of the horrifically tragic event were few and far between and in part Anna was grateful for that. There was frustratingly little documented about the new country at all and she realised just how ignorant she was about the place that she would somehow have to learn to call home.

Just as she knew so little of the man who was bringing her here, who intended to make her his wife. The man who had taken himself off to the office area of the luxury private jet and had spent the long journey so immersed in work, either glued to his laptop or reading through documents, that he had paid her no attention at all.

But what did she expect? When they had boarded the jet he had suggested that Anna retire to the bedroom, making it quite clear that the space would be her own. But stubbornness, or the fact that she knew she would never be able to sleep, or the hope that they might be able to have some meaningful discussion, had made her decline his offer.

Now she knew just how futile that hope had been and, staring at her own anxious reflection in the glass, found herself wondering how it was that her life had always been so controlled by others. First her father and now this dark, brooding force of nature that was to be her husband. Her destiny had never been her own. And now it never would be.

‘We land in ten minutes.’ With a start, Anna turned around to see that Zahir was standing right beside her, his hand on the back of her seat. For such a large man he moved surprisingly quietly, stealthily. Even his voice was different—raw and untamed, as if capable of sinful pleasure or brutal destruction. ‘The distance from the airport to the palace is not a long one. Your journey is almost over. I trust you haven’t found it too arduous?’

‘No, I’m fine.’ That was a lie. She was totally exhausted. But, having turned down his offer of an in-flight bedroom, she wasn’t going to admit that.

‘I think you will find the palace is most comfortable. You can rest assured that your every need will be catered for.’

‘Thanks.’ Anna didn’t know what else to say. Who did he think she was? A princess from a fairy tale who would be unable to sleep should a pea be placed under her mattress? Or, worse still, some sort of prima donna who expected her every whim instantly to be obeyed?

If so, he couldn’t be more wrong. She might have been raised in a palace but it had been as echoing and draughty as it was ancient, with crumbling walls, peeling paintwork and plumbing that only worked when it felt like it. And, as for expecting her every need to be catered for, well, she had been brought up to have no needs, no special treatment. Since her mother’s death a succession of nannies—each one more severe, more cold-hearted than the last—had been at pains to point that out to her. Whether it was because they’d been handpicked by her father for that very reason—King Gustav believed his daughter needed a firm hand—or because the chilly conditions of the palace somehow had rubbed off on them, Anna didn’t know.

She did know that she had never found anyone who had been able to replicate the warm feeling of her mother’s arms around her, or the soft cushion of her breast, or the light touch of her fingers as she’d swept Annalina’s unruly hair from her eyes. Which was why she held on to those feelings as firmly as her seven-year-old’s grip would allow, keeping them alive by remembering everything she could about her beloved mother, refusing to let the memories fade.

A fleet of limousines was there to whisk Zahir and Anna, plus Rashid and assorted members of staff who had accompanied them on the plane, on the final leg of their journey to the palace. Once inside the palace, they were greeted by more deferential staff and Anna was shown to her suite of rooms, the bedroom dominated by an enormous gilded bed that was surmounted by a coronet and swathes of luxurious, deep-red silk.

It looked incredibly inviting. Finally giving way to her tiredness, Anna headed for the bathroom for a quick shower, taking in the huge, sunken marble bath with its flashy gold fittings and the veined marble walls. Then, climbing into the bed, she closed her eyes and let herself sink into deep, dream-filled sleep.

She was awoken by a tap on the door. Two dark-haired young women appeared, each bearing a tray laden with fruit, cheese, eggs, hummus, pitta bread and olives. She sat forward as they silently plumped up the pillows behind her, then one started to pour a cup of coffee whilst the other one held a plate and a pair of tongs, presumably waiting for Anna to make her selection.

‘Oh, thank you.’ Pushing the hair out of her eyes, Anna smiled at them, wondering how on earth she was ever going to do justice to this feast. What time was it anyway? A gilded clock on the wall opposite showed it to be just past one o’clock. So, that would be one in the afternoon? She looked back at the food. She was going to have to choose something. Judging by the earnest look on the young girls’ faces, she wouldn’t have been surprised if they had offered to feed her themselves. ‘I think I’ll try the eggs—they look delicious.’

Immediately an omelette was set before her and two pairs of eyes watched as she tentatively dug in her fork.

‘Do you speak English?’ Anna took a mouthful of omelette followed by a mouthful of coffee. The latter was strong, dark and utterly delicious.

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘Does everyone in Nabatean speak English?’

‘Yes, Your Highness, it is our second language. You will find everyone can speak it.’

‘It’s the second language in my country too, so that’s handy.’ Anna smiled at these two pretty young women. ‘And please, call me Annalina. “Your Highness” sounds far too stuffy.’

The women nodded but something told Anna that they would struggle with such informality. ‘Can I ask your names?’

‘I am Lena and this is Layla.’

‘What pretty names. I’m guessing you are sisters?’ She tried another forkful of omelette.

‘We are. Layla is my younger sister by two years.’

‘Well, it’s very nice to meet you. Have you worked here in the palace long?’ If she couldn’t manage to eat much, at least she could distract them with conversation.

‘Yes, for nearly two years. Ever since the palace was built. We are very lucky. After our parents died we were given a home in return for serving the King and Prince Zahir.’

So their parents were dead. Anna suspected there were going to be many tales of death and destruction in this country once ravaged by war. She wanted to ask more but Lena’s lowered eyes suggested to pry further would be insensitive. Layla, however, had edged closer to the bed, staring at her as if she had been dropped down from another planet.

‘I like your hair.’

‘Layla!’ Her sister admonished her with a sharp rebuke.

‘That’s okay.’ Anna laughed, looking down at the blonde locks that were tumbling in disarray over her shoulders. ‘Thank you for the compliment. It takes a lot of brushing in the morning, though, to get the tangles out.’

‘I can do that for you,’ Layla replied earnestly.

‘Well, that’s very kind of you but...’

‘We are honoured to be able to serve you, Your Royal Highness,’ Lena said. ‘Prince Zahir has instructed us to attend to your every need.’

He had? Anna found it hard to believe that he would concern himself with such trivialities as her every need. ‘Well, in that case, I will take you up on your kind offer. Prince Zahir...’ Anna hesitated. She wanted to ask what sort of an employer he was, what sort of a man they thought he was, but suspected that they wouldn’t be at liberty to tell her and it would be unfair to ask. ‘Do you see very much of him?’

‘No. He is away from the palace a lot. And, even when he is here, his needs are very few.’

‘Do you have many visitors, here in the palace?’

‘Not so many. Mostly foreign businessmen and politicians.’

‘We’ve never had a visitor as pretty as you before,’ Layla offered conversationally. ‘Do all the women in your country look like you?’

‘Well, the women of Dorrada tend to be fair-skinned and blue-eyed. The men too, come to that. Your dark beauty would be much prized in my country. As I’m sure it is here.’

‘So, Prince Zahir...’ Layla continued. ‘You think him handsome?’

‘Layla!’

‘I am only asking.’ Layla stuck out her bottom lip.

‘Obviously she thinks him handsome. She wouldn’t be marrying him otherwise.’

Anna suppressed a smile as the two sisters set about one another in their own language, waiting for them to finish before speaking again.

‘The answer to your question is yes—I do think him handsome.’

The sisters exchanged an excited glance.

‘And it is true that you will be marrying and coming to live here in the palace?’ This time Lena asked the question, her curiosity overcoming her sense of decorum.

‘Yes, that is true.’ Saying it out loud didn’t make it seem any the less astonishing.

Lena’s and Layla’s pretty faces broke out into broad smiles and they even reached to clasp each other’s hands.

‘That is very good news, Your Royal Highness. Very good news indeed.’

* * *

Staring at the screen, Zahir cursed under his breath. He had braced himself for a small photograph of the two of them on the bridge, prepared to suffer the mild humiliation of being caught kissing in public, or rather being kissed, when it was put in the wider context of the engagement party. But this wasn’t a small photograph. This was a series of images, blown up to reveal every minor detail. With his finger jabbing on the mouse, Zahir scrolled down and down, his blood pressure rocketing as more and more pictures of him locked in a passionate embrace with Annalina flashed before his eyes. There were even several close-ups of the engagement ring, worn on the slender hand that was threaded through his hair, before finally the official photographs of the party appeared, the ones he wanted the world to see. The ones where he and Annalina were standing solemnly side by side, displaying their commitment to each other and to their countries.

And it wasn’t just one newspaper. The whole of Europe appeared to be obsessed with the beautiful Princess Annalina, the press in France, the UK, and of course Dorrada itself taking a particular interest, feasting on the titbits that the photographer had no doubt sold to them for a handsome fee.

A rustle behind him made him turn his head and there stood the object of the press’s attention, Annalina. At last—it was over an hour since he had sent servants to her room to find out what she was doing, giving orders that she should meet him here in the stateroom at her earliest convenience. Clearly he was going to have to be more specific. Dressed in a simple navy fitted dress, she looked both young, chic and incredibly sexy at the same time. Her ash-blonde hair was loose, tumbling over her shoulders in soft waves, falling well below the swell of her breasts.

Zahir felt his throat go dry. He hadn’t been prepared for such hair, only having seen it secured on top of her head in some way before. He had had no idea it would be so long, so fascinating. He had had no idea that he would be fighting the urge to imagine how it would feel against his bare skin.

‘Have you seen this?’ Angry with himself, with his reaction and this whole damned situation, his voice rasped harshly. He hadn’t been able to concentrate all morning, hadn’t got through half the work he’d intended to.

She glanced at the laptop, screwing up her eyes. ‘Is it bad?’

‘See for yourself.’

A soft cloud of floral scent washed over him as she sat down next to him, tucking her hair behind one small, perfect ear. He almost flinched as she reached across him to touch the mouse, quickly scrolling through the images and scanning the text as she moved from one website to the next.

‘Well.’ She turned in her seat to look at him, her eyes a startling blue. ‘I guess it’s no worse than we were expecting.’

‘You, maybe. I certainly wasn’t expecting such mass coverage.’

‘Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now.’ She exhaled, the light breath whispering across the bare skin of his forearm and raising the hairs, raising his blood pressure. ‘Are the photos in the Nabatean newspapers too?’

‘Fortunately not. The official photographs from the engagement party are all that they will see. My people would not be interested in such a sordid spectacle.’

He watched as she wrinkled her small nose. Her skin was so pale, so clear, like the finest porcelain.

‘What?’ He didn’t want to ask, he hadn’t even meant to ask. But her disrespectful gesture refused to be ignored.

‘I’m just wondering how you know that—if they aren’t given the chance, I mean. That sounds like censorship to me.’

Temper snaked through him, slowing his heart to a dull thud. He narrowed his eyes, the thick lashes blurring his image of this infuriating woman. ‘Let me make something clear right from the start, Princess Annalina. I may, or may not, seek your views on matters to do with European culture and traditions that I am not familiar with. That is your role. However, you do not attempt to interfere with the running of my country. Your opinions are neither needed nor wanted.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do.’

‘All I’m saying is...’ she raised finely shaped eyebrows ‘...you can’t have it both ways.’ It seemed she was determined to stand up to him. To have the last word. ‘If you are marrying me solely because I am a Western princess, because you want entrée into Europe that my family, my country, can give you, then you are going to have to accept this sort of media attention. It comes with the job. It comes with me.’

Zahir scowled. Was this true? If so he was going to have to put a stop to it. He had no intention of becoming part of some celebrity circus. But then twenty-four hours ago he had had no intention of marrying at all.

‘I have to say, I am somewhat surprised that you would be happy for the first sighting the people of Nabatean have of their new princess to be a grubby little paparazzi shot of you wantonly pressing your body up against mine.’ He wished he hadn’t reminded himself of that now. Not when she was so close. Not when he knew he wanted her to do it again.

‘It doesn’t bother me.’ She tossed her head, her hair rippling over her shoulders, deliberately countering his pomposity with a throwaway remark. It felt to Zahir as if she was throwing his weakness for her back in his face too, even though he had gone to great pains to cover it up.

‘Well, it should bother you. It is hardly becoming.’ The pomposity solidified inside him, holding him ramrod-straight.

‘Look. The paparazzi have been following me all my life. I’m used to it—it’s part of the role I was unwittingly born into. There are probably hundreds of images of me being unbecoming, as you put it.’

Zahir felt himself pale beneath his olive skin. This was worse than he’d thought. In his haste to arrange a suitable match for his brother it appeared he hadn’t been thorough enough in his research. He knew there had been a broken engagement but what was she telling him now? That she had a history of debauched behaviour? This woman who he now had to take as his wife.

‘It’s okay!’ Suddenly she let out a laugh, a light-hearted chuckle that echoed between them, seeming to surprise the cavernous room as much as it did him. ‘There’s no need to look like that.’ Now she was reaching for his hand, laying her own over the top of it. ‘I haven’t done anything really terrible! And, who knows, maybe now that I’m officially engaged the paparazzi will lose interest in me, find someone else to train their zoom lenses on. Especially as you are not well known in Europe.’

‘Unlike your last fiancé, you mean?’

Annalina withdrew her hand, all traces of humour gone now, colour touching her cheeks at his mention of her former partner. If he had wanted to snuff out her sunshine, he had achieved it.

‘Well, yes, Prince Henrik was well known to the gossip columnists. When that relationship ended it was inevitable that there was going to be a feeding frenzy.’

There was silence as Zahir refilled his coffee cup before returning his gaze to Annalina’s face.

‘I expect you want to know what happened.’ She twisted her hands in her lap.

‘No.’

‘I will tell you if you ask.’

‘I have no intention of asking. It’s none of my business.’ And, more than that, he didn’t want to think about it. She continued to stare at him, a strange sort of expression playing across her face, as if she was trying to decide where to go from here.

‘I suggest we concentrate on making plans for the future.’ There, he could be sensitive, moving her on from what was obviously a painful subject.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘I see no reason for a long engagement.’

‘No.’ Now she was chewing her lip.

‘A month should be ample time to make the arrangements. I’m assuming you’ll want some sort of society wedding in Dorrada? If we follow that with a blessing here in Nabatean, that should suffice.’

‘Right.’

‘So I can leave you to organise it? The wedding, I mean? Or hire people to do it, or however these things work.’ At the mention of the wedding she seemed to have gone into some kind of stupor. Wasn’t the idea of arranging your wedding day supposed to be appealing to a young woman? Clearly not to Annalina. A thought occurred to him and he leant back in his chair. ‘If it’s money that is concerning you, let me assure you that is not a problem. No expense is to be spared.’

But instead of lessening her worry his statement only furrowed her brow deeper and was now coupled with a distinct look of distaste in her eyes. Perhaps talking about money was distasteful—he had no idea, and frankly he didn’t care. Or perhaps he was the thing that she found distasteful. He didn’t want to care about that either. But somehow he did. Abruptly scraping back his chair, he pushed himself to his feet, suddenly needing to end this meeting right now.

‘Perhaps you will inform me of the date of the wedding as soon as you know it.’

He looked down on Annalina from the superior position of his height. He heard himself, cold and aloof.


CHAPTER FOUR (#u815984dc-ae63-59bb-84da-574a2b9166f3)

‘YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS?’

Anna was wandering around the palace when one of the servants came to find her. She had spent the last hour pacing from one room to the next, still fuming too much over Zahir’s abrupt departure from their so-called meeting to pay much attention to her opulent surroundings. The way he had just got up and walked out, ending their discussion with no warning, no manners!

She had thought she would try and distract herself by finding her way around this grand edifice but it was all too huge, too daunting, each room grander than the last, all domed ceilings, brightly coloured marble floors and micro-mosaic decorations. But there was nothing homely about it. In fact it had a new, unlived-in feel to it, as if no laughter had ever echoed through its stately rooms, no children’s feet had ever raced along its miles of corridors or young bottoms slid down its sweepingly ornate banisters. Which, no doubt, they hadn’t. This was a show home, nothing more. A monument erected as a display of wealth and power, a symbol of national pride for the people of Nabatean.

‘Prince Zahir has instructed that you are to meet him at the palace entrance.’ The servant bowed respectfully. ‘If you would like to follow me?’

So that would be right now, would it? This was how it was to be—Zahir issued his orders and she was expected to obey. Just like any other member of his staff. Instinctively Anna wanted to rebel, to say no, just to prove that she wasn’t at his beck and call. But what would that achieve, other than deliberately antagonising him? Something which she strongly suspected would not prove to be a good idea. Besides, she had nothing else to do.

A wall of heat hit her when she stepped out into the searing afternoon sun. Shielding her eyes, she could see Zahir standing by the limousine, waiting for the chauffeur to help her inside before getting in beside her.

‘Can I ask where we’re going?’ She settled in her seat, preparing herself to turn and look at him. It still gave her a jolt every single time her eyes met his, every time she stared into his darkly rugged features. It was like a cattle prod to her nervous system. He had changed into a sharply cut suit, she noticed, so presumably this wasn’t a pleasure trip.

‘The Assembly House in the town square.’ He returned her gaze. ‘I have arranged a meeting with some officials, members of the senate and the government. It will be an opportunity to introduce you to them, so they can put a face to the name.’

A face to the name? His cold phrase left her in no doubt as to her role here—she was nothing more than a puppet, to be dangled in front of the people that mattered, jiggled around to perform when necessary and presumably put back in her box when she wasn’t required. It was a depressing picture but she had to remember that this was what their union was all about, a mutually reciprocal arrangement for the benefit of both of their countries. Nothing more. She needed to catch her sinking stomach before it fell still further.




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