The Sultan's Reluctant Princess

by Clare Connelly

  Yes, Liya was beautiful. The Talidarian people were beautiful. Nothing about the country itself worried her.

  It was the man opposite. Brooding, strong, harsh, unreasonable Tamir Al’ani. What had she been thinking? Getting involved with a man such as he had been a gross miscalculation. Introducing Jack into his orbit even more so.

  For Jack was an unpredictable, loose canon. She’d seen him pilfer tomatoes from Tescos, and drive away from petrol stations without paying for fuel. But never something as brazen and idiotic as this. The irony was that Jack’s family was one of the wealthiest in the United Kingdom.

  She groaned softly, unaware of the way Tamir looked at her sharply. She pulled her legs to her chin, flipping her toes over the edge of her seat. She looked like a small child, though she didn’t know it.

  “It is a long flight. You should sleep.”

  Olivia nodded, but didn’t look at him.

  Tamir felt reassurances tripping over his tongue, but he would not dignify the situation by uttering them. He didn’t want to analyse his degree of fury. She’d lied to him. She’d intended to steal from him. And she’d been prepared to sleep with him in order to carry out her plan. It was degrading and disgusting.

  Despite this, she was still an incredible lover. A match for him in every way, his body had responded to hers with a fervour he hadn’t known before. He could ignore his dislike of her so long as the pleasures of her body were at his disposal.

  And they would be. He’d made sure of that.

  As if his thoughts had conjured Kalil back, his security chief began stalking towards them, from the back of the plane where the staff remained during flight.

  “The papers are filed. It is done.” Kalil remarked in their native language.

  “You have my thanks,” Tamir responded, thinking he’d deal with the consequences of this hasty decision at a later date.

  “She will need to sign this.”

  “I’m aware. Leave it with me.”

  Kalil handed a simple piece of paper to Tamir and then disappeared swiftly.

  Tamir looked at the woman across from him, and for the first time since setting this plan in motion, he felt a tiny niggle of doubt. She was, after all, a human being. Not his to control, yet he was controlling her. Effortlessly.

  “Sign this, Olivia.” He passed the sheet of paper to her then pulled a pen from his breast pocket.

  She took it and looked at the paper. “It’s in Talidarian.”

  “It simply reiterates what you’ve already agreed to.”

  She knew she shouldn’t sign it. After all, only an idiot would sign a document they didn’t comprehend. She looked down at the pen. “Is this real gold?”

  “Yes.”

  She flicked a disdainful look towards him. “What does it say?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Nothing you haven’t already agreed to, and in the presence of my security chief. This is simply a formality. Sign it or not, it’s your decision.”

  Olivia bit down on her lip, staring at the black and white shapes. He was right. She’d already verbally agreed to their deal. What else did she have to lose? She scrawled her name on the page, and looked up into his darkly challenging gaze.

  “My assistant Eleni has organised a wardrobe for you in the palace. However, there is a gown you will need to wear when we land. It’s in the bedroom.”

  “Oh.”

  “Come.” He stood, and held a hand to her. “I will help you.”

  Olivia’s enormous green eyes linked with his. The uncertainty he felt in them was a palpable force, punching him in the gut and making him experience a fresh wave of guilt. “I don’t need help.”

  “Nonetheless…” He murmured, linking his fingers through hers and pulling her out of the seat. She fell into step beside him, but felt like she was betraying everything she held dear by being such a pushover. Her eyes drifted to the group of staff at the rear of the plane. Perhaps twenty men, and a handful of women, were involved in their own duties. Some were quietly speaking to one another, and others were sitting silently.

  None of them so much as looked in Tamir’s direction, as he moved deeper into the plane. He moved past his staff, past two closed doors, and then into a final door.

  The bedroom was as perfectly appointed as one might find in a luxury hotel. A king size bed, with a chandelier above it, was central in the room. A wardrobe, albeit bolted to the wall, was beside it, and a desk in the corner. Apart from the distinctive windows, nothing about this felt remotely plane-like.

  Tamir released his grip on Olivia’s hand and walked across to the wardrobe. He removed a turquoise dress and a transparent sheath of fabric.

  “Undress yourself,” he commanded, running his tanned fingers over the hanger and removing the dress.

  Olivia stood nervously at the entrance of the room. She was hovering on the threshold, unsure of what to expect. Certainly unsure of how to behave.

  She was the proverbial rabbit in the headlights, her eyes huge, her face pale. Tamir’s annoyance was obvious in every tense line of his muscular frame. He tossed the dress onto the bed and moved to Olivia, closing the door with his foot.

  “Are you nervous?” He demanded, removing her jacket swiftly, then unfastening her shirt buttons.

  Olivia made a sound of surprise and lifted her hands to shove his away. He continued as though she hadn’t even made the attempt. “Nervous?” Her voice was croaky.

  “About your obligations to me.”

  She swallowed. “No.” She lowered her gaze. Nervous was the wrong word. She was sad. She was hurt. She was, if she were to be completely honest with herself, feeling even a little sorry for herself. Sure, she knew that wasn’t a worthy trait, but she felt bitterly disappointed that a night with this sexy stranger had turned into… this. The first time she’d done something so completely reckless, and it had backfired spectacularly.

  Olivia was forced to acknowledge that her instincts about Tamir had been completely wrong. Far from being a handsome and mysterious stranger, he was a diabolical dictator. And damn it, she still wanted him. She might hate him on some level, but she also desperately craved his touch.

  “Then get changed.”

  She nodded jerkily. She had agreed to this. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her mental struggle with it. She lay her jacket and shirt down on the bed. They were mocking her. The outfit she’d chosen earlier that day because it had seemed ‘safe’. Corporate and reassuring, an outfit designed to keep the tug of desire at bay.

  She stepped out of her pants and placed them on the bed, too. In only her bra and underpants, she strode across to Tamir. His eyes were hooded, his expression inscrutable, as he lifted the turquoise dress and passed it to her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, her body aching to press against him. She resisted the temptation. It was completely inappropriate that she should want him. That she should crave his touch. She stepped into the dress and pulled it over her hips, skimming the fabric higher, until she could hook it across her shoulders.

  “Would you mind?” She asked quietly, turning her back to Tamir so that he could help her with the zip. It began low on her back and slid right to the base of her neck.

  “Of course,” he murmured throatily, his voice husky with feeling. His fingers were slow, dragging the zip higher with one hand, while his other held her hip and stroked her side.

  She didn’t know if he was experiencing a similar internal battle to her own. Her own wants and needs were in a constant battle with how she should be feeling.

  She tried to ignore the flutter of butterflies in her stomach, but they were too pervasive. His fingers reached her neck, and slowly Olivia spun to face him.

  Their eyes locked, and a silent understanding seemed to pass between them. Olivia wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt reassured by something in his expression. “Tamir,” she whispered, putting one of her hands down on his own, where it sat on her hip. “Please let me explain. About Jack.”
<
br />   His eyes flashed with a torrent of emotion. He shook his head silently. “It is not the time.”

  “When will be?” She demanded uncertainly. Another thought occurred to her, causing her to frown. “And where is Jack? What happened to him?”

  “Nothing,” Tamir responded, his voice devoid of emotion. “He has been left to go free. No consequences for him.”

  “Good.” She nodded. “Thank you.”

  Tamir stepped away from her without losing eye contact. “What is he to you, that you would so willingly sacrifice your own freedom to protect his?”

  “It wasn’t his freedom but his life that I was protecting, remember?”

  “Ah, yes, of course. And you would be willing to do anything to save him.”

  Olivia bit down on her lip, as she shook her head from side to side. Her blonde hair moved with her, reminding him of sunshine on water. “Not quite anything.”

  He laughed. “Where do you draw the distinction, then?” He reached for the pale piece of transparent fabric and ran it through his hands.

  “I don’t understand?” She asked quietly.

  “What would you not do, to save his life? You have come to a foreign country with me, a man you hardly know. You are essentially my prisoner, Olivia, for the time being at least. So what would you consider too far? What would you not be willing to do to save your co-criminal?”

  She ignored the desire to squeeze her eyes shut. Instead, she pierced him with her silent pride. “I will never love you. I will never even like you. I will never give you the satisfaction of letting you upset me.” She stepped forward, so that they were almost touching. “I won’t attempt to deny that you have my body. You command it, and it is yours whenever you want it. But that’s not me. Not really. You’ll never have me.”

  It was with the greatest effort imaginable that Tamir didn’t react. He wasn’t even sure how her calmly delivered explanation made him feel. Angry. Displeased. And determined to prove her wrong.

  His lips were a slash in his face. “Put this on, Olivia. You will need to wear it from now on, unless we are alone.”

  He lifted the piece of fabric over her head, draping it halfway back from her crown and then looping it around her neck. Olivia lifted her fingers on instinct, to touch the fabric.

  “It’s so soft,” she murmured, turning to look in the mirror opposite.

  “Yes. It’s a special type of Talidarian silk, called Meftila.”

  “Meftila?” She repeated, knowing she had heard the term before, but unable to instantly recall any details.

  “Meftila is produced in small quantities, and only in the mountains to the East. It is very rare, and very valuable.”

  “It feels almost like water,” she observed.

  “Yes, it is naturally cool. Royal women used to wear it during pregnancy, to maintain a degree of comfort.”

  She slanted him a disapproving look. “And so much for the rest of the population, hmm?”

  He shrugged. “It is as it has always been.”

  She arranged the bits that looped at the front of her dress, and made sure it sat neatly over her hair. “Is this right?”

  A muscle flecked in the side of his cheek. She looked achingly beautiful. “Yes. It will do.”

  “Great.” She rolled her eyes. The dress was spectacular too, now that she looked at it properly. The sleeves were the same transparent green of the headscarf, from the shoulders to the wrists. They were loose at the wrists, like bells. The dress itself though was fitted to the hips and then it flared a little, to the floor. The hem was beaded with what looked to be pearls. “I can’t wear this kind of thing every day, though. Right?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You will wear what I tell you to. What I tell you is appropriate. Your ongoing cooperation is essential to our arrangement.”

  She swallowed. It was not a normal relationship. They were not equal. And that very fact made her miserable. It made her stomach ache and her eyes sting. “Yes, sir,” she whispered, feeling instantly better by using the formal term of address. After all, if she remembered their formality, she wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid like to start developing feelings for her captor.

  Tamir wasn’t sure why her submission angered him. It was in such stark contrast to the fire that he knew was burning within her. Hadn’t he wanted her obedience? Hadn’t he longed to control her from the moment he’d seen her? She’d played into his desires perfectly, and he had her where he wanted her. But now that he had it, he knew it felt completely wrong.

  His expression was a deep, dark scowl.

  “Come. Let us return to the seats.”

  Tamir emerged, and said something in Talidarian, including her name – the only two words she comprehended.

  The crew, gathered in the plane, all stood as one, and stared at Olivia as she passed. Her cheeks flushed, and her expression showed her confusion. Had Tamir just announced her as his mistress? Did they all think they’d just been having sex in the royal flying bedroom?

  Olivia flushed and lowered her eyes, moving to the seats they’d previously occupied. “What was that?” She demanded, when she’d settled opposite him.

  Tamir’s eyes met hers. “A preview.”

  She didn’t understand, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking him any more questions. If he wanted to be cryptic, then that was fine by her.

  It was several hours before the plane touched down on the tarmac in Liya, but Olivia didn’t sleep. She couldn’t. Though she felt tired, her mind was buzzing. Her brain wouldn’t be quietened. She had a strange sense of unease – a sense of foreboding that made her restless.

  It was almost midnight, local time, when they disembarked, yet the air still sang with the day’s heat. The fragrance of the desert jasmine and fruit trees hit Olivia like a wave of the past. It was so familiar, and so intoxicating, that she actually smiled. She had loved Talidar, and being back – even in these circumstances – was surprisingly nostalgic.

  As she walked down the narrow steps, from the aeroplane, Tamir put a hand in the small of her back. Possessive and reassuring, it succeeded in making her feel a greater sense of ease. Beneath them, a group of uniformed personnel were waiting, including the pilot. And almost every one of them was looking at her.

  Mortification spread through her.

  Everyone knew.

  What must they think of her? She did her best to keep her face calm, but her insides were shaking.

  Three limousines were parked alongside the base of the steps. Tamir began to move towards one, when he stopped, abruptly.

  He turned to Olivia, an almost apologetic expression on his face. He seemed disconcerted. Something she hadn’t expected. “What is it?”

  “My sister is here. Her husband is my primary aide. He must have informed her of my return.”

  “Oh. Okay. Is that a problem?”

  “Perhaps,” he said with a nod of his head. He shifted, so that his hand was pressed against her hip, holding her to his side. “Just ignore her, as best as you can. Selena is…trouble.”

  On cue, a woman emerged from the second limousine. Wearing a black dress and pale yellow scarf, with shining dark hair and ridiculously oversized sunglasses given the lateness of the hour, Selena was the most beautiful and exotic woman Olivia had ever seen.

  She was also, Olivia saw, furious. Her features were pinched and anger emanated from her body with every step she took.

  She spoke in rapid-fire Talidarian, her voice clipped. She removed her glasses, showing her eyes to be exactly like Tamir’s. Large, almond shaped, almost black in colour and rimmed in thick black lashes.

  “This is not the time nor place. And when you are in the presence of Olivia, you will use your English, Selena.”

  A man appeared behind Tamir’s sister, his expression clearly apologetic. The husband, Olivia guessed. They both stared at Olivia with a confusing look of awe.

  “You put her in this dress? In mother’s gown?”

  Olivia’
s eyes flew to Tamir’s face. His mother’s gown? That didn’t make sense.

  “It is appropriate, and it is also tradition.”

  “You cannot make this woman Queen.” Selena spat, dragging her eyes over Olivia.

  Olivia froze, her insides churning with embarrassment at the obvious mistake. She opened her mouth to correct Selena, but Tamir’s fingers were digging into her sides, non-verbally urging silence.

  “It is done. She is Queen. You owe her your allegiance and loyalty, Selena.”

  Beside him, he felt Olivia sag. He had not wanted her to discover the truth like this. Then again, was there any way he could break the news to her that wouldn’t have resulted in her anger?

  “When?” Selena spat. “You were only in London for days.”

  “The details are not your concern. We finalised matters on the plane, and she is now my wife, and your Queen.”

  Olivia would have stepped away from Tamir, but he held her tight. Besides, she wasn’t so sure she’d be able to stand if she didn’t have his support. His wife? His wife? She forced herself to remain perfectly still. She would have plenty to say to him when they were alone, but an entirely inexplicable sense of loyalty kept her mouth shut. Selena was definitely trouble, and Olivia suspected it would bode better for her if Selena believed their marriage to be real.

  “It can’t be true.”

  “I need a wife, and Talidar needs an heir. I am thirty four, and the future of Talidar rests on my shoulders. It is time I thought about the future of this lineage.”

  “Talidar has an heir,” Selena shouted. “My son!”

  Tamir sighed. His sister’s ambition had long sat as a rock between them. Her desire to plant her own child on the throne was not one she attempted to conceal. “And he is heir still. Until Olivia and I produce a child, Zayid is my presumed successor.”