by Marie Tuhart
Finally, at four a.m., Hassan walked in the door with another doctor.
His mother practically jumped off the cot, and Catherine was by her side in a second. Exhaustion lined her face. Malik and his brothers closed in around the women. If it was bad news, they needed to be there for their mother.
“He’s out of danger,” Hassan said.
A collective sigh of relief filled the room, and his mother sagged against him.
“He’ll be okay?” Anna asked, her voice tired yet hopeful.
“Yes,” the other doctor spoke up. “It was a warning sign. He needs to rest and follow my orders.”
“What orders?” Malik asked, looking from the white-haired doctor to his brother.
The doctor shook his head. “I figured he hadn’t mentioned anything to the family. The man is as stubborn as his father was.”
“Like another man I know,” Catherine whispered.
Malik fought against smiling at her words. This wasn’t the time to be amused. “Tell us what we need to know.”
“Well, it was a minor heart attack, nothing he can’t recover from. He needs to take a backseat in running the country, to slow down, exercise, and eliminate some of the stress.”
“I will see to it,” Malik said.
The doctor nodded, then looked at Hassan. “I suggest all of you go home and get some rest. King Jamal won’t be settled into a room for another few hours as we finish up the rest of our testing.”
“Can I see him for a moment before I leave, please?” Anna asked.
Hassan nodded, took his mother’s arm, and led her from the room, with the other doctor in the lead.
Malik paced the room until his mother returned. Her lips turned up, and she gave them all a little smile. “He’s resting comfortably, and the doctor is right,” Anna spoke up. “Let’s go home and rest.” Anna threaded her arm through Rafi’s. Malik and Catherine and his remaining brothers followed them out of the waiting room, only to be met by his minister of information.
Omar began speaking rapidly in Arabic. Malik grimaced, and his brothers’ and mother’s expressions tightened.
“Go home. I’ll take care of this. It’s my job,” Malik said, then turned to Samir and talked to him in a low tone before he waved Omar away.
“What is it?” Catherine asked.
“I’m sorry, Catherine, that was rude of us,” Anna said.
Catherine waved a hand as if she hadn’t been left out of the conversation. He needed to speak to Omar about using English until Catherine learned more of their language. Until that time, he would make sure someone translated for her.
Malik glanced at his mother. She was worn out, and Catherine? Catherine glanced from one person to the next, her hands clenched at her side, waiting for an answer.
“It’s the paparazzi,” Khalid said finally.
“They want to know what condition Father is in. Malik will address them,” Rafi said.
“And we’re to go home,” Hassan finished.
“Don’t you have a spokesperson to do this?”
Khalid shook his head. “This must come from a family member or the people won’t believe Father will get better.”
Catherine looked at Malik. “Yes,” he said to her unspoken question. “It has to come from me.”
“But you’re as exhausted as the rest of us.”
Malik shook his head, and Omar approached once again, this time with a frown marring his forehead.
“Malik.” She placed a hand on his arm as she spoke. “I’m not going to allow you to kill yourself. You need to rest. The press can wait.”
Their gazes met, and his dark eyes softened. “Catherine,” he started.
“This is no place for you, I don’t think—” started his minister.
“You’re not thinking,” she said before he could finish. “Everyone needs rest. We’ve been here all night, as I’m sure you’re aware. In a few hours, Malik can make a statement about his father. The press will be satisfied with that.”
“An announcement needs to be made now.” The man puffed out his chest.
Catherine stared at him. Malik almost burst out laughing. She wasn’t going to back down; he could see it in the way her chin jutted up and her eyes hardened.
“No, it doesn’t,” she countered. “Since you’re the minister of information, isn’t it your job to inform the press of certain events? You can tell the press that Malik will make a full statement this afternoon after he’s had some rest. The king is resting comfortably. That’s all that needs to be said. It’s unfair to expect Malik to face the press now.”
“You have no right here, woman.”
His tone was dismissive, and the way he spit out the word woman raised the hair on Malik’s neck. He was about to say something when Catherine let out a puff of breath. Her back stiffened and she glared at the minister.
“Since everyone believes I’m Malik’s fiancée, I would say it gives me every right. No one in the family needs this crap right now, so back off.”
Male laughter followed her statement. Damn, his woman could handle herself.
“I—” the minister sputtered.
“Enough,” Malik spoke. He cupped Catherine’s chin in his palm and tilted her face up. Never, outside of his family, had someone defended him or his family so passionately. His heart swelled. He’d picked well. “Catherine is my fiancée and will be given the respect she deserves. She’s within her rights, and now is not the time for me or anyone in the family to address the press. Set up a press conference for this afternoon.”
“But, Your Highness … ”
“Don’t contradict me, Omar. I’ll meet you in my office at two to discuss the announcement.” With that, Malik slipped an arm around Catherine’s waist and led her away from Omar.
“You’re stuck now,” he whispered in her ear.
“Stuck?”
“Yes. You’ve just announced you’re my intended to me, my minister, and my family.” A grin overtook his lips. Maybe this wasn’t the way he wanted to gain a fiancée, but he was happy it was Catherine.
16
Catherine couldn’t settle down in her room once they’d arrived back at the palace. Malik’s words vibrated in her mind. She didn’t feel stuck in the situation, and it didn’t bother her as she thought it would.
At the time, she’d wondered what she was doing confronting Malik’s minister of information, and in an instant she knew. She was protecting Malik, a man she cared about. A man who had taken a piece of her heart and now held it. She was no longer frightened of her feelings for him. And she had more or less accepted being engaged to him for now.
Sooner or later, the press would ferret out more information about her parents and they would talk, then there was Jamie and … what? Really, those were the only two dark secrets in her life. Jamie actually wasn’t a secret, she just hadn’t told Malik about him. As for her parents … she let out a sigh. She’d walked away from them, their lavish lifestyle, and their need to keep feeding the paparazzi when she was eighteen. She’d severed all contact with them, and she wanted to keep it that way.
Pacing around her room, she decided nothing else mattered but Malik and his family. They needed her right now. When things calmed down, they could figure out how to extract her from the family, and all of them could go on with their lives.
She stopped her pacing in front of the balcony doors, then pushed them open and stepped out. Maybe some fresh air would clear her head and help her relax. The sun was just rising, the sky a beautiful combination of blue, pink, and yellow. Without thought, she turned and made her way to Malik’s room. The lights were on.
He’d commented earlier there was a lot to do, but she’d insisted he rest. It wasn’t fair to expect him to jump right into his father’s role, even if his minister thought it would be best.
Did Malik’s minister have the crown prince’s best interests in mind? She’d never understood putting affairs of the state ahead of personal health. Just like she never unders
tood why Jamie continued to perform when he should have been in the hospital. Or why her parents continued their lavish lifestyle without money.
Drawing level with Malik’s room, she saw the balcony doors were open, so she leaned in. She didn’t see him anywhere. “Malik,” Catherine called softly as she stepped into the room. Silence greeted her.
Should she leave? She couldn’t. She needed to make sure he was okay. He’d been tired and worn down after the events of the last twenty-four hours and the run-in with his minister of information and the other ministers when the family had returned to the palace.
Quietly, she padded across the room and peeked into his bedroom. The bed was empty and the bathroom door stood wide open. No water or noises. Where was he? Images of Jamal’s heart attack flashed in her mind. She forced herself not to panic.
She turned, then took a step and froze. Malik was sprawled out on the sofa, sound asleep. Papers littered his chest and floor.
Her heart leaped as she gazed at him. His face showed lines of strain and a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before. The events from the last day had caught up with him.
She bent down and gathered up the papers from the floor, putting them together in a neat stack before setting them on the table. Then she did the same with the ones on his chest.
Her fingers shook as she lifted each piece of paper. She didn’t want to wake him. Out of all of them, he was probably the one who most needed sleep. Guilt crept into her bones. If she hadn’t run away Saturday night, then would any of this have happened?
After adding the papers to the pile, she switched off the overhead lights. No sense in leaving them on. If other people saw them, they might disturb him. She strode back into his bedroom to grab the colorful quilt off his bed and carried it back into the sitting room, careful not to trip over it.
Trying to be quiet, she arranged the quilt over him so he wouldn’t get cold. She went still when he stirred, afraid she’d wake him if she moved. But he didn’t wake, he only shifted his position.
She let out a sigh. Then jumped when someone knocked softly on the door. Her first instinct was to run so no one saw she was in his room. No. She glanced at Malik and his peaceful expression. It was the first time she’d seen him that relaxed. She could handle this without waking him. She was determined Malik not be disturbed.
The knock sounded again and Malik shifted, spurring her into action. She hurried to the door and opened it an inch. Catherine was relieved to see Hassan standing there and not the minister of information. She slipped out of the room.
“He’s sleeping.”
“Good. I was going to offer him a sleeping pill, even though I knew he probably wouldn’t take it.” He paused and gazed at her. “Do you need one?”
“No. I couldn’t settle down until I was sure Malik was settled.” She hadn’t even realized how true the words were until she spoke them aloud. “Can you stop anyone from disturbing him for a few hours?”
“I’ll take care of it.” Hassan nodded.
“Especially the minister of information.”
Hassan’s lips twitched. “Yes, definitely.”
“Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you,” Hassan said as he placed his hand on her arm.
“Why?” Lord, his family was so polite and kind. It wasn’t what she was used to.
“Because you’re good for him and for the family.” He squeezed her arm and then walked away.
Catherine shook her head, and then slipped back into Malik’s room. She should leave, but she couldn’t. Her heart was screaming at her to stay and make sure Malik slept, while her brain, on the contrary, told her she should leave. Padding across the room, she stared at herself in the mirror.
“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered, but of course there was no answer. Her heart was winning the fight with her brain. She tiptoed back over to where Malik slept and quietly said, “Sleep well.” Then she brushed a kiss over his forehead. This was madness, she reminded herself as she walked into his bedroom and climbed into his bed. Madness to remain in his room, crazy to climb into his bed, but she had to be close to him. Her heart demanded it.
Malik turned and stretched his cramped muscles. The last thing he remembered was reading the speech one of his ministers had given him. He opened his eyes and looked at his watch. It was almost eleven. He’d slept four hours. How had that happened?
He started to sit up, but the quilt covering him hampered his efforts. Someone had been in his room. Footsteps sounded from his bedroom, and hastily he lay back down and closed his eyes, curious to see who was in his room.
Catherine’s scent of honey floated over to him, and in an instant he realized she was the one who had covered him. He waited to see what she would do. He barely breathed, afraid of giving himself away.
“Malik,” she said, her voice quiet and tender.
He didn’t move, curious to see if she’d wake him with a kiss.
“Darn it. I hate to wake you, but Hassan just texted me and your ministers are chomping at the bit.” Her soft fingers curled around his shoulder and shook him. “Malik, you need to wake up.” Her voice was louder this time.
Malik opened his eyes and smiled at her. “You’re a nice sight to wake up to.”
A blush rose to her cheeks, and unable to help himself, he cupped the back of her neck and brought her down for a kiss. Her lips were as soft as he remembered and just as sweet. He deepened the kiss, their tongues doing an intricate mating dance, until a knock sounded at his door and broke the mood. Catherine pulled away from him, breathing heavily.
“I need to go.”
“Stay.” He captured her hand.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she said, her eyes wide, her lips swollen from his kiss.
“This is where you belong. In my arms, in my bed, in my home. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” His erection pressed against his pants. If they had more time, he’d take her to bed and show her his dominant ways. A knock sounded again. With swift movements, he rose to his feet and wrapped the quilt around her before moving to the door. This way she didn’t have to object.
A few hours later, Malik paced the room, his traditional robe of white, gold, and red slapping around his feet. He was nervous. It wasn’t like he hadn’t addressed his people before, but today was different. He would update them on his father’s condition, which was stable, thank God. Today, his people would look for him to lead. Today, he would take a major step toward becoming the next king.
Did he really want this? The question shocked him. He’d been raised to do this; he’d always known he was destined to be king. Some day. He’d figured it was further in the future, but his father’s heart attack changed everything.
Movement caught his attention, yanking him out of his thoughts. He glanced up to see Catherine, and his world brightened. If one good thing had come out of his father’s illness, it was that Catherine had agreed to stay.
It amazed him how important to him she’d become in such a short time. He continued to pace, watching her out of the corner of his eyes, while he went through the speech he was about to make, over and over again.
“You’ll be fine.” Catherine’s soft voice soothed him and stopped his restless movement. She wore a simple white dress with short sleeves, and the fabric fell around her ankles. What caught his attention was the sash of the royal colors. His mother must have given it to her and convinced her to wear it without her knowing what it meant.
“Yes, I will.” But would he? So much was changing, and fast.
“Malik.” She laid a hand on his arm. Her warmth surrounded him. “Breathe and relax. Your father is recovering.”
He nodded. Yes, his father was recovering, quite rapidly. He was already asking to leave the hospital and giving Malik advice on how to handle the ministers. Malik had convinced his dad to stay for another twenty-four hours and let the doctors make sure there was no major damage to his heart.
“Your people love you,” she continued. “
The speech itself is a formality to let everyone know Jamal is fine. Plus, you’re more than capable of stepping into his shoes.”
He drew her into his arms. “They’re very big shoes to fill,” he whispered. How was it he could express his misgivings to Catherine, but not to his family? What was it about her?
“Agreed, but if anyone can do it, you can.”
Her confidence in him made his ego swell. “You really believe that, don’t you?” He knew his family supported him, but to have Catherine believe in him so unconditionally was a new experience. Most women he’d dated before never seemed to support him like she did or even to think much about what his position entailed.
“I do.” She brushed her fingers over his cheek. “There is no one I believe in more at this moment than you. You are the crown prince of Bashir. You’re stepping up to do what you need to do, for your people, your country, your family, and your father. You may not feel ready, but you are.”
He grimaced. She saw so much. Did others see what she did? He hated to think his ministers were reading him as well as she was. He couldn’t be weak in front of his ministers, as they only respected strength. “Is it that obvious?”
“No.” Her lips tilted up. “I’m good at reading people. It’s the artist in me.”
“Be with me on the balcony as I make the speech.” He’d tried to convince her earlier to be with him, but she’d refused. But he wanted her there. She helped keep his nerves at bay, and he wanted to show his people the woman he wanted to become the next queen.
“It’s not my place.” She ducked her head but didn’t try to escape his embrace. That was progress.
“I can’t think of a better place for you to be than at my side. You are to be my crown princess.” And she was quickly becoming very important to him.
“Malik,” she started, lifting her chin.
He slid his hands to her hips and turned her so his back faced the room and she was shielded from prying eyes.