by Marie Tuhart
“Yes, you’re getting over a concussion. I won’t risk your health,” Malik said, as his fingers caressed her cheek.
“I’m fine.” She raised her free hand to his cheek. “Really, I am. A bit sore. Malik, you need to do this. If they want me with you, then I’ll go willingly.”
“I knew you were a woman of worth,” Khalid said. “I’ll start the process.” He stood.
“I haven’t said yes,” Malik said, but his gaze never left her face.
“Formality,” Rafi said.
Chairs scraped back and Catherine vaguely heard footsteps retreating.
“Are you sure?” Malik asked.
She nodded. “I want to see the desert. With everything going on, it might just be the thing to tip the odds in your favor.”
“Can you ride a horse?”
She grinned. “Yes, I can.” She didn’t tell him it had been a while.
“And you’ll accept all security measures Khalid sees fit to implement and whomever he decides to send with us?”
She nodded.
“All right.” He lowered his head until his forehead rested on hers.
Four hours later, Malik led the group on his black Arabian into the encampment the trial leaders had set up. It had taken them a little longer than normal because he’d insisted on stopping and resting.
Malik wasn’t sure bringing Catherine out in the desert after her recent scare was such a good idea, but Khalid had assured him it was probably the safest place for her. Khalid had assigned a special security force, handpicked, including himself, plus he’d sent out a group ahead to set up their own tents and make sure everything was secure.
Malik stopped his horse, dismounted, and went to Catherine’s horse. Without a word he helped her dismount. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“Good,” she said. “I’m sure there will be a few muscles that will protest tomorrow when we ride back, but nothing major. Please relax.” He reached up and unwound her headscarf. She glanced over his shoulder and her eyes widened.
Malik turned to see three of the tribal leaders with their wives standing there. Malik undid the fabric covering his face.
“Prince Malik,” Faruq, one of the tribal leaders, said. “We are pleased you are here.” All of them bowed.
“Faruq, Bassam, and Anwar, thank you for the invitation to meet with you.” Malik slid his arm around Catherine’s waist and pulled her to his side. “This is Catherine, my wife-to-be.”
“Hello.” Her voice was soft.
“We welcome you as well,” Faruq said with a smile. “Come refresh yourselves.” He gestured them toward the large fire pit with pillows scattered around.
“Thank you for your kindness and generosity.” Malik guided Catherine over to the area and helped her sit on a pillow.
The wives scuttled off and returned with food and drinks as the men settled themselves. Catherine looked at Malik as the men were served.
“It’s an old tradition,” he whispered. “Men are served first.”
She nodded. Anwar’s wife knelt down next to Catherine, holding out a cup. “Thank you,” Catherine said as she took the cup.
Malik lifted his cup and took a sip, then nodded at Catherine, who did the same. He had explained a bit on the way out, but had forgotten about how old-fashioned the tribal leaders were. She’d picked up on it right away.
“As soon as you finish your refreshment, our wives will take your bride-to-be to your tent and we can talk,” Bassam said.
Catherine stiffened beside him. Malik wished he could pull her into his arms, but the tribal leaders frowned upon public displays of affection. “I mean no disrespect, Bassam, but I prefer to keep Catherine with me as we talk.”
Bassam shook his head.
“Prince Malik,” Anwar started.
Malik held his hand up. “Please hear me out. I respect the old ways, I always have. But some recent events are why I want Catherine at my side.” He outlined what had happened.
“And you believe we are responsible?” Bassam threw out his chest.
“Quiet, Bassam,” Faruq said. “Prince Malik is within his rights to keep his woman near him for her protection.”
“My protection,” Catherine whispered.
Malik inclined his head.
“I do not like it,” Bassam said. “Anwar?”
Anwar stared at Catherine. Malik wanted to tell her to lower her gaze, but this had to play out the way it did. Catherine wasn’t a meek woman.
Anwar rubbed his chin. “Strong, and a brave woman. She stays.”
Malik hadn’t realized how tense he was until Anwar spoke. “Thank you. Now shall we discuss the matters at hand?”
Catherine stirred as male arms lifted her. She forced her eyes open. The men had talked all afternoon and into the evening. A fire had been lit in the pit and meat roasted over it. The food had been flavorful, and the conversation interesting.
The tribal leaders laid out their issues and Malik listened. He never dismissed anything they said, and those items he didn’t have answers to he promised to look into. Somewhere along the line she’d fallen asleep.
“Malik?”
“Hello, my sleepy one.” He grinned at her as he carried her.
“I’m sorry, you can put me down.” She glanced to see the women watching from the doorways of their tents.
“No. I like carrying you.” His long strides ate up the desert ground. Samir and Khalid were at the entrance to their tent.
“Everything is set up and security is watching,” Khalid said.
“You need some sleep,” Malik said to his brother.
“I will, but first Samir and I will trade off shifts guarding the entrance to your tent,” Khalid said.
“Is that really necessary?” Catherine asked, looking at Khalid.
“Yes, it is,” Malik said.
Khalid raised his eyebrows. “We want both of you to be safe. Enjoy your night.” He pulled back the tent flap.
“Thank you, brother.” Malik ducked inside.
Catherine’s eyes widened. From the outside the tent didn’t look like much, but inside ... “Amazing,” she whispered.
Lanterns were hung from the sides of the tent. A low table was off to the right side, with colorful pillows around it. Off on the left side on a low platform was a bed with the most beautiful quilt covering it. It was black, with a gold, red, teal, and maroon design on each individual square.
“Please put me down,” she said softly. Once she was on her feet, she wondered around the tent. “This is beautiful.” She ran her hand over the quilt, its softness tickling her skin.
“All for you,” Malik said, sweeping off his headdress before striding to her side and removing hers.
“Me?”
“Yes.” He brushed her hair away from her face, and she shivered at the look of desire in his dark eyes. “I wanted you to be comfortable.”
“I would be comfortable sleeping on the desert floor as long as I’m with you,” she whispered. It was true.
Malik let out a groan. “If I make love to you, you will have to be quiet. The walls here are not exactly soundproof.”
“I can be quiet.” She ran her hand over his face, reveling in the slight roughness.
He lowered his head and their lips met in a kiss. When they broke apart, both were breathing hard. Malik turned from her and made his way around the tent, turning off the lanterns.
Her heart pounded. Maybe when everything settled down, she could convince Malik to bring her back out into the desert and make love to her under the stars. Her breath caught in her throat. No, she couldn’t think that way. The engagement was fake. She couldn’t fall for the fairytale. But for tonight she’d indulge herself a bit. Malik was a prince, after all.
The day after they returned from the desert, Catherine made her way to the family dining room. She’d left Lillianna fuming in her sitting room. She’d had enough of that woman. Catherine still had a few aches, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the horse or f
alling off the mattress in the tent.
She stifled a giggle. She and Malik had gotten a little out of control, and she’d rolled right off the bed. Not that they’d been that far off the ground, but Malik had been concerned. She’d just laughed and told him she was fine.
Catherine was glad she’d had some time in the desert with Malik. The tribal leaders had been very open in discussing their issues, and before they left they told Malik they would talk to the other two leaders who had not been able to attend. However, they had no reason to oppose Malik’s leadership.
She entered the dining room and her gaze landed on Jamal. A smile curved her lips; she strode over to Jamal. “It’s great to see you home.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek before taking her seat next to Malik. “Good morning, Anna.”
“You’re looking well this morning,” Anna said, her eyes twinkling.
“Yes, the desert air agrees with me.” Catherine poured a cup of coffee.
Malik glanced at her and winked before his features turned serious. “From now on, you’ll have a personal security detail at all times.”
Well, so much for easing back into real life. That lord-of-the-manor tone was back, and Catherine resented it. Dominance in the bedroom was one thing, outside was another. Turning her head, she gave him what she hoped was a pleasant smile. “No, thank you. I already have all the security I need.”
“It’s not up for discussion.” She would stay calm, even if it killed her, and it just might. This man was able to bring out emotions she thought she’d buried years ago.
“You will have a security detail regardless of what you want.” Malik scooped up some fruit from the bowl and placed it on her plate.
“Malik, dear—” started his mother.
“No, Mother. This I will not budge on. Catherine needs to be protected at all times.”
Catherine bit her lower lip to stop from grinning. Anna was trying to diffuse the situation, and Catherine smiled at her in gratitude. She glanced at Jamal, who was trying to hide a smile behind his napkin. “If you’d stop being so bullheaded and listen, your mother is trying to diplomatically tell you to stop giving orders and try asking for a change.”
Malik blinked several times, then glanced from Catherine to his mother and back again, a look of total bewilderment on his face.
Shaking her head, Catherine grinned. “Why, yes, Malik, thank you,” she started. “Adding additional security would be nice. But let’s keep it to two bulky males, please. I don’t need a whole football team to take care of me. Oh, and if we could make them tall, dark, and extremely good-looking, I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Silence descended, then Malik burst out laughing. “Lord, woman, you’d drive a saint to drink.”
“And you, sir, should have learned by now I don’t take orders.” She leaned over and whispered, “Unless we’re in the bedroom.” Heat flared in his eyes as she pulled back.
“I’m beginning to understand. Samir and two others I personally picked from my security force will now become yours.”
“Won’t you need them?”
He waved a hand. “These are men who are specially trained and report to me and no one else. You need to be protected until the man who assaulted you is captured.” The irritation in his voice was clear.
“Judging by the noise he made when I head-butted him, I’d say he’s got a broken nose and a couple of broken toes as well.”
This time Jamal gave a hearty laugh. “Tell me, my dear, where did you learn to defend yourself so well?”
Catherine leaned back in her chair. It was time to come clean about a few things. “I learned before I was a teenager that if you can get away from a would-be kidnapper or assailant, do so. I had self-defense classes from the time I was ten until I turned sixteen.”
“Why was that necessary?” Malik placed an arm over the back of her chair, his heat slipping into her skin.
She took a deep breath. “My parents are Baron and Baroness Hatcher.” There, the first cat was out of the bag. Her parents were low on the royal totem pole, nowhere near the line of succession, but that never stopped them from flaunting the connection. Silence descended on the room, this time an oppressive one. Her heart dropped to her feet.
Malik curved his fingers around her shoulder and squeezed.
Taking a deep breath, she began to speak. “The headline Malik showed me, where my parents were quoted saying that I had betrayed them, would be accurate from their point of view.”
“A flawed point of view,” Malik said.
His words, and his taking her side before knowing all the facts, warmed her heart, giving her the courage to continue. “From the time I was a small child until I left home at eighteen, my parents decided the best way to keep themselves in the news was to keep me in front of the press.” Out of the corner of her eye she caught Malik’s wince. Reaching up, she covered his hand, which still rested on her shoulder. “Your reasons were valid, theirs were simple selfishness.”
“I thank you for that,” Malik said.
Catherine blew out a breath. “The press ate it up, and I became the center of attention. I hated it.”
“Well, of course you did,” Anna said. “No child wants that kind of attention.”
“That was the reason we protected our sons during their childhood and teenage years from the paparazzi,” Jamal said.
Catherine was surprised at how easily the words flowed. The unconditional understanding from Malik and his parents caused her heart to lighten and helped her realize this family meant more to her than her own. “I couldn’t move without the paparazzi being there. Eventually I stopped going out, and I spent more and more of my time in my room studying or reading. That’s how I found my love for drawing.”
“It couldn’t have been easy for you growing up in that environment,” Malik said.
“No. As a child I wasn’t able to defy my parents, but as a teenager, they found it harder and harder to force me into situations I didn’t want to be in.” Her stomach cramped at the memories of being paraded in front of the press, dressed up like a doll to be shown off.
Malik took her hand, raised it to his lips, and gently kissed her knuckles. “I’m sorry I put you in a position that reminded you of your dreadful childhood.”
Her lips turned up in a half smile. “Your reasons were sound. You’re working toward helping your country and people. You’re not narcissistic, like my parents.”
“You forgive me?” His dark eyes were filled with hope.
“I forgave you a long time ago for what happened when we first met. Sometimes events get out of control, and all we can do is go with the flow.” A sense of peace overcame her. Her words were true; she’d forgiven Malik, and none of what was currently happening was his fault.
“Wise words from a very young, but intelligent, woman,” Jamal said.
Catherine nodded and continued with her story; better to get it out now. “I left home at eighteen and began to study art. My parents were horrified their daughter would do such a thing. They wanted me to follow in my mother’s footsteps—marry a rich man, be a wife and mother. Not to have dreams or to study art or to have my own mind.” She let out a breath, and her muscles began to relax. “They milked the press with the story for over a year before they realized I wasn’t going to respond.”
How much more should she explain? Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced around the table. Here was the caring, compassionate family she had wanted growing up, and now she had it. They had a right to know, but she wasn’t sure if she could tell them everything. She didn’t want to see pity in their eyes.
“When I was twenty, I met Jamie Monroe.” The room swam as her vision blurred. “He was a musician. A very talented musician.”
“I remember reading an article about him not too long ago,” Anna said. “He passed away several years or so ago. Cancer, I believe.”
“Yes.” Catherine bit her lower lip and forced herself to continue. “He couldn’t handle the press and all the attention.
All he wanted to do was play guitar, sing, and make people happy with his music. The pressure from the press helped in killing him.”
The king and queen nodded, and Catherine was surprised at how well they were taking this. She risked peeking at Malik from beneath her lashes. Instead of the pity and shock she expected to see, she saw concern in those dark eyes, and a gleam of respect and understanding.
“You’re all taking this very well, and I have to wonder why.” They were calm, very calm. Then it dawned on her. “You had me investigated.” Why hadn’t she thought about that before?
“Standard procedure when someone comes to live in the royal household,” Jamal said.
Catherine glanced at Malik. He shook his head. “I only saw the names of your parents and some highlights. I never read the full report,” Malik said.
The room went silent. Catherine was tired of this dark cloud over them. Jamal and Anna were within their rights to have her checked out before she arrived. And if they didn’t have issues with her parents, she could let it go. “Well, since you know where I come from, can we please dump the protocol barracuda?”
Laughter filled the room, and for the first time in a long time the darkness plaguing her was gone, allowing the light to shine through. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
“I think I can arrange that,” Malik said. “But you need to go shopping for clothes. We’ve got a state dinner and an engagement party to attend.”
“State dinner?” She dropped the croissant she was about to take a bite of onto the plate.
“Yes. It’s on your schedule. While my parents will be there, it is important for you and me to show a united front,” Malik said.
“Great,” she muttered. Shopping and a room full of dignitaries.
“More than great,” Malik whispered in her ear. “Now I have an excuse to hold you in my arms.”
A shiver swept through Catherine’s body as she filled with warmth and desire.
22
Catherine paced around her room. Her maid had left after helping her dress. Now, there was nothing to do but wait for Malik.