‘He’s beautiful,’ Amy said. His skin was as dark as Rakhal’s, but his hair was blonde like Natasha’s, and Amy was suddenly filled with hopeless wonder as to what her babies might have been like if Emir was their father. She was consumed again with all she had lost, but then she held Clemira tighter and qualified that—all that she was losing by walking away.
‘Would you like to hold him?’ Natasha offered.
‘He’s asleep,’ Amy said, because she was terrified if she did that she might break down.
‘He has to get up, I’m afraid,’ Natasha said. ‘I want to feed him before the naming ceremony.’ She scooped the sleeping infant out of his crib and, as Kuma took Clemira, handed him to Amy.
Sometimes it had hurt to hold Clemira and Nakia in those early days, to know that she would never hold her own newborn, and the pain was back now, as acute as it had been then, perhaps more so—especially when the two Kings came in. Rakhal was proud and smiling down at his son. Emir was polite as he admired the new Prince. But there was grief in his eyes and Amy could see it. She was angry on behalf of his girls, yet she understood it too—for the laws in this land, like in the desert, could be cruel.
‘Come,’ Emir told her, ‘we should take our places.’
Her place was beside him—for the last time.
She stood where in the future she would not: holding his daughters. She held Clemira and sometimes swapped. Sometimes he held both, when he did not have to salute, so he could give Amy a rest and once, when they girls got restless, she set them on the ground, for it was a long and complicated ceremony.
‘They did well,’ Emir said as they walked back to the nursery with the weary twins.
‘Of course they did!’ Amy smiled. ‘And if they’d cried would it really have mattered? Tariq screamed the whole ceremony.’
‘He did.’ Emir had been thinking the same, knew he must not be so rigid. Except his country expected so little from his daughters and somehow he wanted to show them all they could be. ‘Just so you know, the Alzirz nanny will be looking after the twins tonight. They are to make a brief appearance at the party, but she will dress them and take care of that.’
‘Why?’ Amy asked, and she watched his lips tighten as she questioned him.
‘Because.’ Emir answered, and he almost hissed in irritation as he felt her blue eyes still questioning him. He refused to admit that he did not know why.
‘Because what?’
He wanted to turn around and tell her that he was new to this, that the intricacies of parenthood and royal protocol confused him at times too. Hannah would have been the one handling such things. It was on days like today that the duty of being a single parent was the hardest. Yet he could not say all this, so his voice was brusque when he conceded to respond. ‘Sheikha Queen Natasha wants them to be close. It is how things are done. If Prince Tariq comes to stay in Alzan you will look after him for the night.’
‘I thought you were rivals?’
‘Of course,’ Emir said. ‘But Queen Natasha is new to this. She does not understand how deep the rivalry is, that though we speak and laugh and attend each other’s celebrations there is no affection there.’
‘None?’
‘None.’ His face was dark. ‘The twins will be looked after by their nanny tonight. They will be brought back to you in the morning and you will all join me at the formal breakfast tomorrow.’
‘But the girls will be unsettled in a new...’
He looked at her. He must have been mad to even have considered it—crazy even to think it. For she would not make a good sheikha queen. There was not one sentence he uttered that went unquestioned, not a thought in her head that she did not voice.
‘You keep requesting a night off. Why then, do you complain when you get one?’
Amy reminded herself of her place.
‘I’m not complaining.’ She gave him a wide smile. ‘I’m delighted to have a night off work. I just wasn’t expecting it.’
‘You can ring down for dinner to be sent to you.’
‘Room service?’ Amy kept that smile, remembered her place. ‘And I’ve got my own pool... Enjoy the party.’
Of course he did not.
He was less than happy as he took his place at the gathering. He could see the changes Natasha had brought to the rather staid palace, heard laughter in the air and the hum of pleasant, relaxed conversation, and it only served to make him more tense. He held his daughters along with Kuma, and Natasha held her son. He saw Kuma being so good with them and thought perhaps Fatima was not so suitable.
Maybe a gentler nanny would suit the children best, Emir thought. For he knew that Amy was leaving—had seen it in her eyes—and he held Clemira just a touch tighter before he handed her back to Kuma. His heart twisted again, for they should not be in this world without their mother, and a king should not be worrying about hiring a new nanny.
There was the one big decision that weighed heavily, but there were others that must be made too: their nanny, their schooling, their language, their tears, their grief, their future. He must fathom it all unshared with another who loved them. As a single father he did not know how to be.
Black was his mind as the babies were taken upstairs to the nursery, and he looked over to Rakhal, who stood with his wife by his side. Never had he felt more alone. Tonight he grieved the loss of both Hannah and Amy, and he was so distracted that he did not notice Natasha had made her way over.
‘I’m sorry. This must be so difficult for you.’
He shot her a look of scorn. How dared she suggest to his face such a thing? How dared she so blatantly disrespect his girls?
But just as his mouth formed a scathing retort she continued. ‘It’s Hannah’s anniversary soon?’
He closed his eyes for a second. Grief consumed him.
He nodded. ‘She is missed.’
Natasha looked at this King with grief in his eyes, who stood apart and polite but alone. ‘Where’s Amy?’
‘She is enjoying a night off,’ he clipped, for he did not like to think about her when he wanted her here at his side.
‘I didn’t mean for her to stay in her room.’ Natasha laughed. ‘When I said that my nanny would look after the girls I was hoping that she would join us.’
‘She is the nanny,’ Emir said curtly. ‘She is here only to look after the children.’
‘Ah, but she’s English,’ Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Have you any idea how nice it feels to have someone here who is from home? I was so looking forward to speaking with her—we never really got a chance earlier.’
‘She will bring the twins to breakfast tomorrow,’ Emir responded, uncomfortable with such overt friendliness.
When he visited Alzirz, or when duty dictated that Rakhal visit Alzan, there were firm boundaries in place, certain ways things were done, but Natasha seemed completely oblivious to them. The new Sheikha Queen did not seem to understand that it was all an act between himself and Rakhal, that there was still a deep rivalry between the two Kings, born from an innate need to protect the kingdoms, their land and their people. Natasha simply didn’t understand that although they spoke politely, although they attended all necessary functions, it was only mutual hate that truly united them.
‘I’ll have somebody sent to get her,’ Natasha persisted.
Emir could only imagine how well that would go down with Amy. She didn’t like to be told what to do at the best of times, and this certainly wasn’t the best of times.
‘She is staff,’ Emir said, and that should have ended the conversation—especially as Rakhal had now come over. At least Rakhal knew how things were done. He would terminate this conversation in an instant, would quickly realise that lines were being crossed—unlike this beaming Englishwoman.
What was it with them?
Natasha smiled up to her husband. ‘I was just saying to Emir that I was hoping to have Amy join us tonight. I do miss having someone from home to chat to at times.’
And love must have softened Rakhal’s brain, Emir thought darkly, for instead of looking to Emir, instead of gauging his response, instead of playing by the unspoken rules he looked to his wife.
‘Then why don’t you have someone go to the suite and see if she would care to join us?’ he said. Only then did he address Emir. ‘Normally Natasha’s brother and his fiancée would be here tonight, to join in the celebrations, but they are in the UK for another family commitment and couldn’t make it.’
Emir did not care. Emir had no desire to know why Natasha’s brother and his fiancée could not be here. Had Rakhal forgotten for a moment that this was all a charade? That there was more hate in the air than the palatial ballroom could readily hold? For when he thought of his daughters, thought of his late wife and the rule Alzirz refused to revoke, Emir could happily pull his knife.
‘It would be unfair to her.’ Emir did his best to keep his voice even. ‘She will have only her working clothes with her.’
‘I’m not that mean.’ Natasha smiled. ‘I wouldn’t do that to her. I’ll have some clothes and maidens sent to her room to help prepare her. I’ll arrange it now.’
There was so much he would like to say—Emir was not used to having any decision questioned—and yet protocol dictated politeness even in this most uncomfortable of situations. He could just imagine Amy, in her present mood, if one of the servants were to knock at her door and insist that she come down and join in with the feasting and celebrations. A smile he was not expecting almost spread his lips at the very thought, but he rescued his features from expression and nodded to the waiting Queen.
‘Very well, if you wish to have Amy here, I shall go now and speak to her. I will ask her to come down, though she may already have retired for the night.’
Natasha smiled back at him and Emir could not understand why she could not see the hate in his eyes as he spoke. He strode out of the grand ballroom.
As he did so Rakhal turned to his wife. ‘You are meddling.’
‘Of course I’m not,’ Natasha lied.
But her husband knew her too well. He had had the teachings too and his wife seduced with her beauty, dazzled like the sun low in the desert. He knew his wife was plotting now.
‘Natasha? You do not interfere in such things.’
‘I’m not,’ Natasha insisted. ‘You have to work the room and I would like someone to talk to in my own language. Amy seems nice.’
But of course she was meddling. Natasha had seen King Emir’s eyes linger a little too long on Amy at times, when the nanny hadn’t been aware he was watching her. She had seen the sadness behind his eyes too. And, yes, perhaps it was for selfish reasons also that she was interfering just a little, but the thought of someone from her own land to be beside her at these endless functions...
She knew that Emir must soon take a new sheikha queen, and if that queen happened to be Amy—well, who could blame her for giving Cupid a little nudge? She loved her new country—loved it so much—but the rivalry between the two nations, the bitterness between them and all the impossible rules she simply could not abide, and she was quite sure that Amy must feel the same.
Amy had not retired for the night as Emir was silently hoping as he walked through the palace to her room.
She had rung down for dinner and enjoyed a delicious feast—or tried to. She had been thinking about the girls, thinking about Emir and trying to picture her future without them. But it was too hard. So she had telephoned home, hoping for a long chat, but everybody must be at work because she had spoken to endless answering machines. And, yes, a night off was what she had asked for, and the Alzirz palace was as sumptuous as even the most luxurious hotel, but after an hour or two of reading and painting her toenails she had grown restless. Simply because it was there for the taking Amy put on her bikini and went for a long swim in her own private pool.
It was glorious—the temperature of the water perfect, the area shaded with date palms for complete privacy and protection from the fierce Alzirz sun during the day. Lying on her back, she could see the stars peeking through. But just as she started to relax, just as she had convinced herself to stop worrying about leaving Alzan, at least for tonight, she heard a bell ring from her suite.
Perhaps the maid had come to take her tray, Amy thought and, climbing out of the pool, went to answer the door. She had left her towel behind so she tied on a flimsy silk robe and called for the maid to come in. As the bell rang again Amy realised that perhaps she didn’t understand English and opened the door—completely taken aback to find Emir standing there.
‘It was not my intention to disturb you.’ It was close to an apology, but not quite. He was a king summoning a servant, Emir reminded himself—it was a compliment in itself that he had come to her door. ‘You are required downstairs.’
Amy frowned. ‘Is there a problem with one of the twins?’
‘Not at all.’ He felt more than a little uncomfortable, especially as two damp triangles were becoming visible where her wet bikini seeped into the silk of her gown. ‘Sheikha Queen Natasha has requested that you join in the celebrations.’
‘No, thanks.’ Amy gave a tight smile and went to close the door, but his booted foot halted it. ‘Excuse me!’ was Amy’s brittle response.
‘You don’t understand,’ Emir said, but he did remove his boot. ‘That is why I came personally—to explain things to you. The Queen is hosting the party. It is the Queen who has requested you to come down, not me. It would be rude...’
‘Rude for who?’ Amy responded—because she did not want to go down there, did not want to be Natasha’s little project for the night. She particularly did not want to spend any more time with Emir than she had to—things were already difficult enough.
Now he was at her door, and she could feel the cool wetness of her gown, knew from the flick of his eyes downwards that he had seen it too—that she might just as well not be wearing it. She was frantic to have him gone.
‘It’s rude to give me a night off and then revoke it!’ She went to close the door again, did not want to prolong this discussion.
Emir would not let things be, and unless she slammed the door in his face she’d have to stand there and listen as he spoke on.
‘If the twins were awake you would be expected to bring them down.’
‘The twins are not in my care tonight.’
‘That is not the point.’ Emir’s voice was stern. He was less than impressed with Amy’s behaviour—especially as a maid came into the corridor and bowed her head to him. He stood there bristling with indignation as she went in and retrieved Amy’s dinner tray. ‘It is not right for me to be seen standing here and arguing with...’
‘An employee?’ she finished for him. But she accepted it was not fitting behaviour, and once the maid had gone she held the door further open for him. ‘I have nothing to wear to a party. I haven’t showered. I’m not ready...’
‘That is being taken care of.’ He blocked her excuses as Natasha had blocked his. ‘Queen Natasha is having some clothes and some maidens sent here to your room.’ He turned to go. ‘I expect you to be down there within half an hour.’
‘Emir...’
There was a plea in her voice, a plea he had heard once before—the sound of her begging. He remembered her writhing beneath him and he hardly dared turn around.
‘Don’t make me do this. Go and enjoy the party on your own—make an excuse for me that is fitting. I don’t know anything about...’
‘Enjoy it?’ He did turn around then, and he wished she were dressed—wished she looked anything other than she did now. For the gown was completely see-through. Three triangles taunted him. He could see the hard peaks of her nipples,
see the flush on her neck. He should not be in this room with her for a whole set of reasons other than protocol. ‘You will get dressed.’
When still she shook her head, he lost his temper. He spoke harsh angry words. It was far safer than pushing her onto the bed.
‘You really think that I want to be down there? You really think that I’m enjoying making small talk, pretending that I do not hate them? If it were not for them...’
His black eyes met hers, as angry and savage as they had been the day she had first challenged him, but it did not scare her as it had then. His anger was not aimed at her, nor his words, Amy was quite sure. This would not be of his choosing, for this remote, private man to pour some of the pain out.
‘Amy, please...’
Not once had he pleaded, not once that she knew of, and this came with a roar from the heart.
‘I am asking you to please make this night easier for me—I am in hell down there.’
And he was. He was in hell tonight and no one knew. He could not share his burden; he carried it alone for he was King. He remembered his status and was ashamed of his words, his loss of control. But there was no smart retort from Amy. This time she stood stunned, as he was at his revelation, and he could see tears pooling in her eyes. She had glimpsed a little of his pain.
It was not that her mouth found his, nor was it his mouth which sought hers. Neither initiated the kiss. They simply joined, and he felt the bliss of oblivion. The pain ended for a moment and relief was instant. There was release and escape as her wet body pressed to his. He had craved her since that night, had wanted her each minute, and her tongue as it twisted with his, the heat of her skin through the damp gown, told him she had craved him as much.
She had.
His uniform was rough beneath her fingers, his mouth desperate on hers, his erection as fierce as his passion. She could feel him hard in her centre. It was happening again and it must not.
Harlequin Presents January 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Ruthless Caleb WildeBeholden to the ThroneThe Incorrigible Playboy Page 27