A tiny alarm went off in the back of her mind. Take care, Samira, she told herself. The last thing she would want to do was to make herself believe that she was falling in love with Farid.
He was a man who had made it clear in a dozen different ways that he didn't believe in the romantic kind of love she'd always dreamed about, a man who had made it more than clear that he had married her for duty and duty only.
She smiled at herself and her own foolishness. She wasn't falling in love with Farid, she was just feeling overly grateful for the compress on her head and that he'd agreed to love the child she carried despite the fact that the baby wasn't his.
A mental picture of Desmond filled her mind and brought with it a surprising lack of emotion. There was no love, nor was there any hatred. There was simply a vague distaste when she thought of the man she had believed she'd loved.
She sighed softly as Desmond's image was usurped by one of Farid. Desmond might be handsome, but so was Farid. And while Desmond might be wonderfully charming, he lacked the qualities that Farid possessed … qualities like integrity and honor.
And it had been honor and duty that had driven Farid to marry her, she had to remember that. No matter how pleasant she found his laughter, no matter how wonderful it was to awaken in his arms, he'd married her for one reason and one reason alone – duty. And she absolutely, positively had to remember that.
She'd made a stupid mistake in sleeping with Desmond Caruso, but she had a feeling it would be a far bigger mistake to fall in love with Farid.
* * *
She awakened some time later, surprised that she had apparently drifted back to sleep. The sun pouring through the windows let her know it was midmorning, and her first thought was of her husband.
Her husband. Farid. What had he been doing in the hours that she'd slept? What did he do in his hours of leisure, when he wasn't in charge of her safety? Did he have hobbies? Did he like to read or watch television? Did he enjoy crossword puzzles or other challenging mind games?
After she'd showered and dressed for the day, she left the bedroom to find him sitting on the sofa and thumbing through a newspaper.
"Good morning again," he said and closed the newspaper.
"'Morning." She gestured toward the paper. "Anything interesting?"
"Same old stuff. How are you feeling?"
"Much better, thank you."
He stood and held out a small envelope. "This was delivered for you while you were sleeping."
"What is it?" she asked.
"I don't know. I didn't open it. It's addressed to you."
She took it from him and opened it. "It's from Queen Gwendolyn … an invitation to dinner this evening." She laid the envelope on the coffee table. "I'll send my regrets."
"Why?" Farid looked at her curiously.
"I don't know…" She stared down at the gold band around her finger. "I'm not ready to return to Tamir yet, but if I introduce you to Queen Gwendolyn and King Marcus as my husband, then I'm certain word will get back to my father immediately."
"Then you go as Princess Samira and I go as your bodyguard," he said. "We pretend nothing has changed and you have dinner with the king and queen."
She looked back up at him. "But that doesn't seem right."
He smiled, causing the tiny lines at the outer edges of his eyes to deepen. "I appreciate the sentiment, but it would not do to turn down the queen and king's invitation. For the first time in years, Montebello and Tamir are enjoying good relations. You would not want to offend the king and queen. Besides, we'll have plenty of time to attend social gatherings and such as husband and wife when you decide it's time to return to Tamir."
She looked at him gratefully. He was making things so easy on her. Another man might balk at being relegated to the role of bodyguard when he was married to a princess.
It wasn't until later that evening, when they were walking from the guest house to the palace that she remembered to ask him about his hobbies.
"What do you do in your spare time, Farid?" The evening air was laden with scents, but none as familiar and comforting as the scent that emanated from Farid.
Amazing that in less than two days she'd learned the masculine smell of him, the spicy cologne coupled with clean maleness.
"Being a bodyguard to a princess leaves very little spare time," he replied. "But when I do have time there are several things I enjoy."
"Like what?" she asked. He looked so handsome in his uniform, and she felt a slight quiver in her stomach as she thought that once again tonight they would be sleeping beneath the same sheet, in the same bed.
"All of the men who serve as bodyguards work out a lot and we're a competitive bunch. We have frequent physical challenges. I also enjoy target practice, and I like to run long-distance."
Samira was instantly granted a mental image of Farid clad only in a pair of jogging shorts, his body covered with a sheen of perspiration as he ran. The image was so evocative, so powerful, she stumbled and would have fallen had Farid not caught her by the arm to steady her.
His touch sent her pulse rate skittering to a new frantic pace and she quickly stepped away from his grip. "Thanks, I'm fine," she murmured.
"You're trembling," he said, his dark eyes watching her closely. "Are you nervous about the dinner?"
Samira grasped at his suggestion. "Yes, a little." In truth, she hadn't been nervous until this very moment. "I was just thinking … what if Desmond is at dinner? I'm not sure if I'm ready to see him so soon."
Farid stopped walking and stood before her. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, his dark eyes unreadable in the shadows of the falling night. "He only has the power over you that you give him."
"He has no power over me," she exclaimed. She averted her gaze from Farid. "It would just be awkward, that's all."
What was really awkward was speaking to the man she had married about the man she'd made love with three months before.
They fell silent as they reached the palace and Farid fell back several steps to his place as bodyguard. The moment they entered the palace, Farid disappeared as Samira was led into a large solarium at the back of the palace.
The solarium was beautiful, decorated in creams and golds and with a breathtaking view of the lush gardens and beyond that the blue of the ocean. As she entered, Prince Lucas rose from one of the elegant sofas and greeted her.
"Princess Samira." The handsome, dark-haired prince took her hand in his. "It's nice to see you again. It has been far too long."
"Prince Lucas, it's wonderful to see you back here in Montebello where you belong," she replied.
"It's good to be back home." Although he said the words, there seemed to be shadowed sadness in his eyes that belied them.
"You look well," she said.
"Thank you, and you're as pretty as ever. Your family is well?"
"They are very well," she replied.
At that moment Queen Gwendolyn and King Marcus joined them. King Marcus was a handsome man with thick white hair and dark eyes. Queen Gwendoyln's beauty was legendary. A blue-eyed blonde with delicate, aristocratic features, she was known not only for her beauty, but for her warmth as well.
That warmth was apparent as she greeted Samira. "We'll wait just a moment for Lorenzo and Eliza to join us," she said. The four of them chatted for a few minutes before Lorenzo and Eliza appeared and they all went into the adjoining dining room.
Like the solarium, the dining room was decorated in creams and golds with deep-green accents.
Samira breathed a sigh of relief as she realized it was only going to be the six of them for dinner. At least she wouldn't have to sit across from Desmond Caruso and make nice to the man.
Dinner was sumptuous, but throughout the meal, Samira couldn't help but notice the profound changes that seemed to have taken place in Prince Lucas.
Over the years, before his disappearance and his bout with amnesia, she had attended functions with him and had always found him to be a natural
charmer with a wonderful sense of humor and a touch of irreverence. His blue eyes had always sparkled, and he'd had a reputation for being something of a ladies' man.
There was no hint of that man now. He seemed more somber and again Samira sensed a deep sadness inside him. Or perhaps it was maturity, she told herself. After all, in less than six months time he would be taking on more responsibility and preparing to eventually take the crown as King.
Lorenzo, King Sebastiani's godson and nephew, on the other hand, looked wonderfully happy and it was obvious he and his wife, Eliza, were madly in love.
Throughout the meal, Samira thought again and again of Farid, wondering if he was eating a meal as good as hers, if he was being entertained by friendly people. She'd not worn the gold wedding ring and she was surprised that her finger felt naked without it.
Almost as soon as the meal was over, King Marcus, Lorenzo and Prince Lucas excused themselves, leaving Queen Gwendolyn, Eliza and Samira to enjoy their after-dinner coffee alone.
The two women spoke of their families and of the charity work they were each involved in.
"I have not spoken with Rashid and Julia for the past week," Queen Gwendolyn said. "I understand they are enjoying some time on Erimos."
Samira nodded. Erimos was an isolated island where her brother, Rashid, enjoyed spending time with his wife, Julia Sebastiani Kamal, and their son, Omar. "Little Omar is growing like a weed."
"He is the light of our lives." Queen Gwendolyn smiled at Eliza. "King Marcus and I are hoping to be blessed with many grandchildren."
"It must be wonderful to have Prince Lucas back," Samira said, changing the subject.
"Yes, it is wonderful to have him home. I can't tell you of my pain when I thought be might be gone forever." Her blue eyes darkened slightly. "There's nothing worse than losing a child."
"He seems different somehow … more pensive."
Samira hoped she hadn't overstepped herself in broaching the subject.
A small frown tugged at Queen Gwendoyln's lovely features and she stared down into her coffee cup for a long moment before she looked at Samira once again.
"My son is suffering an enormous heartbreak," she said softly, her pain for her son evident in her voice, in the shadows of her eyes.
"A heartbreak?" Samira had heard no gossip linking the handsome prince to any woman.
Queen Gwendolyn sighed. "It seems he became quite close to a woman in Colorado while he was there, and only recently he discovered she has died."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Samira exclaimed.
The queen smiled, a sad little smile. "If he fell and hurt his knee, I could put a bandage on it and make it all better. If he was fevered, I could cool his forehead with a damp cloth. But, I fear when it comes to matters of the heart and the pain of loss, a mother is helpless to make that pain go away."
Samira wasn't sure how to reply. Her heart ached for the handsome prince whose eyes radiated such sadness. As she thought of the baby she carried, she felt an affinity with the queen, a mother who would do anything in her power to ease the pain of a son. They visited for another hour, then Samira and the queen parted and Farid rejoined Samira for the walk back to their guest house.
"You had a nice time?" Farid asked as they walked.
"I did. The king and queen are warm, gracious people. Prince Lucas joined us. Did you know he worked undercover for the FBI and infiltrated the Brothers of Darkness?"
The Brothers of Darkness was a terrorist group that had been wreaking havoc both in Montebello and Tamir.
"I'd heard rumors."
"He spoke a little bit about it at dinner," she explained.
"The Brothers of Darkness brought a lot of misery to the people in both countries by their indiscriminate bombings of public places. They were suspected of bombing the airport here a month ago, but I believe the villain turned out to be an airport security person."
She nodded as they entered the garden that would eventually lead them to their guest house. They had spoken of it at dinner.
They had gone only a few steps when Samira spied a male figure coming down the narrow sidewalk toward them.
He was Desmond's height and approximate weight. Panic swept through her. She wasn't ready to see him yet. She didn't want any kind of a confrontation with him.
Frantically, she looked for a place to hide and seeing nowhere to go, she impulsively wrapped her arms around Farid's neck and pulled his head down so she could meet his lips with hers. Her ploy was to use him to shield her from whomever it was who approached.
Farid gave a gasp of surprise, but his mouth complied with her wishes as his arms encircled her and pulled her close. So close … too wonderfully close. Her body was intimately pressed against his as her fingers encountered the soft, thick hair at the nape of his neck.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had known instinctively that Farid would be good at kissing, but nothing had prepared her for the flames of heat that shot through her as his lips plied hers.
Instantly any thoughts of Desmond and the reasons why she'd instigated the kiss in the first place were gone, banished by the sweet sensations that swept through her as the kiss lingered.
Tentatively, his tongue sought to deepen the kiss and she welcomed him, her tongue swirling with his. Vaguely, she was aware of footsteps passing them by and growing softer until they disappeared altogether.
Her heartbeat banged against her ribs … or was it his heartbeat she felt racing so frantically as his hands moved up and down her back in firm, caressing strokes?
It was he who broke the kiss. "Samira," he said as he tore his mouth from hers. "What do you think you're doing?" His voice held an edge of anger as he took two steps back from her.
"I'm … sorry." The heat of embarrassment swept up her neck and warmed her cheeks. "I just … I thought…"
"I know exactly why you kissed me," he interrupted her, his eyes blazing with unsuppressed anger. "I know we have a deal where this marriage is concerned, that it is to be a marriage in name only. But I'll tell you this, Samira, the next time you kiss me like that, all bets are off. I will not be responsible for my actions."
* * *
Chapter 7
«^»
Farid felt as if he'd swallowed a time bomb and was waiting for the inevitable explosion to follow. He and Samira had been married for a full week. He'd not only spent each moment of every day with her, but each torturous minute of each night as well.
They were now lying side by side on one of the white sand beaches Montebello had to offer. Samira had awakened just before noon and announced that she wanted to spend the day at the beach. "I won't be able to wear a regular bathing suit for too much longer," she'd said.
The sun was hot overhead, but not hot enough to burn the tension out of Farid. It was a tension that had been building for the past seven days.
He would have been fine had they not shared that kiss a week before. That damnable kiss in the garden had awakened a hunger in him that he couldn't seem to banish.
The moment she'd thrown her arms around his neck, he'd known what had prompted her actions. He'd seen the man approaching them, a man who in the darkness had the build and height of Desmond Caruso, and he'd known the kiss had been an effort on her part to hide her face. But that hadn't stopped him from responding to it.
Even now, thinking of the honey sweetness of her mouth caused a heat to boil up inside him that had nothing to do with the sun overhead.
Making matters worse was the fact that she was lying next to him in a bright yellow two-piece bathing suit that merely served to increase his internal temperature.
He sat up and tried to stare out at the ocean, knowing he needed to focus on the sensation of cool waves breaking over his heated body. But his gaze was continually drawn to Samira.
She lay on her back, her eyes closed, and he suspected from the deep rhythm of her breathing that she'd fallen asleep.
The blanket beneath them was a mint green that enhanced the d
arkness of her hair and the rich tones of her skin. The bathing suit, while certainly more modest than a bikini, exposed far too much to his gaze.
The upper curve of her breasts was visible above the top, looking achingly touchable. The bottoms hugged her hips and were cut high on her thighs, exposing an indecent length of shapely legs.
Her lower abdomen had the beginnings of a small pouch, the visual proof of the baby that was growing inside her. Farid fought the impulse to reach over and place his palm against the smooth skin. He knew to indulge himself in such an intimate touch would in all likelihood detonate the bomb inside him.
What made it even worse was that he knew she was aware of the sexual tension between them. There were moments when her eyes glowed with the knowledge of it, when he could swear she was thinking the same thoughts that he was … what would it be like if they made love?
Would they be good together? Would their bodies fit and would they instinctively know how to please one another? Every second of every day these thoughts filled Farid's head.
He frowned, wishing he could run to the ocean edge and dive into the waves. An energetic swim would do much to ease the tension inside him. But there was no way he'd leave Samira's side, not even to take a quick dip in the ocean.
Not only did he have the problem of the internal stress of Samira's near-nakedness so close to him, there was also the issue of the blond-haired man who was becoming far too familiar a sight.
He scanned the beach area now, both unsurprised and unsettled to see the man seated on a bench a short distance from them. The man seemed to be paying them no attention whatsoever. A newspaper was opened on the bench next to him and he seemed simply to be enjoying reading the news in the brightness of the sun.
Farid returned his attention to Samira as he heard her stir. She sat up and shot him a quick smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to drift off to sleep."
"That's all right. You must have needed it."
"It seems like that's all I do, sleep and eat." She smiled at him.
SECRETS OF A PREGNANT PRINCESS Page 8