Desert Prince, Blackmailed Bride

by Kim Lawrence

  Gabby laughed, and realised that staying distant and cold was not going to be easy. ‘Sorry—you just remind me of someone I know.’

  His smile flashed white in his handsome face. ‘Someone pretty marvelous—am I right?’

  Gabby laughed again. ‘My brother—and he would be the first to agree with you.’ Her glance flickered between the two Princes. Rafiq scowled and Hakim winked. ‘Gosh, you’re not even a little bit alike, are you?’ she gasped, thinking that the younger brother might be all style over substance, but he was charming and refreshingly uncomplicated to someone struggling to cope with the exhausting complexity, contradictions and convolutions of Rafiq’s personality.

  ‘You see, Rafiq, some people appreciate me.’

  The duration of the meal followed the same pattern of light-hearted banter—though there was a slight hiccough when, in the middle of dessert, Hakim asked her how the research for her thesis was going.

  Gabby played for time. ‘Thesis?’

  ‘Gabriella has not yet had an opportunity to see first-hand the new initiative for the Bedouin children,’ Rafiq inserted, in response to her raised eyebrow glare.

  ‘Well, you’re in safe hands with Rafiq, Gabriella.’

  Safe was not exactly the word that sprang to mind when she thought of Rafiq’s hands. She swallowed, thinking of them framing her face while he kissed her. Her eyes were drawn unwisely to the sensuous, sexy curve of his lips. Rafiq saw her looking and his eyes went hot when he felt her gaze. Her stomach went into a dipping dive.

  ‘Gabby,’ she said at last, her voice a little too breathy and her smile several thousand volts too bright. To her relief Hakim seemed oblivious to the charged undercurrents that she could feel like a crackle under her skin.

  ‘Gabby—I like that. Well, Gabby, the entire idea was Rafiq’s brainchild. As you can imagine, there was a lot of local opposition to combat—especially when he insisted that females have full access to the scheme. So, you’re in education, Gabby?’

  ‘I’m an infant school teacher.’

  ‘Really? You look nothing like any teacher I had. Does she, Rashid?’

  His appeal to his brother was met with a blank stare. Just when the silence was getting awkward, Rafiq responded, ‘Gabriella is very well qualified.’

  ‘I’m sure she is. What I’m wondering is how you two met.’

  ‘By accident.’

  ‘A mutual friend.’

  The two versions emerged simultaneously.

  Gabby glared at Rafiq, who carried on eating—or actually not. She had already noted with some concern that all he did was push his food around the plate—a fact which seemed to have escaped the notice of his brother.

  Hakim looked amused as he glanced from one to the other. ‘Obviously it was a fate thing.’

  Gabby’s embarrassment increased when several more comments Hakim made through the meal revealed—to her at least—that he was obviously under the impression that she and Rafiq were an item.

  Rafiq, whose contribution to social intercourse had shrunk to monosyllabic grunts by the end of the meal, seemed oblivious. And the gaps in conversation were ably filled by Hakim, who was happy to talk—especially about himself.

  Having toyed with her dessert, and getting increasingly angry because she was concerned about Rafiq, Gabby excused herself and retired to her room. The man might be in terrible agony, and he was too stupid or stubborn to say a word. He’d just sat there looking noble and dignified because he didn’t know how to act any other way.

  After pacing the room making unflattering observations about the Crown Prince of Zantara, while fractured images and snatches of conversation played in her head, it hit her like the proverbial bolt from the blue.

  She—the woman with the armour-plated heart—had fallen in love. With the wrong brother! How funny was that?

  She didn’t feel much like laughing as, hand pressed to her forehead, she fell full-length backwards onto the bed and lay there, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

  She had fallen in love with a man who, even if he’d had a future, would have had no place for her in it. Did irony get any darker? Did life get any more darned unfair? Tears began to seep from beneath her eyelids, streaming unchecked down her face.

  Rafiq nodded to the maid who had brought coffee and turned to his brother. ‘You appeared to get on well with Miss Barton, Hakim? What did you think of her?’

  He had to work hard to keep the note of accusation from his voice, and he was not entirely successful. It seemed an appropriate moment to remind himself that this was what he wanted, what he had actively engineered—more than he had in all honesty expected.

  He had expected Gabriella to make herself as obnoxious as she knew how—and he knew from personal experience that was very. Instead she had laughed at his brother’s jokes—even when they weren’t funny. That damned dimple of hers had not taken a rest.

  There had been an instant rapport between the two. His thoughts slipped back to a moment midway through the meal when he had seen their heads close together, fair and dark almost touching. Hakim had placed his hand on her shoulder and Rafiq had felt a savage compulsion to drag his brother from his seat.

  Rafiq inhaled and closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring, the muscles along his angular jaw flexing and tensing, causing the sinews in his neck to stand out like steel cords.

  He had been acting like an old wolf—the pack leader about to be replaced by young blood.

  It was pathetic.

  Why should he be jealous of his brother?

  The answer was shocking in its simplicity: because Hakim would have Gabriella. She was everything that didn’t attract Rafiq in a woman, and yet he wanted her more than any woman he had ever met. He could not look at her without thinking about touching her skin, inhaling her scent…

  ‘Think of her?’ Hakim looked startled by the question. ‘It’s not like you to ask my opinion.’

  ‘Well, I’m asking now.’

  ‘I haven’t really thought…’ Rafiq’s dark accusing frown made Hakim backtrack. ‘She’s nice, very pretty—a bit serious…’

  Rafiq’s face went blank with utter astonishment. Were they talking about the same woman? ‘Serious…? You mean not shallow? And this is a bad thing?’

  ‘I didn’t mean it that way. I meant…studious-serious,’ Hakim corrected, thinking his brother must really like this English teacher to spring to her defence that way.

  Not really news. A man would have had to be blind and deaf not to have noticed the obvious charge crackling between them. And in his experience only people who were very aware of one another ignored one another quite so determinedly.

  It was not amazing that Rafiq was attracted to Gabby—she was pretty gorgeous—but it was amazing…actually, more than amazing…that Rafiq was discussing her with him. He had always kept his personal life strictly private, and there had been no male bonding sessions when they were younger, where they exchanged stories about the women who had broken their hearts.

  Hakim’s heart had frequently been broken, but if Rafiq had ever lost a night’s sleep over a woman it was news to him.

  ‘Studious?’ Rafiq echoed, thinking of her soft, naked and pliant in his arms…while she was asleep at least. Awake, she had turned into a spitting little wild cat.

  ‘All right, then, smart, clever. I find that a bit…intimidating.’ He shrugged and grinned. ‘Because, unlike you, brother, I’m not what you’d call intellectual, I generally go for girls who are more—’

  Rafiq, looking pained, cut across his brother. ‘Details are unnecessary. I have seen the sort of girls you like.’

  Hakim grinned broadly. ‘I’m what you’d could call a work in progress. But one of these days, brother, I might just surprise you.’ And sooner than you think, he added silently. ‘And I do like Gabby. What is not to like…? I presume that you’re about to tell me?’

  Rafiq lifted a brow. ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘You usually warn me off unsuitable wom
en. I’m amazed you introduced her to me—went out of your way to introduce her to me if she’s got a skeleton in the closet. And since when were you interested in what I think?’

  A spasm of regret crossed Rafiq’s dark features. ‘I am sorry if I have excluded you, Hakim,’ he said abruptly.

  Hakim stared. ‘Well, if that sorrow is worth a new Porsche—great. I’m really not all that scarred because I haven’t sat in on endless meetings on agricultural policy.’ His eyes narrowed, and despite the levity of his manner there was some concern in his face as he asked, ‘What is all this hair-shirt stuff, Rafiq?’

  His eyes widened again as a fairly revolutionary possibility hit him. Was it possible Rafiq was asking his advice? Or at least asking for him to tell him to go for it, even if she didn’t tick all the boxes?

  He must really like her!

  ‘What do you need my opinion for anyway? Are you trying to tell me that you haven’t already got a file an inch thick on Gabby?’ Hakim knew that his brother entered into relationships the same way he would a financial negotiation. He did his research and was not flexible. He did not make concessions.

  But this time it looked as if whatever dirt he had on the girl in question had not put him off. But perhaps he thought it should? Who knew? Hakim thought. They were in new territory.

  The file Hakim had spoken of had indeed arrived in its more complete form, on his desk that morning. Rafiq had put it straight in a locked drawer, telling himself that he would study it later.

  But no matter what was in that file, no matter what or who lay in Gabriella’s past, it would not alter the fact that she’d make a better wife than his brother deserved, and would be a queen that any country would be proud to boast of.

  ‘What a woman did before she met you is hardly important.’

  Hakim, in the act of stirring more sugar into his coffee, stopped and turned to stare at his brother in utter amazement. Rafiq was serious…How serious…? Wife serious?

  ‘So if you decided to get married tomorrow you wouldn’t want to know ahead of time if your prospective bride had any scandals that might be embarrassing?’

  ‘The same premise applies.’

  Hakim’s jaw dropped. ‘Is this the same man speaking who once told me that a royal bride needs to be squeaky clean, no unsavoury secrets, no skeletons in the closet. The next thing you’ll be telling me is she doesn’t have to be a virgin.’

  Rafiq did not join in his brother’s amused laughter. ‘It is better to be the last man in a woman’s life than the first.’ Better, of course, to be both. But Rafiq appreciated that in the modern world that limited a man’s choices. His choices were non-existent, but Hakim had a life of choices ahead of him. Of course he didn’t know how lucky he was, because it was the human way not to appreciate what you had until it was being taken from you.

  Hakim stopped laughing and stared. ‘Will whatever alien that has taken over your body let me speak to my brother, Rafiq?’

  ‘Do not be foolish,’ Rafiq snapped, his brows knitting into an irritated frown.

  ‘You know what you’re talking like?’ Hakim fixed his brother with a narrowed, speculative stare. ‘You’re talking like a man who’s fallen in love. Have you ever been in love, Rafiq?’

  ‘Not as often as you, little brother.’

  ‘Clever,’ Hakim admired. ‘But you didn’t answer the question.’

  ‘And I am not going to.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘GABBY—Gabby wherefore art thou…?’

  Gabby, who had been sitting in a chair staring out over the palace illuminated against a deep velvet starry sky, got to her feet and, standing well back from the edge, looked down cautiously. Prince Hakim was standing beneath the balcony, his hand pressed to his heart and a grin on his handsome face.

  ‘At school,’ he called up, ‘I always wanted to be Romeo, but being the prettiest boy in school, and until I was seventeen one of the shortest, I was always Juliet.’

  ‘From what I hear you’ve had a lot of practice playing Romeo since.’

  He grimaced. ‘Ouch! Someone has been telling tales. If you leaned down I could climb up your hair.’

  Gabby lifted a hand to her hair. After a shower it had reverted to type and gone its own sweet way. ‘Make up your mind. Am I Juliet or Rapunzel?’ she said, throwing a rope of silky blonde threads over her shoulder.

  ‘I wish I could stay around and discover, but alas I’m flying back to Paris tonight.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit unexpected?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes. But something my brother said has made my mind up about something…’

  ‘Something Rafiq said…?’ Gabby’s face fell. ‘So he’s told you…’ She felt relief, and then almost immediately alarm and indignation. ‘But you must realise that you can’t go!’

  ‘Why can’t I go?’

  Her words were jumbled in her anxiety to convince him that his dying brother needed him here. ‘Oh, I know the stuff about me is a bit crazy, but don’t worry—that will blow over. I think it’s his way of coping, staying in control. He needs you here. I know he pushes people away, and acts as though he’s invincible, but—’

  Hakim’s voice minus the mockery and laughter sounded much more like his brother’s as he cut across her. ‘Why does Rafiq need me here?’

  ‘Why?’ She closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her mouth—a bit late now, Barton. She groaned. ‘You don’t know, do you?’ Oh, God, what had she done?

  ‘Don’t know what?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. I gave my word.’

  Hakim swore at length and then, after first testing the strength of the wrought-iron support of the balcony, began to climb up it.

  From above Gabby watched, her heart in her mouth.

  Across the courtyard Rafiq, standing next to an ornate fountain, watched with very different feelings. He had arrived in time to watch the entire scene. Thanks to the noise from the fountain he hadn’t been able to hear what was being said, but he had a pretty good idea. He couldn’t see them now that Hakim had grabbed her and pushed into the bedroom, but he had a pretty good idea what was happening.

  It wasn’t going to happen. He wouldn’t allow it!

  The primal rage that surfaced in him lasted the time it took him to charge across the courtyard and reach the balcony. He stood in the exact spot his brother had. He could see the imprint of his footprints in the freshly watered grass. The rage turned to cold stone inside him.

  What was he going to do? Climb up and claim her? Well, that made sense—he had so much more to offer a woman than Hakim. Take me, because I’m a dying man.

  Half an hour later, when the sprinkler system switched on again, Rafiq was still standing in the same spot. The jets of water roused him from the dark place he had gone to. He let his head fall back and lifted his eyes to the sky as water streamed down his face, and he felt the pain of the primal scream locked in his throat.

  He ached for a woman he had pushed into the arms of his brother. He couldn’t even summon a smile to recognise the dark irony.

  ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ Gabby said, falling to her knees beside Prince Hakim, who sat hunched in a chair his face hidden in his hands. ‘I thought he had told you.’

  Hakim lifted his head. His face was chalk-white and his dark eyes stricken. ‘I don’t believe it. Rafiq is…he’s never been ill a day in his life. Why the hell didn’t he tell me?’ He turned a resentful glare on Gabby. ‘He told you.’

  ‘That’s because I’m a stranger.’

  ‘I’m his brother.’

  ‘That’s the point,’ Gabby cried, her tender heart aching. She wasn’t hurt by Hakim’s hostility, she was just grateful that he hadn’t got as far as wondering why she had agreed to Rafiq’s scheme.

  She laid her hand flat on her chest and said in as neutral a voice as possible, ‘I don’t matter to him.’ Why should you, you idiot woman? ‘He wants to protect you for as long as he can,’ she explained.

  Hakim dragged a ha
nd across his face, blotting the moisture from his red-rimmed eyes. ‘He’s been protecting me for twenty-four years,’ he choked.

  ‘I know,’ Gabby said patting his hand. ‘The thing is, now we’ She stopped and closed her eyes. There is no we, Gabby. There’s them. Rafiq and his family. ‘You, his family and his friends need to be there for him,’ she finished quietly.

  ‘You know, I thought all that stuff at dinner…you and him…I thought he wanted to marry you. When all along he thinks I’m so pathetic I can’t do the job of king without someone to back me up.’ Again his expression was tinged with resentment as he looked at Gabby. ‘He must have a very high opinion of you.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, he thinks I’m a total pain.’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘But he loves you,’ she told Hakim earnestly. ‘And he knows what a desperately hard job you’ll have. He’s had his whole life to prepare for it, but it’s just being dropped on you. He wants to help and he’s a control freak.’

  Hakim sniffed and smiled. ‘He is that. And I’m not offended he thinks I can’t cut the mustard. He’s right. I can’t do it.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Be King.’ Hakim got to his feet and dragged a hand through his hair. He walked towards the door, leaving a dismayed Gabby sitting on the floor. ‘He’s right, Gabby. I can’t do it alone. I know I can’t.’

  It had been almost six a.m. before Gabby had fallen asleep, and it was late when she emerged the next morning. She wasn’t surprised to find herself alone eating breakfast.

  Or actually not eating. Her stomach rebelled at the thought of food. She wished she knew what was going on. What had Hakim done? Had he gone straight to Rafiq and confronted him? Had he run away? No, she couldn’t think that of him—she didn’t want to.

  Only a week ago she had been reading about this family in an article, a bit of hurried research, and now she had become so deeply embroiled in their lives her own would never be the same.

  Damn, if only she’d thought to tell Hakim to wait until Rafiq was ready to tell him the truth. If only she’d kept her mouth shut to begin with and not jumped in with both big feet. She looked down at her size fours, shod in a pair of soft leather sandals, and asked herself, Why am I blaming myself? I didn’t ask to be in the middle of this. I didn’t ask to be blackmailed. I didn’t ask to fall in love! Damn, damn, damn! What am I going to do?