by Dani Collins
He’ll do anything to protect his kingdom
Even blackmail her into marriage!
Sheikh Karim is as ruthless as the harsh desert that forged him. Entertaining bubbly Princess Galila at a royal wedding seems frivolous...until she reveals his family’s darkest secret. To protect their honor, Karim must seduce Galila into silence! The raw heat of their encounter stuns him...and inspires a more permanent solution. To prevent a scandal, Karim will make impetuous Galila his convenient bride!
Opposites attract in this sensational royal romance
“If you agree to our marriage, your family’s secrets will stay between us,” Karim said with scalpel-like precision.
“Blackmail?” Galila asked with quiet outrage. “Why would you stoop so low? Why do you have to?” she challenged sharply.
He hadn’t made marriage a priority for a number of reasons. He was a workaholic who barely had time for his mother—who still very much needed him. Women expected things. Displays of emotion. Intimacy that went beyond the physical.
“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re suggesting.” Karim scoffed. “I’ll treat you as gently as the pretty little bird you are.”
“In a gilded cage? You know, you could ask me to marry you, not trap me into it.”
“Will you marry me?”
“No. I would never have anything to do with someone as calculating and ruthless as you are.”
“You already know me so well, Princess. You’re practically made for me. It certainly seemed that way last night.”
Galila stomped her foot, blushing deep into her open collar.
“Stop talking about that! There are other women,” Galila insisted. “Pick one.”
“I want you.”
Bound to the Desert King
One scandalous royal family, four irresistible sheikhs!
The royal family of Khalia has always presented an image of duty and responsibility. But the brother they never knew existed has just stepped into the palace—and all their lives will change forever!
Adir was exiled to the desert, then brutally rejected—now he’s back for vengeance!
Sheikh’s Baby of Revenge by Tara Pammi
Zufar’s bride of convenience has just been kidnapped—now the maid must take her place...
Sheikh’s Pregnant Cinderella by Maya Blake
Galila has just told her family’s secrets to a stranger—but he’s king of a neighboring kingdom!
Sheikh’s Princess of Convenience by Dani Collins
Available now!
Malak is now heir to the throne—but a secret in his past is about to be uncovered...
Sheikh’s Secret Love-Child by Caitlin Crews
Coming soon!
Dani Collins
Sheikh’s Princess of Convenience
Canadian Dani Collins knew in high school that she wanted to write romance for a living. Twenty-five years later, after marrying her high school sweetheart, having two kids with him, working at several generic office jobs and submitting countless manuscripts, she got The Call. Her first Harlequin novel won the Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best First in Series from RT Book Reviews. She now works in her own office, writing romance.
Books by Dani Collins
Harlequin Presents
Vows of Revenge
The Secret Beneath the Veil
One Night With Consequences
Consequence of His Revenge
The Sauveterre Siblings
Pursued by the Desert Prince
His Mistress with Two Secrets
Bound by the Millionaire’s Ring
Prince’s Son of Scandal
The Secret Billionaires
Xenakis’s Convenient Bride
The Wrong Heirs
The Marriage He Must Keep
The Consequence He Must Claim
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
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To my fellow authors, without whom the romance genre wouldn’t exist. You have given me hope and tears and guidance and passion and, best of all, a belief in happily-ever-after. Also a special shout-out to my fellow authors in this quartet—Tara Pammi, Maya Blake and Caitlin Crews. I’m privileged to have met each of you in person, and you are all wonderful in every way.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EXCERPT FROM THE SPANIARD'S PLEASURABLE VENGEANCE BY LUCY MONROE
CHAPTER ONE
DO I LOOK PRETTY, Mama?
The reflexive question, one she had learned to suppress, still jammed in Galila’s throat along with her heart when she turned and caught sight of an apparition.
She held herself motionless on the tiled platform in the center of the reflecting pool, staring at the woman who appeared against the window to her mother’s lounge. With the subtle golden glow cast by the lights around the courtyard, it seemed as though her mother looked out at her, watchful and unsmiling.
As usual.
Galila wore a stunning tangerine gown, strapless and with a skirt of abundant shimmering silk. A long-sleeved tulle overlay was embroidered and bedecked with silver and glittering jewels—as suited a member of the royal family on the new king’s wedding day. Her hair cascaded from beneath a tiara that only ever came out on special occasions, and until now, only on her mother’s head.
The dress was too young for her mother, but those were definitely her mother’s eyes, scrupulously emphasized with greens and gold, liquid eyeliner ending in a cat’s tail. At one time, those doe-like eyes would have swept over Galila with indulgence. Affection.
So pretty, my pet. Her painted lips would have smiled with tender love as she stroked Galila’s hair.
Tonight, Galila’s mouth—as sensuously curved as her mother’s had been and wearing her mother’s signature glossy red—tightened. Her elegantly arched brows drew themselves together as she critically sought flaws, exactly as her mother would have done if she had still been alive.
Your skin looks sallow, Galila.
It was the yellow light and her imagination, but the reproach still had the power to sting. To make her yearn to correct the flaw and recapture the love that had dried up and blown away like sand across the desert.
She ought to be glad her mother wasn’t here; ought to be grieving properly for a life lost. Instead, it was her secret shame that she was mostly grieving her chance to win back her mother’s love. Or perhaps just to understand how she’d lost it.
What had she done that was so terrible—except to grow up looking exactly as beautiful as her mother had been? Was that her great crime?
Could she finally bloom freely now that she wouldn’t overshadow her mother?
She lifted the glass she held, leaving another kiss print on the rim.
Not champagne, either, Mother. She directed that baleful thought to her image and received a dispassionate glance in return.
The brandy she had learned to drink at boarding school seared with blessed heat through her arteries, promising the numbing effect Galila sought.
> In a perfect world, she would drink herself unconscious and possibly drown here in an inch of water, escaping the chaos raging around her.
Don’t make a spectacle of yourself, Galila. That’s Malak’s purview.
“Your dress is getting wet.”
The male voice, so deep and velvety it matched the caress of the warm night air, had her turning to peer into the shadows, expecting—well, she didn’t know who she expected. A man, yes, but not such a man.
He leaned against the edge of an archway, features sharpened by the low light and framed by the drape of his ghutra. He was dangerous and handsome at once. Dangerously handsome with those dark, deeply set eyes and strong jaw beneath a short, black beard. Breath-stealing, in fact, in his gold-trimmed bisht that might have been the color of a good merlot. It hung open across wide shoulders to reveal his embroidered thobe, tailored to his muscled chest, collar closed at his throat and decorated by a yellow sapphire the size of her fist.
She told herself it was the alcohol that made her sway, but she suspected it was the impact of his virility.
He straightened and held out a hand. “Come. Before you ruin perfection.”
He sounded indifferent, perhaps a little impatient, but her confused, bruised-up heart reached like a flower toward the sunshine of his compliment. She used her free hand to lift her skirt and carefully placed her feet on each round tile. She was a little too drunk for stepping stones and appreciated when he took the drink from her hand and clasped her forearm, balancing her until she was completely away from the water.
His touch undermined her equilibrium as much as the brandy, though. More, perhaps. Brandy didn’t make her chest feel tight and her eyes dampen with longing. Her ears picked up the distant sound of the wedding music, but all her senses were trained on him. Something in her flowed toward him. Sought...something.
He was tall, radiating magnetism while a force field seemed to surround him, one that made him seem untouchable. It cracked fissures through her that she couldn’t begin to understand.
Maybe it was the brandy causing this overwhelming reaction.
He smelled the glass and his mouth curled with disdain. He set the glass aside.
“You don’t approve of alcohol?”
“I don’t approve of drunkenness.”
It should have sounded too uptight for words, but she was ever so sensitive to censure. His condemnation cut surprisingly deep. Why? He was nothing to her.
But he was also like nothing she’d ever experienced—and she’d seen a lot these last few years, living in Europe. He wasn’t like any of the urbane aristocrats or earnest artists she’d met. He didn’t even match what she expected here, in her home country of Khalia. He was almost too iconic in his arrogant sheikh demeanor. She had long decided that if she ever did marry, it would be to a progressive, cultured man from abroad. Not one of these throwback barbarians from five centuries ago.
Yet he was utterly fascinating. A tendril of desire to impress him wormed through her. She wanted to stand here and hold his attention and earn his regard.
Quit being so needy, she heard Malak say in her head. He had learned to live without love or anyone’s good opinion. Why did she think it was necessary?
She didn’t, she told herself and reached for the glass. “It’s my brother’s special day. I’m celebrating.”
* * *
“People do stupid things when they’re drunk.” Sheikh Karim of Zyria didn’t raise his hand or his voice. He didn’t even tell her not to drink.
Nevertheless, his deep tone carried the quiet command instilled by his station. It was evidently enough to make her falter and reassess him, perhaps understanding she would ignore him at her own peril.
He returned her scrutiny, taking advantage of the chance to do so up close. That’s what he told himself he was doing, in any case.
He had watched the royal family all day and evening—the ones who were here, at least. Princess Galila, with her stark resemblance to her deceased mother, fascinated him the most. She flitted like a bird from perch to perch, joining this group and that, welcomed by all and animated as she spoke, flirtatious and not above rolling her eyes at anyone, including her brother, the groom and newly crowned King of Khalia.
Had her mother possessed that same sparkling energy? Was that how she had so ensnared his father? He had seen photos of all of them over the years, but in person, Princess Galila was not merely beautiful. She was potent and enthralling, pulling at him in a way he resisted out of principle.
Out of self-preservation, a voice whispered deep in the back of his mind.
Not that he was in danger of infatuation, he assured himself. She struck him as far too superficial, thriving on being the center of attention. The way she smiled and bantered told him she was fully aware of the power in her beauty and sex appeal. She used it without shame to steal the spotlight from every other woman in the room.
That’s why it had surprised him when she’d slipped into the garden and walked away from the party into the family’s private courtyard. He had followed because he wanted to understand how this woman’s mother had destroyed and reshaped his entire life, not because he had been compelled to keep her in his sights.
Had her mother, Queen Namani, been this vain? He’d watched Galila preen in front of her own reflection like a lovebird, so deeply enamored with herself that she hadn’t been aware of his presence.
He wasn’t a stalker, lurking in shadows, spying on pretty maidens. He was a king, one with questions he had never been able to answer. Besides, he wanted to see her up close. Discover the secret of her allure.
He’d called her out of the pool—which was when he’d realized she was drunk.
Disappointing. He abstained, never wanting to be so far into his cups that he thought a leap off a balcony would solve his problems.
When he’d told her drinking was unwise, he’d thought for a moment that despair clouded her eyes, but she’d quickly switched to using her stunning looks to distract and mesmerize.
“What’s stupid about enjoying myself?” she challenged lightly. She lifted her hair off her neck and let it flow carelessly off her forearm, watching to see if he followed the movement.
There was a man inside this royal casing. He felt desire the same as any other, but he knew when he was being invited to lose focus by ogling a breast. Much as he longed to eye the weight of her curves, he kept his gaze locked with hers.
“Exhibit A. You’re on a tear of self-destruction.” Locking horns with him was a grave mistake, he silently warned.
She was disconcerted by his unaffected response. She might even have been burned by it. Her brow flinched. She quickly lifted her chin in a rally of spirit, though.
“Perhaps I have reason. Did you think of that?” Her long lashes blinked in big, innocent sweeps.
“I’m sure your life is very fraught,” he said drily.
“I lost my mother three months ago,” she threw back at him with quiet anguish. “I’m entitled to grieve.”
“You are.” He dipped his head, but that was as much condolence as he was willing to offer. He hadn’t been allowed any self-pity after his father’s death. The circumstances had been far more disturbing and he’d been a child of six. “Drinking yourself blind will only make things worse.”
“How is that possible?” she cried softly. “My father is so grief-stricken, he’s like a shell. I can’t reach him. No one can.” She looked to the huge window where her own reflection had stood. “He misses my mother terribly.”
Karim understood that affliction, too. No matter what he did, he had never been able to ease his mother’s heartbreak over her loss, either. Protecting her from the fact that his father’s death had been a suicide was the best he’d ever been able to do.
“She had an affair,” Galila whispered. “He loved her anyway, but now we all know about it, which
seems to have tripled his agony.”
Karim’s heart stopped. Even the breath in his lungs stilled.
As if she noted his jolt of alarm, she nodded to confirm her shocking statement, eyes wide and tortured.
“Your father knew but kept it from you?” Karim’s mind raced. He had never confided in a single soul, no matter how long and heavily the truth had weighed on him—and it had. Endlessly. With the death of Queen Namani, he had thought that at least the secret of the affair would die when he did.
“He’s known for years!” Her tone rang with outraged astonishment. “He helped her cover it up when she became pregnant. They sent away our half brother the day he was born.”
Karim had to concentrate on keeping his face expressionless, his feet rooted to the marble tiles so he didn’t fall over. His ears rang as though the soft words had been a cannon next to his head.
Galila gave a choking half laugh of near hysteria. “Explain to me how one processes that sort of news except to get roaring drunk?”
“You have a third brother? A half brother?” He had a half brother? His carefully balanced world wasn’t just tilting on its axis. It was reaching such a sharp angle everything was sliding into a jumbled mess at his feet.
“Yes!” She didn’t seem to notice his deep shock, too caught up in layers of emotional turmoil within herself. “My brothers and I should have been supporting each other, comforting our father, but he showed up at the funeral. Told us how our mother had been writing to him for years. How she regretted sending him away because she loved him best.” Her eyes gleamed with a thick sheen of tears. “Because he was her only link to the man she truly loved.”
Her fist went to the spot over her breast where she seemed to stem the cracks in a bleeding heart.
“Our father had a complete breakdown. Who wouldn’t? We nearly all did! Zufar had to step in and take over... And now that’s where Zufar’s intended bride is, with our half brother.” She spoke with livid bewilderment, arm flinging out to some unknown location. “Zufar wasn’t supposed to marry Niesha. Amira’s been promised to him since she was born, but Adir came back this morning and talked Amira into running away with him. I watched her go through the window. Adir said it was his revenge for being denied his birthright.”