Sheikh's Princess of Convenience

by Dani Collins

  “You are and you know it,” he chided. “Don’t expect me to pander to your vanity.”

  Her painted mouth tightened. “Because I’m not a person whose feelings you care about or even an object you desire. I’m a rung on a ladder.”

  He pursed his lips, weighing her words and the scorn beneath them.

  “Our marriage is expedient, yes. That doesn’t mean it can’t be successful. Many arranged marriages are.”

  “When both parties agree to said marriage, I’m sure they are.”

  They landed and disembarked, forestalling further debate—which was unproductive at this point. She was going to marry him and that was that.

  “This is very beautiful,” Galila said, gazing on the pink marble and intricately carved teak doors.

  While Karim agreed, he found the extravagance of the palace disturbing. Clearly his father had been eager to please his wife with it. This wasn’t a guilty conscience. He had built it before Queen Namani had come into the picture. Sadly, whatever he had felt for Karim’s mother had been overshadowed by what he had felt for the other woman. And Karim and his mother hadn’t been enough to live for, once Queen Namani ended their affair.

  What, then, must his father have felt for Queen Namani if his first—and supposedly lesser—infatuation had produced this sort of monument? It was a depth of passion—of possession—Karim couldn’t wrap his head around. He instinctively shied away from examining it too closely, maintaining a safe distance the way he would a conflagration or other life-threatening force.

  As Galila started up the steps, he touched her arm, halting her.

  She stilled and seemed to catch her breath. A soft blush rose under her skin.

  Her reaction caused an echoing thrill inside him, one that warned him that he was tying himself to a ticking bomb and had to be very careful. On the surface, this physical compatibility might be exciting and promise a successful union, but he knew what indulged passion could do to a man.

  He yanked the reins on his own response, hard, especially as he realized he was taking advantage of every opportunity to touch her and still had his palm on her arm. He dropped his hand to his side with self-disgust.

  She was looking right at him and whatever she read in his expression made a tiny flinch cross her features. It was gone so fast, he could have been mistaken, but it slid an invisible wall between them, one that niggled at him.

  She lifted her chin to a haughty angle. “Yes?”

  “You’ll be kind to my mother.”

  Her spine grew tall with offense. “I’m always kind.” She flipped her hair. “I was being kind last night when I let you kiss me.”

  It took him a full second to understand that the unfamiliar sensation in his throat was an urge to laugh. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d loosened up enough for that, and fought it out of instinct.

  At the same time, a deeper reaction—not ego, but definitely something that had roots in his masculinity—was affronted at her dismissal of their kisses last night. He knew exactly how potent they had been and didn’t care for her trying to dismiss that inferno as “kindness.”

  The impulse to show her... But no. He refused to allow her to disarm him in any way. He waved her forward. “I’ll look forward to your next act of kindness, then.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “Come.” He broke the eye contact. He could not, under any circumstances, become enamored with her. He had seen with his own eyes what falling for her mother had done to his father. He would not be another casualty to a Khalia temptress.

  * * *

  Despite its compact size and remote location, expense had not been spared on the desert palace. Galila was no stranger to wealth, but even she had to appreciate the effort of transporting marble and teak doors.

  Inside, a fountain provided a musical ripple of noise and cooled the air. Columns rose three stories to a stained-glass dome. Mosaics in green and blue covered the walls to eye height before switching to delicate patterns in golds and blues and tangerines. Wrought iron marked the second-and third-floor walkways that encircled this grand foyer.

  “I don’t know what this is. A genie’s lamp?” She was in love. “It’s too beautiful for words.”

  Karim drew her up some stairs so thickly carpeted their shoes made no sound. They entered his mother’s parlor where he introduced her to the Queen Mother Tahirah.

  The older woman rose to greet them, her face holding deeply etched marks of grief that reminded Galila of the ones her father wore.

  “It’s like Queen Namani has come to visit me. Her beauty survives, if not my dear friend herself,” she said, taking Galila’s hands as she studied her features. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Galila murmured, returning Tahirah’s kisses against her cheeks, genuinely touched by her condolence. “I didn’t realize you knew my mother, but of course you must have met her at some point through the years.”

  Was it her imagination that Karim stiffened? She glanced at him, but only saw the aloof expression she couldn’t read. The one that stung because it felt like a condemnation for reasons she didn’t understand.

  “When we were young, yes,” his mother said, drawing her attention back to her. “We often met up after we were both married, but lost touch after my husband passed. My fault. I ceased most of my royal duties and rarely went on social visits. I couldn’t face the responsibilities without my soul, Jamil. Thankfully Karim’s uncle was able to manage things until Karim was old enough to take his rightful position. And now my son has found happiness.” Her faint smile was a weak ray of light in her otherwise anguished expression.

  Oh, yes, they were both quite giddy and could hardly contain themselves, Galila thought, but she was kind to the less fortunate. Tahirah might be surrounded by extravagance, but she was the living embodiment of money not buying happiness. Her heart was clearly broken and had been for a long time.

  “I expect we will both be very content as we go into the future,” Galila prevaricated, adding a silent, separately. Read the news, gentlemen. Times had changed.

  “And the wedding?” Tahirah asked.

  “Within the month,” Karim said firmly. “As soon as it can be arranged.”

  Galila stiffened, wondering if he had been planning to ask her about the timeline, but kept her pique to herself as Tahirah drew her across to the satin-covered loveseat.

  “There’s time for you to wear my engagement ring, then. I had it brought out of the safe.”

  “I...don’t know what to say.” Galila looked from the velvet box that Tahirah presented to her, then looked up to Karim, completely taken aback.

  He nodded slightly, urging her to accept it.

  She opened it and caught her breath.

  An enormous pink diamond was surrounded by white baguettes. The wide band was scrolled with tendrils of smaller diamonds, making it as ostentatious as anything could be, but it was also such a work of art, it had to be admired. Coveted and adored, as every woman would want to be by her fiancé as she anticipated joining with him for a lifetime.

  Her heart panged at the love that shone from such a piece, something she would never have if she married this man. She swallowed, searching for a steady voice.

  “This is stunning. Obviously very special. I’m beyond honored.” And filled with anguish that this was such a farce of a marriage when this ring was clearly from a marriage of total devotion. “Are you quite sure?” She looked again to Karim, helplessly in love with it but not wanting to accept something so precious when she was quite determined to abandon him at the first opportunity. She couldn’t be kind and lie to this poor woman.

  “I am,” Tahirah said with a husk in her voice. “I haven’t worn it in years, but it is beautiful, isn’t it? Karim’s father loved me so much. Spoiled me outrageously. Built me this palace...” She blinked nostalgia-laden ey
es. “Losing him still feels as raw today.” She squeezed Galila’s hand. “And I’m quite sure Karim is as enamored with you. He has always told me he was waiting for the right woman. I’m delighted he finally found you.”

  Galila conjured a feeble smile that she hoped his mother interpreted as overwhelming gratitude. She felt very little conscience in defying her brother or even Karim, but misrepresenting herself to Tahirah was disrespectful and hurtful. She was genuinely sorry that she was going to disappoint her.

  Karim took the ring from the box and held out his hand for Galila to offer hers.

  His warm touch on her cool fingers made her draw in her navel and hold her breath, but it didn’t stop the trickle of heat that wound through her, touching like fairy dust to secretive places, leaving glittering heat and a yearning she didn’t completely understand.

  Yet again, she experienced a moment of wishing there could be something more between them, something real, but he was being entirely too heavy-handed. She was a modern woman, not someone who would succumb to a man because she’d been ordered to by another.

  At the same time, she reacted to Karim as he bent to kiss her cheek. The corners of her mouth stopped cooperating and went every direction. She thought he drew a deliberate inhale, drinking in the scent of her skin when his face was that close, but he straightened away and she was lost at sea again.

  She looked to her hands in her lap, pulse throbbing in her throat and tried to focus on the ring. When she finally saw it clearly, she was utterly taken with it—as she was by all sparkly, pretty things. But it was legitimately loose on her, not even staying on her middle finger without dropping right off.

  “I would feel horrible if anything happened to it,” she said truthfully to Karim. “Would you please take custody of it until it can be resized?”

  “If you prefer.”

  “Do you mind?” she asked Tahirah before she removed it. “I would be devastated if I lost it. It’s so beautiful and means so much to you.”

  Tahirah looked saddened but nodded. “Of course. It’s even loose on me these days. It fit me perfectly through my pregnancy and Karim’s childhood, but I haven’t had a proper appetite since losing his father. Once I took it off, I couldn’t bear to wear it again. It reminded me too starkly of what I’d lost. Everything does.”

  * * *

  This was why Karim was marrying Galila, this anguish that his mother still carried three decades after her loss. How could he take the grief she attributed to a tragic accident and reveal that her husband had deliberately left her? That he had thrown himself off a balcony, rather than face life without the real object of his love?

  Fortunately, Galila asked about the palace and other things, not letting his mother dwell too far in the darkness of the past. Karim had been worried when the topic of her mother had come up as they arrived, but now they were moving on to a recap of her brother’s wedding and other harmless gossip.

  At a light knock, his mother said, “I’ve had a luncheon prepared. Shall we go through to my private dining room?”

  Galila excused herself to freshen up.

  “She seems lovely,” his mother said as Galila disappeared.

  “She is,” Karim said, relieved to discover Galila was so skillful at small talk. Their marriage was expedient, and he had spent a restless night thinking that having her as a wife would be a sexually gratifying, if dangerous, game, but he was seeing potential in her to be the sort of partner who fit into his world as if made for it.

  She was royal herself. Of course she understood the niceties and other social finesses that were required, especially with women and the older generation. He wasn’t sure he wanted to like her for it, though. He needed his guard up at all times.

  A servant started to come in, saw they were still in the parlor and quickly made apologies for interrupting them, turning to exit just as quickly.

  He noticed what the girl held and waved her to come in and attend to her task.

  “Haboob?” he asked his mother as the maid crouched to set the seals in place around the door onto the balcony. He’d been too distracted this morning to check the weather, but the dust storms came up very suddenly, which was probably why his pilot hadn’t said anything.

  “I’ll have rooms prepared for you,” his mother said, taking his arm as he led her into her private dining room. It overlooked the oasis next to which the palace was built. The wind was already tugging at the fronds of the palms and whirling sand into small devils.

  “I need to return to Nabata this afternoon. Perhaps we’ll skip the meal—” He glanced up as a different servant appeared, wide-eyed and anxiously wringing her hands. Thankfully, she stood behind his mother so his mother didn’t see her.

  Karim knew instantly what the trouble was. Galila should have rejoined them by now. He scratched his cheek, not revealing his instantaneous fury.

  “You’ll have to excuse us, Mother. We’ll stay ahead of the storm. I hope you’ll join us in Nabata very soon and have a proper chance to get to know Galila before the wedding.”

  “Of course,” she said with disappointment. “Be careful. I should say goodbye.”

  “No need.” He kissed her cheek and strode from the room, taking the maid into the hall with him. He asked which car Galila had taken, then hurried outside the palace to snap his fingers at his pilot.

  They had to catch his runaway princess before she was caught in the coming storm.

  CHAPTER THREE

  GALILA’S GETAWAY WAS an exhilarating race down a straight stretch of paved road through the desert. If the sun seemed to dim, she blamed the tinted windows, not her mood. She didn’t have any gloomy feelings about leaving Karim. Zero. She couldn’t do it fast enough.

  Then the light pouring through the sunroof really did change. It became a strobing flash as a helicopter hovered over the car, casting its shadow on the hood. The rat-a-tat chop of the blades cut into the otherwise luxuriously silent interior.

  “So what?” she shouted. “I have a full tank and an open road.”

  She would get herself to the border into Khalia and once there, she would be her own person again. She would fly to Europe and stay there. Pull a Malak and quit the family. Do whatever the hell she wanted.

  She jammed her foot even harder onto the accelerator. The road was straight and clear, not another car in sight.

  He raced ahead, staying low, then stopped and landed in the middle of the road.

  “Bastard!”

  She had half a mind to ram the car straight into him. With a muted scream of frustration through gritted teeth, she lifted her foot from the accelerator.

  As her speed dropped off, she searched for a way around the helicopter, but it blocked both lanes. This car wouldn’t get very far off-road, unfortunately. The soil might look hard-packed, but pockets of loose sand could swallow a tire in a heartbeat. This was the sort of sedan built for a paved highway, not scrubby desert. It would spin in the dirt until it ran out of fuel.

  Turn around? The only place to go was back to his mother’s palace.

  Oh, she was frustrated as she braked! She came to a reluctant stop as she reached the helicopter while its blades were still rotating.

  She flung herself from the car. The wash off the rotors caught at her hair. She used a finger to drag it out of her eyes.

  “I will not marry you,” she shouted in single-syllable blurts when Karim came out of the helicopter, expression thunderous.

  “Look,” he said with a stabbing point to her left.

  That was when she realized why the sky had been growing darker. A red-brown cloud rose like a tsunami against the sky. Haboob.

  She didn’t normally swear out loud, so she swallowed the words threatening to fall from her lips.

  “We’ll outrun it. I want to be in Nabata when it hits.” Karim threw his arm around her, using his body to shield her
as best he could while he more or less dragged her toward the helicopter.

  Much as she wanted to fight him, windstorms could be deadly.

  “What about the car?” she shouted.

  His pilot was already leaping out of his seat. Galila presumed he would take the vehicle back to the palace and allowed Karim to push her into the copilot’s seat.

  “This isn’t an agreement to marry you,” she told him as she buckled in and accepted the headphones he handed her.

  He ignored her statement as he quickly buckled in himself and put on his own headset. Maybe he didn’t hear her. He lifted off in seconds, perfectly adept as a pilot, which was kind of sexy, not that she wanted to notice.

  Within moments, they were racing toward the rocky hills in the distance.

  She eyed him, trying to gauge how angry he was. It was difficult to tell when his body seemed to move with natural precision and that stern mouth of his had probably never smiled. She hadn’t expected to get caught so she hadn’t worried too much about his reaction to her escape, but he wasn’t her father and her brothers.

  Until this morning, she had been confident she could cajole nearly anything out of anyone—schooling in Europe, Thoroughbred horses, designer clothing. When it came to her charity work, she was a money-raising machine, squeezing record donations out of men and women alike. With very few exceptions, she always got what she wanted.

  Things had changed, however. Her stupid brother had put her at the mercy of this wretched man and Karim didn’t strike her as the indulgent sort, his mother’s remarks notwithstanding. In fact, the longer she watched him, the more her uneasiness grew.

  He swore, sudden and sharp as a gunshot, loud enough to make her jump because it came into her head through the earmuffs, crystal clear. For one second, she thought the curse had been aimed at her, then he made a sudden veering motion that tilted them as he avoided something.

  She looked forward where visibility had become severely reduced. Despite his efforts, the storm was wrapping around them, buffeting the helicopter. They were running out of time. And options.