Claiming His Replacement Queen (Monteverre Marriages Book 2)

by Amanda Cinelli

  Her current reading material consisted mainly of books on the history of Zayyar and its customs but she had also taken time to learn the language of her new home outside the formal tutor-led lessons. She had always enjoyed exploring a new language on her own terms, finding the true rhythm of it by herself. As Sheikha, she would be expected to be knowledgeable and respectful of her nation’s traditions but she did not necessarily have to become fluent in their language. She simply could not resist the idea of an entirely new tongue to perfect and actually have the chance to use it on a daily basis. It was something to keep her mind busy, she told herself, as her husband seemed to have zero interest in her company.

  Despite her best attempts to fill her time, she felt loneliness begin to set in. She had always been comfortable with her own company, but suddenly being alone with her books didn’t feel the same. Perhaps it was the fact that she was in a new country, in a new routine and surrounded by people who barely spoke to her. It was as though she had stepped into a glass cage surrounded by people. She was alone.

  Her mobile phone seemed strangely unable to pick up a signal since they had touched down in Zayyar. It felt like a lifetime ago since she had stepped off the jet in the heart of the desert, but in reality it had only been three days. She was by no means a techno junkie but still, it was very isolating not being able to just pick up her phone and send an email or call one of her sisters on the odd occasion. After a few minutes investigating, she discovered it was most likely that the number was no longer in service. Probably, her father had cancelled it, a passive aggressive punishment for disobeying his orders to return to Monteverre for the engagement announcement. She presumed he knew by now that she had eloped with the Sheikh, rather than follow his plan for a grand wedding. That would have been a sight to behold.

  It was no big deal; surely she could simply ask Khal’s team what the protocol was for obtaining a new phone? A small laugh escaped her throat at the realisation that she was the Queen of an entire kingdom and she couldn’t even obtain her own phone without permission. The restlessness that had plagued her all day intensified and she stood, stretching the muscles in her back and looking towards the clock on her bedside table to check the time. It was almost midnight, local time.

  She calculated the time zones for a moment. Last she had heard, her sister Olivia was in New York. It was still a semi-reasonable hour there... She hadn’t spoken to Olivia at all since recent events had begun to transpire. There simply hadn’t been an opportunity. Unable to resist, she took a quick peek into the corridor outside her apartments and bit her lip as she found it deserted. Perhaps the guards switched shifts at midnight. She knew there was a phone in the small office beside the library. She could wait for permission...or she could just go. She was an adult, after all.

  Not able to shake the sensation that she was a naughty teenager breaking the rules, she set off quickly for fear she might change her mind. Heart beating fast, she moved soundlessly in her bare feet, so eager she made a few wrong turns and wound up hopelessly lost. She cursed her own sense of direction, wishing she had paid more attention to the corridors in daylight. Still, it was a rather nice change from the monotony of the past few days. She actually felt a little bit free, wandering unchaperoned in the semi-darkness.

  By the time she found her way back to the library, she had a little bounce in her step. She had forgotten what it felt like to walk around without guards following her every move like shadows. Even in university, she had been free to move about the campus by herself for most of the time.

  Disappointment coursed through her when Olivia’s phone number also turned out to be cancelled. Not wanting to waste her time alone, she turned on the computer on the desk. It had always been occupied by a guard on her previous visits to the library. Miraculously, she found the option for guest mode with a decent Internet connection and hurriedly set about signing into her email server. To her surprise, her inbox was flooded with concern from some of the members of her research team at university. With horror, she realised she had never said goodbye before unenrolling from her courses.

  She made quick work of finding the number of the head of her research team in London and breathed a sigh of relief when he answered on the first ring. He brushed off her hurried apology at the late hour and seemed genuinely relieved to hear that she was well. He told her of the rest of the team’s efforts to get in contact with her; naturally, all of their enquiries to the palace in Monteverre had been met with silence.

  After a few minutes she learned that the team was coping quite well in her absence; it seemed she wasn’t quite as indispensable as she had believed. She ended the call with a fond farewell, promising to try to arrange a trip to London in the future, although deep down she knew that if she did return it would be so far in the future that they would probably have all moved on further in their careers and forgotten her completely.

  She turned to exit the office, stopping with a squeak at a looming figure leaning against the doorway.

  ‘Thought you were all alone?’ Khal drawled.

  * * *

  She was just as beautiful in her pyjamas as she had been in her wedding dress. That was Khal’s first thought upon finding Cressida sneaking gracefully through the library in semi-darkness. It had been late when he’d returned to the palace so he had opted to wait until morning to alert his new bride to his presence. He had been sitting in a corner alcove, taking in the mountains of books she had been studying, when she’d entered, oblivious to his presence. He’d had every intention of leaving to allow her to complete her phone call in private... Until he’d realised the person she was speaking to in such hushed tones was another man. He had found his fists clenched tight as he’d stalked soundlessly closer to the office doorway.

  ‘You startled me,’ she breathed. ‘I didn’t know you had returned.’

  ‘Do you usually wait until the middle of the night to call your friends?’ he asked calmly, ignoring the knot of tension in his abdomen.

  Her eyes widened slightly at his tone. ‘I never said goodbye to some friends in London. I was just checking in...with my research team.’

  ‘You are the Sheikha of Zayyar.’ His voice clipped each word out like a gunshot.

  Cressida’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘I am quite aware of my own title by now, thank you,’ she said tightly. ‘You sound angry. Why do I feel like I’m being scolded when I have not done anything wrong?’

  ‘Perhaps you mistake anger for simple confusion as to why I just walked in on my wife having a hushed midnight conversation with an unknown man.’

  ‘I will not be told who I can or cannot speak to. Especially when I have been here for days without anyone to speak to at all.’

  Khal was silent for a moment, his jaw tight. ‘This man. He is a close friend?’

  ‘I’ve known him a few years through my work at the university,’ she said. ‘But no. I don’t have many friends.’

  Silence fell between them and Khal saw a flash of sadness in her eyes before she quickly turned her face from him.

  ‘If that’s all you want to ask, I’ve got an early start in the morning.’ She took a couple of steps towards the door.

  Khal moved sideways to block her way. ‘Being Sheikha is a full-time job, Cressida,’ he said, noting the way she tilted her stubborn chin upwards in answer to his tone. ‘I need to know that you are prepared for the responsibilities of this life.’

  ‘I’ve been feeling a little isolated so I made a phone call. I suppose I did miss my old life for a moment.’ She half laughed. ‘I always felt such happiness in the corner of my small apartment, working at my computer or reading. It keeps my mind working. Makes me feel like I’m achieving something, maybe. But anyway, I needn’t have bothered because it seems my departure has not left any lasting impression.’

  A faraway look crossed her delicate features, the barest sheen of moisture seeming to brighten her eyes for a
split second before she hastily blinked it away. She took a deep breath, pinning him with a brave smile. ‘I’m hardly planning to give up and run away after one difficult week.’

  He took a step towards her. ‘I’m sorry that you felt isolated here. I did not mean to...’

  ‘To leave me completely alone in a new country less than twelve hours after our wedding?’ she finished helpfully.

  Khal winced, knowing her words were entirely true. He had abandoned her to his staff, believing she would find comfort enough in a busy routine while he dealt with the aftermath of the investigations into the tent fire, among other things. Perhaps there was also a small part of him that wished to put some distance between them after the familiarity of their wedding night. She was his wife. It was only natural he would feel some level of protectiveness towards her. The memory of the kiss they had shared in his suite after the fire had plagued him, sending him to bed each night in a sweat, sleep the furthest thing from his mind.

  Almost as though she heard his thoughts, her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, leaving a glistening sheen along the plump pink flesh. He felt his body react instantly, heat rushing downwards. Clenching his fist, he cleared his throat. ‘I have not been very attentive so far, it seems.’

  ‘No, you have not,’ she agreed, moving past him in the doorway to walk into the library beyond. ‘But I understand that you had sudden matters to address that could not be ignored. Have you any update on what caused the fire in the encampment?’

  Khal pursed his lips, trying and failing not to notice the gentle sway of her hips in her loose-fitting pyjama bottoms. ‘It has been deemed accidental. I was just informed this afternoon, in fact.’ He watched as her face visibly relaxed; she had been worried about the fire then. Of course she had.

  He wished that the news had given him the same relief. The fact that his security team and the police had no idea who had been behind it and had no leads was frustrating. But he could not think of it now, not when she so clearly needed reassuring.

  ‘You enjoy reading books about Zayyar,’ he said, changing the subject, gesturing to where he had found her little nook in the corner.

  She smiled, walking over to straighten the small mountain of books with an almost lover-like caress. ‘It’s a beautiful kingdom.’

  ‘You weren’t lying when you said that you consider reading a sport. I’d bet you’ve made your way through a quarter of my collection already.’

  She blushed, turning away as she flicked idly through a volume on Zayyari etiquette and traditions. ‘I suppose I just like to feel prepared in a new situation. To arm myself with as much knowledge as possible when I’m feeling out of my depth.’

  Of course she was feeling overwhelmed. He had rushed ahead with their wedding without a second thought, put her life at risk in the encampment and then abandoned her at the first opportunity. As far as husbands went, he was already a spectacular failure.

  ‘That is to be expected. Not many people would be quite so composed in the face of such upheaval in their normal routine.’ He met her eyes. ‘You may brush off my compliment but know that I mean it earnestly. And I would like to make this transition as easy as possible for you as you find your feet here. Starting with your own personal phone line in your suite, perhaps?’

  ‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’ She smiled. ‘My father had my mobile phone account cancelled at some point since we eloped.’

  ‘King Fabian is not known for making direct statements when he is displeased.’ Khal spoke thoughtfully. ‘I will also have a top-of-the-range device delivered to your suite tomorrow.’

  ‘Really, a simple landline is fine,’ she argued.

  ‘You are the Sheikha of Zayyar now, Cressida. If you want something, anything at all, it will be obtained for you. You need only ask.’

  For a moment, he thought she might argue. He watched the delicate play of emotions cross her features as she bent to retrieve a book from the pile at their feet. When she stood up straight again, her face was a polite mask of control. Something inside him briefly wondered what lay underneath that mask, what she was truly feeling about her situation, but he brushed away the sentimental thought.

  He escorted her back to her suite, making idle conversation about the various parts of the palace she had seen in his absence. As he listened to her genuine appreciation of his ancestral home, he found himself inwardly making plans to show her the hidden gems that few knew about. To play tour guide in his own kingdom and show her the true Zayyar.

  He simply wanted her to feel at home here, he told himself, but a strange sensation seemed to envelope him in her presence. The physical attraction was there, of course, but something else had joined it. He wanted her to feel at ease with him, he realised.

  After he bade her goodnight at her door and returned to his own adjoining suite, he sat at his desk and idly shuffled through official papers. His mind was not with his work tonight, nor had it been for the entire day. He had been eager to return to the palace almost from the moment he had left it. The chemistry between himself and his new bride was an unwelcome complication and until now he had not known how to manage it, except to keep a distance between them. But perhaps all he needed was a simple redirection. It was not weak or emotional to wish for an accord with the woman who would stand by his side for the next five years. It was practical and far more realistic than his original plan.

  Humming to himself, he made a neat, concise list of plans and felt the dark mood that had plagued him begin to lift. Everything was still perfectly in order.

  * * *

  Cressida dreamt of her father, his face contorted with anger as he shouted down at her. She was small in the dream, afraid to speak but feeling his words pierce holes in her delicate skin. She woke with her throat parched dry as though she had been screaming. Dawn had just begun to break over the city; she could see the first flickers of pink light spreading out over the desert in the distance.

  She took pleasure in dressing herself without an audience, much to the confusion of her maids, who entered her sitting room to find her fully clothed in one of the loose silk kaftans that had been provided as part of her new wardrobe. The material was a jade-green chiffon with satin lining, decorated with sparkling beads and tiny stones around the collar and cuffs. She had showered and allowed her long ash-blonde hair to dry naturally so it wasn’t quite straight but still fell in pleasing waves down her back.

  When she entered the dining room of the royal apartment she was surprised to find Khal already seated. He stood while she took her seat at the opposite end of the table, offering a pleasant good morning before returning to his coffee and newspaper. She ate quietly, glancing up every now and then to watch with fascination as he switched between his tablet computer and the broadsheet spread out across the table by his side. Taking notes, by the looks of it, she mused. It should not surprise her that his working day would begin the moment he opened his eyes.

  When she had finished eating, he was still absorbed in his reading so she stood up quietly, intending to leave him in peace.

  ‘My apologies for being so distracted; I’m not used to sharing breakfast with anyone.’ Khal stood, neatly folding his paper and folding up the cover of his device before tucking it under his arm.

  ‘There’s no need for you to change your morning rituals simply because I am here,’ Cressida said earnestly. ‘I have a morning packed full of lessons and dress fittings and goodness knows what else. I’m kept quite busy around here.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. My advisors told me that so far you have been using the main library for all of your studies.’

  ‘The library is wonderful. I’m happy to continue there.’

  ‘I wanted to show you something, before you start your day.’ He motioned for her to follow him out of the main door of the apartment, a strange lightness in his usually austere expression. ‘It’s just so
mething I thought of after our conversation last night.’

  Cressida kept her expression neutral as she followed him down the halls of the royal wing of the palace in the direction of the Sheikh’s formal offices and library. She had been given a tour of this area of the palace but told that it was for official use only.

  ‘This is my office and official rooms through here,’ he said idly, gesturing to a door that led onto a room as big as a basketball court. She had not been permitted inside, but she had been told that many more rooms spread out from there, a library, secretarial offices and such. The Sheikh walked across the large sunny vestibule to a door tucked away at the end of the hallway. He hesitated for a moment before pushing it open and allowing her to enter first.

  At first she wasn’t quite sure if it was an office or a library. Books lined three of the four walls but there was also a working area on one side with a large cherry-wood desk, complete with a computer, phone and pens. A long plush sofa occupied the other side of the room, facing a large arched window that overlooked the gardens beyond.

  ‘I decided you needed a place of your own for your studies,’ Khal said matter-of-factly. ‘It used to be my office when I was the Crown Prince.’

  Cressida walked over to one of the bookcases and ran her fingers along the spines. A place of her own. Her own little sanctuary. She had made one comment to him about missing her tiny study space back in London and he had gone and given her an entire office of her own. She darted a look over her shoulder to see him still standing in the doorway, watching her with hooded brows.

  ‘You can have it redecorated to your own personal taste, of course. I won’t be offended if you don’t like the décor. And I will arrange to have whichever books you prefer transported here from the main library if the selection here is lacking—’

  ‘It’s perfect.’ Her voice sounded surprisingly calm, in contrast to the alarming burst of emotion swelling in her chest. ‘Thank you.’