Gambling With the Crown (10 page)

But it had a compelling beauty of its own and she wondered at Kadir’s seeming discomfort about returning to Kyr. Had his life in the palace been lonely? Harsh? Or maybe it was just boring and he much preferred his life now.

She found herself suddenly wanting to know more about him, about who he’d been as a child and why he seemed so intent on presenting his father and the royal court with a bride of whom they would not approve. Because if she knew anything at all about him, it was that he was brilliant and capable. He would handle inheriting a throne with the grace and skill with which he handled every business encounter she’d ever seen him in. Kadir was a born leader.

But Kadir wasn’t going to give her a chance to ask any questions just now. Instead, he steered her into a giant room filled with milling people—who instantly stopped what they were doing and sank to their knees as a man in a uniform bellowed something. She would have gasped at the sight if not for Kadir giving her a warning look.

It was extraordinary to see so many people drop so quickly, to hear the rustling of their clothing and the hush that spread over the room. Emily’s belly clenched tight as Kadir said something in Arabic. A second later, people rose, their gazes landing on her.

“Keep your chin up,” Kadir murmured, tucking her arm into his and anchoring her to his side.

“What is this?” she whispered back as panic began to unwind inside her.

“The daily audience. My father cannot attend, of course, and he’s asked me to do so in his stead.”

“Audience? Does this mean you have to sit somewhere and receive them one by one?”

“No. This is a formality. Their petitions to the throne are filtered through the functionaries and addressed by the king and council in session. Rarely, one of them receives a private audience. This is merely for appearances.”

Appearances. Emily gazed out over the crowd and felt her heart thrumming against her chest. Not because she wasn’t accustomed to attending large gatherings with Kadir, though she was usually standing behind him with a notebook and pen, but because she was so visible. And garnering more than a few stares.

“I don’t think they like me,” she muttered.

Kadir smiled. Somehow, it seemed as if it was for her alone. She told herself it was just a part of the mirage.

“That is the plan, is it not?” He squeezed her hand. “Now come, let us mingle. And don’t forget to hang on my every word.”

“Except I won’t understand a thing you say,” she grumbled.

He dipped his head toward hers, his breath whispering against her ear. “Then you can gaze at me lovingly instead.” His lips skimmed her cheek and sensation streaked down to her sex. It was shocking and alarming at once. If they weren’t in public, she would...

Emily blinked. No, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do a damn thing.

She forced herself to smile up at him, aware they were the center of attention. “I’ll do my best, Your Highness.”

He stopped his forward motion and gazed down at her, his brows drawing together. “Your Highness? I thought we had an understanding.”

She stood on tiptoe—odd to have to do that in heels, but there it was—and whispered in his ear. “Just reminding myself what’s really happening here. You are the prince. I’m the hoochie mama.”

He shook his head. “And here I thought I understood English. What is this hoochie thing, Emily?”

She could almost laugh at his confusion. Except the words hurt. She didn’t know why she’d said them in the first place, or why it stung so much—no, that wasn’t true. She did know. They made her think of her mother. Of what others had said about her mother when she’d run away with her lover.

Emily gave him a bright smile to hide her discomfort.

His eyes flashed hot. “You are not a hoochie mama. Or a whore, if I understand the meaning correctly.”

She could feel tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. She should not be surprised he’d understood. “It was just a joke, Kadir.”

His expression was fierce. “I won’t allow you to make jokes like that. Not about yourself. Not when it upsets you.”

She hadn’t expected him to be so perceptive. Her impression of Kadir did not include sensitivity—or a desire to protect her. Once more, she had to revise her opinion of him. Her heart throbbed. “It’s nothing. Forget I said it.”

He tipped her chin up with a finger. Beyond him, she could see the people milling about almost impatiently. But Kadir didn’t seem to care as he focused the power of his gaze upon her. He still looked fierce, and her heart swelled with feeling.

“You are my wife. A princess. You are beautiful and valuable. Don’t forget it.”

Emily throat was tight. “I won’t.”

But as Kadir led her into the crowd, his hand tight on hers, all she could think was that this was an act between them. A performance. That was what she couldn’t forget. He did not mean to make her heart pound or her emotions roil with his intensity. He simply did it because that’s what he always did to women. He conquered with words, with looks, with touches.

She could not allow herself to be conquered.

Emily decided to throw herself into her role as Kadir began to speak with different people. She would not fail him. She stayed by his side, smiling at people and chatting to those who spoke to her in English. Some people seemed uncertain what to think of her, but some of the women were openly curious and made no efforts to hide it.

Emily was relieved she was not the only woman in Western clothing or the only one wearing jewels. Some of the Kyrian women dressed in jeweled
abayas;
some covered their hair, and some did not. They were friendly and polite and she found herself interested in them and they in her. She did not sense that they disapproved of her or despised her. In fact, many of them seemed to enjoy talking with her.

Eventually, however, as the afternoon wore on, she and Kadir were surrounded by several older, serious-looking men who seemed content to pretend she did not exist. Emily frowned and tried not to concentrate on how much her feet were starting to hurt or how much she missed her low heels.

All she wanted was to sit down, but Kadir showed no signs of slowing. The men ignored her completely. After the warmth of the women, it made her feel unwelcome—and uncharitable. When she could take it no more, she put her hand in Kadir’s to get his attention.

He stopped speaking instantly and turned to gaze down at her, a question in his eyes. If she were Lenore, she would have pouted and stuck out her lip, but Emily couldn’t bring herself to behave that way. She was a good girl, not a self-centered drama queen.

Still, he expected her to be unsuitable. So she would do her best, especially as this small audience seemed tailor-made for such a performance.

“I’m bored, Kadir.”

She could feel the men’s gazes hardening and she knew they understood English perfectly well. Kadir’s dark brows drew down. She wasn’t sure if he was amused or irritated at her little outburst.

“And what would you prefer to do, my love?”

Emily’s heart throbbed as she stepped closer to him and trailed a finger up his arm. “I think you know, darling.”

This time an eyebrow arched. “Do I? Perhaps you should tell me what you want.”

She stood on tiptoe and put her lips against his cheek. It was naughty and exhilarating and she liked it far too much. “I suppose I should say I want you desperately, but those awful men can’t hear me now so I’ll just say that my feet hurt and I’m tired of feeling shut out of this conversation.”

He caught her around the waist and dipped his head to her ear. A shiver ran down her spine when his breath caressed the shell of her ear. “I wish you really did want me desperately. Because I’d love to strip you, Emily. Strip you and lick you from head to toe.”

She almost backed away from him. Except that would give away the game and she couldn’t do it. Not only that, but she didn’t
want
to do it. She liked the way it felt to have him so close. Her sex flooded with wetness as a thrill shot through her, filling her with heat.

“You’re a bad man, Kadir.”

His voice came out as a growl. “You have no idea, Emily. No idea.”

“Oh, I think I do. Just not from inside information, so to speak.”

He nipped her ear and she gasped. Her body throbbed.

“The moment you want that
inside
information, I’m yours. Now go, before I do something the likes of which will scandalize Kyr for the next fifty years.”

Emily backed away slowly as his hands slid from her body. She stood there for a long moment looking at him, and he at her, her body aching in ways she’d forgotten. His eyes blazed and part of her, the part that sparked and burned, suddenly wanted to catch his hand and lead him away with her.

“Emily?”

His voice was filled with promise—and with just enough of a question to break the spell. What was she doing standing here and staring at him as though he was the last glass of water in the desert?

Emily turned and fled. When she reached their room, she went into the bathroom to lean over the sink and splash her face with cold water. If she didn’t cool this fire raging inside her, there was no telling what she might do when Kadir turned up again.

CHAPTER TEN

K
ADIR
THREW
THE
phone down in disgust. He’d called Rashid again, and again Rashid had not answered. It was five days since they’d arrived in Kyr, and there was no sign of his brother. What was Rashid doing? Had he changed his mind about coming? Was he just going to let the throne go without a fight, or was he making a statement by taking his time?

If Rashid did not arrive soon, it would be too late. Their father was growing weaker by the hour. And more insistent that Kadir divorce Emily and take the throne. Kadir was furious and frustrated. But he had to acknowledge that perhaps he was well and truly trapped. If Rashid no longer wanted to be king, if he’d decided he was finished with their father, with Kyr and even with Kadir himself, there was nothing Kadir could do but accept the responsibility.

His deception had only been meant to steer his father toward Rashid as the logical choice, but if Rashid did not come, there was no choice. Kyr could not go ungoverned by an al-Hassan. They had been this nation’s leaders for centuries. And Kadir would not allow it to change, though his life would transform so drastically. To walk away now would plunge Kyr into chaos because there was no one else who could lead. No one but the council, and it would fracture as each member tried to put forth his own candidate for the throne.

No, Kadir would not allow that, though it would mean the end of everything he’d worked for. And the end of his time with Emily.

Emily.
Just thinking of her made him as restless as a caged leopard.

Quite simply, Kadir was going mad with desire for his fake wife. He’d spent the last few days getting hard at the sight of her. And many nights going to bed frustrated. After that first night, he’d stuck to his side of the pillow wall and she to hers, but it was sheer torture. He lay there willing her to come across the barrier since he’d sworn he wouldn’t do so, but she never did.

His days were so busy now that he hardly saw her, except at functions they attended together. He was beginning to regret the impulse to dress her in beautiful, fitted clothing. It not only made him physically uncomfortable, but it also made him angry as hell when he caught some other man staring at her.

Her clothes were fashionable, not at all trashy or—what had she said?—something a hoochie mama would wear. It shamed him that she had thought he wanted such a thing for even a moment.

The clothing Guido chose for her showcased her figure in ways that had Kadir imagining his hands on her. On the high swells of her breasts, the delicate curve of her waist, the arch of her hips. Hell, even her bare calves, accentuated by the high heels he’d insisted she wear, inflamed him.

What had he been thinking? He shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. Clearly, he had not. Or he’d thought he was made of sterner stuff where she was concerned. Idiot.

Though it had been only a few minutes since he’d tried to call Rashid, Kadir snatched up his phone and checked his messages, the same as he’d been doing all day.

Of course there was nothing. If Rashid wanted to punish him, he’d picked the perfect way to do it.

“Kadir?”

He turned at the sound of Emily’s voice. She stood in the door to the private courtyard off their suite of rooms, where he had retreated to call Rashid. His blood beat at the sight of her. She was wearing a body-hugging black dress, her breasts wedged firm and high in the bodice, her dark hair loose, his diamonds sparkling at her throat and ears. He glanced at her hand, felt a current of possessiveness wash through him at the sight of his ring on her finger.

It wasn’t real, he reminded himself. And yet it was the most real thing in his life right now.
Emily
was the most real thing in his life.

He tamped down on his wayward desire and leveled her with an even look so she would not sense his turmoil. “Yes,
habibti?
”

She twisted her fingers together in front of her. He was learning that Emily contained depths of emotion he’d never suspected. And part of how she kept it in check was with her nervous fidgeting.

“I was just wondering how you are.”

He sat and leaned his head back against the soft cushions of the couch that perched on one side of the courtyard. “Well enough. You?”

She came over and stood nearby, though she did not sit. “I’m all right. The tea with the governing council wives was somewhat awkward.”

He felt as if he should apologize. But what would be the point? They both knew why she was here. If only Rashid would come, the plan would work perfectly. “I am certain you managed it with aplomb.”

She blew out a breath. “It wasn’t that bad, truly. A couple of them don’t seem to care for me, but the others...well, some of them are quite nice. They seem to understand how strange this must be for me as an outsider.”

He looked up and met her soft green gaze. He had asked a lot of her in coming here. And he’d not prepared her nearly well enough. “You must despise me.”

“No, of course not.”

He sat forward, his eyes searching hers. “It’s all right. You can admit it.”

She sighed. “I don’t despise you, Kadir. I actually like some of the people I’ve met. It hasn’t been nearly as bad as I thought it would be. But I hate deceiving them. I’ll be glad when it’s over.” As if she realized what she’d just said, her mouth snapped closed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. For this to be over, your father—”

He stood and put a finger over her lips, silencing her. Her mouth was soft but he resisted the urge to slide his finger along her lips. Somehow, he resisted. “I understand what you mean. And I share the sentiment.”

Her eyes were troubled. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

He tilted his head back and gazed up at the slice of blue sky visible above the walls and minarets. There was no point in hiding the truth from her. “I am going to be king. It’s inevitable.”

Because Rashid wasn’t coming, their father was slipping in and out of consciousness with more regularity, and the council was growing restless with the uncertainty of the situation. Kadir had to act before the council splintered under the strain.

He heard her pull in a breath. “Oh, Kadir. I tried to be unsuitable, I really did. But sometimes I’ve just been me, and that clearly hasn’t been enough.”

Her head was bowed, her hands clenched into fists. He tipped her chin up and forced her to look at him. “You have not failed, Emily. You’ve done a brilliant job.” He ground his teeth in frustration. “It is I who have failed. And it’s time to accept my fate and get on with it.”

She was looking at him with an admiration he didn’t expect. “You’ll be an excellent king.”

He wanted to laugh. “You have no reason to think so. You are being kind.”

Her eyes widened indignantly. “Of course I do! I’ve never seen anyone talk so many people into doing things his way as you have over the last four years. If that’s not a skill a king needs, then I don’t know what is. You’ll be great at it, because you are great at everything else.”

“I am apparently not great at some things.” When she frowned at him, he wanted to kiss her. But he did not, because he wasn’t certain he could stop at just a kiss. “I am not great at everything, Emily, because you continue to sleep on your side of the bed. If I had my way, you would sleep wrapped around me.”

A blush spread across her cheeks. “You already know you’re irresistible to women. You don’t need me to prove it yet again.”

“But I am not irresistible to you.”

“You’re not my type. Tall, handsome, kingly.” She shook her head. “Oh, no, I like my men short and quiet and willing to be bossed around.”

“Emily,” he growled, the idea of her having a type—especially a type that wasn’t him—burning a hole in his gut.

“Stop worrying, Kadir. You’re handsome and remarkable and fabulous. And you’ll be the best king that Kyr has ever had. I just know it.”

She was being prickly with him, but her praise warmed him deep inside. He didn’t feel as though he was the best at anything right now. Oh, he could build skyscrapers that no one else could, but that wasn’t running a kingdom.

If his skill at personal relationships was any indication, he was doomed to failure. He had a contentious relationship with his father, an apparently nonexistent one with his brother—and then there was Emily. She was the person who’d worked the closest to him for the longest time. Until just a few days ago, he would have said she did not like him much.

And now? Now she felt sorry for him. He could hardly bear it.

“Sit with me,” he said, catching her hand and pulling her down with him. It wasn’t a big settee and she ended up right beside him, her hip crowding against his. Her eyes were wide as she blinked at him.

He held his arm out, daring her to come into the circle of his embrace. He desperately wanted to be close to someone right now. Close to her. He expected her to trot out their agreement, to shoot up off the settee and stammer about an appointment or something. But she didn’t. She folded herself against him as if she always did so, as if it were as natural as breathing, and he closed his eyes on a rough sigh.

“Thank you,” he said against her hair, and she wrapped one arm tentatively around his waist. A simple touch, and yet he burned deep inside for more. “When my father dies, you will need to remain for the funeral. After that, I will divorce you and you’ll be free to go.”

Just saying the words sent a chill washing over him. He wasn’t certain if Emily trembled or if it was simply the strength of his emotions making him think so. She’d been a part of his life for long enough that he couldn’t quite imagine it without her. But he was resigned to his fate and he had to let her know what came next for her. For them.

He would miss her, but in time it would ease.

“Whatever you think best,” she said, her voice muffled against his robes.

“I’ll wire the money into your account. And I’ll give you references.”

Even as he said it, he knew he would give her enough money so she wouldn’t have to work again if she did not want to. She could take her father to Florida and live there with him if she chose. It hadn’t been a part of the plan, but he couldn’t bear to send her back to Chicago with only what they’d agreed upon. He didn’t want her to work for anyone else. He wanted her to do whatever she wanted in life.

“Thank you,” she said. He thought she sniffed. A moment later, she was pushing herself away from him. Her eyes were watery, though she did not let a single tear fall. “I think I have a headache. I should go inside and rest.”

He wanted to reach out and trace her cheek with his finger. And then he wanted to do so much more. He kept his hands to himself. “Yes, perhaps you should.”

She stood and smoothed the dress over her body and he found himself aching to span her hips with his hands, to press his mouth right against her belly. To drag it lower until she screamed his name with passion rather than frustration.

But he would do none of these things.

“I’m sorry, Kadir.”

He looked up into her soft green eyes and had the strangest sensation when he imagined those eyes gone from his life. It was as if a piece of his soul had withered and died.

“So am I,
habibti.
”

* * *

Two days later, the king of Kyr died in the middle of the night. His passing was peaceful and quiet, but the aftermath was not. Emily was shaken awake during the dark hours. She was disoriented, groggy, and her eyes felt gritty with the silent tears she’d spilled into her pillow.

“We must leave, Emily,” a deep voice said, and a current of alarm prickled inside her as she recognized the urgency in Kadir’s tone.

“What’s wrong?”

“My father has passed.”

She sat up immediately as the last veil of sleep fell away. “Oh, Kadir, I am so sorry.”

He stood there, tall and remote, already dressed in his desert robes, and she wondered if he’d even been to bed. The last she recalled, he’d been working on his computer when she’d gone to bed earlier. He’d had trouble sleeping lately and he often stayed up late to work.

She thought that he also spent time trying to track down his brother, hoping that he would get a last-minute reprieve. But now it was too late. Rashid had not come and their father was dead. Kadir was truly the next king of Kyr.

“It’s fine,” he said coolly. “I’m fine. But we have to journey to the King’s Oasis. It is required that I spend the next twenty-four hours there, isolated from the court. You are the only one permitted to go with me.”

“Of course,” she said, throwing back the covers and hurrying to get dressed. She didn’t think it mattered much now, so she donned jeans and tennis shoes. She grabbed a jacket and put it on over her T-shirt because it was cold in the desert at night.

Within half an hour, they were packed and in a Land Rover. When Kadir said they were going alone, he meant it. There were no servants with them, no caravan of vehicles as they began the journey into the dark desert.

She didn’t know what to say, so Emily leaned her head against the window and gazed up at the stars. They were so plentiful out here, away from the city lights. A shooting star blazed across her field of vision and she made a quick wish.

She wished that Kadir would not send her away. A stupid wish, but there it was. She’d realized over the last several days that she cared about him. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. And yet she had to do just that, because he would be a king and she was not needed. Or wanted.

She gritted her teeth against the fantasy that he might decide to keep her with him.
Oh, for goodness’ sake, you’re just as bad as all those other women, wanting what he cannot give.

Not only that, but she knew she would not be welcomed in Kyr as a permanent part of his life—and certainly not as his queen. While there were people who seemed to like her, even welcome her, the governing council did not. They’d frowned at her and ignored her and clearly did not approve of her. Which was precisely as Kadir had wanted it.

Truly, if she’d been swathed head to toe in black robes, she still didn’t think they would have liked her. She was too foreign in their eyes, and certainly not good enough for a prince of Kyr. That was the true measure of her unsuitability, not her clothing or her actions or anything else she did or did not do.