The Desert King's Secret Heir Page 14

  Since then there’d been several faux pas. The night she’d used a fruit spoon instead of the purpose-designed sorbet spoon from the vast array of gold cutlery was the least of her dining mistakes. The reception where palace staff, eager in the knowledge their new Sheikha had a reputation for liking flowers, had installed numerous floral arrangements complete with trailing jasmine. Sadly Arden hadn’t thought to warn them she was allergic to the scent and she’d spent the evening sneezing through every speech.

  ‘I met with some school groups today.’ She turned to Idris, her smile perfunctory. ‘You said it was all right to have them here.’

  Since her visit to Leila, the girl who’d offered her a bouquet in the street, Arden had been invited to several schools. Seeing the enthusiasm of both children and adults, Arden had sought Idris’s approval to invite some school groups to the palace. Today goggle-eyed children had taken in the grandeur of the reception rooms while teachers expounded on the palace’s historic treasures.

  Another reason the steward disapproved of her. Previously only VIPs saw the palace interior. In Zahrat there was traditionally little direct contact between the royal family and their subjects.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Idris murmured. ‘I didn’t ask you how the visits went.’

  ‘Excellent. I thought it a success, and so did the teachers. The children were excited but very well behaved.’ Arden glimpsed the steward’s impatience and felt her heart sink. Obviously something had gone wrong. She hoped some priceless ornament hadn’t been damaged.

  ‘So what’s the problem?’ Idris turned to the steward.

  ‘It’s the banqueting hall, Sire. I just returned to the palace and saw the room had been decorated in a way that made it unfit for tonight’s formal dinner.’ He almost groaned his horror. ‘I told the staff to fix it immediately but was informed the Sheikha had said the...decorations were to remain until she directed otherwise.’ His glare said what he thought of that.

  Over the steward’s shoulder she saw staff opening the doors into the adjoining banqueting room. Arden’s pulse fluttered as she remembered how that room had looked today when the children visited. Laughter bubbled inside but it died as she watched the first of the exquisitely dressed VIPs pass through the open doors. They all looked so suave and important.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She swung around to Idris. ‘It’s my fault. The younger children brought gifts as a thank you for their visit and I said we should display them. Some of the staff seemed eager to remove the decorations as soon as possible but I didn’t want to disappoint the kids by taking them down while they were in the building. I told the staff to leave them till I instructed they be removed.’ Except later she’d forgotten.

  ‘That’s the problem?’ Idris frowned. ‘Gifts from children in the banqueting hall?’

  The steward stepped closer. ‘No fault attaches to the children or teachers. The gifts were a sign of appreciation. But sadly they are inappropriate in such a majestic setting. Especially given tonight’s formal diplomatic dinner.’

  The man didn’t look at Arden, but something inside her shrank. Clearly if fault lay anywhere it was with her.

  Once she’d have thought the old man overreacted, but she knew Idris had faced a firestorm because of their marriage. He’d worked tirelessly to rectify damage from the scandal. Tonight was a major part of his campaign to have his nobody of a foreign wife accepted. The place was filled with diplomats and VIPs.

  Had she sabotaged it? Arden felt sick at the thought.

  ‘Thank you, Selim, for the warning. We’ll manage from here. I’m sure it will be all right.’ Idris took her arm, holding it high as he led her off the dais and towards the crowd disappearing into the banqueting room.

  Arden’s stomach felt like lead but she had no choice but to tilt her head up, fix on a smile and follow his lead.

  * * *

  Idris paused in the doorway to the vast banqueting room and tightened his lips to repress a broad grin. Elegant guests milled around tables laid for a seven course banquet. Surrounding them were pillared walls of shell-pink marble carved by master craftsmen generations ago. And blooming on the priceless marble was a lopsided, improbable field of bright blossom.

  Huge paper flowers in purple, orange, sunburst-yellow and even sky-blue crowded the surfaces in ragged, enthusiastic abandon. He spied names written in crayon on the leaves.

  Idris paced further into the room, Arden with him, her hand cold in his. Was she so nervous of the official reception? She’d done marvellously through the lengthy introductions, greeting people with a charm and warmth that came naturally to her. She was a people person and a welcome breath of fresh air.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said under his breath, pressing her hand reassuringly. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

  Her fingers twitched in his hold and she nodded, but her smile looked fixed. Damn Selim for bustling in, making a fuss and upsetting Arden.

  That was why Idris had put the steward in charge of the city hall opening. It was an excuse to get him out of the palace. Idris knew he took any chance to show her up.

  He led Arden towards a cluster of lopsided sunflowers. ‘I’ve never seen the place so festive.’

  She looked up, eyes wide. ‘Not even at our wedding banquet?’ she murmured.

  Idris remembered the cloth of gold swags at each entrance, the garlands of exotic lilies intertwined with crystal and pearls on each table. ‘These are simple but they’re gifts from the heart.’ He preferred them to the formal opulence of the wedding.

  He turned, smiling and raising his voice so the guests could hear. ‘I hope you enjoy the decorations for our meal tonight. You all know my wife’s interest in our children and her visits to local schools. These are gifts brought by students from those schools. I think you’ll agree they show great enthusiasm and creativity.’

  There was a murmur of voices and a few nods though some of the guests still looked bemused.

  Idris caught the eye of the Minister of Education, one of the government leaders who’d actually been eager for the modernisation Idris had been leading.

  The Minister inclined his head. ‘Encouraging our children in art as well as the sciences is traditional in Zahrat. It’s good to see that continuing with the personal support of our new Sheikha.’ He smiled and Idris heard Arden’s snatched breath. She hadn’t expected the compliment.

  The realisation angered Idris.

  He’d been so frantic dealing with the fallout from his sudden marriage and its impact on both the peace treaty and his own position. Becoming a husband and father had distracted him too. He’d known Arden faced difficulties but hadn’t realised she felt so vulnerable. Guilt hit.

  He pulled her close, abandoning any pretence of royal dignity as he wrapped his arm around her waist, ignoring the way she stiffened.

  ‘Come,’ he ordered, his voice rough with barely concealed annoyance at himself. He should have done more, he saw now, to ease her into her new responsibilities. He should never have left it to his staff. ‘Tell me about these flowers. Particularly this one.’ He injected a light-hearted note. ‘It seems, intriguingly, to resemble a camel.’

  Tense she might be, but Arden was quick. ‘That’s because it’s a camel, despite the petals. The little boy...’

  ‘Ali?’ Idris tilted his head to read the name written on one knobbly camel’s leg.

  ‘That’s it.’ Her smile looked almost natural now. ‘Ali confessed he didn’t like flowers. He likes camels so that’s the shape he cut out. But when he heard the class had been asked to make flowers for me because I liked them, he compromised by putting petals on his camel. That’s why the hump droops.’

  Idris chuckled, imagining the scene, and there was a ripple of laughter as guests moved to inspect the work.

  By the time they sat down to dinner, Arden, sitting opposite him with an ambass
ador on one side and the Minister for Education on the other, looked almost relaxed. Her smile wasn’t radiant, but as the meal progressed the horrible tension he’d felt in her dissipated and she charmed her companions with her ability to listen and her direct questions.

  Idris had been right. Arden would make an excellent sheikha. Just as she was a superb mother. And as a wife—

  She lifted her head abruptly, catching him staring. Pink stained her cheeks as their eyes met. By the time she looked away Idris found himself impatiently counting the time till they could be alone together.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IT WAS WELL past midnight when they reached their private apartment. Arden was exhausted. Every muscle groaned from being held taut so long. Her jaw ached from smiling and a stress headache throbbed in time with the beat of her pulse.

  Idris had handled the situation suavely, turning what could have been embarrassing into an opportunity to promote his agenda for improved education.

  Yet the fact remained he’d had to cover for her slip up. Again.

  Everyone made mistakes. It was just that hers were always in a glaring spotlight of public disapproval. And after months of marriage she was making as many as ever.

  Arden had known she wasn’t suited for the role of royal wife. How long before her shortcomings created a rift between Idris and those who supported him?

  She knew he was popular—he’d gathered support through sheer hard work and the positive results of every hard-won reform. But she also knew there were traditionalists in high places horrified at the scandal surrounding his marriage. And her unsuitability as his wife. People who could make trouble, not just for her but for Idris and all he was trying to do.

  She’d been on tenterhooks tonight, trying to remember the correct forms of address and so many other minutiae of Zahrati custom. She’d been congratulating herself on getting through the first part of her trial by etiquette when the steward brought his news.

  Nor had she missed her husband’s set expression when he’d entered the banqueting hall and discovered its elegance marred by wonky paper flowers. Idris hadn’t been impressed.

  ‘I’m really sorry about tonight.’ She crossed to the dressing table, pulling out hairpins, stifling a sigh as the tight, elegant coiffure disintegrated into waves around her shoulders.

  ‘Sorry?’

  Arden put the hairpins down, hating that her fingers shook. Keeping up the appearance of ease all evening, while her stomach roiled with nerves, had taken its toll.

  Abruptly she turned, only to find Idris right behind her. He grabbed her shoulders before she could walk into him, his dark eyes peering straight into her soul.

  Arden’s heart kicked. Even weary and despondent, desire shivered through her. Her need for him was constant, unrelenting. He didn’t love her and her love for Idris had died in the years she’d believed he’d abandoned her, yet her yearning for him only seemed to grow.

  If she wasn’t careful he’d take over her life even more than he had already. She’d lost her home, her job, her independence. She couldn’t afford to lose any more. She needed to be able to stand up for herself and her son.

  Arden sidestepped, dragging in a quick, relieved breath when he dropped his hands.

  ‘I’m sorry about the banqueting hall. That was my fault. I should have had the artwork taken down hours ago.’

  She just hadn’t thought of it. Straight after the school visits she’d met a delegation of women who’d travelled two days to present their new Sheikha with gifts they’d prepared themselves: delicious attar of rose scent and exquisitely woven stoles. Then there’d been an afternoon crammed with language lessons and appointments, including one with a stylist who’d clearly been challenged by Arden’s riotous hair. There had been barely enough time to see Dawud before his bed time.

  ‘Don’t fret, Arden. It’s not a problem.’ Idris’s soothing voice only stirred her guilt. She knew tonight could have been a disaster. ‘Our guests loved the decorations.’

  He stepped into her line of vision but didn’t touch her. Arden was glad. She wanted distance, didn’t she?

  Except, stupidly, she also wanted to lean her tired head on her husband’s broad shoulder.

  ‘Only because you turned it into something they could relate to. If not for that...’ She shook her head, remembering the initially stunned looks from their guests and the palace steward’s outrage.

  ‘You’re worrying too much. You saw the reaction Ali’s camel got.’ Idris’s chuckle wrapped around her like balm on a wound and the gleam in his eyes tugged at her. ‘Maybe we should add Dawud’s finger painting to the display. What do you say? I think the boy’s got real talent.’

  Despite herself Arden grinned, thinking of Dawud’s latest picture of the three of them, all heads and spindly legs. And how Idris had joined in the painting, teasingly threatening to daub her nose with red paint when she dared to critique his efforts.

  ‘Our guests were delighted by the art. It’s exactly the down-to-earth touch I want. The palace has been cut off from the people too long. Maybe we should expand those school visits into a regular programme.’

  ‘Your steward will love that,’ she murmured, trying and failing to picture the old man smiling as children invaded the Hall of a Thousand Pillars.

  Instantly Idris sobered. ‘He won’t be here. Tomorrow he’ll be relieved of his duties.’

  Arden gazed, stunned at Idris’s stern expression. It gave the lie to his assurance that tonight had been a storm in a teacup.

  ‘I told you—’ she stepped near, inhaling the scent of sandalwood and spicy male ‘—that was down to me. It wasn’t his fault.’

  Idris shook his head. ‘I’m not worried about the banqueting hall. What concerns me is that Selim made a ridiculous fuss about it in front of you. I know he’s a stickler for the old ways and he makes you nervous with his fussing. That’s why he’s been working outside the palace.’

  Arden’s jaw dropped. ‘Because of me?’ She was torn between dismay that her discomfort had led to such drastic action and glowing warmth because Idris had tried to make things easy for her.

  His mouth tightened, his expression austere. ‘You are my wife and his queen. If he makes you uneasy he goes. Permanently.’

  Arden blinked. Before her eyes her husband had morphed into the proud autocrat she remembered from London. It struck her that she hadn’t glimpsed that man lately.

  Idris might get distracted by politics but she enjoyed being with him. He was patient and gentle with Dawud, passionate with her. Good company, she realised, sometimes teasing but never dismissing her concerns. Never aloof.

  The autocratic warrior King hadn’t made an appearance in ages. To her surprise she wasn’t fazed by him any more. Now she understood that expression was Idris determined to do what he believed was right, even if difficult. He’d moved on from the carefree, thoughtless man she’d once known. She discovered she actually liked this man better—the complex mix of strength and honesty, of decency as well as passion and humour.

  ‘You can’t dismiss him.’

  ‘I won’t have him making you nervous. He undermines your confidence.’

  Arden stared, flummoxed that Idris had noticed what she’d taken care to hide. ‘How do you know? Most of the time you’re not around when I’m with him.’

  One sleek jet-black brow tilted high. ‘I notice everything about you, Arden.’ She had the strangest sensation of his words echoing endlessly within her. His stare was intense, as if he read her deepest secrets. He lifted a hand, stroking her cheek in a butterfly touch that resonated right to her core.

  Arden felt the weight of something powerful between them, something she couldn’t name. Then he spoke and the instant shattered.

  ‘He unsettles you. He’ll leave tomorrow.’

  She caught Idris’
s wrist. ‘No. Don’t do it.’

  ‘I won’t have you undermined.’

  Arden’s lips curved in a tight smile as she recognised that her husband’s support bolstered her flagging determination. It was she who’d made a mountain out of a molehill tonight. She’d let herself be led by Selim, fretting over something that, now she considered properly, was a minor glitch.

  ‘He works hard and he’s good at what he does. He doesn’t deserve to lose his job.’ Still Idris looked unconvinced. ‘I can cope. I prefer to.’

  ‘There’s no need. Let me do this for you.’ The look in his eyes made her chest tighten as she forgot to breathe. She dropped her hand from his. She wasn’t used to being looked after. It was nice but scary too...unfamiliar.

  ‘I know you’re trying to help but it would be wrong. He does fuss and make me feel like an uneducated barbarian—’ Idris’s breath hissed. ‘But he’s retiring soon.’

  ‘In thirteen months.’ Idris must have checked. For some reason that lightened her mood. He really had given this thought, and not just tonight.

  ‘That will give him time to train his replacement. Besides, I can learn a lot from him.’

  Still Idris frowned.

  ‘Did I ever tell you about my first boss, when I began as a florist?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘She must have liked something about me since she hired me but to begin with I never did anything right, even sweeping the cuttings off the floor.’

  ‘She sounds like a tartar.’

  ‘She was. But she was also passionate about what she did and expected the best. She insisted everything I did was the best it could be.’ Arden shook her head. ‘I remember rewiring the first bridal bouquet I did for her until I got it just right. But in the end I was glad she was so picky because I acquired the skills and confidence to cope, no matter how demanding the work.’

  Something like a smile danced in Idris’s eyes. ‘That’s why you’d rather keep our palace perfectionist?’