Demanding His Desert Queen Page 9

  Then he turned on his heel and left, closing the door quietly behind him, just as if he hadn’t turned her world inside out.

  Already Tarek’s eyes were closing. It seemed he didn’t want to talk, just needed the comfort of a cuddle. Safiyah began singing a soft lullaby, but as she watched her son’s eyes close and felt him relax she thought about what Karim had said.

  There were two more full days of wedding celebrations. Two more days till Karim expected her to surrender to him. What was she going to do about that?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SAFIYAH EMERGED FROM the bathroom the next morning wrapped in her favourite robe. It was old, but it had been the last gift her mother had given her. The cotton was thin now, but the colour reminded her of the rare pale blue crocuses that grew in the mountains near where she’d grown up.

  She hadn’t worn it for ages because Abbas had expected her to dress in only the best. But he wasn’t here to disapprove now, and in this last week especially Safiyah had found comfort in the memory of her mother.

  Life had been turned upside down again and she was reeling from the impact. She hadn’t been prepared for the tumult that was Karim’s effect on her. She didn’t want to trust him, kept remembering how badly he’d hurt her, yet at other times he seemed considerate, even kind. Like last night, when he’d put Tarek’s needs before his own desire. It wasn’t what she’d come to expect from men...from a husband. Karim confused her and made her feel things she didn’t want.

  Briskly, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, banishing that little judder of residual awareness. She smiled at her waiting maid, then stopped abruptly.

  ‘What’s that?’

  Her gaze fixed on the clothes spread out on the bed. She’d requested her long dress in shades of ochre and amber. Instead the fabric on the bed was an arresting dark lilac, embroidered with gleaming purple and lilac beads.

  ‘Isn’t it beautiful? The Sheikh has requested you wear this.’

  Safiyah crossed to the bed, leaning down to stroke the fabric. The silk tunic was feather-light, the embroidery exquisite. It would be comfortable as she stood in the open air beside her new husband to receive the greetings of their people. The sunlight would glimmer off the rich decoration with each movement, subtly reinforcing her royal status as consort to the Sheikh.

  ‘Are those trousers?’

  Sure enough there was a pair of lightweight, loose-fitting trousers to wear beneath the long tunic. The style was often worn by women in the rural areas of her country, but Abbas had preferred her to wear dresses.

  ‘They are, madam, and I’ve checked. They’re exactly your size.’ Her maid slid a sideways glance to her. ‘Someone has been very busy making this for you.’

  But why? Safiyah was quite capable of choosing her own clothes for royal events, and Karim didn’t seem the sort to micromanage such details. But then, this second day of the joint coronation and wedding celebrations was an important one, during which they’d meet the people who had flocked to the capital from every province. Perhaps he was concerned about making the right impression. Wearing clothes that were a nod to the rural traditions of his new people wouldn’t hurt.

  ‘Very well.’ She shrugged out of her robe.

  But as the silk garments settled on her, drifting over her skin like a desert zephyr, Safiyah couldn’t help but remember Karim’s caress last night. He’d said things would be good, better than good, when she came to him.

  If she came to him.

  She hadn’t agreed.

  Yet.

  * * *

  Safiyah stepped out of the palace and into the main courtyard, only to hesitate on the threshold. There, instead of a gleaming entourage of black limousines, was a bustle she’d never seen within the royal precinct. The scene was alive with movement, the jingle of metal on metal and the clop of hoofs on cobblestones. The rich tang of horse and leather filled her nostrils and something within her lifted like a bird taking flight.

  The place was full of riders. Two standard-bearers carrying the turquoise and white flag of Assara were mounted at the head of the line. Behind them, on snorting sidestepping horses, were elders and clan leaders—a who’s who of Assara, all looking confident and fiercely proud.

  Safiyah thought of Karim’s words when he’d learned that Abbas had ditched the equestrian gatherings so loved by his people. It was clever of him to reinstate them, for clearly this was what he’d planned.

  ‘Safiyah.’

  As if conjured by her thoughts, there he was, striding towards her, magnificent in pale trousers, boots and a cloak the colour of the desert sands. He had a horseman’s thighs, flexing powerfully with each step. The fact she’d noticed sent a tremor through her.

  Her stomach dived. How was she supposed to resist him when her body betrayed her this way? Her galloping heartbeat told its own story.

  ‘Karim.’

  She saw the gleam of anticipation in his eyes. Clearly he was looking forward to this. Yesterday he’d been solemn and proud, as befitted a newly made monarch. Today his eyes danced.

  ‘You look magnificent.’

  His smile was a slow spread of pleasure across his face that did crazy things to her insides. He took her hand, lifted it and stepped back, as if to get a better view.

  For one mad moment she felt that glow of anticipation was for her. Then sense reasserted itself.

  Karim had more important things on his mind than the wife he’d married for purely political reasons. Like establishing his mark on the country. Making an impression not only on the great and the good, but on the ordinary people. Which was why he planned to ride out on horseback, as the Sheikhs of Assara had done for centuries.

  ‘That’s why you sent the trousers.’ Belatedly it dawned on her. ‘You want me to ride with you.’

  As if on cue a groom led forward two horses. A magnificent grey for Karim and a chestnut mare with liquid dark eyes for her. Safiyah saw the creature and was torn between love at first sight and disappointment that all Karim’s excitement was for the success of his plan.

  It had been madness to imagine he was pleased to see her, personally. She was his convenient wife. Not good enough to marry for her own sake—he’d made that painfully clear years before—but useful to win the people’s acceptance.

  Safiyah slipped her hand from Karim’s, ignoring the twitch of his dark eyebrows at the movement. ‘You could have warned me.’

  ‘Warned you?’

  ‘That I’d be riding.’ Clearly she wasn’t important enough to be informed of his plans. She felt as if she was the last to know. This procession had clearly taken a lot of preparation.

  Karim stepped closer, blocking out the stable hand waiting at a discreet distance. ‘I thought you’d enjoy the surprise.’

  Safiyah’s eyes widened. He’d thought about what she’d enjoy? She shook her head. This equestrian parade was a PR exercise. Not to please her.

  Yet the fact he’d bothered to consider how she’d feel about it was unexpected. Disturbing. She wasn’t used to that. What did it mean?

  ‘You don’t believe me?’ His eyebrows lifted and his chin too, in an expression of hauteur.

  ‘I’m just surprised.’ And bewildered.

  His expression softened a little. ‘Pleasantly so?’

  Silent, she nodded.

  ‘Good.’

  For a moment Safiyah thought he’d say more. Instead Karim swept her once again with his gaze and it was all she could do not to blush like a virgin. For there was something about his expression that made her think not of the show he was putting on for the populace, but of how he’d stared at her last night. As if he’d wanted to devour her on the spot.

  The hubbub died away till all she could hear was the quick pulse of her blood in her ears.

  ‘Mama!’

  She swung around as a small figure emerged in the do
orway from the palace. Tarek, wearing his finest clothes, hurtled into her arms. Safiyah caught and lifted him, hiding her surprise.

  ‘Did you come to see all the excitement, sweetie?’

  He nodded and clung to her.

  ‘He’s come to take part in today’s festivities,’ Karim said. ‘I want the people to see that he hasn’t been shunted aside.’

  That made sense to Safiyah. And it was in Tarek’s own interests. It was a clever move that would help both Karim and her son. But, again, she hadn’t been consulted.

  Although had she really expected that Karim might discuss his plans with her when Abbas never had? Once more she could only obey and play the role demanded of her. It was stupid to feel disappointed that nothing had changed.

  ‘What is it, Safiyah? You look troubled.’

  Karim’s low voice reminded her how dangerous he was, how much he saw. For she was wearing what she thought of as her ‘royal’ face. A mask she’d perfected over the years to hide her feelings. It disturbed her to think Karim could see past it.

  She shifted Tarek higher. Her son was looking wide-eyed at the horses.

  ‘He’s never even seen a horse close up before. He can’t ride. It’s too much to expect him to be in this procession. It’s far too dangerous.’

  She refused to let Karim put her boy in danger for the sake of appearances, even if his word was law. She’d spent years being seen and not heard, but when it came to Tarek’s wellbeing she refused to submit meekly any more.

  For a long moment her new husband considered her. When he spoke his words were for her alone. ‘You don’t think much of me, do you, Safiyah?’

  His eyes flashed annoyance. Yet for some reason she wondered if that anger hid something else.

  Before she could respond another figure emerged from the palace.

  ‘Rana!’ Safiyah couldn’t believe her eyes. Her sister...here? Her heart squeezed and her eyes prickled. She opened her mouth to say something but no words emerged.

  Safiyah looked up at Karim, who was surveying her from under lowered brows, his crossed arms making him looking particularly unapproachable. As if the man who’d stirred her blood with that one appraising look just moments ago had never been.

  Yet he, surely, was the man responsible for her sister’s presence. Gratitude and a sudden flood of happiness quenched her indignation.

  ‘Your Majesty.’ Rana sank into a deep curtsey and Safiyah watched, stupefied, as Karim took her sister’s hand and raised her, bestowing upon her a smile that was all charm.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rana. I’m glad you could come to support your sister and your nephew today.’

  Safiyah looked from her sister to Karim. What was going on? Assaran royal weddings did not include female witnesses, even if the bride had no living male relatives. Safiyah had been the only woman at yesterday’s ceremony. Nor were female members of the bride’s family invited to the royal events in the days that followed. Safiyah had got through the interminable festivities of her first marriage unsupported except for the maid who’d attended her when she retired to her room.

  Before she could ask for an explanation a harassed-looking steward came forward and murmured something to Karim, drawing him away.

  ‘Surprise!’ Rana kissed Safiyah on the cheek and Tarek on the forehead, her gentle smile lighting her face. ‘Your husband invited me to the capital for the next two days.’ Rana dropped her voice. ‘You didn’t tell me he was so nice. So thoughtful.’ She paused, chewing her lip. ‘I did wonder if you really wanted this marriage. It’s happened so quickly.’

  Safiyah could only be grateful that Rana didn’t know about the history between her and Karim. Then she’d really have her doubts.

  ‘I definitely wanted it, Rana.’

  Her sister nodded. ‘For Tarek’s sake. But...’ she paused ‘...maybe for your own too?’

  Safiyah swallowed hard and managed a noncommittal smile. Now wasn’t the time for explanations. Karim had already proved himself capable of protecting his new position and his new son. That was all that mattered. His attention to detail today was all geared towards shoring up public approval. Even down to having the Prince accompanied by his aunt instead of a nanny.

  Karim was presenting the picture of a united, stable family to the nation.

  What other reason could he have for making these arrangements?

  ‘It’s wonderful to see you, Rana.’ Safiyah leaned in and cuddled her sister with one arm while holding Tarek on her hip. An upsurge of emotions blindsided her, catching at her throat.

  She wasn’t used to having someone by her side. Strange, too, to realise how much she needed that support. The last days had been a rollercoaster of emotional shocks.

  Tarek wriggled in her hold. ‘Down, Mama. I want to see the horses.’

  ‘He’s a chip off the old block,’ Rana said. ‘Once he gets a taste for riding you won’t be able to keep him away from the stables. Just like you and me.’

  Warmth swelled in Safiyah’s chest at her sister’s smile. They’d both ridden as soon as they could walk, like their father before them.

  ‘Later, Tarek. If you’re a good boy you can pat one of the horses later.’ For now Karim was striding back towards them and the last of the riders were swinging up onto their mounts. ‘It’s time for you to go with Auntie Rana.’

  But Tarek wasn’t placated. He was going to argue. His bottom lip protruded.

  ‘Here. Let me.’

  Long arms reached for her boy. Karim’s hands brushed against her as he took her son.

  She didn’t know what stunned her more. The ripple of sensation where Karim’s hard hands had touched her arms and, fleetingly, the side of her breast. Or the sight of him holding Tarek. The way a father would.

  Safiyah frowned. She couldn’t recall the last time Abbas had held his son. For an official photo, most probably.

  * * *

  Karim caught the disapproving scrunch of Safiyah’s forehead and turned away, anger flaring.

  What was wrong with the woman? Didn’t she trust him enough even to hold her precious son?

  She trusted him enough to marry him, yet now she was fighting a rearguard action to keep a distance between them.

  Karim had taken time to consider how to make these intense days of celebration easier for her. He’d gone out of his way to bring her sister here, and to involve Tarek in the event to shore up the legitimacy of his future claim. He’d even organised that whisper-soft concoction of a riding outfit that made Safiyah look even more beautiful and impossibly seductive.

  Had he received any thanks? Only from her sister. From Safiyah—nothing at all. Not even a smile.

  So much for gratitude.

  But Karim shouldn’t have expected gratitude. The woman had abandoned him when she’d discovered the truth of his birth. She only accepted him now because he could salvage her royal position and protect her child.

  Wrenching his thoughts away from Safiyah in beaded silk, he focused on the child in his arms. Tarek stared up at him with big brown eyes, his bottom lip quivering.

  Maybe Karim shouldn’t have swooped in and grabbed the child, but it seemed better to head off a tantrum than have the boy yowling through the parade.

  ‘You want to meet a horse, Tarek?’ He smiled encouragingly at the child and felt inordinately pleased when he received a grave nod. ‘I’ll hold you up high so you can pat one. Would you like that?’

  He read the boy’s excitement and for a second was wrenched back to those rare moments in his childhood when he’d managed to steal time out with his little brother. Ashraf’s eyes had glowed in just that way.

  Karim walked up to the groom holding the reins of his mount and Safiyah’s.

  Automatically he turned towards the mare, as the smaller and more docile. But Tarek shook his head. ‘This one.’ He looked up at the d
ancing grey stallion.

  Karim shrugged. The boy had pluck, that was for sure, if this really was the first time he’d got close to a horse. He’d have thought a beginner would be drawn to the mare, standing sedately. But Karim would keep him safe.

  ‘This is Zephyr,’ he murmured, and the grey flicked his ears forward, then huffed out a breath through flared nostrils.

  Tarek giggled as the horse’s warm breath brushed his face and hands. The horse’s head reared back and Karim spoke to it in an undertone, reassuring it as he reached up to scratch near its ear.

  ‘You can’t be scared of Tarek, surely now? A big strong fellow like you?’

  Again Tarek giggled, suddenly lunging forward in Karim’s hold, trying to reach the horse.

  ‘Not like that.’ Karim hauled the child back. ‘Give Zephyr a chance to know you. You have to sit quietly so as not to scare him. Put out your hand like this and let him sniff you.’

  ‘It tickles!’

  But to his credit the boy didn’t squirm, even when Zephyr, with a sideways look at Karim, pretended to nibble the little Prince’s sleeve.

  The child gasped at the wet stain. Worried brown eyes met Karim’s and once more he was reminded of his kid brother, this time after he’d been summoned before their disapproving father.

  ‘I’m not supposed to get dirty. Papa says—’

  ‘I know, but the rules have changed,’ Karim said quickly, ignoring a moment’s discomfort.

  The child’s dead father was beginning to remind him too much of the ever-demanding Sheikh who’d raised him. Karim recalled constant childhood lectures on his appearance, his manners, his attitude and even the way he walked. And that had been before the old man had got started on his studies.

  ‘Don’t worry, Tarek. It will dry quickly and no one will notice.’ He paused. ‘Do you want to know a secret?’

  Solemnly the boy nodded.

  ‘It’s more important to be happy than to be clean.’ Deliberately he looked furtively over his shoulder and pressed his finger to his lips. ‘But don’t tell anyone I said that. It’s a royal secret.’