The Sheikh's Reluctant Bride

Unlike her husband, his dark-eyed mother would not permit a gray hair to invade her lustrous, shoulder-length hair. For a small woman, she possessed a strength of will and sense of humor that kept her husband both intrigued and in line. At one time, Kardahl had hoped to emulate their relationship. Those hopes had died with his beloved.

“Are you sure you will not join us in a brandy, Jessica?” his mother asked.

“Thank you, no. Coffee is fine.” Jessica set her china cup on the saucer resting on the side table.

She was casually dressed in black slacks and a coordinating silky black and white blouse. Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun at her nape, with numerous sun-kissed strands escaping the confinement to caress her graceful neck. The scent of her skin filled his head with the fragrance of sunshine and flowers as her shoulder brushed his own. She seemed unaffected by the nearness, but he was not so fortunate.

“I understand you had your first experience with reporters today, my dear,” the king was saying.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The king turned a displeased look on him. “How did this happen, Kardahl?”

He had wondered also and made inquiries of his security staff. “It seems there is a site on the Internet where the sighting of a high-profile individual can be posted practically as it is occurring.”

Jessica stared at him. “You mean anyone monitoring that site who happened to be in the area could walk up and shake your hand?”

“Yes,” he said grimly. “My guess is that the news media monitors the site.”

“But that’s practically stalking.”

“In a free society,” the king said, “it is the price we pay. Also part of the cost is minding one’s behavior. As Kardahl knows all too well.”

Jessica glanced up at him with what looked like sympathy in her eyes, then back to his father. “I can’t help feeling responsible. They found him because he surprised me with a detour to the dress shop—”

“You took her to Jasmine’s as I suggested?” his mother interrupted.

“I did,” he confirmed, sliding his arm along the top of the sofa, then resting his fingers close to Jessica’s shoulder.

Until that first meeting on the plane, Kardahl had been annoyed at the turn of events, but had subsequently learned that Jessica was even less pleased than he about the situation. She was an unwilling participant and unprepared for this life. And the look on her face when the paparazzi had besieged him had made him want to protect her. As he had been unable to protect Antonia.

“Those people are predators who feed off others,” he commented.

The queen sighed as she shook her head. “The press can be difficult.”

“I just wasn’t prepared for them,” Jessica said. “Up until today the most excitement I ever had shopping was when the clerk forgot to remove one of those security devices and I set off the alarm when I tried to leave the store.”

The king smiled indulgently. “My dear, if you would change your mind and stay with Kardahl here in Bha’Khar, you would be given instruction in dealing with the media.”

“Probably not by Kardahl,” Jessica said, glancing up at him with humor sparkling like jewels in her eyes. “Unless he used himself as a cautionary tale.”

His father laughed. “No. I think my son would not be the best instructor.” Then he turned serious as he met her gaze. “I urge you to change your mind about the annulment.”

“You’re very kind—”

“I hear a ‘but,’” the king interrupted. “Your grandparents are dear friends. They would be greatly pleased by a real marriage to join our families.”

“You’re very kind,” Jessica said again. “But, I’m not royal family material. In spite of the betrothal, circumstances intervened and I wasn’t raised to be the wife of a prince.”

Kardahl saw her fingers clasp and tighten until the knuckles turned white as she rubbed one thumb over the other. When he glanced at her face, the tension in her delicate jaw and shadows in her eyes did not escape his notice.

“You would have a staff to help and the queen and I would—”

“Enough.” Apparently Kardahl had to protect her from his father as well as the press. He rose. “Jessica has expressed her feelings and I will not permit you to pressure her.”

“Kardahl.” The queen frowned. “That is no way to speak to your father.”

“For the time being she is my wife and in this instance, it is precisely the way. I have promised her a tour of the palace. We are leaving now.”

Surprise flickered in Jessica’s expression when she looked up. Before she could expose his lie, he held out his hand. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She put her fingers in his palm and stood up, then smiled at his parents. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You are most welcome,” his mother said. “We look forward to seeing you at the reception tomorrow evening.”

“And you as well, my son.” There was anger in the king’s order.

“I will be there.”

For Jessica. Kardahl led her to the elevator that would take them to the first floor. He was impervious to his father’s moods now. Once he had cared, but that ended when the king chose tradition over happiness. If Kardahl had been allowed to marry the woman he wanted, she might still…But that was something he would never know. His fingers clenched into a fist as the rage-fueled powerlessness blazed through him. He had learned it was preferable to the pain.

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