Demanding His Desert Queen

‘Thank you.’

She said no more. None of the platitudes she’d hidden behind for the past few weeks would protect her from the guilt she harboured within. A guilt she feared Karim, with his unnerving perceptiveness, might somehow guess. Guilt because after the first shock of discovering she was a widow, and learning that Abbas hadn’t suffered, she’d felt relief.

Not because she’d wanted her husband dead. Instead it was the relief of a wild animal held in captivity and suddenly given a glimpse of freedom. No matter how hard she tried, she hadn’t yet managed to quell that undercurrent of excitement at the idea of taking control of her own life—hers and Tarek’s. Of being simply…happy.

But it was too early to dream of freedom. Time enough to do that when she knew Tarek was safe.

‘I’m waiting to hear the reason for your visit.’

Safiyah had imagined herself capable of handling most things life threw at her. She was stunned to discover Karim’s brusque tone had the power to hurt.

She blinked, reminding herself that to hurt she would have to care about him, and she’d stopped caring long ago. She’d meant nothing to him. All the time he’d pretended to be interested in her he’d had other plans. Plans she hadn’t understood and which hadn’t included her. At best she’d been a smokescreen, at worst an amusement.

Safiyah lifted her chin and looked him full in the face, determined to get this over as soon as possible.

‘I want you to take the Assaran crown.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU WANT ME to become your Sheikh?’

Karim’s brow knitted. Before today he’d have said not much had the power to surprise him.

How wrong he’d been.

He’d assumed only self-interest would have budged Safiyah from the Assaran royal palace at such a time. He’d imagined she’d come here to dissuade him from accepting the sheikhdom.

Surely having him as her King would be the last thing she’d want? Shouldn’t she be looking for ways to preserve the crown for her son?

‘Yes. That’s exactly what I want.’

Karim stared at the poised, beautiful woman before him. The whole day had been surreal, but seeing Safiyah again was the most extraordinary part of it.

The moment she’d walked into the room Karim’s blood had thickened, his pulse growing ponderous. As if his body, even his brain, worked in slow motion.

He wasn’t surprised that the shy young woman he’d known had disappeared. He’d long since realised her doe-eyed glances and quiet ardour had been ploys to snare his interest. The real Safiyah had been more calculating and pragmatic than he’d given her credit for.

Yet the change in her was remarkable. The way she’d sashayed into the room as if she owned it. The way she’d all but demanded he play by the rules and offer her a seat, as if they were polite strangers, or perhaps old friends about to enjoy a cosy chat.

But then life as an honoured and adored queen would give any woman confidence.

To Karim’s chagrin, it wasn’t merely her manner that got under his skin. Had her hourglass figure been that stunning when he’d known her? In the old days she’d worn muted colours and loosely fitting clothes, presumably to assure him that she was the ‘nice’ girl his father had assured him she was. The complete antithesis to the sultry sirens his brother had so scandalously bedded.

Safiyah’s dress today might cover her from neck to shin, but the gleam of the fabric encasing those generous curves and tiny waist made it utterly provocative. Even the soft, sibilant shush of sound it made when she crossed her legs was suggestive.

Then there was her face. Arresting rather than beautiful. Pure skin, far paler than his. Eyes that looked too big as she stared back at him, as if hanging on his every word. Dark, sleek hair with the tiniest, intriguing hint of auburn. Lips that he’d once—

‘Why do you want me to take the throne? Why not fight for your son’s right to it?’

‘Tarek is too young. Even if the Council could be persuaded to appoint a regent for him, I can’t imagine many men would willingly take the role of ruler and then meekly hand it over after fifteen years.’

A man of honour would.

Karim didn’t bother voicing the thought.

‘Why not leave the decision to the Royal Council? Why interfere? Are you so eager to choose your next husband?’

Safiyah’s breath hissed between pearly teeth and her creamy skin turned parchment-pale.

Satisfaction stirred as he saw his jibe hit the mark. For he hated how she made him feel. She dredged up emotions he’d told himself were dead and buried. He felt them scrape up his gullet, across his skin. The searing hurt and disbelief, the sense of worthlessness and shock as his life had been turned inside out in one short night. At that crisis in his life her faithlessness had burned like acid—the final insult to a man who’d lost everything.

Nevertheless, as Karim watched the convulsive movement of her throat and the sudden appearance of a dimple in her cheek, his satisfaction bled away. Years ago she’d had a habit of biting her cheek when nervous. But Karim doubted nerves had anything to do with Safiyah’s response now. Maybe she was trying to garner sympathy.

Yet he felt ashamed. He’d never been so petty as to take satisfaction in another’s distress, even if it was feigned. He was better than that.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

‘I’m not…’ she paused after the word, her chin tilting up as she caught his eye ‘…looking for a new husband.’

Her voice was low, the words barely above a whisper, yet he heard steel behind them.

Because she’d loved Abbas so deeply?

Karim found himself torn between hoping it was true and wanting to protest that she’d never loved her husband. Because just months before her marriage to the Assaran King she’d supposedly loved Karim.

He gritted his teeth, discomfited by the way feelings undermined his thought processes. He’d been taught to think clearly, to disengage his emotions, not to feel too much. His response to Safiyah’s presence was out of character for a man renowned for his even temper, his consideration of others and careful thinking.

‘That’s not how things are done in Assara,’ she added. ‘The new Sheikh will be named by the Royal Council. There is no requirement for him to marry his predecessor’s widow.’

Was it his imagination, or had she shivered at the idea? She couldn’t have made her disdain more obvious.

Which was tantamount to a lance, piercing Karim’s pride. Once she’d welcomed his attentions. But then he’d been first in line to a royal throne of his own. The eldest son of a family proud of its noble lineage.

‘What will happen to you when the new Sheikh is crowned?’

‘To me?’ Her eyes widened, as if she was surprised he’d even ask. ‘Tarek and I will leave the palace and live elsewhere.’

Tarek. Her son.

He’d imagined once that she’d give him a son…

Karim slammed a barrier down on such sentimental thoughts. He didn’t know what was wrong with him today. It was as if the feelings he’d put away years before hadn’t gone away at all, but had festered, waiting to surge up and slap him down when he least expected it.

Deliberately he did what he did best—focused on the problem at hand, ready to find a solution.

‘So if you have no personal interest in the next Sheikh, why come all the way here to see me? The Assaran envoy saw me a couple of hours ago. Couldn’t you trust him to do the job he was chosen for?’

Karim knew something of Assaran politics. He couldn’t believe the previous Sheikh had allowed his wife to play any significant role in matters of state. Whichever way he examined it, Safiyah’s behaviour was odd.

‘I didn’t want to get involved.’ Again her voice was low. ‘But I felt duty-bound to come, just in case…’ She shook her head and looked at a point near his ear. ‘The Council is very eager to convince you. It was agreed that I should add my arguments if necessary.’

‘And what arguments might those be?’

Karim kept his eyes fixed on her face. He wasn’t tacky enough to stare at all the female bounty encased in rustling silk. But perhaps she’d guessed that he was wondering what persuasions she’d try. Colour streaked her cheekbones and her breasts lifted high on a suddenly indrawn breath.

‘Assara needs you—’

‘In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not into a life of public service any more. I work for myself now.’

Her mouth settled in a line that spoke of determination. Had he ever seen her look like that? His memory of Safiyah at twenty-two was that she’d been gentle and eager to go along with whatever he suggested.

But that had been almost five years ago. He couldn’t be expected to remember everything about her clearly, even if it felt like he did.

‘I could talk about the wealth and honour that will be yours if you take the throne…’

She paused, but he didn’t respond. Karim had his own money. He also knew that being Sheikh meant a lifetime of duty and responsibility. Riches and the glamour of a royal title didn’t sway him.

Safiyah inclined her head, as if his non-response confirmed what she’d expected. ‘Most important of all, you’d make a fine leader. You have the qualities Assara needs. You’re honest, fair and hardworking. The political elite respect you. Plus you’re interested in the wellbeing of the people. Everyone says it was you who began to make Za’daq better for those who weren’t born rich.’

Karim felt his eyebrows climb. He was tempted to think she was trying to flatter him into accepting the position. Except there was nothing toadying about her demeanour.

‘The nobles trust you. The people trust you.’

He shook his head. ‘That was a long time ago.’

‘Your qualities and experience will stand you in good stead no matter how long it’s been. And it’s only been a few years.’

Years since he’d left his homeland and turned his back on everything he’d known. He was only now beginning to feel that he’d settled into his new life.

Safiyah leaned forward, and he felt for the first time since she’d arrived that she wasn’t conscious of her body language. Earlier she’d seemed very self-aware. Now she was too caught up in their discussion to be guarded. He read animation in her brown eyes and knew, whatever her real reason for being here, that she meant what she said.

Karim canted closer, drawn to her in spite of himself.

‘It’s what you were born to do and you’d excel at it.’

Abruptly Karim sank back in his seat. Her words had unravelled the spell she’d woven. The moment of connection broke, shattered by a wave of revulsion.

‘It doesn’t matter what I was born to do.’ His nostrils flared as he swallowed rising acid. ‘I’ve renounced all that.’

Because he wasn’t the man the world thought him. He was the bastard son of an unfaithful queen and her shadowy lover.

‘Of course it matters!’ Her clasped hands trembled as if with the force of her emotion. ‘Assara desperately needs a ruler who can keep the country together—especially now, when rival clans are stirring dissension and jealousy. Each wants their own man on the throne.’

Karim shrugged. ‘Why should I bother? One of them will be elected and the others will have to put up with it. Maybe there’ll be unrest for a bit, but it will die down.’

‘You don’t see…’

She paused and looked down at her hands. Karim saw a tiny cleft appear in her cheek and then vanish. She was biting the inside of her mouth again. Absurdly, the sight moved him.

‘What aren’t you saying, Safiyah?’

It was the first time he’d spoken her name aloud in years. Her chin jerked up and for a moment her gaze clung to his. But he wasn’t foolish enough to be beguiled by that haunted look.

See? Already it was gone, replaced by a smooth, composed mask.

‘You’re the best man for the role, Karim—far better than any of the other contenders. You’d make a real difference in Assara. The country needs a strong, honest leader who’ll work for all his people.’

Karim digested that. Was she implying that her dead husband hadn’t been a good ruler? The idea intrigued him. Or was she just referring to unrest now?

To his annoyance her expression gave little away. The Safiyah he’d once known, or thought he’d known, had been far easier to read. Even more annoying was the fact his interest was aroused by the idea of doing something intrinsically worthwhile. Something more meaningful than merely building his own wealth.

Karim frowned. How had Safiyah guessed such an appeal would tempt him?

He enjoyed the challenge of expanding his business interests. The cut and thrust of negotiation, of locating opportunities ripe for development and capitalising on them. That took skill, dedication and a fine sense of timing. Yet was it as satisfying as the work he’d been trained to do—using his skills to rule a nation?

The thought of Safiyah knowing him so well—better, it seemed, than he knew himself—infuriated him. This was the woman who’d spurned him when she discovered the secret taint of his illegitimacy. He’d believed in her, yet she’d turned her back on him without even the pretence of regret, much less a farewell. It galled him that anything she said could make him doubt even for a second his chosen course.

What was wrong with concentrating on his own life, his own needs? Let others devote themselves to public service. He’d done his bit. Assara wasn’t even his country.

Karim leaned back in his seat, raising his eyebrows. ‘But I’m not a contender. I have already made that clear.’

He almost stood then, signifying the interview was over. But something prevented him. Something not at all fine or statesmanlike. An impulse grounded in the hurt he’d felt when she’d abandoned him.

‘Unless…’

Satisfaction rose as she leaned closer, avid to hear more, her lush, cherry-red lips parted.

Karim had a sudden disconcerting memory of those lips pressed against his. They’d been devoid of lipstick and petal-soft. Her ardent, slightly clumsy kiss had enchanted and worried him. For, much as he’d wanted her, he had known he shouldn’t seduce an innocent, even if they were on the verge of marriage. Especially an innocent who, with her father, was a guest in the royal palace.

Safiyah had been all the things Karim hadn’t even known he wanted in a wife: generous, bright, shyly engaging and incredibly sexy. She’d been the reason he’d finally decided to give in to his father’s demand that he marry.

‘Unless?’ Her voice was like honey.

‘Unless there was more to the deal…an inducement.’

He leaned forward, and for a moment the space between them was negligible. He was close enough to see the tiny amber flecks in her brown eyes, to reacquaint himself with the creamy perfection of her skin and inhale a teasing drift of scent. A delicate floral perfume, with a warm, enticing undertone, that was unique to Safiyah.

That hint of fragrance hit him like a body-blow, sweeping him back to a time when he’d had everything. He’d been a prince, secure in his position, his place in the world and his family. He’d enjoyed his work, helping his father run Za’daq. He hadn’t even regretted giving up his sexual freedom because Safiyah had turned the prospect of marriage from a duty to a pleasure.

‘What sort of inducement?’ Her voice was steady but her eyes were wary.

Karim told himself to leave it. To walk away. He had no intention of taking this further.

Then he heard his own voice saying, ‘Marriage.’

He couldn’t mean it.

He wasn’t talking about marriage to her. Yet a strange shivery feeling rippled down her spine and curled into her belly like large fingers digging deep. Her skin prickled all over and heat eddied in disturbing places.

‘I’m sure that will be no problem.’ She forced a smile. ‘You’ll have your pick of eligible women.’

And Karim didn’t need a crown or wealth to attract them. He was handsome, urbane and, she knew to her cost, charming. He could coax the birds from the trees if he set his mind to it. No wonder she, so unworldly and inexperienced at twenty-two, had been taken in, thinking his attentions meant something special.

‘I don’t need to pick when there’s one obvious choice.’

His crystalline gaze locked on hers and his voice deepened to a baritone note she felt vibrate through her bones.

‘The Queen of Assara.’

His words were clear. Safiyah heard them, and yet she told herself Karim had said something else. He couldn’t really mean—

‘You, Safiyah.’

‘Me?’ Her voice rose to a wobbly high note.

Once she’d believed he wanted to marry her, that he cared for her. Her father had been sure too. And so had Karim’s father. He’d permitted her and her father to stay at the Za’daqi palace even while, as they’d discovered later, he was in the final stages of terminal illness.

But when a family emergency had dragged her and her father back to Assara everything had fallen apart. Karim hadn’t farewelled them. Nor had he responded to the note she’d left him. A note she’d written and rewritten. There’d been no attempt to contact her since. Just…nothing. Not a single word. When she’d tried to contact him at the palace she’d been fobbed off.

Then had come the news that Karim’s father had died. To everyone’s amazement Karim had renounced the throne and left Za’daq. Even then she’d waited, refusing to believe he’d really abandoned her. Days had turned into weeks. Weeks to months. And still no word. And over those months her faith in him had shrivelled and turned into hurt, disbelief and finally anger.

Even at the last moment, when she’d been cornered in a situation she’d never wanted, a small, irrepressible part of her had hoped he’d step in and stop—

‘Safiyah?’

She blinked and looked into that dark gaze. Once those eyes had glowed warm and she’d read affection there. Now they gave nothing away. The coldness emanating from him chilled her to the core.

‘You want to marry me?’ Finally she managed to control her vocal cords. The words emerged husky but even.

‘Want…?’ Forehead crinkling, he tilted his head as if musing on the idea. But the eyes pinioning hers held nothing like desire or pleasure. His expression was calculating.

That was what gave Safiyah the strength to sit up, spine stiff, eyebrows raised, as if his answer was only of mild interest. As if his patent lack of interest in her as a potential wife, a woman and a lover, didn’t hurt.

She would not let him guess the terrible pain his indifference stirred. Everything inside her shrivelled. Bizarre that, even after his rejection years before, part of her had obstinately clung to the idea that he’d cared.

‘You’re right. No sensible man would want to marry a woman who ran out on him like a thief in the night.’

She gaped at the way he’d twisted the past. How dared he? Hearing the devastating news of her sister’s attempted suicide, of course Safiyah and her father had gone to her immediately. Her father had made their apologies for the sudden departure, referring to a family emergency. Safiyah had assumed she’d have a chance to explain to Karim personally later.

Except he’d refused to take her calls. He’d led her on to believe he cared, then dumped her, and now he was pretending she’d been the one at fault!

‘Now, look here! I—’

‘Not that it matters now. The past is dead, not worth discussing.’ He sliced the air with a decisive chopping motion, his expression cold. ‘As for wanting marriage now… Perhaps need is a better word.’ He opened those wide shoulders and spread his hands in a fatalistic gesture.

‘I can’t see your logic.’

Safiyah’s voice was clipped, that of a woman ostensibly in control. She wouldn’t demean herself by rehashing the past. He was right. It was over. She should count herself lucky she’d discovered Karim’s true nature when she had. He hadn’t been the paragon she’d believed.

‘There’s no reason for us to marry.’

‘You don’t think so?’ He shook his head. ‘I disagree. Despite what your law says, even the most optimistic supporter couldn’t expect me to take the throne of Assara without a ripple. I’m a foreigner, an unknown quantity. You’ve said yourself that there are political undercurrents and rivalry in the country’s ruling elite. To overcome those an incoming ruler would need to show a strong link to Assara and to the throne.’

He paused, watching her reaction. Now, with a sinking heart, Safiyah understood where he was going. And it made a horrible sort of sense.

‘What better way of showing my respect for Assara and cultivating a sense of continuity than to marry the current Queen?’

Except said Queen would do just about anything to avoid another marriage. Particularly marriage to this man. Call it pride, call it self-preservation, but she’d be mad to agree.

‘I disagree. With the Council’s backing a newcomer, especially one with your qualities and experience, would be able to establish himself.’ He was far, far better than the other alternatives.

Karim steepled his fingertips beneath his chin as if considering. But his response came so quickly she knew he’d immediately discounted her words.

‘Besides, if I married you…’

Was it her imagination or did his voice slow on the words?

‘Your son wouldn’t be disinherited. That would satisfy any elements concerned at him being replaced by a foreigner. It would ensure the long-term continuity of the current dynasty.’

Safiyah sat in stunned silence, thinking through the implications of his words. ‘You mean Tarek would be your heir? You’d adopt him?’ The idea stunned her.

Emotion flickered across Karim’s unreadable expression. ‘I’m not a man who’d happily rip away someone’s birthright, no matter what the constitution allows.’

There was something in his tone of voice, a peculiar resonance, that piqued her curiosity. Safiyah sensed there was more to his words than there seemed. But what?

She was on the verge of probing, till she read his body language. His hard-set jaw and flared nostrils revealed a man holding in strong emotion. Now wasn’t the time to pursue this—not if she wanted him to take the throne.

Which was why she didn’t instantly refuse. She needed time to persuade him.

‘Are you saying if I agree to marry you…’ she paused, fighting to keep her voice even ‘…you’d take the crown?’

His gaze sharpened. She felt it like an abrasive scrape across her flesh. The grooves bracketing those firm lips deepened, as if hinting at a smile, yet there was no softening in that austere, powerful face.

‘I’m saying that if you agree to marry me I’ll consider changing my mind about accepting the sheikhdom.’

Well, that put her in her place. Safiyah felt the air whoosh from her lungs, her chest crumpling with the force of that outward breath. Even if she agreed to marriage, it might not be enough to persuade him.

She’d never thought herself a particularly proud woman, but she hated that Karim had the power, still, to deflate her. To make her feel she was of no consequence. That incensed her.

For years she’d fought to maintain her self-respect and sense of worth, married to a man who adhered to the traditional view that a wife was merely an extension of her husband’s will. Particularly a wife who’d been exalted by marrying a royal sheikh.

Fury surged at Karim’s off-hand attitude. How dared he on the one hand ask her to marry him and on the other make it clear that even such a sacrifice on her part might not be enough to sway him?

Not that he’d asked her to marry him. He’d put it out there like some clause in a business contract.

Safiyah felt hot blood creep up her throat and into her cheeks. She wanted to let rip. To tell him he was an arrogant jerk, despite his royal blood. Her marriage had taught her that royals were no more perfect than anyone else. If anything, their ability to command not only great wealth, but the obedience of everyone around them, could amplify their character flaws.