The Royal House of Karedes: Two Crowns: The Sheikh's Forbidden Virgin / The Greek Billionaire's Innocent Princess / The Future King's Love-Child

Aarif suggested they have lunch at a highbrow-looking restaurant with private rooms and deep, plush chairs, but Kalila refused, wanting to stay out in the noise and tumult of the market. She had a sudden fear that she would lose him in the oppressive formality of such a place; out here, in the market, he was more accessible, more free, and so was she.

They ate greasy, succulent kebabs at a food stall, licking their fingers and washing it down with bottles of warm Orangina, and yet Kalila found it to be one of the best meals she’d ever eaten, with the sun warm on her head, Aarif’s eyes warm on her face.

He didn’t smile, didn’t even unbend, and yet she felt something had changed, shifted imperceptibly between them, and she was glad. It reminded her of how his skin had felt against hers, his lips on hers, and with an inward shiver she knew she wanted to feel that again.

To feel the intimacy of touch, and yet a deeper intimacy too, one of spirit. It amazed her even now that she’d felt that with Aarif…Aarif, who was so hard and dark and harsh. And yet she had; she knew she had, and it felt like something precious, something sacred.

After lunch they wandered around the other side of the market square, where the common hucksters performed their stunts to a half-indifferent, half-enchanted crowd: snake charmers, with the dozy cobras coiled in their baskets, weaving their heads sleepily upwards, the flame-throwers and fire-eaters, and a grinning ‘dentist’, armed as he was with a basket of pulled, yellowed teeth and a pair of rusty pliers.

‘He’s just there to scare what tourists come our way,’ Aarif murmured in her ear. ‘We have a national health service, and I can assure you he is not employed by it.’

Kalila smothered a laugh. ‘You mean you haven’t used his services yourself?’

Aarif’s smile gleamed, white and whole. ‘Most assuredly not.’

His hand came around her elbow, guiding her to the edge of the market square. ‘Your nurse is flagging,’ he remarked quietly. ‘I think it might be time to sit down. She looks as if her feet are killing her.’

Guiltily Kalila threw a look behind her, where Juhanah lagged back a few paces. Her nurse did look tired, and her pinched expression suggested that she would indeed prefer a rest.

‘Why don’t we take tea?’ Aarif suggested. ‘You might have preferred eating standing up in the street, but I don’t think your nurse did.’

‘I’m sorry, Juhanah,’ Kalila said, coming to take the older woman’s arm. ‘I’ve been so enjoying the sights, I haven’t thought enough of you.’

‘And enjoying more than the sights, it would seem,’ Juhanah huffed under her breath, and Kalila shot her a sharp look. Were her feelings for Aarif so obvious? She barely knew what they were herself.

Aarif guided them to a flat-roofed café on the north end of the square. Once inside they were greeted with a flurry of excited chatter interspersed with bows, and then they were taken up a narrow staircase to the roof, open to the sun and sky.

They sat down at a shaded table and a dark-coated waiter soon arrived with glasses of mint tea and a plate of salted pistachios.

They sipped and nibbled in silence for a moment, the sounds of the market below carried on the breeze.

‘Thank you,’ Kalila said at last, ‘for showing me Serapolis.’

‘There’s much more to see,’ Aarif replied with a tiny smile and a shrug. ‘Although nothing is quite as exciting as the central square on market day.’

‘I’m glad to have seen it.’

Aarif raised his eyebrows. ‘You must have seen similar sights back in Zaraq. Makaris’s market looked quite like ours.’

‘Yes,’ Kalila agreed slowly, ‘it is, and yet there is something different here.’ She looked around at the market below them, and then at the sea, a glinting jewel-green on three horizons. ‘There’s more of an international flavour here,’ she said at last, ‘an energy. In Zaraq, we are cut off from most of the world by mountains. It is what has kept us from being invaded, but it has also kept us isolated.’

‘Yet your country is very Western and progressive.’

‘On the surface,’ Kalila agreed after a moment, ‘if not in reality.’ She pressed her lips together and looked away, but she was still conscious of Aarif’s frown.

‘What are you speaking of?’ he asked after a moment. He rolled the tall glass of mint tea, beaded with moisture, between his palms as he looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Are you referring to your marriage?’ he continued quietly, although Kalila thought she heard an edge to his voice. ‘Arranged as it has been?’

She shrugged. ‘Not very Western, that.’

‘But necessary.’

‘Yes.’

‘You could have refused your father,’ Aarif said after a moment. ‘When you were in Cambridge.’ He leaned forward, his expression suddenly intent. ‘You could have said no.’

Kalila glanced up from her drink, her eyes widening as she realised what he’d said. What he’d guessed. For that was exactly the temptation that had assailed her in Cambridge, that forbidden, wonderful thought of what could be…but never would.

‘Yes,’ she said slowly, ‘I could have, I suppose. But I knew I never would.’

‘Why not?’ Aarif demanded, and Kalila shrugged.

‘Because. I couldn’t betray my family, my heritage,’ she stated simply. ‘It would be the same as betraying myself.’

Aarif looked away again, yet Kalila had the strange sensation that her answer had somehow satisfied him. She glanced at Juhanah and saw that the older woman had succumbed to the pleasures of a drowsy afternoon in the sun, and was now dozing, her chin nodding against her chest. She turned back to Aarif, a smile glimmering in her eyes, playing around her mouth.

‘We wore her out.’

Aarif smiled faintly. ‘So it would seem.’

She couldn’t resist taking advantage of the privacy afforded by Juhanah’s momentary nap. Kalila leaned forward. ‘What about you, Aarif? What brought you back to Calista? Were you ever tempted to stay in Oxford, make a life there?’

His fingers flexed around his glass. ‘No.’

‘Not at all?’ Kalila persisted, trying to tease, yet sensing a deeper darkness to Aarif’s words, seeing it in his frown.

‘No, my duty has always been here. There was never any question of anything else.’ He spoke flatly, his eyes on the horizon, or perhaps lost in a memory.

‘You always wanted to manage Calista’s diamonds?’

He shrugged. ‘Always, no. But for many years…’ he paused, and Kalila felt as if he was weighing his words, his thoughts. ‘Yes,’ he finally said, and left it at that.

‘What about one of your other brothers?’ Kalila asked. ‘Are they interested in the diamond industry?’ She snagged on a sudden memory. ‘Don’t you have a twin?’

‘Yes, and he has his own affairs to occupy him,’ Aarif replied. He drained his glass and set it on the table. ‘Now the day is late and it is not good for any of us to sit out too long in the sun. Why don’t you wake your nurse and we can go.’ He rose from the table to settle the bill, leaving Kalila feeling dismissed. She’d asked too many questions, she knew. She’d tried to get too close.

And yet she’d been closer than this—and closer still—the night in the desert. She couldn’t forget that wonderful moment of surprising intimacy, yet, watching the indifferent expanse of Aarif’s broad back as he moved through the tables, she felt with a pang of weary sorrow that he could.

Kalila roused Juhanah, who insisted she’d not been asleep at all, but merely resting her eyes, and they made their way back to the palace in rather sombre silence.

A liveried servant swept the front door open and as soon as they were in the foyer Aarif bowed and, with a polite, formal thanks for their company, he took his leave.

Kalila watched him go with a sense of disappointed loss. She had a feeling Aarif would make sure she didn’t see him again any time soon. He’d done his duty and taken her out, shown her the city. Now he would find excuses to stay away, and Kalila couldn’t think of any to see him again. She envisioned a week of meals in her room, followed by a sudden and inexplicable wedding, and felt the loss intensify inside her.

Back in her bedroom the late afternoon sunlight sent long, lazy shadows across the floor, and the ceiling fan whirred slowly above them, creating barely a stir of air.

There, on her bed, was a paper-wrapped package, and before she’d even touched it Kalila knew what it was.

Her silk. The silk Aarif had chosen for her, had said would look lovely on her—

Kalila choked back a sudden sob, pressing her fist to her mouth. She couldn’t cry now, not when it was too late, when nothing could be done—

‘Oh, Kalila.’ Juhanah stood in the doorway, her fists on her hips. ‘What foolish thing have you done, my child?’

Kalila blinked back tears. ‘N-n—nothing—’

‘You have fallen in love, haven’t you?’ Juhanah closed the door, shaking her head as she moved closer to Kalila and laid a heavy, consoling hand on her shoulder. ‘You miss the king, and so you have taken the prince instead.’ Kalila heard both sympathy and censure in Juhanah’s voice. ‘Haven’t you?’

Kalila closed her eyes. She was too tired and heart-sore to deny it, so she said nothing. Juhanah clucked her tongue and sighed.

‘It is unfortunate, of course, but it will pass. It is only because the king was not here to see you, and in your disappointment you looked to someone else.’

Kalila kept her eyes closed, her face averted. She wasn’t in love with Aarif, she told herself fiercely. He had moments of kindness, of softness, but that was all—

‘I’m not in love with him.’ There. That had come out strong, sure. She opened her eyes and blinked back the last sting of tears. ‘He has been kind, Juhanah, and I’m homesick and lonely. But it is no more than that.’

‘No, indeed.’ Juhanah’s voice was sharp with suspicion and her fingers tightened on Kalila’s shoulder. ‘Nothing happened when you ran off?’ she asked. ‘You were gone a full night—’

‘Juhanah!’ Kalila made herself sound shocked. She shrugged off her nurse’s hand and moved to put the silk away. ‘What are you talking about? Prince Aarif found me in the morning. He told you that himself.’

‘Yes…’ Juhanah let her breath out slowly, and then gave a little nod, seemingly satisfied.

Kalila didn’t realise how hard and fast her heart was beating until her nurse left the room. She moved to the window, her hands pressed to her flushed cheeks, and tried to still her racing heart.

If Juhanah discovered what had happened, she trusted her nurse not to say anything, yet she didn’t think she could bear her disappointment. And yet what did it matter if Juhanah found out? If anyone found out?

The only person who couldn’t find out was Zakari, and Aarif was determined to tell him. And what would happen then? Any chance of happiness—she’d given up on love—would be destroyed. Zakari would hate her, and even if he forgave her their relationship would always be tainted with betrayal, her betrayal—

She would live under a shadow, a stain that could never be cleaned away. The thought was crippling, devastating.

She couldn’t let that happen. Not for her sake, for Zakari’s sake, for the sake of the country. Not for Aarif’s sake.

Taking a deep breath, Kalila felt her determination harden into resolve. Tonight she would find Aarif again, and make him understand.

After another quiet meal in her bedroom with Juhanah, Kalila dismissed her nurse, insisting that once again she was tired and wished only to sleep. Juhanah, however, was less likely to believe this tale, and left with only the greatest reluctance and eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Kalila waited a full hour before she slipped from her room; by that time the dark, quiet corridors were lit only by moonlight and she could hear Juhanah’s snores through the door of her bedroom.

It took her a while to find her way through the winding corridors of the palace, and when she did finally stumble upon the library it was dark and empty. Disappointment echoed through her as she surveyed the silent room. She’d been counting on Aarif being there.

Waiting for her? a sly inner voice mocked, and Kalila pushed it away resolutely.

She turned away, at a loss. The night stretched emptily, endlessly in front of her.

‘Princess?’ A disembodied voice floated through the darkness, and Kalila stiffened. The lights flickered on, bringing a mundane yet welcome reality to the situation, and a servant bowed before asking, ‘May I help you, Princess?’

‘I…’ She licked her lips, her cheeks flushing. She felt as if she’d been caught sneaking around after bedtime, and yet in little more than a week she would be mistress of this place. The realisation made her straighten and look at the man with dignity. ‘I was looking for the gardens,’ she said. ‘I would like some fresh air.’

The servant’s face was professionally blank as he inclined his head. ‘It is dark out, Princess.’

‘I think I can manage,’ Kalila returned a bit tartly, and, nodding again, the servant led her down another tangle of corridors to a heavy wooden door that clearly led outside.

‘I’ll wait for you here,’ he said, and Kalila replied a bit sharply.

‘Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I’m quite sure I can find my way back.’ In fact she wasn’t, but she didn’t want a guardian.

Once out in the cool darkness of the garden she wandered down a twisting path lined with palm trees, the cloying scent of jasmine heavy on the air. What to do now? Where to go? She felt as lonely and lost as a little girl, and wished she didn’t. Suppressing a sigh that would just tumble her straight into self-pity, Kalila wandered for a few moments until the surprising sound of splashing pulled her curiously in the direction of the noise.

She came round another corner, half expecting to see a pool or fountain, and instead came face to face with Aarif.

He wore only a towel around his hips, his chest bare and brown and beaded with droplets of water. Kalila stared. She’d never seen his chest, only felt it against her own skin, and now she was transfixed by the sight of the lean, hard muscle.

Aarif muttered an oath under his breath when he saw her, and whirled around, jerking the shirt he’d held in his hand over his head. Yet still in that brief moment Kalila saw his back, watched as the moonlight bathed the scars there that she’d felt with her fingertips. They were old scars, long, jagged lines, and instinctively she knew what they were.

Aarif had been whipped.

She opened her mouth to say something, ask—what?—but Aarif had already turned around, and was buttoning up his shirt with stiff fingers. ‘What are you doing out here, Princess?’ he asked tightly.

‘What were you doing?’ Kalila challenged. ‘Is there a pool out here?’

Aarif raised one eyebrow in surprising, sardonic amusement. ‘There must be, unless I jumped in a fountain.’

Kalila smiled at the mental image. ‘Can you show me it?’

‘Do you want to go swimming at this hour?’

She shrugged, not willing to admit she just wanted to be with him. ‘Why not? You did.’

‘You’re not wearing a swimming costume.’

She smiled, the gesture innately coy. ‘Do I need one?’

Aarif’s expression froze, and Kalila wished she hadn’t been so provocative. Then he swivelled on his heel and she followed him down the shadowy path.

They came out into an open courtyard, and in the darkness the pool was no more than a glint of moonlight on the water, the sound of the water lapping against the sides. Kalila regarded it for a moment, feeling slightly silly. She was not about to go swimming.

‘Do you like to go swimming?’ she asked, and her voice sounded false and bright.

‘I have made myself like it,’ Aarif replied, which was a strange enough answer to make Kalila curious and want to know more.

‘Made yourself? You didn’t before?’

‘I nearly drowned as a young man. It left an impression.’

Kalila could just imagine how resolutely Aarif would conquer his fears, forcing himself to swim even when it was the last thing he wanted.

‘It looks like a lovely pool,’ she said lamely, and in the moonlight she could see Aarif’s hard expression. All the things she’d been wanting to say—confront him with—died too, withered under that expression.

‘Have you heard from Zakari?’ she finally asked in a small voice.

Aarif’s tiny hesitation told her all she needed to know. ‘No,’ he admitted, ‘but he is likely to be in contact soon.’

‘How thoughtful of him,’ Kalila snapped.

Aarif shrugged. ‘Considering the circumstances, I would’ve thought you’d be grateful for a reprieve.’

A reprieve. It sounded so grim, so grisly. ‘Perhaps,’ Kalila allowed, ‘but I don’t like feeling completely unimportant, either. I feel like I’ve been discarded—’ she took a breath, daring, needing ‘twice—’

Aarif stilled. ‘There was nothing between us, Kalila,’ he said quietly. ‘Do not make it so simply because you are unhappy and alone.’

The truth of his words stung, and yet she also knew it was more than that, deeper than that. ‘Do you feel anything for me, Aarif?’ she asked, grateful for the darkness that hid her burning cheeks. She hated having to be so open, so vulnerable, knowing it would only lead to a rejection painful in its bluntness. Still, she had to ask. She needed to know. ‘Did you feel anything for me that night?’ she whispered.

Aarif was silent, and in the moonlight Kalila could barely see his face, yet she knew even in the blazing daylight no emotion would be revealed there. He had closed himself off from her already. He was good at that. ‘Even if I were in love with you,’ Aarif said slowly, heavily, ‘it would not matter. Your duty is to my brother, and so is mine.’

‘It would matter,’ Kalila whispered, her throat aching, ‘to me.’

For a moment—a second—she thought he looked torn, perhaps in as much anguish as she was herself. Kalila took advantage of what might be her only opening to reach for him, her hand bunching on the front of his shirt, damp from his skin.

‘Aarif, please—’ She didn’t know what she was asking for, only that she needed him. Needed this, and to her amazement and joy he gave it to her, his hands curling tightly around her shoulders and drawing her to him.

Kalila’s head fell back, her lips parting, her eyes closed, waiting—and she felt Aarif hesitate. She knew, even now, that he was struggling, at war with himself, and that the wisest decision, the right decision, would be to pull away and leave them both with their dignity and duty.

Yet she didn’t. Couldn’t, because she wanted this—him—too much. And when he lowered his head and his lips finally brushed hers, she couldn’t keep back the sigh of both pleasure and relief.

How she’d missed this—this closeness, this connection, and of course the pleasure, running through her like honey in her veins, heating her blood, firing her heart. His mouth moved on top of hers, his tongue seeking hers, and then, all too soon, it was over, and he released her with such sudden, savage force that Kalila stumbled backwards.

Still dazed by his kiss, she blinked in the darkness and saw rage flash across his features, spark in his eyes. ‘What do you want from me, Kalila?’ he demanded, his voice raw. ‘You want me to swoon over you, make a fool of myself over you? Do you want my soul? Will that help anything? Will it help you when you are married to my brother?’ His words were harsh, grating, judging. Desperate. Kalila took a step back.

‘No—’

‘Here is the truth. I hate myself for what happened between us. I hate myself for betraying my brother, my family, myself, and whatever I could feel for you, if I let myself, is nothing, nothing compared to that.’ His voice and body both shook, and Kalila could only stare, horrified and humbled by the torrent of emotion pouring through him and into his words.

‘Aarif—’

‘That is how it is between us,’ he said flatly, cold and unemotional once more. ‘And how it will always be.’ He began to stride away, and, desperate not to lose him now, now, when she still felt the taste of him in her mouth, Kalila called after him.

‘And what if there is a child?’

Aarif turned around slowly. ‘Is that likely, do you think?’ he asked in a voice devoid of anything, a voice so cold and distant that it made Kalila cringe.

‘I…I don’t know,’ she admitted, and then, goaded by his cool silence, she added quietly, ‘probably not.’

‘Then we will, as they say, cross that bridge when we come to it.’

‘And you are still determined to tell Zakari?’

‘It is hardly something I can keep from him. I am not a liar.’

‘I know. I’m not…’ Kalila licked her lips. ‘Could I tell him instead?’

Aarif stiffened. ‘It is my duty—’

‘Forget your damned duty!’ she cried, her throat hurting from the force of the words, the feeling. ‘Nothing is more important to you than that, I know, but can you think about what is best for Zakari, for me, for our marriage?’ Her voice broke on the word—marriage. ‘Instead of using this overblown sense of duty as a salve for your conscience?’ she added, knowing she’d said it just to wound, and seeing with savage satisfaction Aarif blink in surprised hurt.

‘If you would prefer to tell him,’ he said stiffly, ‘you may do so.’

Kalila let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. ‘Thank you.’

Aarif nodded, and they were both silent, a silence that ached with sorrow and loss. Kalila wondered why Aarif did not walk away; he simply stood there, staring, as she was, and she wondered what was going through his head, what, apart from his duty, he really wanted.

Did he want her, want more than a stolen kiss in the darkness? Had that night in the desert been a thing apart, born of the storm and the frightful clutch of a nightmare? Had it been no more than a dream?

It had been more. For her, it had been more. Kalila took a breath. ‘If you were able to tell me the truth,’ she said, ‘then I will tell you the truth also. That night in the desert—when I held you in my arms—that was not simply because I was lonely and afraid. It was more than that to me, Aarif. It was real. I didn’t love you, because I didn’t know you enough, but when you touched me I felt like I could love you, and I’ve never felt that before.’ Aarif was silent, and from behind a haze of tears Kalila saw a muscle jerk in his jaw.

She took a step towards him, and then another, until she was close enough to touch him, which she did. She ran one fingertip along the livid line of his scar, traced it as she had that night before cupping his cheek. ‘I don’t know what haunts you, Aarif,’ she whispered. ‘What drives you to this sense of duty and despair. Is it guilt? Shame?’ She shook her head slowly. ‘I wish I could take it from you. I wish I could bear it for you.’ His face was still and unyielding under her fingers yet she saw with a little shock that his eyes were closed, as if in pain or anguish, and she felt the connection between them like a current, conducted by her hand on his cheek. ‘I wish you would let me,’ she added quietly. ‘But instead I fear I’ve only added to it, and of all the reasons to regret what happened between us, that is the greatest of all.’

Underneath her hand she felt Aarif shake his head, and then for the briefest of moments his fingers touched hers, pressed her hand against his cheek before he released her, stepping back.

Kalila swallowed past the lump of misery crowding her throat. ‘Goodnight,’ she whispered, and then turned and stumbled down the path back to safety. Solitude.

Loneliness.

CHAPTER EIGHT

KALILA awoke from a dreamless yet discontented sleep as Juhanah bustled in with her breakfast tray. After thanking her nurse, she stared dispiritedly at the coffee and labneh

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