“I had to know my bride was willing. With no secrets.”
Beth bowed her head guiltily. “Until I wrecked it by pretending I was Edith.” She shook her head. “You never thought of just waiting to fall in love?”
“Love?” he said harshly. “I thought I was in love with Ferida. Love makes you blind.” He thought of his father. “It makes you reckless and cruel.”
“Not true love,” Beth whispered.
He gave a hard laugh. “True love—what is that?”
She looked into his face. “When you care for someone so much, their happiness matters more than your own.”
For a moment, Omar caught his breath. Then his shoulders tightened.
“I love my country. There’s no room in my heart for anyone else.”
Turning away, Beth gently set down her goblet. “It’s funny. You don’t even want to be loved. While I’ve dreamed of it my whole life, of being someone’s most important person. And someday, after I leave here...” She lifted her chin. “Someday, I’ll find someone who loves me. And we’ll love each other forever.”
Omar felt a sudden sharp pain in his throat. He rose unsteadily from the sofa.
“Then we must pray you’re not pregnant, Beth,” he said quietly. “So you can find your true happiness.”
And he left her in the queen’s bedroom without a backward glance, forcing his heart to stone.
CHAPTER NINE
THE NEXT MORNING Omar was in the small council chamber, beginning business negotiations with a multinational oil firm, when he got a panicked phone call from the only person he would have allowed to interrupt—Beth.
“I’m all right,” were her first trembling words. All of Omar’s senses went on alarm.
“What’s happened?”
Her voice choked on a sob. Omar’s heart lifted to his throat. Looking at the others in the room, he said harshly, “Leave. Now.”
The powerful businessmen looked at him, then at each other. Reluctantly, they left. Only his vizier lingered, listening.
“What’s happened?” Omar bit out, clawing his dark hair back as he paced in his Italian-cut suit.
“You know I was cutting the ribbon to help open the new clinic today.” He heard the shock in her voice, the tears. “It was all good. Until some men in the crowd started yelling that I wasn’t Dr. Edith Farraday, and I didn’t deserve to be queen because I was really just a cheap tart who worked in a shop. I didn’t know what to do. I froze. And then—then—” Her voice choked on a sob. “They started throwing things at me. Tomatoes at first...then rocks...”
Rage pulsed through Omar as he gripped the phone.
“I’m coming to get you,” he bit out, heading for the door.
“No. I’m all right.” Her voice broke. “Your bodyguard is driving me back to the palace. But...” She sounded pitiful as she whispered, “The back of your R
olls-Royce will have to be cleaned, from all the tomatoes dripping off me.”
“I’ll be waiting at the back door when you arrive,” Omar said curtly, and hung up.
“What’s happened, sire?” his vizier asked innocently.
“Somehow news got out about Beth.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” he said grimly. But whoever the men were, he wanted to kill them. With his bare hands. “Find out who leaked the story.”
“Of course, sire,” Khalid said. Bowing, he left.