He really was extraordinarily handsome. And the way he looked at her, as if he saw no one but her, sent delicious anticipation skittering through her.
She broke eye contact and looked at the women, summoning up a smile of thanks.
This wouldn’t do. She’d agreed to go through with this masquerade.
But it would be a disaster if she kept reading things into his expression. Things that weren’t there. To Rafiq she was the solution to a problem. That was all. Despite the warmth of his hand holding hers last night, and the deep honeyed tones that had sent an illicit shiver of excitement through her, she meant nothing to him.
She was simply reacting on the most basic level to an ultra sexy man. A man, moreover, who had the sort of integrity and honesty she’d always admired.
Belle pushed back her shoulders and lifted her chin. The only way to get through this with her dignity and self-respect intact was to ignore the undercurrents and pretend he didn’t affect her.
Rafiq said something in Arabic and the women curtsied again, then left with a few speculative glances over their shoulders. He turned and smiled at her, and she felt her heart turn over in her breast.
Hell! What hope did she have?
`You look exquisite, Belle.’ He paced closer.
Heat bloomed beneath her skin at the compliment, and at the look on his face. She had to remember she was fooling herself when she saw hot possessiveness glitter in his eyes, sensual promise in the curve of his lips. She was doing it again imagining what she wanted to see.
That knowledge gave her the strength to stand her ground: But when he took her hand in his, raised it to his mouth and kissed it, she couldn’t prevent the tremor of desire that coursed through her.
Or the jittering pulse that leapt to life in her throat.
Had Rafiq noticed? He stood so long, holding her hand to his mouth. His breath was a warm haze on her skin, his gaze searing as he watched her with those exotic green eyes. Belle’s whole body heated in response, willing him to press his lips to her hand again.
Praying he wouldn’t.
`Thank you. And you look magnificent, Rafiq,’ she managed at last. Her voice had a hoarse edge and she swallowed. `Like a prince out of the Arabian Nights.’
He laughed. `You are a romantic, Belle. I knew it.’ He drew her close and tucked her arm through his. So close that the memories flooded back. Of his big body so hard and impressive, lying intimately over hers. Of the long hours spent cradling his head, his breath feathering against her neck. Of the way he made her feel: vulnerable, aware, needy. The sea salt and musk scent of his skin tantalized her, awoke responses she’d rather ignore.
He led her to the door and Belle concentrated on maintaining some minuscule distance between them. But in these clothes, these sensuous, butterfly sheer silks, she felt the whisper of temptation with every step she took.
`You are excellent for my ego,’ he said. Èvery man likes to hear how wonderful he is. I see that in marrying you I have much to look forward to.’
Belle stumbled and his hand tightened on her arm. He stopped, the laughter fading from his face. She looked up to see his expression grow serious.
Ìt will be all right. I promise, Belle, you will have nothing to regret in this marriage. I will look after you.’
She nodded, snared by the strength of emotion she read in his face.
The only problem was she knew he was wrong. Already she had nothing but regrets.
Ì understand how difficult this is. And how much I’m asking of you.’ His lips curved up in a tender smile that melted at least one of her vital organs. Maybe it was her lungs she had to fight for breath just watching him.
`You will carry this off with dignity and grace. I will support you, and you will be a wonderful success.’ His voice dropped to a low murmur that weakened her knees.
He leaned close as he spoke, his words caressing her face, and Belle bit down hard on her lip, fighting the compulsion to tilt her head up just a fraction more to close the distance between them. To press her lips against his and assuage the aching need that consumed her.
His eyes gleamed with an inner fire. His hands clamped tighter on hers. Drawing her closer or holding her away?
Ì will not forget what you have done for my country.’
For his country. Right. A cold, solid lump of common sense thudded down inside her, smashing the shimmering tension, dousing the bright expectation that had swelled as she waited for his lips to take her.
They were going through with this charade to save his country.
And don’t you forget it, Belle. This is all for show.
Apparently she managed to look the part of radiant bride to be, even though her stomach was a roiling mass of nervous tension and her smile a taut stretch of stiff muscles. When she emerged into the huge throne room on Rafiq’s arm and took her place beside him, on a smaller ornate, glittering chair, there was no outcry, no protest from the audience that this was a sham.