Desert Prince's Stolen Bride

‘My Prince?’ Jahmal sounded cautious. ‘Surely you can simply set her aside? She is only a servant.’

Irritation prickled his scalp and tightened his gut at the suggestion, although it was no more than what he’d already thought himself. Yet somehow he didn’t like his aide saying it.

‘It is not so simple,’ he said tightly. ‘Sultan Hassan will have realised I kidnapped his servant and, moreover, that I intended to kidnap his daughter. Our negotiations will be thrown into total disarray.’ If not broken off completely. ‘I need to mend things with Hassan. When I have an answer from him, I can decide what to do about Olivia.’

‘Still,’ Jahmal persisted. ‘It can be managed. If she is only a servant...’

Only a servant.

It was true, of course. Olivia was, to all intents and purposes, expendable. So why did that thought bother him right now? It shouldn’t, Zayed realised with sudden, crystalline clarity. He was letting sentiment cloud his vision, soften his determination. Despite his suspicions, he felt guilty for the way he’d treated her last night, so he was resisting the prospect of setting her aside and what it would mean for her. But he couldn’t let last night change things. He couldn’t let Olivia matter at all.

‘I do not wish to discuss it now,’ he said in a clipped voice. ‘I am going to wash and then we will eat with the tribal leaders.’

‘Very good, My Prince.’

Later, after he’d washed and eaten, he went in search of Olivia. He hadn’t seen her for several hours, and the realisation made unease deepen within his chest, although he couldn’t say why.

One of the women informed him she’d been given her own tent, which confirmed his suspicions that the tribe knew she was a woman of importance, perhaps even his bride. He really shouldn’t have brought her. His judgement was being clouded again and again, it seemed. The sooner this woman was out of his life, the better.

He bent to enter her tent, the flap falling closed behind him. He straightened, glancing around at the rough furnishings, a far cry from the sumptuous luxury she’d had back at his own camp. She was sitting on a pallet covered with sheepskin, her slender fingers flying as they plaited her damp hair. Her eyes widened as she saw him come in but she said nothing, just watched him warily.

Zayed’s gaze flicked over her. She wore the same nondescript tunic and trousers she’d been in earlier, hardly clothes to inflame a man, yet even now he felt that inexorable pull to her. What was it about this woman? She wasn’t anything special. Yes, her eyes were lovely, and her figure was appealing, but she was just a woman. One among many, although he hadn’t had a woman for a long time before Olivia. Perhaps that was it. He’d denied himself carnal pleasures for too long, in pursuit of his inheritance. His kingdom.

‘Tomorrow we are travelling to Rubyhan.’

‘Rubyhan?’

‘The summer palace of the royal family and the seat of my government.’

She nodded slowly, finishing her plait before resting her hands in her lap. ‘And then?’

‘Then I will contact Sultan Hassan, and you will write the letter.’

‘And when I do? What are you hoping will happen?’

‘That he will understand the mistake I made and we will reopen marriage negotiations.’ Anything else was intolerable, impossible. He had to have Hassan’s support in fighting Malouf. For the last ten years various political leaders had tried to distance themselves from Kalidar’s civil war, waiting to see the outcome. On several occasions he had been on the precipice of victory; once he’d made it to the capital city of Arjah, only to have the palace gates closed against him.

With Hassan’s support, he could exert political pressure on Malouf and force him to resign. The man was old, with no heirs; his soldiers were starting to dissent, tired of the endless fighting against Zayed and his men, knowing him to be the rightful King. A bloodless coup would be the perfect victory and finally, finally, an end to all the war and lo

ss.

Olivia nodded slowly, her head bent, her gaze on her clasped hands. Zayed could see the nape of her neck, the tender skin, the pale, curling hairs, and the sight caused a nameless feeling to clench his insides in a way he didn’t like. ‘And what will happen to me, do you suppose?’ she asked after a moment.

‘Are you hoping for a settlement?’

She looked up, eyes flashing. ‘You sound so judgemental.’

‘I was merely asking a question.’

‘No, you weren’t.’ She took a quick, shuddering breath. ‘You have judged me again and again for falling into bed with you. I admit, it was a mistake. A colossal mistake. But I didn’t mean to do it. If I could undo it, I would. I have no desire to be your Queen. I have never been interested in power or money.’ Another quick breath tore at his senses. He had a bizarre urge to comfort her, even though he knew he couldn’t.

‘All I’ve wanted,’ Olivia continued more quietly, ‘is a place to belong. A sense of family. A job to do. I had all that with the royal family of Abkar.’

‘And so you will have it again.’

She glanced at him, scorn clear on her face, surprising him. ‘Now you are the one who is naïve.’

‘What do you mean?’