Commanded by the sheikh

Malik slid her a sideways glance. ‘Neither of those women possesses the confidence or ability to enact such a masquerade. In any case, they would not even be comfortable wearing Western clothes.’

‘But you trust them? Aziz trusts them?’

Malik nodded. ‘Yes, of course. Very few people know about this deception, Miss Ellis. Only you, Sheikh Aziz, myself, Mada and Abra.’

‘And the crew of the royal jet,’ Olivia pointed out. ‘Plus the staff who escorted me here.’

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘True, but it is a contained group, and everyone in it is loyal to the Sheikh.’

‘Aziz said he had not been in Kadar long enough to gain the people’s loyalty.’

Malik gazed at her with an inscrutable expression. ‘So he seems to think. But there are more loyal to Aziz than he knows, or allows himself to believe.’

Before Olivia could consider a response to that rather cryptic remark, Malik opened a door and ushered her into an ornate reception room. French windows led out to a wide balcony, and even from across the room Olivia was able to glimpse the courtyard below already filled with people pressed shoulder to shoulder, all of them craning their necks to catch a glimpse of their new Sheikh and his future bride.

Her stomach lurched and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

‘Please don’t be sick,’ Aziz remarked dryly as he stepped into the room. ‘That would ruin quite a lovely outfit.’ He stopped in front of her, his silvery-grey gaze wandering up and down her figure, eyes gleaming with a blatant masculine approval that made Olivia’s stomach tighten. He’d never looked at her like that before. ‘Dark hair suits you. So do high heels.’ His mouth quirked in a smile. ‘Very much so. I’m almost sorry it’s only a temporary dye.’

She lifted her chin, forcing the feeling back that Aziz stirred so easily up inside her. Why was she reacting to him now, when she never had before? ‘As long as I look like Queen Elena. As much as I can, at any rate.’

‘I think you’ll pass. Very well, actually.’ His smile turned sympathetic. ‘I do recognise that I am asking much of you, Olivia. Your willingness to help me is deeply appreciated, believe me.’

Olivia met his compassionate gaze with a direct one of her own. ‘I just want to return to Paris.’

‘And so you shall. But first, the balcony.’ He nodded towards the doors; even from here, with them closed, Olivia could hear the muted roar of the crowd below. She swallowed hard.

‘You had the press conference?’

‘Just a few moments ago.’

‘Were the media concerned with why Queen Elena wasn’t there?’

‘A few asked, but I said you were tired from your journey and preparing to meet your new people. They accepted it. In any case, it would be unusual in this country for a woman to appear in front of the media and speak for herself.’

‘But Queen Elena has spoken for herself many times,’ Olivia observed. ‘She’s a reigning monarch.’

‘True, but in Kadar she is merely going to be the wife of a Sheikh. There is a difference.’

Olivia heard a surprising edge of bitterness in his voice and wondered at it. ‘Why did Queen Elena agree to this marriage if she would have few rights in your country? It wasn’t, I presume, a love match?’

‘Indeed not.’ Aziz flashed her a quick, hard smile. ‘The alliance suited us both, for different reasons.’

A surprisingly implacable note had entered Aziz’s voice, but Olivia ignored it. ‘You speak in the past tense. Does it not still suit you?’

‘It will,’ Aziz told her. ‘When I find her. But as for now...’ He gestured to the balcony doors. ‘Our adoring public awaits.’

Nerves coiled tightly in Olivia’s belly and she nodded. There was surely no going back now. ‘All right.’

‘It is important for you to know,’ Aziz said in a low voice as they walked towards the balcony, ‘That, though my marriage to Elena was for convenience only, the public assumed it was a love match. They want it to be a love match.’

Olivia shot him a sharp glance, nerves leaping now, like a nest of snakes had taken up residence in her stomach. ‘Even though you only became engaged a few weeks ago?’

Aziz shrugged. ‘People believe what they want to believe.’

That, she thought grimly, had certainly been true in her own experience. ‘So what does this mean for our appearance out there?’

Aziz gave her a teasing smile and reached out to brush her cheek with his fingers, sending a sudden shower of sparks cascading through Olivia’s senses. Instinctively she jerked back. ‘Only that we both need to act as if we are hopelessly in love. Try to restrain yourself from too much PDA, though, Olivia. This is a conservative country, after all.’

She opened her mouth in outrage, knowing he was joking yet still indignant. Aziz just chuckled softly then slipped his arm through hers and guided her out onto the balcony and the throng that waited below.

A cheer went up as soon as they both stepped outside; the hot, still air hit Olivia full in the face. She blinked, dumbfounded by the roar of approval that sounded from below and seemed to go on and on.

Aziz slid a hand around her waist, his fingers splayed across her hip as he raised one hand in greeting.

‘Wave,’ he murmured and obediently Olivia raised her hand. ‘Smile,’ he added, a hint of laughter in his voice, and she curved her lips upwards.

They stood like that, hip to hip, Aziz’s hand around her waist, waving as the crowd continued to cheer.

‘I thought,’ Olivia said in a whisper, even though no one could possibly hear, ‘That you said the Kadaran people were not loyal to you.’

He shrugged. ‘They are a romantic people as well as a traditional one. They like the idea of my marriage, of a fairy-tale wedding, more than they like me.’

‘It is indeed a fairy tale,’ Olivia answered tartly and Aziz just smiled.

After another endless minute he dropped his hand. Olivia thought they would be finally, thankfully heading back inside, but he stayed her with his hand still around her waist, the other coming up to frame her jaw.

‘What are you doing?’ she hissed.

‘The crowd wants to see us kiss.’

‘What happened to no PDA?’ she retorted through gritted teeth. ‘And this being a conservative country?’

‘Siyad is a little more modern. And we’ll keep it chaste, don’t worry. No tongues,’ he advised, and as her mouth dropped open in shock he kissed her.

Olivia froze beneath the touch of his lips; it had been so long since she’d been kissed she’d forgotten how it felt—how intimate, strange and frankly wonderful. Aziz’s lips were cool and soft, the hand that framed her face both tender and firm. Her eyes closed instinctively as she fought against the tidal wave of want that crashed so unexpectedly through her.

‘There.’ He eased back, smiling. ‘You managed to restrain yourself.’

‘Easily,’ she snapped, and he laughed softly.

‘It’s so delightfully simple to get a rise out of you, Olivia. It makes your eyes sparkle.’

‘How delightful to know,’ Olivia retorted, and he just laughed again.

‘Indeed.’

He was leading her back inside but Olivia was barely aware of her surroundings. Her mind spun with sensation and her lips buzzed, as if his brief kiss had electrocuted her. It had been an appropriately chaste kiss, little more than a brushing of mouths, yet her insides felt alarmingly shivery and weak. Why had a simple kiss affected her so much?

Because it hadn’t been simple for her. When you hadn’t been kissed in nearly a decade, Olivia thought, a little one like that could be explosive. Unforgettable.

It surely had nothing to do with Aziz. Although she had to admit that, in her limited experience at least, he seemed a very good kisser.

As soon as the balcony doors were closed, Olivia tugged her hand from Aziz’s. ‘There.’ She fought the urge to wipe her mouth, as if such a childish action could banish the memory of his kiss and the unwelcome feelings it had stirred up inside her. ‘We’re done. I can go back to Paris.’

‘And so you shall, in the morning.’

‘Why not tonight?’

‘It’s a long flight, Olivia. The pilot needs to rest; the plane to be refuelled. Besides, I am meant to be having dinner with my bride, and I know you don’t want to miss that.’

She ignored the teasing, even though part of her actually was tempted to smile. The man was incorrigible, determinedly so. ‘You never said anything about dinner.’

‘It must have slipped my mind.’

‘Liar.’

‘As Sheikh, I’m in control of how much information to disseminate at a given time, it’s true.’

‘Such big words.’

‘I looked them up in the dictionary.’

And then she did smile, helpless to keep herself from it, knowing that she, like every other woman, was falling prey to his charm. ‘And I’m meant to be Queen Elena at this dinner?’

‘It’s a private dinner, so you only have to pretend for me.’

‘And the staff who see us together,’ Olivia pointed out. ‘Aziz, this is ludicrous. I might be able to pass myself off as Queen Elena from a balcony, but I can hardly do so face to face. One look at me and your staff will know.’