Claiming His Replacement Queen (Monteverre Marriages 2)

‘It was not the first time that she had spoken in that way.’ Khal shook his head. ‘I was not the best husband, by any standard.’ She didn’t understand; she didn’t realise that when Priya had said those words she had truly meant them.

‘How awful, to have that memory in your mind,’ Cressida said softly, covering his hand with hers.

Khal inhaled deeply, wanting to recoil from the pity he could hear in her voice. ‘You wanted to know how she died. I’ll tell you, but you must forgive me if I still hold some anger.’ He had unconsciously begun to tap his foot at some point, a nervous gesture that he constantly tried to overcome since teenage years. Kings did not fidget, he remembered his father telling him. Control—it was always about showing control.

‘There has never been a definitive answer on how she came to be on the road that she was, at the time that she was. One point of view is that she was on her

way to meet her lover. I was aware that she had been unfaithful to me on a number of occasions in the later years of our marriage.’ Khal saw a look of shock cross Cressida’s features, followed by a brief hint of anger. ‘Another view is that she purposely drove her car over the side of the ravine at a high speed in order to end her own life.’

Cressida winced, her grip tightening on his hand.

‘In Zayyari culture, both of those possibilities spell out shame. I was not prepared to have her name sullied, so the nature of her death was never disclosed. The perceived secrecy led to speculation and rumours. Most of which involved various theories of how I was a ruthless barbarian who had arranged his wife’s murder. Or worse, that I had killed her myself and had the truth covered up.

‘I was assured that her death was instantaneous. For that I was grateful.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the onslaught of memories. The smell of burning rubber in the air as he had moved down the side of the sandbank, his guards shouting at him to stop. He remembered watching as one of his sports cars was hoisted from the shallow water. Priya’s lifeless body had already been transported to the morgue where he had identified her, but for some reason Khal had needed to see the car. He had needed to see the place where it had happened, to make sense of it all.

‘Nothing about it made sense; that was the worst part to accept. The investigators told me that there was no way to prove if the car had been tampered with, considering it had to be destroyed upon transportation to be impounded.’ He shook his head, sitting up straight. ‘The idea that her anger at me led to her driving dangerously never sat well with me. I have spent years trying to find evidence that someone deliberately caused the accident other than Priya herself. It’s only now...saying it out loud... that I realise maybe that’s just my way of coping with my own guilt and sense of powerlessness.’

Cressida leaned forward, pressing her cheek against his bare back and sliding her arm around his abdomen. The gesture was so intimate and so comforting that for a moment he felt himself tightening, the urge to pull away strong. But then the warmth of her skin seeped into his own and he found himself accepting her comfort, grateful for the fact that for once he was not alone in his recollection of these painful memories.

* * *

They sat in silence for a while, Cressida listening to the beat of his heart thumping in rhythm with her own. ‘I find it hard to believe that you were ever a bad husband.’

To her surprise she felt him tense beneath her skin, pulling away from her slightly. She sat back, wondering if perhaps she had touched a nerve even after all he had just disclosed.

‘We had a son,’ Khal said, a strange emptiness to his voice as he spoke. ‘He never lived, stillborn in the eighth month of pregnancy. But we had a son.’

Cressida felt something inside her break as the words hit her with full force. She had no idea what it was like to bear that kind of tragedy and pain in one’s life. The very idea of Khal going through such a loss was unbearable.

‘When I say that I was a bad husband, I don’t mean that I was a bit selfish or that I forgot to put the toilet seat down. I was a bad husband because my wife’s needs were never taken into consideration. All that mattered was ensuring that my need for tight security and safety was prioritised. I overreacted to everything. She got swarmed in the markets once, early on in her pregnancy, and I decided that I needed to keep her under tighter security, even if it meant keeping her confined to the palace. Priya told me on numerous occasions that she was unhappy but the final straw was when she was rushed to hospital, pregnant and terrified. I was halfway across the world being the grand Sheikh of Zayyar. And when I was finally given the news a day later, there was absolutely nothing I could do. We had only been married a year at that point.’

‘You blame yourself for so much...’ Cressida began, not quite knowing what to say in the face of such an admission.

‘I’m sorry. I said that I don’t like to share and yet here I am, unable to stop.’ He turned, taking her hands in his and looking deep into her eyes.

‘There is no need to explain yourself to me,’ Cressida said firmly. ‘I am simply grateful that you trusted me enough to share what you have.’

He nodded once, taking her in his arms. The embrace began innocently enough, but then the sheet slipped down between them and suddenly she was being swept away on another wave of passion. Their lovemaking this time was slower, a tentative sliver of intimacy seeming to show in the way he held her face in his hands as he kissed her and looked deep into her eyes. Afterwards, he fell into a deep sleep with impressive speed, leaving Cressida staring up at the ceiling, physically satisfied but emotionally distracted.

She found herself absolutely livid that he had been subjected to such harsh scrutiny in his time of grief.

The world lauded her own father, a man who had held his wife and daughters to emotional ransom their whole lives, and yet Khal was shunned, based on rumours and gossip. She felt something within her changing, a strange protectiveness of this new life she had entered into. It scared her, to think that she felt such loyalty to a man she had only known a matter of weeks now. But she did trust him with all of her heart. It was keeping that heart protected when it was becoming more and more in danger of being broken...that was the real problem.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AFTER THREE FULL days of an impromptu honeymoon spent mostly in bed, Cressida mourned the arrival of their departure for the official visit to Monteverre. They spent a large portion of the flight hidden away in the master bedroom. While Khal might have introduced her to the pleasures of the mile-high club, she had the pleasure of giving him a tour of her home town through her own eyes once they touched down.

Her decision to leave Monteverre at the age of nineteen to study abroad had held no bearing on her love for her kingdom. She had simply needed freedom from the oppressive disdain of her parents and the effort of hiding her secret from her siblings.

Even as their limousine moved slowly around the main square and she pointed out her favourite ice cream shop and the library where she had spent many an afternoon hiding away, she felt anxiety rising steadily within her. The thought of speaking to her sisters now that they had been made aware of the great family secret was daunting. At least, with her parents, she knew what to expect. She didn’t know if Olivia and Eleanor would be upset, hurt or even angry at her for keeping such a secret.

Truthfully, she did not know if Olivia would show up at all. Last she had heard, she and her fiancé Roman were sailing around the Caribbean after becoming formally engaged shortly before Cressida had moved to Zayyar.

‘You are very quiet, habibti,’ Khal said as they shared a speciality Monteverrian vanilla ice cream on a narrow side street. ‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you are delaying our arrival at the palace.’

Cressida bit her lower lip, hating that he seen through her so easily but also enjoying the fact just a little. ‘I’m delaying the unknown. My sisters were always kept in the dark when it came to the secret of my parentage. As far as they knew, there was nothing different about me other than the obvious facts that I have poor fashion sense and a strange attachment to books.’

‘I disagree, your fashion sense is no longer poor since you met me.’ He jabbed, smiling as she reached out to smudge ice cream on his nose in retaliation. ‘Your sisters may be a bit hurt at being kept in the dark, but they will not love you any less.’