Then he slowly rose from the bed. He put on his clothes. Without looking at her, he went to an antique, jeweled chest beside the bookshelf. He twisted a key in the lock and opened it. Reaching inside, he pulled something out and returned to where she sat, clothed and numb on the bed.
He held out her emerald necklace, dangling it from his hand. She stared at the green facets of the stone, without moving.
He took her hand and placed the emerald in her palm, folding her fingers over the gold chain.
She heard the ragged gasp of his breath. Then his posture became hard as granite. He placed his hand over hers. When he spoke, his voice was deep and cold, echoing in the cavernous royal bedchamber.
“Jasmine, I divorce you.”
CHAPTER NINE
THE next morning, Jasmine stepped out of the helicopter, craning her neck to stare up at the modern, gleaming racetrack that split the desert flatlands from the wide loneliness of the blue sky.
Qais. The desert she loved. But now the freedom had a sting. Horizons stretched out around her, mocking her as she stood dressed from head-to-toe in clothes chosen for her by someone else.
Her clothes had finally arrived from Paris, and she was now dressed to please her future husband, in a belted red silk dress from Christian Dior, Christian Louboutin black heels, a black vintage Kelly bag and a wide-brimmed black-and-white hat. Her beautiful designer clothes felt like a costume from the 1950s, stylish and severe.
She no longer had freedom here. Not even in the clothes she wore.
Jasmine looked up at the glass stadium that Kareef and Umar had built together. It wasn’t the only thing the two men would soon share. When the Qais Cup was over, her wedding would begin.
Kareef followed her with the rest of his bodyguards and assistants. She saw him hesitate, then grimly push forward. What more was there to say?
He’d already given the bride away.
Jasmine stared at his tense, muscular back as he walked ahead of her. She memorized the turn of his head, the line of his jaw. The shape of his supremely masculine body as he walked in his white robes.
Unwillingly, she remembered the feel of his naked body against her own. The sweet satisfied ache of pain as he possessed her, the way her lips felt bruised from his kiss, her inner thighs scratched from the sandpaper-roughness of his jaw. The memory made her body tighten with a rush of heat, even as her soul shook with the anguish of loss.
With a deep breath, she forced herself to look up.
Rising from the desert, the glass stadium competed with the blinding sun for brilliance. But even the desert sun couldn’t burn away the taste of Kareef, the exotic scent of his skin. It couldn’t burn away the memory of his hard body covering hers. Or the look in his blue eyes last night when he’d spoken the words to divorce her.
“My dear.” Umar stepped forward from a private side door of the stadium and leaned forward to kiss her cheek gently. “I am so glad to see you at last.”
In spite of his words, he looked pale. As he pulled away from her, she made no move to kiss him back, no attempt to even smile. “Where have you been, Umar?”
Umar’s pale cheeks turned pink. “France,” he muttered. “There was a family emergency. With Léa.”
“With your nanny?” Jasmine said. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine. Fine,” he said with an uneven smile. He seemed strangely nervous and jittery compared to the urbane, sophisticated man she knew.
Turning away, he started walking, practically running toward the door, though propriety demanded that the king should have gone first. They had to hurry to keep up with him, or else be left behind.
“And that’s all you have to say to me?” she demanded.
“The race is about to start.” Umar glanced back at her, his nose wrinkling like a rabbit’s before he sighed. “When it’s over, we’ll talk.”
Jasmine stared at him. Had he heard the rumors about her and Kareef being lovers? Did he no longer wish to marry her?
Was he going to abandon her at the altar, to her family’s eternal shame?
“Wait,” she choked out. “Whatever you’ve heard, I can explain—”
“Later.” Umar hurried toward the door. “Your family is already here. I had them seated in a place not too far from the royal box, in a place of honor.” He paused. “I’ll be sitting with my children in the box next to yours. You’re in the royal box with the king.”
So he’d heard!
“Wait!” she cried. “You don’t understand!”
Kareef came up behind her. “Afraid to be alone with me?” he said in a low voice.
She glanced back at him, and trembled at the darkness in his blue eyes. She swallowed, fighting back tears. This was hard. So much harder than she’d thought it would be!