‘Dammit, you know how to push my buttons but your father took me hostage for three days before I escaped. If you think that will go unpunished, you’re sadly mistaken.’ He glowered down at her. ‘Now get dressed. And if you cause either of these women another problem you won’t find me so lenient next time.’
Farah swallowed hard, determined to show zero emotion in the face of his fury, while inside her whole being was quaking. Watching him stride from the room she waited for the resounding echo from the slammed door to pass before she turned to the two wide-eyed maids, who had probably never said a cross word to the prince in their lives. ‘I will bathe myself, is that understood?’
‘Yes, my lady.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘STOP FIDGETING,’ the prince whispered out of the side of his mouth for about the fifth time.
Farah dropped her hands to her side once more and pretended to focus on the gorgeous wedding ceremony taking place in front of her. ‘This dress doesn’t fit,’ she complained under her breath.
‘It’s perfect,’ he growled.
It wasn’t perfect. It was tight across the bodice, the slender straps exposing her arms and upper chest. The stiletto-heeled shoes she’d been given to wear were also surely torture devices with the way they made her feet ache. In the magazines they had always looked so glamorous and beautiful. On the feet they felt like pincers.
‘And smile.’
Tired of his instructions—‘no sneering, no balled fists and no attacking anyone at the wedding’—Farah pinned a wide smile to her lips. ‘Like this?’
The prince’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at her. ‘Better,’ he mumbled, followed by something that sounded like, ‘I’d hate to experience the real thing,’ before turning back to the proceedings.
Farah surreptitiously studied him in his royal white robes and headdress. He was so virile and masculine and so utterly charming when he wanted to be that she almost believed he was as nice as he seemed.
Except that he’d been grouchy towards her ever since he’d picked her up from the harem and she had no idea what she’d done to prompt his ire again other than exist. Earlier, after he’d stormed out, she had done everything that had been asked of her, intending to lull him into thinking that she would cooperate from now on. She’d let the women apply her make-up, dress her and brush her hair until it gleamed, pinning it up at the front and letting it fall down around her shoulders. When she’d finally looked in the mirror she had barely recognised herself. In fact, she’d thought she looked quite pretty until the prince had taken one all-encompassing glance at her and scowled—just like her father had, over her boots! She didn’t know why the prince’s bad opinion of her affected her so much but it did and the realisation had set her on edge all over again.
She wondered if he believed her when she’d agreed to the truce he’d requested before marching her from the harem and decided that it didn’t matter right now. His brother was in the middle of marrying a Western woman so lovely that Farah had no wish to spoil things. There was just something so utterly romantic about the way Sheikh Nadir gazed at his bride that was totally riveting for Farah.
What would it be like to have a man look at her that way?
Debilitating, a little voice reminded her. It would place her in a life of servitude where her wishes would be overlooked or overruled. It certainly wouldn’t make her happy.
She shifted her weight into her heels to relieve the pressure on the balls of her feet and felt Prince Zachim tense. Given his importance in the ceremony, they were standing at the front of the glamorously packed ballroom that was overflowing with white and pastel-pink flowers and deep-green foliage with softly lit candles on every available surface.
She had felt the imprint of a thousand curious eyes on her as she had made her way slowly to the front of the guests but she hadn’t recognised a single face who could help her.
A loud cheer went up in the crowd and Farah realised that the ceremony was over, the glowing couple smiling brightly, the groom totally besotted as he took their daughter from a male guest who hadn’t stopped beaming the whole time.
Moving slowly, they stopped in front of Farah and the prince, accepting their congratulations. When the little girl reached out and patted Prince Zachim’s jaw, he laughed and murmured to her tenderly, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. Farah was so surprised by the action her whole body went still. He really was the most confounding man, she thought a touch tetchily—one minute hard and ruthless and the next charming and...devastatingly male. Confused and feeling too many emotions at once, she was glad when they hung back and let the procession of guests precede them from the stately room.