Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child

Annalisa bit her tongue, wondering what else his demeanour of aloof control hid. He was a man of contradictions: demanding, arrogant, abrasive once his memory had returned. His record with women was appalling.

Yet she remembered earlier kindnesses. He’d understood her grief even when she’d fought to stifle it. She remembered his ready sympathy, the dry humour he’d used to lighten her mood when sadness overcame her.

He’d stumbled out of the desert, more concerned for the safety of an animal than himself. He’d treated it with easy kindness, and herself with gentle consideration.

Which was the real Tahir?

Seeing him now, ramrod-straight and wearing an implacable expression of detachment, she was convinced there was more to Tahir than the face he showed the world.

Was it possible the man she’d begun to love in the desert lurked somewhere inside?

Or was that wishful thinking?

‘But your mother will be at the wedding,’ she murmured, searching desperately for solid ground.

He tensed, his expression stonier than ever. ‘I’ll invite her. It’s up to her whether she chooses to attend.’ He paused, then spoke again in a neutral tone. ‘My brothers are busy with their own business and their new wives. Rafiq’s in Australia and Kareef in Qais. It will be a small wedding. I’ll give you details in due course.’

Tahir stood, his tone making it clear their discussion was over. He gestured for her to precede him into the palace.

Her audience with the King was at an end.

‘So you enjoyed talking to the guests last night,’ Tahir murmured as he accepted tea from his mother.

Rihana’s rooms weren’t where he’d choose to meet Annalisa, but he didn’t trust himself with her in private. Last night she’d looked at him with huge doe eyes and guilt had scored him to the bone.

He couldn’t keep his hands off her. He’d kissed her and his good intentions had instantly collapsed. He’d have taken her then and there, on the stone seat! Only the distress in her eyes had stopped him.

He’d have to live with frustration. Until they were wed. By then she’d be ready to accept the passion that flared between them and give him what he wanted. What they both wanted.

‘Yes.’ She watched him warily. She was pale, and dark shadows bruised her eyes. ‘The reception was fascinating.’

‘What in particular?’ Maybe guilt prompted him, but he was curious. Annalisa was such an antidote to the world of cynicism and mistrust he’d known so long.

She shrugged, the movement so jerky he caught his mother’s concerned look.

Again guilt speared him. He’d stolen Annalisa’s bright future with one greedy lapse of judgement. Trapped himself too, in the yoke of marriage.

A chill filled him at the idea of marrying. He had a deepseated horror of anything that smacked of commitment. Yet it had to be done. In a couple of weeks, when Annalisa had had time to acclimatise. She looked so fragile.

He’d do his best to support her. After all, in her own way she was as much an outsider as he.

‘So many people were interesting,’ Annalisa murmured, her husky voice an echo of his erotic fantasies. ‘Archaeologists and diplomats. Experts in health and farming.’ She stopped, eyes rounding as she caught his gaze, obviously remembering his anger when she’d spoken to that agricultural advisor.

‘You find all that interesting?’

‘Of course.’ He caught a glimpse of the passionate woman who’d entranced him in the desert. ‘Don’t you?’

‘I…’ Tahir stopped as something struck him.

He’d been busy learning to be monarch, at the same time working to divest himself of the responsibility but finding no alternative ruler. In all that time he hadn’t once been bored. He’d been challenged, frustrated, even occasionally pleased when he’d made important progress.

But never bored.

‘Tahir?’ Two pairs of eyes stared at him.

Tahir dragged himself back into the conversation, but for the next twenty minutes only half listened.

As he watched Annalisa, so on edge with him, he realised he needed to bridge the chasm he’d created between them. She was wound so tight it couldn’t be healthy for the baby or her.

But bridging that gap might leave him vulnerable.

Annalisa made him doubt himself and his certainties.

She made him…feel.

She stirred emotions he wasn’t accustomed to. Like last night’s jealousy. It had blasted like the desert wind, scouring away his reason. He’d become a covetous brute, lashing out when he should have looked after her.

The reception must have been overwhelming for her. He hadn’t missed her wide-eyed look at walls panelled with gold and gems.