Cinderella and the Sheikh

chapter Thirteen



As they sat on the couch together, Rasyn watched his wife chew off her lipstick, rub her hands together, and generally look like she wanted to be anyplace but the elegant apartments that she'd been assigned in Damali Palace.

Prince Hani and Princess Sanurah would arrive at any moment for a quiet dinner with the two of them and Imaran. Of course, a quiet dinner for royalty involved designer suits, hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of jewels and a few dozen servants.

Despite her odd behavior that morning, Libby had clung to him in the limo on the way to Damali. She seemed to see his touch as a kind of reassurance. Touching her had never been a problem. He was happy to provide any reassurance that involved the feel of her soft skin against his, but something had been off with her all day. Something was missing between them.

He slid his arm around her and drew her to him, placing her head in the crook of his neck. She immediately relaxed against him. The waves of her hair caressed his jaw, softer than the creamy silk dress she wore. His fingers met the bare skin of her shoulder. Her scent heated the air and filled his senses. His body reacted to her closeness.

"You will be fine." Later, when they had more time to talk privately, he would suggest some comportment lessons to help with her confidence level.

"I really screwed up the last formal occasion I attended with these people."

He laughed. "They do not seem to think so."

"Total disaster." She looked up at him, her green eyes glassy with tension. "What if Princess Sanurah isn't so forgiving?"

A quick knock on the door sent Libby scrambling from his lap. He rose from the couch at a more leisurely pace, smoothing the wrinkles out of his tuxedo as he did so.

He noticed one long auburn hair on his lapel and nearly brushed it off—but decided not to. She is mine, he thought. Let the whole world know.

Prince Hani, who normally entered every room like he owned it, stepped in tentatively, his eyes on the princess who had his arm. Rasyn couldn’t hear his low murmurs to her, but the Prince's body language told him everything. He stepped with small, patient strides, his whole body angled toward her.

Princess Sanurah, beautiful in her pink satin gown, wore a matching silk scarf wrapped loosely around her hair. As the couple approached, Rasyn glimpsed what the elegant wrap hid—a puffy rash on either side of her neck.

Other than that, Princess Sanurah seemed as poised and elegant as ever.

Libby crossed the last few steps to the princess and made a deep curtsey. She looked at the ground beneath Her Highness' feet. "Please forgive me, Princess Sanurah. I never meant to hurt you."

The Princess' reaction was immediate. She took Libby's shoulders in her gloved hands and raised her up. Ignoring the potential damage to her sculpted hairstyle, the Princess threw her arms around Libby.

"You saved my life. You brought me back to my Hani. You're like a sister to me."

Prince Hani, standing behind his wife, with his hands behind his back, cleared his throat. "Ahem."

"I mean 'granddaughter,'" the Princess corrected, despite the fact that she was a few years younger than Libby. "You're like a granddaughter to me."

A smile of relief spread across Libby's face. Rasyn recognized what had been missing between him and his wife. That smile. She hadn't smiled at him all day. Something inside him turned grim at the realization.

Another knock on the door announced the arrival of his cousin. Imaran had come in his own car, saying he wanted the privacy to do some work, but Rasyn had detected a bitter tension in his tone.

Candlelight glittered from the medals shining on Imaran's chest, irritating Rasyn. They were alone. What was the point of wearing his honors all the time?

Rasyn realized that he could hardly wait for tomorrow's ball to be over. His close relationship with his cousin could resume. And his new life with Libby could start.

How many children did she want, he wondered, watching Libby chat with Princess Sanurah.

They had a lifetime to get to know each other, and he eagerly anticipated starting the process. First they had to get through tomorrow. After that, things would be perfect.

Yet another knock on the door interrupted them.

"Ah." Prince Hani motioned for the guard who had arrived with them to open it. "There's someone else who wants to greet you."

Rasyn frowned at the tall, lean young man who entered. He frowned even more when his wife welcomed him by name, her eyes shining. "Jarah!"

Prince Hani clasped the man on the shoulder. "You didn't think I'd forget to reward the other person who helped save my wife? Jarah is my new secretary."

Other person? It was a moment before it hit him. The waiter—the one Libby had tripped.

"But the orphanage?" Alarm crossed Libby's face.

"Is now under the patronage of the Princess of Damali," Princess Sanurah said.

Libby turned that bright smile on her new friend. "That's so amazing of you."

Jealousy stabbed through Rasyn's chest. The orphanage was in Abbas. There shouldn’t have been any need for the patronage of a foreign ruler. Imaran should have taken it on as a pet project.

"My Sanurah's life is worth all of this and more." Prince Hani's proud eyes shone on his wife.

"I'm sure His Highness feels the same about you." Princess Sanurah glanced at Rasyn sidelong.

"I must speak to you, Prince Hani," Rasyn said. "There has been some mistake. My wife and I have been assigned separate quarters."

Upon their arrival at Damali Palace, he'd been surprised to discover that they'd been given different apartments.

"No mistake. Until your marriage to my Libby is legal in this country, you will behave like her fiancé, not her husband," Prince Hani said. "There will be guards on that door at all times. They have instructions. I'd like to see some great-grandchildren, so you won't make my guards carry out their instructions."

Rasyn flinched at the ruler's sharp tone and unveiled threat. He decided there was no harm in letting Prince Hani have his way. It was only for a few days, after all. The next time they visited Damali, no one would be able to doubt their union. "Yes, sir."

Libby beamed at Prince Hani. "You don’t have to do all this for me. I'm just a waitress."

Jarah lifted his chin, speaking with conviction. "You will be the queen of Abbas."

Some connections fell into place in Rasyn's mind. "The one who put up the posters of Libby in the souk—it was you."

Jarah gave a quick nod. "With Umm Tariq's help."

Confusion knit Libby's eyebrows. "Why would you do that?"

"Who the hell is Umm Tariq?" Imaran asked.

"You're one of us." Jarah ignored Imaran's question as if he weren't even in the room. "A queen who understands the real people. Parliament needs to know that they do not reflect our wishes. They can make all the laws they want, but the sheikh chose you. And we choose you for our queen."

"Parliament is the ruling body of Abbas." Imaran narrowed his eyes at Prince Hani's assistant. "And the people will be made to respect that."

A chill went up Rasyn's spine at his cousin's words. What was Imaran talking about? Parliament represented the people.

Time to defuse the situation. Rasyn took his wife's hand and brought it to his lips, all the while hoping that Prince Hani's 'instructions' to the guards permitted this. "She will always be my queen. Even if Parliament never recognizes her."

"Heh," His Highness said. "We'll see about that."

Prince Hani's cryptic response froze Rasyn to the spot. Apprehension twitched through his muscles. "What does that mean?"

Prince Hani drew back his shoulders, looking, for an instant, ten years younger. A self-satisfied light shone from his eyes. It doubled as he traded a look with Princess Sanurah, who giggled behind her white glove.

"You'll see, my boy." Rasyn fought to keep his irritation from showing as Prince Hani clapped him on the back. "You'll see."



***



Just get through tonight, girl, Libby told herself the next day, fighting the dread that threatened to overwhelm her.

All she had to do was fake her way through the reception tonight and then Rasyn had promised to take her away for a while. But the vicious butterflies from the night of that first reception in Abbas were back with a vengeance.

She put her hand on her belly to try to calm them, taking care not to catch her silk pashmina shawl on the ruby bracelet Prince Hani had given her. She longed to slump down on the couch, but didn't dare wrinkle the designer gown she wore, a scarlet dress that wouldn't be out of place on the red carpet at the Oscars.

The only problem was that she didn't know if the butterflies were acting up because of the reception, or because she was going to go away with Rasyn.

She just couldn't forget her conversation with Imaran that day in the breakfast room. Something about it had hit too close to the mark. If Rasyn had the talent of telling her everything she wanted to hear, Imaran had the gift of playing up all her fears. She'd let Rasyn convince her that he loved her, but Imaran had made her doubt everything, made her realize that she didn't know Rasyn very well. Made her wonder why all of this had happened. She caught herself starting to chew on her lip and forced herself to stop.

Mercifully, a knock on the door interrupted her just as she was about to turn into a total nervous wreck.

Her husband slipped inside the apartment.

Rasyn in black tie. The designer suit had been tailored to emphasize the width of his shoulders and slimness of his hips. The white shirt contrasted with the dark olive of his skin. He wore the black jacket unbuttoned, with casual, sexy ease. All the air was sucked out of her lungs. His mere presence chased all thoughts of her conversation with Imaran out of her mind. She almost forgot her renewed resolve to keep him out of her heart.

Almost. But not quite.

Seeming to recognize his effect on her, Rasyn raised a black eyebrow. The corner of his mouth twitched up as he crossed to her with a confident, unhurried stride. Her heart thudded against the bodice of her strapless gown as he placed his hot palms on her hips and pulled her against him.

"When we get back to Abbas, will you wear this dress for me?" His voice was throaty with desire.

With his mouth an inch away and his exotic scent going to her head like fine champagne, it was all she could do to nod.

He put his lips to the pulse behind her ear. "Good," he whispered. "Because I want to see you take it off."

A cough loud enough to echo off the gilded ceiling made Rasyn turn. She looked over his shoulder to see one of the beefy guards stationed outside her room staring them down.

Rasyn rolled his eyes, making her laugh. "Do you think your jailers can be bribed?"

"You could try," she said, and then thought better of it. Making love with Rasyn was incredible enough—adding a sense of danger to the mix might just be more than she could bear.

Then again, it couldn't be long now before he realized his mistake in marrying her. Maybe on their honeymoon? Soon, she'd only have memories of her time here. Of Rasyn's mischievous smile. Of all the pleasure they'd given each other.

She shook off the sad thought.

"Perhaps I will." His promise sent shivers of anticipation over her bare shoulders. "In the meantime, Madam, I will content myself with being your escort for the evening."

With an exaggerated flourish, Rasyn offered her the crook of his arm.

"I thought we couldn’t touch in public."

"In Abbas we cannot. Damali is a more open society. Despite our sinful state—" The emphasis Rasyn put on the word 'sinful' was almost sinful in itself. "—we can show a minimum of affection."

"How much?"

"You can take my arm."

That made her smile. A minimum of affection, for sure.

Rasyn continued in a mock-serious tone. "But there are consequences. You have to understand that doing so means we are committed for life in the eyes of all who see us."

She should refuse. They weren't married here, she reminded herself. There would be dozens of women in the room more suited to him than she was. At that thought, the butterflies started taking bites out of her stomach.

Libby nodded and took his arm.