he had met such a fascinating woman. The last time it had happened he had been fooled. It was comforting and convenient to know there was no chance of repeating the same mistake with his betrothed.
He checked his appearance in the beveled gilt mirror in his suite’s circular entryway. Every hair was in place, and he’d shaved a short while before—in case he kissed her, which he very much wanted to do. His silk shirt, open at the collar, and his dark pants evoked just the right informal tone, which was important, as he wished to put her at ease.
He heard a knock, so soft it would not have been audible had he not been standing near the door. Beth stood in the doorway, a vision of heaven in a high-necked, sleeveless white linen dress with a wide black belt that drew his attention to her small waist. It was a simple, elegant look, full of sophistication. The allure was in what he could not see as much as in what he could. Then he met her gaze and noticed the wariness in her large eyes—brown eyes, filled with flecks of gold.
He bowed slightly. “Good evening, Beth. Please come in.”
“Thank you.”
As she passed him, her subtle floral fragrance filled his head with visions that had nothing to do with gardens and everything to do with twisted sheets and bare flesh. Instead of entering, she stood and looked around. Of course she would be curious.
“Welcome to your new home,” he said. “This is where we shall live after we are married.”
“About the whole marriage thing—”
“Beth.”
She turned to look at him. “What?”
“You promised to give it a chance,” he reminded her.
“Promise may not be the right word. As I recall, my exact words were ‘How can I say no?’”
He grinned. “Nevertheless, your response implied your agreement for us to get to know each other. In the spirit of that, I would request that for the duration of the evening you refrain from any negative references to a state of marriage between us.”
“Is that a proclamation?”
“It is a heartfelt plea. And, under the circumstances, it is quite open-minded of me.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief, as he’d hoped they would. “So, Your Highness, can we talk about your humility?”
“Of course.” He held out a hand and indicated the French doors off the living room. “Wait for me on the terrace and I will bring champagne.”
“Is that an order?”
He did not miss the wary expression on her face, or the edge in her voice. Clearly she was expecting him to seduce her. It was a tempting thought, but that was not his plan. Not yet. No, tonight was all about charming her. There was a full moon, a warm breeze, and the fragrance of jasmine mixed with the scent of the sea. Mother Nature would wrap them in romance.
“Not an order. A suggestion. I simply thought you would enjoy the view and the fresh air.”
“I see.” Without further protest or a backward glance she walked through the living room and onto the terrace.
Malik opened the champagne and poured golden liquid into flutes, then carried them outside. He handed one to Beth.
“To what shall we drink?” he asked.
After thinking for a moment she said, “Loyalty.”
That seemed an odd choice, but with his own painful lesson fresh in his mind he highly approved of her toast. “And honesty.”
As they touched glasses, a musical tinkle sounded. Then Beth sipped from her flute as she gazed out over the sea. The moon’s light created a silver path on the water, and the rhythmic cadence of the surf on the shore drifted up.
“Great view,” she said.
“Yes.” But his gaze was not on the sea. Malik was wondering if there was a more beautiful sight in the world than Beth by moonlight. And if his thoughts continued in that manner he was not at all certain he could resist her. “So, tell me more about yourself,” he said, studying the long, graceful column of her neck revealed by her upswept hair.
The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me what happened to make you believe that love is not all it is cracked up to be.”
“Oh, you don’t really want to know about that.”
“On the contrary. I believe it is at the heart of your resistance to marriage.” Sipping from his glass, he studied her as she weighed his request.
“All right. There was a man. I met him when I was in college and there was an instant connection.”
“You are in love with this man?” The idea produced a knot of resentment in him that seemed out of proportion to the amount of time he had known her, and that vexed him.
“Not anymore.”
“But you were?”
“I thought I was.”
“What happened?”
“He made me believe I was the only woman for him. Then he broke my heart when he married someone else.”
The knot inside him eased somewhat and made rational thought easier. Then he realized something. “Surely you were aware that, as my betrothed, you are not permitted to give your heart to another man?”
“It was only my heart, Malik. To my everlasting shame, I couldn’t help it. But at least I didn’t compound my mistake by sleeping with him.” She did not look away, but met his gaze directly.
They had just toasted honesty, and he had no reason to doubt her. “I believe you.”
She sat on the low stucco wall surrounding the terrace and sighed. “I bet you’re sorry you asked.”
“Your candor is refreshing. The truth is not always easy, but it is preferable to pretense.”
She was just sipping champagne and started to cough.
Malik sat next to her and took her glass. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and cleared her throat. “I swallowed wrong.”
“I do not like it when that happens. I also do not like the thought of you and another man.” That was the truth.
“As the relationship ended badly, there’s no real harm done.”
“I disagree.”
“So you’re going to hold it against me?” Was that hope in her voice? “If so, there’s always the option of calling off the wedding. I can certainly understand if that’s what you decide to do. Just say the word and I’ll go back to America and—”
“On the contrary,” he interrupted, noting that when she
