and respect.
Their shoulders brushed as they sat side by side and stared into the romantically dimmed light of the suite. Malik felt the soft skin of her forearm graze him and flames of desire heat up his blood.
“I feel compelled to point out that our betrothal is a good thing in light of your experience.”
“How do you figure?”
“You can have all the benefits of marriage to the King of Bha’Khar without the messiness of dealing with love.”
“So I can be like a man?” She met his gaze. The gleam of mischief mixed with challenge darkened her eyes.
The look was growing on him, but in no way prepared him for what came next. She smiled a smile that seemed to steal all the air from his lungs.
He picked up one of her small hands, then touched his lips to her knuckles. Satisfaction filled him to see the gleam in her eyes replaced by awareness. But, like her, he did not wish to be vulnerable to love. He was most pleased that they were in agreement, because his betrothed was quite a tempting combination of spirit and beauty. Theirs was a contract, a business arrangement, and that suited him well.
He brushed his thumb over the spot on her hand that he’d just kissed. “I cannot order or proclaim that you fall in love with me. But, little one, you will never be like a man.” His voice dropped into the deeply seductive range. “And this man is extraordinarily grateful for that fact.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE next morning Beth stood on her balcony with a cup of coffee in her hands while she looked out over the sea. Memories of last night clicked through her mind like a sensual slide show. Malik smiling his charming smile. Malik telling her he was glad she wasn’t a man and kissing her hand. Her wanting to feel his lips pressed against her own, followed by disappointment when he didn’t kiss her. Then the crushing guilt because she’d forgotten why she was there.
She leaned her hip on the low wall as the breeze caressed her face. Malik Hourani was not what she’d expected. He was kind, considerate and romantic. Damn him. If he didn’t mess up soon, and do something to make her dislike him, the consequences couldn’t be good. There was no way to put a positive spin on this charade. She was lying to Malik and her soul was doomed to the seventh level of hell. What was more, she deserved it.
She walked into the suite and picked up her cellphone, intending to call Addie and beg her sister to end this. Before she could put in the number, the phone attached to the landline rang.
She picked it up. “Hello?”
“Good morning.”
There was no mistaking that deep velvet voice. “Malik. Good morning.”
“I trust you slept well?”
“Never better,” she lied, and realized the lies were getting easier, in spite of her resolution to tell as much of the truth as possible.
“I am glad to hear it. I have a surprise for you.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“If I tell you it wouldn’t be a surprise. But I will come for you in an hour.”
“Where are we going?”
“You are attempting to trick me into revealing the surprise.”
“Actually, I need to know what to wear.”
“Dress casually.”
Casually? That could mean anything, from jeans to a silk lounging outfit. “Casual as in sundress? Or casual as in pants?”
“Jeans,” he said. “And that is all I will say.”
The line went dead. Before she could stop it, excitement arced through her. In her life, surprises had been few, and usually bad. Her mother had walked out and her father wasn’t the warm, fuzzy type. The man she’d loved had married someone else. But the pleasure in Malik’s voice made her believe his surprise was something good, and she hurried to get ready.
In precisely an hour the Crown Prince showed up at her door, wearing jeans, a loose white cotton shirt and boots. He refused to say where they were going, but escorted her to the car he had waiting. A few minutes later they drove past white slat fencing that looked a lot like horse corrals. When the car stopped in front of a stable she had a very strong feeling that her good surprise was going to turn bad.
“Why are we here?” she asked, as he took her hand to help her from the back seat.
“I wish to show you the horse that my brother Kardahl purchased for you when he visited his wife’s family. The mountain people raise some of the finest horses in the world.”
Beth walked with him into the stable’s shaded interior and realized the jig might very well be up. In finishing school, along with learning etiquette, how to throw elaborate dinner parties and protocol, Addie had become an accomplished horsewoman. Because all the royals were avid riders, it would be expected of the King’s wife. On the other hand, Beth had never been on anything besides a carousel pony.
“I don’t know what to say.” After so many lies, it almost felt good to tell the truth.
“Come and meet the mare,” he said, taking her hand. He led her to the stall where the animal stood waiting, her coat shiny black with splotches of white on her face. Addie would have been thrilled—would be thrilled—about this surprise. Beth—not so much. She was going to have to fly by the seat of her pants—so to speak. At the very least she needed to be polite.
“Thank you, Malik.”
“You are most welcome.”
Beth tried to look confident when she put her hand on the horse’s neck. She knew enough that mare meant female. “Does she have a name?”
Malik smiled down at her, then chuckled when the horse nuzzled his shoulder. “As she is yours, you must choose what to call her.”
“Jezebel.” It was the first name that came to mind—from one shameless woman to another. At his questioning look, she shrugged. “I like the sound of it.”
“Then Jezebel it is. I will have two horses saddled and we can ride—”
“No.”
He frowned. “I do not understand. I was under the impression that my betrothed enjoyed riding.”
“She does.” On top of everything else, Beth realized she was talking in the third person, but technically it was the truth. Addie loved riding.
“Then I’m at a loss.”
“It’s just that I’m a little tired—”
“But you slept well.”
And yet again her words came back to bite her. Oh, what a tangled web we weave…
“I did. But I lost count of how many time zones I crossed traveling here. I guess I’m still getting used to the difference. Jet-lagged.”
