was clutching a sheet to her breasts, her hair tumbled around her face. Zayed fought the urge to climb back into the bed and take her in his arms all over again.
‘I did not realise she was so difficult to understand,’ he said stiffly. ‘You will have to get used to it. She is the only woman here to serve your needs.’
‘But...what...what are you going to do with me?’ Her voice was both tremulous and brave.
Zayed’s gaze narrowed. ‘What am I going to do with you? I have already done it, hayete. It is finished.’
She bit her lip. ‘I know that. I mean, I wasn’t expecting more than...than this. But now what are you going to...? Why did you kidnap me?’ She lifted her chin, holding her gaze steady as if steeling herself for a blow.
Zayed stared at her, completely nonplussed. ‘Why did I kidnap you?’ he repeated. ‘Surely that is obvious? I told you I could not wait any longer.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Your father will not be pleased, I grant you, but he will not be able to affect the outcome. Of that I am certain.’
Now she looked genuinely confused, her brow creased, her lips parting. ‘My father...’ She shook her head slowly. ‘But my father is dead.’
‘What?’ Zayed stared at her in complete shock. Sultan Hassan dead? When? How? But no; surely he would have heard of it? He would have known. His informants in the palace would have said something. Still, a cold fist clutched his heart. If Sultan Hassan was dead, all his plans fell apart, crumbled to dust. To nothing. The man had no sons, and his heir was a distant cousin, someone Zayed could not rely on to help him. ‘When did this happen?’ he bit out.
His bride stared at him in wary confusion. ‘Years ago. Five years now.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t understand. What could my father possibly have to do with any of this?’
‘Wait.’ Zayed felt as if he’d entered some weird, alternative reality. How could Halina be saying this? Sultan Hassan had most certainly not died five years ago. What the hell was going on?
‘Why do you care about my father?’ she asked, her voice trembling. ‘Who are you?’
For a moment he could only stare. She knew who he was. She had to know. ‘I am Prince Zayed al bin Nur,’ he said, biting off each word. She’d wed him, she’d slept with him! Of course she’d known he was her fiancé, her intended husband. Because, if she hadn’t known, why the hell had she slept with him? Agreed to marry him?
‘Zayed...’ Her face had gone pale, her lips bloodless, dawning horror in her eyes. Something was very, very wrong, and the cold fist that was clutching Zayed’s heart squeezed painfully.
‘And you,’ he said forcefully, each word a throb of insistent intensity, ‘are Princess Halina Amari.’ She had to be. He’d seen photographs—blurry, yes, but he’d watched her in the palace. She’d played with her sisters; she’d gone into her bedroom. She had to be his intended bride. His wife.
But already she was shaking her head.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, I’m not Halina.’
REALISATION UPON REALISATION was crashing through Olivia, filling her with more and more horror. This was Prince Zayed, her friend’s fiancé, and she’d slept with him. And he’d thought she was Halina! He’d taken her from the palace believing her to be his bride-to-be. Had this been some sort of romantic seduction, and she’d botched it completely?
‘If you’re not Princess Halina,’ Zayed asked through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowed to silvery slits, every muscle tensing as if for a fight, ‘then who the hell are you?’
Olivia swallowed hard, her heart beating like a wild bird inside her chest. She clutched the blanket to her, more than ever conscious of her nakedness. ‘My name is Olivia Taylor. I’m governess to the Amari Princesses.’
He stared at her for a single second and then he swore, viciously and fluently. Olivia flinched, and wondered if his solemn vow not to hurt her still stood. She had a feeling it didn’t, although Zayed kept himself restrained, that pulsing fury leashed, if barely.
‘Why, then,’ he asked, his voice one of tightly controlled and yet clearly explosive anger, ‘did you sleep with me?’
‘I...’ There was no excuse, no explanation. She’d lost her head, her virginity to a stranger. And he’d thought he was bedding his future bride! Olivia closed her eyes, wanting to blot out her shame, erase everything that had happened in the last few hours.
And yet, with the flickers of pleasure still pulsing through her body, she couldn’t quite make herself regret it. In Zayed’s arms she’d felt so cherished; what a joke. He hadn’t even realised who she was. The knowledge of how she’d been duped, how she’d let herself be duped and talked herself into bed with a stranger, was utterly shaming.
‘I...’ she tried again, and then shrugged helplessly. She had no answer, except that she’d been completely swept away by the force of him, of her attraction to him, and she wasn’t courageous or stupid enough to admit that. Surely it had been obvious, anyway?
Zayed whirled away from her in one abrupt movement, raking a hand through his hair. ‘Didn’t you know who I was?’
‘No.’
‘And yet you slept with me.’
‘You slept with me,’ Olivia fired back, finding her courage. She wasn’t going to take all the blame. ‘And obviously you didn’t know who I was.’
‘Obviously.’ The single word was scathing. ‘But I would have expected you to correct my mistake, preferably before we’d said our vows.’
‘Vows?’ Olivia stared at him, dread seeping into her stomach like acid. ‘What do you mean—’
‘Unless,’ Zayed cut across her, ruthless now, any gentleness well and truly gone as his face, his body, his voice all hardened. ‘You meant this to happen?’
‘Meant it to happen?’ Olivia stared at him in outrage. ‘I meant for you to kidnap me? I planned it? Are you insane?’ She could hardly believe she was talking to a prince this way—she, meek Olivia Taylor—but the situation was so surreal, his suggestion so ludicrous and insulting, that for a moment she forgot who she was. Where she was. And even what had happened.
Zayed had the grace to look slightly abashed for a millisecond, and then he simply looked impatient. ‘No, not then, of course. But after. Perhaps you saw an opportunity and took it. You wanted to better your situation. You said you were a governess?’
Olivia shook her head. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She felt furious and humiliated, and she really wished she were wearing some clothes. ‘And I certainly don’t see how I’ve bettered my situation.’
Zayed’s mouth twisted in something like a sneer. ‘Don’t you?’
‘No, I really don’t. But since I’m not Halina, and you’re not kidnapping me for ransom or something like that, perhaps you could
