moves. “Take her to the bazaar, Lazhar, and when you return, Emily, we’ll finish our game.”
“Excellent.”
Lazhar held her chair and Emily rose. King Abbar leaned back in his chair, weariness in every line of his thin body but a smile of genuine pleasure on his face as he looked at the two of them standing together. “Enjoy yourselves.”
They crossed the room and were on the threshold when Abbar spoke. “I’m delighted with your choice of a bride, Lazhar. You have my blessing.”
Emily froze, her startled, disbelieving gaze flying to Lazhar, but he was looking at his father and she couldn’t see his eyes.
“Thank you, Father.”
Before Emily could speak, Lazhar’s grip tightened on her arm and he hustled her through the door, past the guards and down the hallway. He threw open the first door across the hall from the suite they’d just left and urged Emily inside, releasing her to close the door and lock it behind them.
Emily spun to face him. “What did he mean by that? He approves of me as a bride? We have his blessing?”
“My father believes that you’re the woman I’m marrying.”
The blunt statement stunned Emily. She stared at him blankly, trying to assimilate what he’d just told her.
“How did that happen? What made him think we’re getting married?”
“He likes you. You heard him, we have his blessing,” he said obliquely.
“I’m the wedding planner, not the bride.” She thrust her fingers through her hair in agitation. “How could this have happened?” She took three quick steps away from him and spun to stalk back. “You have to tell him. Now.”
“I can’t.”
“Of course you can! You have to.”
“I can’t. He liked you the first time he met you and every day since you arrived, he’s grown more attached to you and to the idea that you’ll be part of his family. I don’t have the heart to tell him you’re not the one.”
“But you’ll have to tell him sooner or later,” she argued, nonplussed at the situation. “He’s going to notice when you say ‘I do’ and the woman standing beside you isn’t me!”
“Yes, he would,” Lazhar said grimly. “If he lives long enough to attend the wedding.”
Emily was shocked into silence. “I had no idea he was…” She paused, a lump in her throat. She swallowed thickly. The lump moved lower, settling under her breastbone. In the short week she’d been in Daniz, she’d developed a genuine fondness for the king. “How long?”
“The doctors can’t, or won’t, give us a date. But not long.” He voice was bleak.
“I’m so sorry, Lazhar.” Needing to comfort him and be consoled in return, Emily stepped closer and laid her hand on his arm.
He instantly covered her fingers with his own, his warm hand trapping hers against his hairroughened, muscled forearm. “I don’t want to disappoint him, Emily. He’s grown very attached to you this week and it would devastate him if he learned that you’re not going to be his daughter-in-law.” His fingers tightened over hers. “Which is why I have to ask for your help.”
“My help? With what?”
“My father’s greatest wish, perhaps his dying wish, is that I marry. I can’t wait six months to find a bride. I need one now. He already loves you, Emily, and wants you as part of our family.” Lazhar paused, then looked into her eyes. “Marry me.”
Chapter Seven
His blunt words struck Emily speechless. She stared at him, thinking for a moment that she’d misheard him. But his face was set, his expression grim and determined; she couldn’t doubt he meant what he said.
Marry me. Under different circumstances, she would have been overjoyed if he’d said those two words. But he wanted to marry for his father’s sake. He didn’t love her. How could she want to say “yes” and “no” all at the same time? she thought wildly.
Her usual cool composure was destroyed and her panic must have shown on her face because his gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing.
“I can see I’ve shocked you.”
She pulled her fingers from beneath his, turning to pace away several steps before facing him again. “That’s an understatement.” She thrust her fingers through her hair, thoroughly unsettled. “It’s noble of you to want to move heaven and earth to make your father happy, but marriage seems like a drastic step.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, his face inscrutable. “The marriage can be annulled, after—” He stopped speaking.
Emily’s heart hurt at the unspoken acknowledgment that his father’s time with the family was limited. In the short week she’d been in Daniz and observed Lazhar with his father, she’d realized that the father-son bond between them was undeniably powerful. And even though her acquaintance with the king was of short duration, she, too, felt a deep affection for him.
“How long…” She paused as her voice wavered, tears clogging her throat. “How long do the doctors think he has?”
Lazhar’s answer shocked her.
Should she do this? Could she do this—marry a man for a few weeks in name only?
Emily had a quick mental image of King Abbar smiling at her as they played chess, heard again his words of praise and gentle pride in her when Lazhar told him about the child in the street, remembered the love on Caroline’s and Jenna’s faces when they spoke of him.
The slight headache she’d woke with that morning grew a little stronger and she rubbed her aching temples with her fingertips.
“Isn’t there someone else that can be your pretend-bride?” She gave up trying to ease the headache. “I’m sure I read somewhere that royal families pick out fiancées for their children the day they’re born. Don’t you have one of those?”
“No, I don’t.” He shook his head, a bemused smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Where did you read that?”
“Probably somewhere on the Internet,” Emily said, refusing to be distracted.
“And even if I did have a childhood fiancée,” Lazhar continued. “It wouldn’t change the fact that you’re the one my father wants. You’re the only person that can do this, Emily.”
“You’re sure? You’re absolutely positive that there’s no alternative solution?”
“I’m sure.”
“I’d have to talk to Jane about the schedule at the office.” She frowned at the swift satisfaction that flashed in his eyes and was just as quickly banked. “I’m not promising that I’ll do this,” she warned him.
