Читать книгу Claiming His Replacement Queen - Amanda Cinelli - Страница 11

CRESSIDA FELT THE weight of his words settle somewhere in her chest. His accent, the way he had looked at her when they’d first spoken—it all fell horribly into place. ‘You can’t be him,’ she breathed.

‘And yet I am,’ he said smoothly.

Disbelief held her body frozen for what felt like an eternity. Gone was the warmth from his eyes, replaced by a hardness that sent prickles along her skin.

She had sourced a few photographs online of the notoriously private Sheikh Khalil but the images she had seen had shown pictures of a man who seemed older, dressed in traditional white robes, his features obscured by a headdress and sunglasses. Not smooth shaven in a sleek open-collared suit, practically vibrating the air around him with a dark virility that made her knees weak.

This was her fiancé? The man her father had described as old-world and ruthless? She thought of all the anxiety that had plagued her, worrying what to say when they first met or how she should behave...

‘Was this a game to you?’ Her voice was suddenly ice-cold. ‘Was it some kind of test to see how I might...perform?’

‘No,’ he said simply, a strange look crossing his features. ‘This was most definitely not a part of my plan for our first meeting.’

Cressida swallowed hard. ‘Did you know who I was from the start?’

His jaw seemed to tighten before he answered. ‘Yes.’

‘Well, then, I fail to see how you weren’t toying with me.’ She shook her head, unable to stand still a moment longer. She had taken no more than two steps towards the street and he was by her side. A muscular hand encircled her wrist, stopping her progress.

‘Let me go,’ she gritted, snatching her hand from him with force.

‘You will not walk away from me, Princess,’ he said softly. ‘We have not yet finished our conversation.’

‘I most certainly am finished. I never want to see you again.’

His mouth hardened into a thin line. ‘You can come with me calmly so that we can resolve this privately, or you can make things needlessly difficult.’

As she watched, his eyes drifted to the handful of men surrounding them. She felt the distinct sensation of being caged in and it was not pleasant. ‘Where is Frank?’ she asked quietly, suddenly worried for her loyal chauffeur.

He raised one dark brow. ‘Your driver has been relieved of his duties, along with your incompetent bodyguards.’

‘You can’t do that,’ she breathed, aghast. ‘They are not at fault for my actions.’

His head cocked to one side. ‘It’s a little late for remorse now, don’t you think? If a driver can be persuaded to overlook protocol by a pair of fluttering lashes, then he has no business being entrusted with the responsibility.’

‘You can’t do this.’

‘Oh, I most certainly can,’ he purred, encircling her wrist with his strong hand.

‘For tonight, at least, your safety is my responsibility.’

She did not know why, shock perhaps, but she put up virtually no fight as he guided her into the limousine that lay in wait by the roadside. The team of guards retreated into their own imposing vehicles to the front and behind. Even when it became clear that they were driving in completely the opposite direction to her apartment, she could not speak. She felt cold, the skin on her arms prickling with gooseflesh.

If her driver and guards had truly been dismissed, then that meant they would have already alerted King Fabian. Her father had already made it clear that he was depending on her to ensure this union went ahead at any cost. Guilt gnawed at her stomach as she closed her eyes, focusing on the gentle sway of the car to distract herself from the many reasons why, once again, she was an utter disappointment to her parents. This was the first and only thing the King had ever asked of her directly, the first time he had spoken to her since...well, since he had decided she was no longer worth speaking to. She had finally been given an opportunity to prove herself, to save her kingdom. And, as per usual, she had failed spectacularly.

‘Are we to travel in silence?’ The Sheikh was facing her, one long leg propped over the other, making him seem larger and more imposing in the small space.

‘I fail to see how making idle chit-chat with you will make this situation any easier.’ She purposefully directed her gaze out at the passing blur of streetlamps and shadows.

‘You seem quite indignant for someone who chose to run away from her guards for a wild night out.’ His voice held only the smallest hint of impatience.

‘I am not the one who did anything wrong here.’

‘Aren’t you?’ He met her gaze evenly.

Before she could retaliate, the car came to a stop outside one of the most exclusive hotels in London. They were escorted inside by the Sheikh’s entourage, who shielded them both from view until they were safely inside a private lift.

The Sheikh’s suite spanned the entire top floor of the building, offering a breathtaking view of the London skyline. She was instantly drawn to look out at the majestic sea of lights of the city she had spent virtually no time exploring in the past five years.

She was aware of the bodyguards moving around as they performed a thorough check of the rooms. A handful of other men and women appeared briefly, speaking to the Sheikh in a language she assumed to be Zayyari. Her studies had included most European languages, along with ancient Greek and Latin, but she had no experience of Middle Eastern tongues. The way the syllables cut and rolled off their tongues was fascinating; it was a struggle not to turn and observe the conversations.

After a while she became aware of the lack of noise in the open-plan living space. She turned just as he reached her side.

Sheikh Khalil cleared his throat gently. ‘Have you spent all of this time appreciating the view or plotting on ways to escape, I wonder.’

She turned to face him fully. ‘At what point did I become your prisoner?’

‘Despite how others may portray me, I am not a tyrant. I assured your family that I would escort you to Monteverre personally and I will not go back on my word, even if you choose to end our arrangement.’

His gaze travelled briefly to her mouth before returning upwards. Did she imagine the slight dart of his tongue to moisten his lips before he spoke again?

He took another step so that he was by her side, one hand braced on the glass. ‘I came to London to meet my future Queen on neutral ground. To ensure that we might begin our union on equal footing and avoid history repeating itself. It seems I’m destined to fail on that point.’

Cressida lowered her gaze, knowing he was referring to his failed engagement with her older sister, Olivia. The fact that she was a replacement bride should offend her, but she couldn’t blame him for wanting Olivia as his first choice. Her sister was graceful and beautiful with a flawless talent for public speaking. Who wouldn’t want her as their Queen? The arrangement between Monteverre and Zayyar had been in negotiations for months until her sister had chosen to walk away before accepting the proposal.

‘You are our last chance, Cressida. Make me proud.’

‘Tell me why you didn’t reveal yourself straight away,’ she said, ignoring the echo of her father’s voice in her mind and firmly throwing down the gauntlet between them. She simply could not go ahead with the deal if tonight had been some kind of practical joke. She had some pride. But could she truly return to Monteverre a failure?

‘It was interesting to find myself meeting you without the complication of my own identity in the way,’ he said simply.

‘You see yourself as a complication?’ she asked quietly, mulling over his words.

‘When seeing a person as they truly are, yes.’

She raised her brows at his honesty. She knew all too well how the world changed once people knew you had a title in front of your name. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

‘I am not in the habit of using women as toys to amuse myself—was that what you accused me of?’ He raised one brow in challenge. ‘However, I will admit when I am wrong. I should have immediately announced my identity once I realised you had no idea who I was.’

‘Yes. You should have.’ She bit her bottom lip, trying not to look at him directly lest she be overtaken by another flashback to what it had felt like to be in his arms.

‘But perhaps none of that matters, as you have said you are finished with all of this and never wish to see me again.’ There was no playfulness in his words as he moved across the room to take a seat in the living area. ‘Truthfully, this entire deal has been a fiasco from the start, with your father’s lies and manipulations. It’s clear to me now that you can’t have been entering into this marriage willingly if this is how you choose to spend your free time.’

Cressida felt a prickle of irritation rise within her at his easy reclined posture and flippant judgement. There was no way she was going to beg this arrogant man to honour their agreement. And yet she was not quite ready to return to Monteverre if that meant her father lost the deal that would salvage their kingdom’s failing economy.

She settled for a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. ‘This is an unusual situation for me, Your Highness, not that it’s any of your business.’

‘Perhaps both of us acted on impulse, Princess. But still, now I’ve met you I can’t see how you will be happy away from the freedom and thrills of this kind of life. I have a duty to my people to give them a Queen who will be fulfilled by her role.’

‘Why not just leave me here, then?’

‘I am taking you back to your kingdom, just as I promised I would.’ He watched her, his expression entirely unreadable. ‘Your father made it very clear that your time in London had come to an end. But, considering recent events, I also made sure to consult my own sources. They told me that you are no longer enrolled with the university and the lease on your apartment has been cancelled.’

Her father had been quite busy this past week. He had not been happy when she’d told him of her wish to accept the teaching position, even before Olivia had walked away from the deal with the Sheikh. Cressida swallowed hard, moving to take a seat directly across from him in the luxurious living area. She had been fully prepared to return to her home country right up until approximately two hours ago. Why all of a sudden did it seem more favourable to walk through hot coals than to set one foot on Monteverrian soil?

She straightened her shoulders, making direct eye contact with the man across from her for the first time since they had entered his suite. ‘I know that you have spent months on these negotiations. My father told me that you had already begun to invest millions, according to the deal, before my sister walked away from the arrangement.’

His eyes narrowed slightly, the rest of his expression utterly still. Clearly he’d had practice in holding his reactions in check.

Cressida crossed one leg idly over the other. ‘It’s clear to me that both our kingdoms stand to lose if we walk away.’

He was thoughtful for a long moment. ‘There is much at stake. But tonight has made me question some things. I did not expect you to be a saint, Princess. You have clearly lived a life of...freedom...during your time here.’ He looked at her pointedly. ‘But a man in my position requires one hundred per cent loyalty from the woman by his side. To project an image of stability and unity.’

She chewed on the inside of her lip, fighting the urge to shout that she had never even kissed a man before tonight, but she resisted. ‘I would like to propose that tonight should not have any bearing on our arrangement.’

‘And yet it does.’ He cleared his voice, angling his face away from her. ‘There was something between us tonight—an attraction. A political agreement such as this one does not mix well with emotional involvement.’

‘You think I am emotionally involved after one kiss?’ she asked.

He tensed. ‘I mean that sometimes people tend to read more into simple physical chemistry.’

And by people he meant women, clearly. She fought against the urge to roll her eyes. ‘I am not one of those people,’ she said pointedly. ‘I don’t particularly do emotional connections. I have always been perfectly happy with my own company.’ She didn’t tell him that it wasn’t really her choice to be so cold, simply a part of her make-up.

The Sheikh stood, pacing to the sideboard at the corner of the room and pouring himself a glass of iced water. ‘So if I am willing to go ahead with the arrangement, you wish to uphold your end of the bargain?’

Cressida took a deep breath, mulling over her words carefully before she spoke. ‘I think I would be willing, but only once I know that the terms will remain the same. That it will not be a...a true marriage.’

* * *

Khal paused at the slight tremor in the young Princess’s voice. She sat perfectly poised on the low-slung sofa, long slim legs tucked demurely to one side. One would never guess she had been virtually plastered to his front less than an hour before. He cleared his throat, pushing the images from his mind. ‘The legal agreements you have already signed state the general terms of the union. What they do not overtly mention is that absolute fidelity is required, along with every effort to maintain the perfect image. So while we might not be sharing a bed as man and wife, I assure you that I would still expect a true marriage.’

A strange look crossed her features. She took a moment of pensive silence before looking up to meet his gaze head-on. ‘Are those rules the same for you?’

Khal let a moment of silence hang in the air. ‘In my country, the act of marriage is not one that is entered into lightly, even one of a political nature. So yes, the terms of the union would apply equally to both parties.’

She stood, pacing towards the window and wrapping her arms around herself before turning back to him. ‘Well, then, I suppose I don’t have any other questions.’

‘You sound very eager to become my Queen, I must say.’

‘It has always been part of my duty to my kingdom to marry advantageously, if required.’ She shrugged.

‘And abandoning your studies? That does not bother you?’

She frowned, looking away for a moment. ‘It’s almost as though you are trying to talk me out of this.’

‘I’m making sure you won’t bolt at the last minute,’ he said plainly, seeing no need to mince his words considering the turn the night had taken.

Understanding dawned in the depths of her blue eyes. ‘You are concerned that I will act as my sister did.’

‘I am protecting my own interests, yes.’

She nodded, biting her lower lip. ‘I don’t think that my sister intended to behave as she did. The Olivia that I know was always true to her word.’ She shook her head once, a frown marring her brow. ‘I understand that you have a vision for your future wife. That Olivia fitted a certain mould. I must warn you that I have not been a part of public life for many years—’

‘My team are aware of this and are prepared to help you in your new role.’ He watched as she moved back to sit delicately on the sofa once more. It seemed as if she were unable to be still. ‘You seem quite eager to perform your royal duties; it surprises me in someone who has not set foot in their kingdom for such a long time.’

Her shoulders stiffened slightly at his words. ‘Of course I have personal reasons for agreeing to this marriage, Your Highness. They are my own, not ones forced upon me or held over me. All I can do is assure you wholeheartedly that I’m here because I choose to be.’

‘That’s more than enough for me,’ he said smoothly as he stood and took the few steps to close the space between them so that he stood over her. She inhaled sharply, freezing as he reached into the pocket of the coat he had draped across her shoulders earlier. He withdrew a small black box and sat on the seat alongside her.

‘I understand that this is the tradition in Monteverre?’ He opened the ring box, revealing a delicate vintage ruby ring set in the finest gold.

‘Oh...’ Her eyes widened. ‘There is really no need for...’

He took her hand, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say as he slipped the ring onto the correct finger and surveyed his handiwork. ‘A perfect fit.’

She cleared her throat, frowning slightly as she blinked down at the sparkling gem nestled against her pale skin. ‘Thank you.’

Khal was suddenly very aware of the intimacy of their position. He stood, clasping both hands together. ‘We will stop first in Monteverre for a brief press conference, followed by an engagement party. The wedding will take place as quickly as possible, but likely will be in a few months’ time to allow for planning and invitations.’

Cressida frowned. ‘Oh... I hadn’t realised the wedding would be a big event.’

‘There is usually some fanfare when a King takes a woman to be his Queen.’ Khal fought the urge to laugh.

‘I was under the impression from your secretary that we would be married quickly, that’s all. That time was important to you.’

‘You have an objection to the timing of the marriage?’

‘No, not at all. The sooner the better, really.’ She shrugged. ‘I just thought there would be some kind of spin put on it. A secret elopement or something.’

‘You do not want a big public wedding?’

‘Well, it’s just... No offence, but you are hardly the most public of figures and I clearly have not lived in the spotlight. It might seem odd if we suddenly announce a big wedding. I don’t even know who I would invite, other than my family.’

Khal frowned, considering the logic in her words. The plan had originally been formed to account for his first bride—it was true that Princess Olivia was much more of a public figure in the media than her reclusive sister. Once again, it seemed his plans were being thrown to the winds. But perhaps, this time, a change in direction might benefit him and help him to make up for lost time.

* * *

Cressida noticed that the Sheikh seemed suddenly distracted as he called for one of his assistants to show her to her room. She barely had a moment to bid him goodnight before she was swept away and shown into a luxurious bedroom. A fresh silky towelling robe and slippers lay draped on the bed and she wasted no time in stripping out of her tight dress and heels before flopping onto the giant bed in the most un-princess-like manner possible.

The events of the night seemed surreal in her exhausted state. Almost as if she was living in some alternate reality of her own life. She raised her hand into the air above her head, staring at the ruby glinting on her finger. He had slid the ring on her finger with such businesslike finality, and yet the touch of his skin on hers had set her pulse racing.

She closed her eyes against the onslaught of memories from the hours before. The feel of his hands on her waist as they’d moved to the music, that first electric touch of his lips against hers. She would never let him know that he had been her first kiss; that would make it matter somehow.

Which it didn’t. It had just been a kiss. She closed her eyes, repeating the words silently to herself and letting the tiredness take over.

* * *

She was awoken before dawn and told that they would be travelling to the airfield immediately. The sky was still jet-black and the air frosty as she ascended the steps to a luxury jet bearing the Royal insignia of Zayyar. The Sheikh was already on board and conversing with a team of men and women in traditional Zayyari attire. He had changed into white robes and the elaborate headdress she had seen in pictures.

She was thankful that he’d had the foresight to have a small case of her belongings collected and delivered to her room during the night so that she didn’t have to wear the red dress again. She had not expected him to think of her comforts. Or, more realistically, it was his assistant who had thought of her. She took a seat near the front of the plane, swiping through the news on her phone as she waited for the meeting to end.

‘Cressida,’ a familiar deep voice called to her from within the cocoon of staff.

She stood, making her way down the wide aisle to the long conference table in the middle of the aircraft. The men and women of his staff bowed their heads, moving away and revealing their King, seated at the top of the table surrounded by official documents and paraphernalia.

‘I had not realised you planned to fly to Monteverre at first light,’ she said breathlessly, fidgeting with the hem of her simple white blouse. She felt ridiculously underdressed in her blue jeans and worn sneakers. Her more expensive royal attire was sadly out of date, considering she had not attended anything as Princess Cressida in years.

‘Change of plan.’ He looked up for the first time, pausing to sweep his gaze over her briefly. ‘We fly directly to Zayyar.’

‘You are not taking me home first?’

‘I thought it best to take you home after we are married. Which will now be in two days’ time.’