Royals: Claimed By The Prince. Penny Jordan

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       CHAPTER FIVE

      HANNAH’S FIRST GLIMPSE of her future home drew a pained gasp from her lips.

      ‘I know.’ Raini was all amused sympathy. ‘I’d like to tell you it’s not as awe-inspiring as it looks, but actually,’ she admitted, directing her critical stare at the multitude of minarets, ‘it is. Even Hollywood couldn’t build a set like this. The family, as you’ll learn, has never been into less is more. When I lived here—’

      ‘You lived here?’ How did anyone ever relax in a setting this ostentatiously grand?

      Raini gave a warm chuckle. ‘Oh, my parents occupied a small attic,’ she joked. ‘Until Dad got posted. He’s a diplomat,’ she explained. ‘By the time I was eighteen I’d lived in a dozen cities.’ They drove under a gilded archway into a courtyard the size of a football pitch, filled with fountains. ‘But nothing ever came close to this.’

      Hannah believed her.

      Rafiq escorted them into the building through a small antechamber that had seemed large until they stepped through the next door and entered a massive hall. The wall sconces in there were all lit, creating swirling patterns on the mosaic floor.

      The awful sense of impending doom that lay like a cold stone in Hannah’s chest became heavier as they followed the tall, gowned figure down a maze of marble-floored empty corridors. By the time she saw a familiar figure, she was struggling to breathe past the oppressive weight.

      ‘Dad!’

      ‘Hello, Hannah! You look very beautiful, child.’

      Hannah struggled to hide her shock at her father’s appearance. She had never seen him look so pale and haggard. Not even when he’d lain in a hospital bed attached to bleeping machines had he looked this frail. He seemed to have aged ten years since she last saw him.

      Any lingering mental image of her walking into his arms and asking him to make everything right vanished as the tears began to slide down his cheeks. She had never seen her ebullient parent cry except on the anniversary of her mother’s death—her birthday. On that day he always vanished to be alone with his grief, and the sight of tears now was as painful to her as a knife thrust.

      Intentionally or not, it always felt as if she was the cause of his tears. If she hadn’t been born the woman he loved would not have died and now this was her fault. About that much Kamel was right.

      She had been doing a job that she was ill qualified to do and she’d messed up. But the consequences had not been just hers. Other people had suffered. She lifted her chin. Well, that was going to stop. She’d made the mistake and she’d take the nasty-tasting medicine, though in this instance it came in the shape of the dark and impossibly handsome and arrogant Prince of Surana.

      ‘I thought I’d lost you,’ her father cried. ‘They have the death penalty in Quagani, Hannah. It was the only way we could get you out. They wanted to make an example of you, and without the King’s personal intervention they would have. Kamel is a good man.’

      It seemed to be a universally held opinion. Hannah didn’t believe it. Nonetheless, it was clear that he had not just freed her, he had saved her life.

      ‘I know, Dad. I’m fine about this,’ she lied.

      ‘Really?’

      She nodded. ‘It’s about time I finally made it down the aisle, don’t you think?’

      ‘He’ll take care of you.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘You’ll take care of each other. You know your mother was the love of my life...’

      Hannah felt a heart-squeezing clutch of sadness. ‘Yes, Dad.’

      ‘She didn’t love me when we got married. She was pregnant, and I persuaded her... What I’m trying to say is that it’s possible to grow to love someone. She did.’

      Incredibly moved by his confidences, she nodded, her throat aching with unshed tears. There was no point telling him the cases were totally dissimilar. Her father had loved the woman he had married, whereas Hannah was marrying a man who despised her.

      A man who had saved her life.

      Any moment she would wake up.

      But it wasn’t a dream. However surreal it felt, she really was standing there with her hand on her father’s arm, about to walk down the aisle to be married to a stranger.

      ‘Ready?’ her father asked.

      She struggled to relearn the forgotten skill of smiling for his benefit and nodded. Ahead of her the elegant Raini spoke to someone outside Hannah’s line of vision and the big doors swung open.

      Hannah had anticipated more of the same magnificence she had encountered so far, but she had the impression of a space that was relatively small, almost intimate...peaceful. The tranquillity was a dramatic contrast to the emotional storm that raged just below her calm surface.

      If you discounted the priest and choir there were only four people present: two robed rulers in the pews, and the two men who stood waiting, one tall and fair, the other...the other tall and very dark. She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax, to breathe, to do this... She opened them again and smiled at her father. He felt bad enough about this without her falling apart.

      * * *

      ‘Nervous?’

      Kamel glanced at his best man. ‘No.’ Resigned would be a more accurate description of his mindset. There had only ever been one woman he had imagined walking down the aisle towards him and he had watched her make that walk to someone else. He would never forget the expression on her face—she had been incandescent with joy. Yet now when he did think of it he found another face superimposing itself over Amira’s. A face framed by blonde hair.

      ‘I suppose you could call this a version of a shotgun wedding,’ the other man mused, glancing at the two royal personages who occupied the empty front pews. ‘She’s not...?’

      He tried to imagine those blue eyes soft as she held a child. ‘No, she is not.’

      ‘There’s going to be a hell of a lot of pressure for you to change that. I hope she knows what she’s letting herself in for.’

      ‘Did СКАЧАТЬ