The Sultan's Choice. ABBY GREEN

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СКАЧАТЬ Samia again. She moved back skittishly and cursed this mouse of a person she’d become in his presence. She ruled over thirty employees at the library, and was used to standing up to her brother, who was a man cut from the same dominant cloth as the Sultan, but mere minutes in this man’s presence and she was jelly.

      He prowled around the room, as if he couldn’t sit still for longer than a second, and Samia recalled that he had a well known and insatiable love of extreme sports. He’d been the youngest ever sailor to take part in the prestigious Vendée Globe race. As a keen sailor herself, she was in awe of that achievement.

      In the tradition of men of his lineage he’d studied in both the UK and the US, and had trained at the exclusive royal military academy at Sandhurst. He had a fleet of helicopters and planes that he regularly flew himself. All in all he was a formidable man. Along with that came the notorious reputation of being one of the world’s most ruthless playboys, picking up and discarding the most beautiful women in the world like accessories.

      And every year—not that she needed to be reminded—he hosted the biggest, most lavish birthday party and raised an obscene amount of money for charity. For years after that humiliating incident at his party, she’d been scornful of the excess he presided over. But she’d seen the evidence of how much bona fide charity work he did when time after time he was lauded for his fundraising. And how did she know all this? Hours spent researching him on the internet last night, much to her shame.

      He stopped pacing and quirked an ebony brow. ‘Are you going to insist on refusing my offer of marriage and force me to look elsewhere for a wife?’

      Samia heard the unimstakable incredulity in his voice. Patently he hadn’t expected this to be hard. It gave her some much needed confidence back to see this chink in his arrogant armour.

      ‘What would happen if I said no?’

      He put his hands on narrow hips, and Samia’s gaze couldn’t help but drop for a moment to where his shirt was stretched across taut abdominal muscles. She could see the dark shadowing of a line of hair through the silk and her mouth dried. The physiciality of her reaction to him stunned her. No man had had this kind of effect on her before. It was as if she’d been asleep all her life and was gradually coming to her senses here and now, in this room. It was most disconcerting.

      ‘What would happen,’ he bit out, ‘is that the agreement between your brother and I would be in serious jeopardy. I would have to look to your next sister and assess her suitability.’

      Samia blanched and her gaze snapped back up to Sadiq’s. ‘But Sara is only twenty-two.’ And she jumped at her own shadow, but Samia didn’t say that. Immediately all her protective older sister hackles rose. ‘She’s entirely unsuitable for you.’

      Sadiq’s gaze was glacial now. ‘Which would seem to be a running trend in your family, according to you. Nevertheless, she would be considered. I would also be under no obligation to go through with my offer to help the Emir mine your vast oil fields. He would be forced to look for expertise from abroad, and that would bring with it a whole host of political challenges that I don’t think Burquat can afford at this moment in time.’

      Samia tried to ignore the vision he was painting and smile cynically. But her mouth tingled betrayingly when his gaze dropped there for an incendiary moment. She fought to retain her focus. ‘And you’re saying that your part in this is entirely altruistic? Please don’t insult my intelligence, no one does anything for nothing in return.’

      He inclined his head again, a different kind of gleam in his eyes now. ‘Of course not. In return I get a very suitable wife—you, or your sister, which is entirely up to you. A valuable alliance with a neighbouring kingdom and a slice of the oil profits which I will funnel into a trust fund for our children.’

      Our children. Samia ignored the curious swooping sensation in the pit of her belly when he said those words. ‘Burquat needs an alliance with one of its Arabian neighbours, Samia. You know that as well as I do. On the brink of revealing to the world the veritable gold mine it harbours, it’s in an acutely vulnerable position. Marriage to me will ensure my support. We will be family. You and your brother will be assured of my protection. We’re also poised to sign a historic peace treaty. Needless to say our marriage would provide an even stronger assurance of peace between us.’

      Every word he spoke was a death knell to Samia, and every word had already been spoken by her brother. She couldn’t tell if the Sultan was bluffing about her sister or not, and didn’t really want to test him. She also didn’t want to investigate the dart of hurt that she should be so easily interchangeable with her sister. She didn’t want him to choose her and she didn’t want him to choose anyone else. Pathetic.

      She could feel her life as she knew it slipping out of her grasp, but an inner voice mocked her. What kind of a life did she have anyway? Burying herself away in the library and quashing her naturally gregarious spirit after years of bullying by her stepmother wasn’t something she could justify any more. Her stepmother was gone.

      Even so, the prospect of moving out of that safe environment was still terrifying. Desperation tinged her voice. ‘What makes you believe that I’ll be a good wife? The right wife for you?’

      The Sultan rocked back on his heels and put his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He was so tall and dark and forbidding in that moment.

      ‘You are intelligent and have not lived your life in the public eye, like most of your peers. I think you are serious, and that you care about things. I read the article you wrote in the Archivist last month and it was brilliant.’

      Samia felt humiliated more than pleased at his obvious research. An article in the Archivist only cemented how deeply

      boring she was. She did not need to be reminded of the disparity between her and the man in front of her. He was a playboy! The thought of the exposure she would face within a marriage to him made her feel nauseous. Because with exposure came humiliation.

      Sadiq went on as remorselessly as the tide washing in. ‘But apart from all of that you are a princess from one of the oldest established royal families in Arabia and you were born to be a queen. God forbid, but if something happened to your brother tomorrow you would be next in line for your throne. If we were married then you would not have to shoulder that burden alone, and I would make sure that Burquat retained its emirate status.’

      Samia felt herself pale. She knew she was next in line to the throne of Burquat, but had never really contemplated the reality of what that meant. Kaden seemed so invincible that she’d never had to. But Sultan Sadiq was right; she was in a very delicate position. She might know the theory of ruling a country, but the reality was a different prospect altogether. And she knew that not many other potential husbands would guarantee that Burquat retained its autonomy. Al-Omar was huge and thriving, and the fact that the Sultan saw no need to bolster his own power through annexing a smaller country made Samia feel vulnerable—she hadn’t expected this.

      Afraid that he would see something of the turmoil she felt, she turned to face a window which looked out over manicured lawns—a serene and typically English tableau which would normally be soothing.

      She felt short of breath and seriously overwhelmed. There was a point that came in everyone’s life when a person was called to make the starkest of choices, and she was facing hers right now. Not that she really had a choice. That was becoming clearer and clearer.

      But, desperate to cling on to some tiny measure of illusion, Samia turned around again and bit her lip before saying to the Sultan, ‘This is a lot to take in. Yesterday I was facing only the prospect СКАЧАТЬ