Название: Beholden to the Throne
Автор: Carol Marinelli
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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‘Ignored?’ She finished his sentence for him and Emir nodded, making her tell him some of her truth. ‘Dad bought me a dolls’ house.’ She gave a pale smile at the memory. ‘I spent hours playing with it. There the mum and dad slept and ate together. The kids played in the garden or in the living room, not up in their room …’ There she’d been able to fix things. Her smile faded and trembled. Here she couldn’t fix things.
She felt his hand on her bare arm, felt his fingers brush her skin as if to comfort.
It did not.
She felt his flesh meet hers and it was all she could think of. His dark hand making contact was all she could think of when her mind should surely be only on the twins.
She hauled her thoughts back to them. ‘Can I ask,’ she said, ‘that when you consider a bride you think of them?’
‘Of course.’
His voice was soft and low, his hand still warm on her arm and there was a different tension surrounding them, the certainty that she was but a second away from a kiss.
A kiss that could only spell danger.
Perhaps that was his plan? Amy thought, shrugging off his hand, turning again to the desert. Perhaps he wanted her to fall in love with him. How convenient to keep her here, to bind her a little closer to the twins, to ensure that she did not resign. For he deemed her better for the twins.
‘Leave!’ She spat the word out over her shoulder, but still he stood. ‘Leave …’ she said again. But there was no relief when he complied, no respite when she heard the door close. Amy choked back angry tears as she stood on the balcony, she wanted to call him back, wanted to continue their discussion.… wanted …
There was the other reason she had to consider leaving.
Despite herself, despite the way he had been these past months, when he made any brief appearance in the nursery, on the rare occasions when he deigned to appear, her heart foolishly leapt at the sight of him—and lately her dreams had allowed more intimate glimpses of him. It confused her that she could have feelings for a man who paid so little attention to his own children.
Feelings that were forbidden.
Hidden.
And they must stay that way, Amy told herself, climbing into bed and willing sleep to come. But she was nervous all the same, for when she woke it would be morning.
And tomorrow she would be alone in the desert with him.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘COME in.’
Amy’s smile wasn’t returned as the bedroom door opened and Fatima walked in.
‘I’m nearly ready.’
‘What are you doing?’ Fatima frowned, her serious eyes moving over the mountain of coloured paper scattered over Amy’s bed.
‘I’m just wrapping some presents to take for the twins. I hadn’t had a chance before.’ She hadn’t had a chance because after a night spent tossing and turning, wondering if she’d misread things, wondering what might have happened had she not told Emir to leave, Amy had, for the first time since she’d taken the role as nanny, overslept.
Normally she was up before the twins, but this morning it had been their chatter over the intercom that had awoken her and now, having given them breakfast and got them bathed and dressed, five minutes before their departure for the desert, she had popped them in their cots so she could quickly wrap the gifts.
‘Their time in the desert is to be solemn,’ Fatima said.
‘It’s their birthday.’
‘The celebrations will be here at the palace.’ She stood and waited as Amy removed the gifts from her open case. ‘The King is ready to leave now. I will help you board the helicopter with the twins.’ She called to another servant to collect Amy’s case.
‘You need to take the twins’ cases also,’ Amy told him.
‘I have taken care of that.’ Fatima clearly did not want the King to be kept waiting. ‘Come now.’
Perhaps she had imagined last night, for Emir barely glanced at the twins and was his usual dismissive self with Amy as they boarded the helicopter. Amy was grateful for Fatima’s help to strap the twins in. The twins were used to flying, and so too was Amy, but what was different this time was the lack of aides—usually at the very least Patel travelled with them, but this trip, as she had been told many times, would be different.
Amy could almost forgive his silence and his lack of interaction with the girls during the flight, for she was well aware that this was a journey he should have been making with his wife. Perhaps he was more pensive than dismissive?
Emir was more than pensive: he looked out to the desert with loathing, and the sun glinting on the canyons made him frown as he stared into the distance. He remembered the rebels who’d used to reside there—men who had refused to wait for the predictions to come true, who’d wanted Alzan to be gone and had taken matters into their own bloody hands.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Amy commented as they swept deeper into the desert. She’d said it more to herself, but Emir responded.
‘From a distance,’ Emir said. ‘But the closer you get …’
He did not finish. Instead he went back to staring broodily out of the window, replaying battles of the past in his mind, hearing the pounding hooves and the cries, feeling the grit of sand rubbed in wounds, history in every grain. Yet above all that he could hear her, reading a book to the twins, hear his daughters laughing as they impatiently turned the pages. He wanted to turn to the sound of them, to forget the pain and suffering, to set aside the past, but as King he had sworn to remember.
The heat hit Amy as soon as she stepped out of the helicopter. Emir held Nakia, while Amy carried Clemira and even though the helicopter had landed as close as possible to the compound of tents still the walk was hard work—the shifting soft sand made each step an effort. Once inside a tent, she took off her shoes and changed into slippers as Emir instructed. She thanked the pilot, who had brought in her suitcase, and then Emir led her through a passageway and after that another, as he briefly explained what would happen.
‘The girls will rest before we take them to the Bedouins. There is a room for you next to them.’
They were in what appeared to be a lounge, its sandy floor hidden beneath layer after layer of the most exquisite rugs. The different areas were all separated by coloured drapes. It was like being in the heart of a vibrant labyrinth and already she felt lost.
‘There are refreshments through there,’ Emir explained, ‘but the twins are not to have any. Today they must eat and drink only from the desert …’
Amy had stopped listening. She spun around as she heard the sound of the helicopter taking off. ‘He’s forgotten to bring in their luggage!’ She went to run outside, but she took a wrong turn and ran back into the lounge again, appalled that Emir wasn’t helping. ‘You have to stop him—we need to get the twins’ bags.’
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