For Duty's Sake. Lucy Monroe

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ him was no child and the feelings so apparent on her features had a depth that shocked him. Love was not a comfortable or safe emotion. From this point forward, it would not hurt her to love him, but she did not know that. He would never betray her as Elsa had betrayed him.

      “What was your first clue? My clumsy attempt at a kiss at eighteen, or my slavish devotion and refusal to date other men despite the fact we are not formally engaged?”

      If he expected shock from her at his revelation, or horror, he would clearly receive neither.

      He did not point out that her love for him made no sense in light of her demands and threats to back out of their families’ arrangements. He had already decided she had no real desire to do that, she was simply looking for reassurances.

      The need for which made even more sense in the light of her feelings for him.

      Nor did he point out that her love was based on a distant relationship. How could she know him well enough to love him? But she believed herself in love and that was enough to cause her pain and worry in their current situation.

      “I apologize for not realizing your feelings sooner.”

      Acknowledging the hurt she must have experienced over the years of their pseudoengagement, was not comfortable, but he was not a man to shirk from his responsibilities. “Love is a painful emotion.”

      “You’re telling me?” she asked with disbelief and then the horror came. The color drained from her face as her eyes registered a mortal wound. “You are telling me … that you loved her.”

      For the first time in his life, he was tempted to outright lie. He had learned the art of misdirection and when it was most politic to withhold information at an early age, but he made it a practice never to tell a direct falsehood. Even for the sake of politics.

      His honor would not stand for it.

      “It does not matter. Ms. Bosch and I are finished.”

      “But you loved her, didn’t you?”

      “That is not something I’m ever going to discuss with you.” The past was over. He and Angele had a future to build.

      His youthful feelings embarrassed him and they were over regardless.

      “You don’t need to. The photos show the truth, if you look for it. I didn’t … I don’t think I wanted to believe it was possible. It was painful enough to accept you were so much more relaxed and happy with her.”

      “You gleaned all this from a single photo?”

      “No, but that’s not something I want to discuss right now.”

      No, right now, she wanted reassurances he was more than happy to give. Nevertheless … “We can hardly disappear from my brother’s wedding feast.”

      “Why not? You did.”

      “I had business to attend to if my father was to remain free to preside over the festivities.” “You often sacrifice for your family.” “It is my privilege to do so.” “I believe you mean that.”

      “I do.”

      “You’re an amazing man.”

      “And you love me.” He had no intention of opening himself to that depth of emotion again, but he would protect hers. It was his duty to do so.

      And he always did his duty.

      “The wedding festivities will last into the wee hours of the morning. Tonight is not the ideal time for us to share our bodies for the first time.”

      “What do you suggest?”

      “You are in the country for the next three days?” “Yes, we’re staying for the full wedding celebration.”

      Despite Angele’s refusal to play a role in the wedding, her family had been at the palace since the prewedding festivities began. He had seen very little of her because he had been busy with state business. He had believed she was busy with the bridal party, even if she wasn’t an official member of it.

      “I will make arrangements for your last night here. There are no official events after the final breakfast that day.”

      He put his arm out. “Now, I believe it is time we returned to the feast.”

      She laid her small hand in the crook of his arm and let him lead her from his study, the stress this discussion had caused her evident in the fine tremors of her delicate fingers against his jacket sleeve.

      Two nights hence, he would show her she had nothing to fear from him in any way.

      Despite the sun having set an hour before, the tile floor on the balcony off Angele’s room warmed her bare feet. She’d long since discarded the expensive but uncomfortable glittery heels she’d worn for the final celebratory feast of Amir and Grace’s nuptials.

      She still wore the figure hugging silk sheath. By an as yet undiscovered New York designer, its subtle composition made the most of her figure, hinting at bedroom seductions while having no single element that could be pointed to as anything other than proper.

      Her father had been angry she’d foregone the traditional dress the women of the Jawharian royal family had opted to don for the evening feast. Only Angele wasn’t a Jawharian princess, no matter how much her father might wish otherwise.

      Her mother had stood up for her. Looking like American royalty in a beautiful European-designed gown, Lou-Belia had told Cemal to take a chill pill. The look on Angele’s father’s face had been worth the price of admission and then some.

      But the expression that flashed over Zahir’s features when he’d seen Angele’s dress had been even better. His gray eyes had heated to molten metal and his lids had dropped in a look of pure sexual predatory interest before he’d schooled his features into diplomatic blank-ness. It hadn’t been just the once, either.

      She’d caught that heated stare directed her way more than once over the course of the evening. Each time, it increased her desire for the feast to be over, for her one night with Crown Sheikh Zahir bin Faruq al Zohra to begin.

      The celebration was over now and she could go to Zahir as soon as she wanted. The only thing stopping her was the garment lying so innocently on her bed.

      She’d discovered the galabeya upon returning to her room. The traditional wedding dress in this part of the world, the white silk gown embroidered with gold thread looked like it belonged in an Arabian Nights fantasy. The Arabic lettering in the intricate embroidery told the story of the first Sheikh’s marriage to the wife that helped him found the house of Zohra.

      A note from Zahir lay atop the galabya.

      My dear Angele,

      You indicated a wish to have a wedding night. Please do me the honor of wearing this gown, worn by my grandmother in her wedding to my grandfather.

      I look forward to seeing you in and out of it.

      Zahir

      The СКАЧАТЬ