Wedlocked: Banished Sheikh, Untouched Queen. Carol Marinelli

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      Chapter Two

      ‘I AM not spending a month there!’ Xavian frowned at Akmal as his dresser helped him out of his military uniform and into desert robes in preparation for his honeymoon. ‘I agreed only to a week in Haydar.’

      ‘I understand that, Sire, but our advisors are merely responding to what they have heard from the people…’ He gave a slightly uncomfortable swallow. ‘The Queen was checking the press release and asked that—’

      ‘What?’ Xavian’s head spun round. He had been admiring himself in the mirror, but Akmal’s words demanded curt response. ‘Why would you worry her with such details?’

      ‘She asked to see it.’ Akmal’s lips pursed tightly, so tightly it took a moment for him to release them enough to continue speaking. ‘She has also asked that you stay for a month in her land…She feels that the people of Haydar will want to see their new King in residence for a while, so they can fully grasp that you are there for them too. They need this union, Sire…’

      Xavian was less than impressed. A week in the desert—that he accepted was necessary. A week: with his new bride at nights, and wandering in his desert by day. After the reception, to appease the people, he had agreed to spend a week in Haydar—where he would formally greet his new people, sign essential documents, and then, apart from necessary formal appearances and the occasional night together at her fertile times, they could get on with their own jobs.

      There was unrest in Haydar, though. Xavian knew that. The meek, silent woman he had just married would hardly command respect from her aides, let alone her people. But Xavian was tough. At times there was immense pressure from his elders, from Akmal—just a complete resistance to change—but Xavian was a strong ruler, assured in his role. He never doubted, never questioned that he was right. Yes, he listened to his advisers, he pondered, sought counsel from the desert at times, but always he made his decisions—and once they were made he would not be swayed.

      No one would dare try.

      It must, though, Xavian decided with a smirk, be hell being Queen!

      ‘Two weeks…’ Xavian made a rare compromise, but Akmal’s brow knitted into a worried frown, for he had already spoken with the Queen. ‘Tell her I am prepared to stay in her country for two weeks…’

      ‘I think that a month in Haydar would be wiser…’ A soft voice filled the room, and the dresser and Akmal stood aghast as Layla walked, uninvited and unannounced, into the King’s chambers!

      ‘You cannot be here…’ Akmal was across the room in a flash, ready to scurry her out, but violet eyes halted him. That voice not so soft when she spoke next. ‘You will address me as Your Highness…’ Still veiled, she stood very still as Akmal bowed deeply. The poor man was clearly torn between royal protocol and protecting his master—only Xavian wasn’t annoyed, in fact he was thoroughly enjoying himself, a rare smile dusting his lips as Akmal struggled to appease them both. ‘Your Highness, I was about to come to you, to inform you of the King’s decision.’

      ‘How tiresome…’ She was no longer looking at Akmal. Instead her eyes held Xavian’s and the smile slid from his face. ‘That a husband and wife must speak through advisors.’ Still she held Xavian’s eyes. ‘Could you inform the King that regretfully, on this detail, the Queen cannot compromise—the people of Haydar need to see that their new King relishes his role, that he wants to help lead them, and a brief visit isn’t going to appease them.’

      ‘Your Highness…’ Akmal duly started to relay her words. ‘The Queen has—’

      ‘Silence!’ Xavian snapped to his vizier. ‘Leave us.’ As Akmal shooed out the dresser he walked slowly to where she stood, but she didn’t move, barely blinked. Only her eyes were visible, and this time they did not lower as he approached.

      ‘I have considered your request.’ Xavian’s voice was ominously calm. ‘And, as I take my new duties seriously—’

      ‘So seriously,’ she interrupted, ‘that you could not even be bothered to turn up to your wedding on time!’

      How dared she?

      She should not question him, should not even let on that she had noticed. Instead she should be proud— proud that the King of Qusay was now her husband— yet he was being greeted with complaints and demands.

      ‘I had my reasons for being late.’ He did not need to offer even that, and he certainly did not have to tell her his reasons, so why was there still silence?

      He had never had to offer an explanation—his decisions, his word, his presence always sufficed. Did she really think he was going to stand there and discuss reasons?

      She was waiting for an explanation.

      A mirthless smile spread over his face at her barefaced cheek. Maybe he should tell her, watch her reaction when she found out that her new husband sometimes thought he was going insane—that at times the scars on his wrist burnt so fiercely he thought his skin might rip open, that at times, when sitting quietly, sometimes he could swear he heard a child laughing? He could just imagine her appalled reaction—especially when he told her that he thought that the child was him!

      ‘You left me waiting for close to an hour.’ Her eyes never left his. ‘And you offer me no explanation—yet you expect me to accept that you take your duties seriously. Today was a duty!’ Layla lips were tight beneath her veil. ‘And you carried it out dreadfully.’

      ‘Silence!’

      His hand splayed as he considered slapping her.

      In that instant Xavian, who had never struck a woman—would never strike a woman—considered slapping her. Yet in rapid self-assessment he realised the anger that rose within was in fact directed at himself.

      He had carried out his duties badly today. Always meticulous, always thorough, he had, on this rare occasion, been tardy. Rarely did he concede, but to be a good ruler sometimes it was necessary. And so, rather than slap her, he did something rare.

      ‘It was not about you.’ He saw two vertical frown lines appear between those probing eyes. ‘It was not about keeping you waiting, or shirking my duty, or making a mockery of the marriage…’ Xavian could hear the words coming from his mouth, yet he could scarcely believe they СКАЧАТЬ