The Desert Sheikh's Innocent Queen: King of the Desert, Captive Bride. Jane Porter

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СКАЧАТЬ hands in her own to examine her nails. “Tonight it is all about you. Simple. Beautiful. Elegant.”

      “A goddess,” the hairdresser added. “Tonight, you shall be a goddess.”

      The hairdresser urged Liv to sit down on the chair they’d pulled into the bathroom and while she turned her attention to Liv’s clean but tousled blond hair, the other one started in on a pampering manicure.

      While they worked she snacked on fruit and cheese and crackers Khalid had sent to her. A glass of champagne also arrived but she didn’t dare touch it. She hadn’t eaten much in days and feared the alcohol would go straight to her head. However, the assorted cheeses, sweet apricots, grapes and savory flatbreads were delicious and Liv ate virtually everything on her plate.

      By the time her hair and nails were finished, Liv felt unusually relaxed and ridiculously spoiled. To have not one, but two, women fuss over her while she snacked on cheese and crackers struck her as incredibly decadent, but she wasn’t in a position to argue. Tonight was important. Khalid had made that very clear and she was going to do everything in her power to make a good impression on the visiting officials.

      “And your clothes have now arrived,” the manicurist said. “We’ll just get you into your dress, make sure everything fits exactly so and then leave you to your party.”

      Her party.

      The suggestion was laughable but Liv didn’t laugh. She shivered, suffering from a sudden fit of nerves.

      She was scared. Nothing could go wrong tonight. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—go back to Ozr.

      Fortunately her attention was drawn to getting dressed. She was to wear a beautiful ivory-pleated gown, the ivory shimmering with threads of gold. A gold collar encircled her throat, the collar the width of her hand and heavy with gold and jewels. The dress was long, touching the tips of her champagne-colored high heels.

      The hairstylist had curled her hair in loose waves, and then pinned strategic pieces up so that her hair looked like a golden waterfall with loose tendrils around her face. The manicurist wasn’t to be outdone. She swiftly applied a deft application of makeup, including sooty eyeliner, a swirl of black mascara and a soft golden blush on Liv’s cheeks, and a touch of golden gloss on her lips.

      “You look perfect,” the manicurist said, stepping back to examine her handiwork. “So fresh and young and charming, just the way a princess should.”

      Liv smiled gratefully even as she heard the door open and close. From the sound of voices she knew that the guests had arrived and her smile disappeared as her stomach flipped … a maddening somersault that had her clutching the sink.

      “It’s going to be fine,” the hairstylist said, patting Liv on the back even as Liv leaned over the sink, trying to catch her breath and calm her queasy stomach. “Everything is fine, and you are going to make His Highness very proud. Now go. Enjoy your party.”

      Her party. A party where she had to pretend she was engaged to Prince Khalid Fehr, Sheikh of the Great Sarq Desert. How could she do it? She was just a girl from Pierceville, a girl who’d never had more than twelve dates in her entire life.

      Her stomach rose up again in protest. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t go out there, not if the Jabal secretary of security was here….

      But then she thought of her mother, and Jake, and the sheikh himself. They were all counting on her, depending on her to be strong.

      And she could be strong. She would be.

      Khalid watched Olivia enter the room, the long, loose pleated ivory and gold gown emphasizing her slender frame and delicate beauty. With her head up, her shimmery blond hair slid along her bare shoulders, the curls long and loose like the pleats in her dress.

      She’d been pretty in her passport photo and troubling in prison, but entering the room she was simply stunning and Khalid watched her, by turns surprised, proud, hungry, possessive.

      The gold arm rings on her slim biceps hid the bruises on her upper arms. Her fair hair, curled and twisted back from her face, revealed her elegant features, her pale, flawless complexion and her astonishing goddesslike composure.

      He knew she didn’t want to be here tonight, knew she’d been terrified to face the secretary of security from Jabal, but one wouldn’t know it looking at her. Her expression was serene, her blue gaze focused, intelligent, poised.

      Beautiful, he thought, she was beautiful and so small and fragile and not of this world.

      And she was his.

       His.

      Khalid’s body grew hot, tight, his chest constricting with emotions he didn’t know he could feel.

      He wanted her, and he’d protect her. Forever.

      “She doesn’t wear a head-covering or robe,” the Jabal official said under his breath, turning an accusing eye to Khalid.

      “She doesn’t have to,” Khalid answered evenly. “She’s here with me.”

      “But you parade her like a—”

      “Careful,” Khalid interrupted. “She is my future bride, and I have vowed to protect her with my life. I will not allow anyone to insult her.”

      The secretary of security clamped his jaw together, his nostrils flaring, and for a moment he couldn’t speak and then he choked, “If she really is your betrothed, when is this wedding going to take place? Because it is unlawful for an unmarried man and woman to be together like this, unchaperoned—”

      “But she is chaperoned. Her attendants are in her room now.” The corner of Khalid’s mouth lifted sardonically. “Perhaps you’d like to meet her attendants personally, Mr. Al-Awar?”

      One of the Egyptian dignitaries interjected. “That is not necessary, Your Highness, your word is good enough for us, and may I extend our warmest congratulations on your coming nuptials?”

      “Thank you,” Khalid answered, keeping an eye on Olivia as she stood at the far end of the living room. She looked very small and vulnerable standing on her own and he found himself wishing his brother Sharif was here tonight with his American wife, Jesslyn. Although Jesslyn was now the Queen of Sarq, she was a former schoolteacher and one of the kindest, most genuine women Khalid had ever met. Jesslyn was just the sort of woman Olivia needed in her corner right now.

      “When are these nuptials?” the Jabal official pressed. “I haven’t heard a date mentioned, which troubles me, and my government. If your engagement is just a hoax—”

      “If you’ve come to insult me, then perhaps it’s best if you go now before I take personal offense.” Khalid fixed his attention completely on the secretary of security.

      “The paperwork stated she was a family member.”

      “And she is.” Khalid’s upper lip curled.

      “So there will be a wedding.”

      “Royal weddings take time and my family is scattered at the moment. Once we can bring us all together on a mutually agreeable date, the ceremony will take place.”

      The СКАЧАТЬ