Gambling With the Crown (8 page)

Guido’s people had not turned her into someone else. They’d simply showcased the beautiful body she already had, highlighted her features—her cat’s eyes and her lush chocolate hair. Not to mention those lips he’d just kissed. He’d never seen them in anything but a serious expression—maybe the occasional smile—but like this? Moist and swollen from the pressure of his mouth on hers? So enticing, like the sweetest honey?

How had he managed to ignore her charms for four years?

“Can you walk down the stairs?” he asked, because he had to say something. Something normal, regardless that his heart pounded in his chest and he could still feel the heat of that kiss down to his toes.

She glanced down the steep stairwell. “I’ll do my best.”

He took her hand in his, gripped it tight. “I’ll hold you, Emily. I won’t let you fall.”

She smiled then, but it wavered at the corners, and he knew she was feeling overwhelmed. Guilt pierced him. He’d dragged her into this out of desperation, and now he wasn’t sure it had been the right thing to do. Still, it was done, and he couldn’t turn back now.

“I know you won’t.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked suddenly.

Because, he realized with a start, he wanted
something
about this to be real. He was back in Kyr after a long absence, and the father who’d filled his childhood with such confusing emotion was dying. The metaphorical ground—the ground he’d taken for granted, no doubt—was being ripped out from under him.

And he wanted something—someone—to hold on to. Something in his life that made sense. Just for now. Just this once.

She squeezed his hand. It was a light touch, tentative. But it was something. “I’ve trusted you for four years, Kadir. I’ll trust you awhile longer.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to the back of it without breaking eye contact. He didn’t miss the shiver that rippled through her, or the answering shudder deep inside him.

The next few days in Kyr would be interesting indeed.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“T
HIS
CANNOT
BE
happening,” Emily muttered to herself as she turned around in the palatial room she’d been shown to. The floors and ceiling were tiled in the most beautiful gold-and-blue mosaic.

The walls were plain white, but the color wasn’t stark in this setting. It was soothing and somewhat necessary after the ornateness of the tile. There was a living room with a sunken area that contained low-slung couches with lots of colorful cushions, and a television glided up from where it was hidden in a cabinet.

The bathroom was larger than her father’s house in Chicago. There was a tub recessed into the floor and ringed with marble columns, and a shower tucked into one end of the room. There were also acres of mirrors and a dressing room that contained the clothing Kadir had bought for her in Milan.

But it was not
her
room. It was hers and Kadir’s. They were sharing a room. Because that’s what a husband and wife did.

How had she not seen this coming? Surely Kadir had known it—and he’d not warned her. Maybe he hadn’t wanted her to freak out.

She thought back to that moment on the jet when he’d kissed her in front of everyone, and her body flooded with a fresh wave of heat. She’d been utterly lost in his embrace. She’d forgotten her name. Where she was. What was happening.

She’d forgotten it was
an act.
And that horrified her. Emily put her hands on her hot cheeks and breathed deeply.

He is Prince Kadir al-Hassan. He is a playboy. You’ve worked for him for four years, and you’ve lost count of the number of women he’s woken up with.

She sucked in another breath.

No, you have not lost count. You never kept track! Because you damn well don’t care!

That’s right. She didn’t care. He was Kadir, her boss, and all she cared about was her paycheck. Which was why she was doing this now. After the kiss on the plane, they’d descended the stairs and stood on the red carpet on the tarmac while Kadir spoke endlessly with the men waiting there.

They’d come up to him individually, bowed and then spoke in low tones while he listened and nodded. She’d felt so out of place, but she’d been unable to do anything except stand at his side. Under normal circumstances, she would have her notebook and be awaiting his orders.

But these were not normal circumstances—and her feet had been beginning to hurt. It was night, thankfully, so at least the desert was not sweltering. After what seemed to be an hour, they’d finally moved toward the limousine that awaited them. Kadir had set her inside and then climbed in beside her. A palace official took up residence in the seat across from them, notebook in hand, and spoke with Kadir all the way to the royal palace in the center of the city.

At one point during the ride, when Emily was staring out the window at the city and the palm trees, Kadir took her hand in his. She’d jumped and he’d squeezed lightly, as if warning her. She’d relaxed only a fraction, finally daring a look at his profile as he continued to speak to the man riding with them.

The beauty of Kadir stunned her in ways it had not only a day ago. She thought she’d been accustomed to how utterly stunning he was, inoculated even, but now that he touched her so sensually, she discovered she was not quite as immune as she’d always believed. He was getting under her skin and she did not like it.

For once, she was glad she didn’t understand Arabic, because she would have been unable to concentrate on it anyway. Kadir’s thumb rolled inside her palm, stroking softly. She felt as if he were stroking other, more sensitive places on her body. Every glide of his thumb set up an answering throb deep in the heart of her, until she was on edge and ready to jerk her hand from his grip regardless of their audience. Because, if she did not, she would melt against him and beg for more.

Thankfully, they’d arrived at the palace then. When they’d gotten out of the car, he’d hugged her close and kissed her forehead before giving her into the care of the servant who’d shown her to this room. She knew he’d only done it for their audience, but the touch of his mouth on her skin was disconcerting nevertheless. She’d been thinking about everything that had happened since she’d signed the marriage documents—and then the baggage had arrived. That was when she realized they were sharing a room.

Her anxiety levels had gone through the roof then.

She was still pacing and wondering how to fix this mistake when Kadir walked into the room. He looked...angry. That was a surprise. She blinked, but before she could say anything he speared her with a stormy look.

“You are upset with the sleeping arrangements, no doubt.”

Emily drew in a breath. It suddenly didn’t seem like the time. And yet he already knew what was bothering her. She gestured at the bed. “There is only one.”

He stalked toward her, his expression not softening in the least. “Yes, because husbands usually sleep with their wives, even in Kyr.” His gaze dropped over her body as he came to a halt. Her skin prickled with heat. “Perhaps especially in Kyr.”

She tried not to let the sensual tone in his voice get to her.

“This isn’t a public place, Kadir.”

His eyes glittered hot. “No, it is not. But if I ask for another room, or another bed to be brought into this one, there will be questions. And I am not willing to answer those questions,
habibti.
It defeats the purpose of our agreement.”

She turned her head to look at the bed. At least it wasn’t small. Maybe if they put pillows down the center, it would work. It would
have
to work.

“Fine. But you stay on your side.”

“If you insist.”

She lifted her chin at the mocking note in his voice. “I hope you plan to wear more than you usually do.”

One dark eyebrow arched. “I don’t know, Emily. The desert is very hot. And one does not wear flannel pajamas to bed in Kyr.”

Heat flared inside her at the thought of him naked. Beside her.

Oh, dear.

That simply could not happen. She’d seen him without clothing, yes—but not often and only briefly. The barest flash of male flesh before he robed himself.

This, however, was different. She drew herself up.

“Yes, but this is a palace, not the desert. And I saw a thermostat, which tells me there is air-conditioning. Turn it down and put on some clothes before you come to bed.”

Kadir laughed, but the sound was low and sensual and her belly tightened into a knot. “I will consider it.”

“You need to do more than consider it.”

He looked amused, which was a nice change from when he’d entered the room. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she felt as if it would be prying to do so. She was still getting accustomed to this shift in their relationship, however temporary, and she didn’t want to cross any deeply personal lines.

“Afraid of losing control, sweet Emily?”

“What? No!” She put her hands to her blazing cheeks and shook her head, her heart thumping in response. “You’re outrageous, Kadir.”

He walked over and took her wrists gently in his, pulled her hands away from her face. She felt as if she was going to hyperventilate, and he stood there so calm and in control that she almost envied him. Yes, damn him, control was precisely what she was afraid of losing.

Control of herself, of her needs and desires, of her reactions. Kadir had a way of making a woman
want
to lose control. She was beginning to realize how very dangerous he was to her sense of well-being.

He frowned down at her. “There is no need to panic. I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, Emily.”

“Then why did you say—”

“I like teasing you,” he said softly. “You are quite emotional, as it turns out. I had no idea.”

Emily fought her natural inclination to drop her gaze from his. Instead, she pulled in a deep breath and kept her chin up. “I’m sorry, but this is outside my comfort zone. I know what to do when I’m your PA. I don’t know what to do as your wife...especially your fake wife.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed. Another jolt of sensation shot from where he touched her straight down to her sex. She wanted to whimper with it. Had she ever reacted this way to another man? Or was she just so deprived of contact lately that her body was starved for it?

“Just follow my lead and it will all work out.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. She was in over her head. She should have realized it before. “I don’t like deceiving your family. I should have said no.”

“Ah, but you want the money.”

She bit her lip. She wanted to explain herself, but he wasn’t looking for an explanation. He was stating a fact. And mentioning her father’s health issues would only distract attention from Kadir’s problems right now.

“I do.”

His hands dropped away from her shoulders and disappointment bit into her. He turned away and removed the flowing headdress. His dark hair was a sensual shock to her system, though she’d seen it a million times before. But there was something about the
kaffiyeh
and its removal that set up a drumbeat in her veins.

Kadir was thankfully oblivious as he set the fabric down and then continued into the outer suite where the seating area was. Once there, he collapsed onto one of the sofas and tilted his head back, his eyes closing. He looked troubled now, no longer angry or amused.

Emily’s heart went out to him and she berated herself for being so insensitive. Of course he was troubled. His father was dying and she’d been going on about the sleeping arrangements like a timid virgin.

She walked over and perched on a chair nearby. She didn’t know what to say, or if he’d even welcome her presence, but she had a need to be near him. His eyes opened again, a question in them.

“I didn’t ask about your father,” she blurted.

He shrugged, but she didn’t miss the tension vibrating from him. “He is dying. He’s frail, weak and shockingly wasted away from the man he was the last time I saw him.”

“I’m sorry, Kadir.”

“This is the way life is,
habibti.
”

Yes, she certainly knew that. She thought of her father and the tense months while they’d waited for a donor heart. “Still, it cannot be easy for you.”

His eyes glittered hotly. Angrily. “No, it isn’t.”

She licked her lips and ran her palms over her thighs. She was out of her depth here, trying to be friendly with the boss she’d only ever been professional with. Trying to be his wife and his companion and an understanding ear all at the same time.

All while worrying about her own problems. What was the matter with her? She did not need to burden Kadir with her own fears. He’d hired her for a job, she’d agreed, and she had no right to question the sanity of the arrangement now.

“If you want to talk—”

“I don’t.” His voice was firm, final.

Emily swallowed. She knew when he was dismissing her. She’d heard it a thousand times before, though it had never seemed so personal as it did right now. She got to her feet because it seemed the only thing she could do. “Well, then, I think I’ll get ready for bed.”

“Fine.”

She started toward the bathroom, her ears burning hot. How could she let him think she was such a selfish creature? How could she be so insensitive to his plight? She stopped and spun around again, her pulse beating a hot rhythm in her veins. “I’m sorry for complaining about the sleeping arrangements. I was just surprised by it.”

He shrugged. “It is understandable. We did not discuss it prior to arriving.”

He was too polite about it.

“But it’s hardly something you should be thinking about right now. I should have been more sensitive.”

His gaze was so intense she wanted to drop her eyes. She did not. “If you really want to give me something else to think about, invite me into the shower with you.”

Emily swallowed hard. And then a thread of anger unwound inside her belly. She tried to be nice and he taunted her. Dismissed her apology as if it were nothing.

Which was his right, she decided. So she bit her tongue and gave him a regretful smile.

“I’m sorry, but I always shower alone. It’s a rule of mine.”

“Pity,” he drawled.

* * *

Kadir went outside onto the balcony while Emily was in the shower and stood in the darkness for a long while. He’d gone to see his father, and he could still feel the shock of that moment when he’d beheld the once-strong king reduced to little more than a gaunt skeleton in an oversize bed.

His father had not smiled when he spoke, but then Kadir had not expected him to. King Zaid had never made it a secret that both his sons had become disappointments to him. Kadir less so than Rashid, but a disappointment nevertheless.

“I hear you have brought a woman with you,” King Zaid had said, his voice stronger than Kadir would have thought possible.

“I brought my wife.”

His father made a dismissive noise. “You have defied me, Kadir.”

“I am in love, Father. I cannot live without her.” A lie, but a necessary one.

“I see.” King Zaid closed his eyes and swallowed. “I never thought you would disrespect my wishes as your brother has so often done. I thought you were the good son.”

Kadir wanted to lash out, wanted to tell the old king that both his sons were good sons—but that he was too hard and proud and blind to realize it.

“A man will do things for love that he would not otherwise do.” He should feel guilty for lying, but strangely he did not. “Besides, I’ve told you many times before that I often blamed Rashid for things I had done.”

His father waved a weak hand as if annoyed. What Zaid did not want to hear, he did not hear. One of the reasons why his sons had left Kyr long ago.

“The succession is not decided,” King Zaid rasped. “There is time for you to renounce this woman and take your place as king.”

Kadir felt the chill of that pronouncement like a dip into an arctic pool. “I am not prepared to do so.”

“And if I were to order it?”

“Choose Rashid, Father. He is the right man for the job.”