Demanding His Desert Queen

‘Safiyah?’

She blinked and looked into that dark gaze. Once those eyes had glowed warm and she’d read affection there. Now they gave nothing away. The coldness emanating from him chilled her to the core.

‘You want to marry me?’ Finally she managed to control her vocal cords. The words emerged husky but even.

‘Want…?’ Forehead crinkling, he tilted his head as if musing on the idea. But the eyes pinioning hers held nothing like desire or pleasure. His expression was calculating.

That was what gave Safiyah the strength to sit up, spine stiff, eyebrows raised, as if his answer was only of mild interest. As if his patent lack of interest in her as a potential wife, a woman and a lover, didn’t hurt.

She would not let him guess the terrible pain his indifference stirred. Everything inside her shrivelled. Bizarre that, even after his rejection years before, part of her had obstinately clung to the idea that he’d cared.

‘You’re right. No sensible man would want to marry a woman who ran out on him like a thief in the night.’

She gaped at the way he’d twisted the past. How dared he? Hearing the devastating news of her sister’s attempted suicide, of course Safiyah and her father had gone to her immediately. Her father had made their apologies for the sudden departure, referring to a family emergency. Safiyah had assumed she’d have a chance to explain to Karim personally later.

Except he’d refused to take her calls. He’d led her on to believe he cared, then dumped her, and now he was pretending she’d been the one at fault!

‘Now, look here! I—’

‘Not that it matters now. The past is dead, not worth discussing.’ He sliced the air with a decisive chopping motion, his expression cold. ‘As for wanting marriage now… Perhaps need is a better word.’ He opened those wide shoulders and spread his hands in a fatalistic gesture.

‘I can’t see your logic.’

Safiyah’s voice was clipped, that of a woman ostensibly in control. She wouldn’t demean herself by rehashing the past. He was right. It was over. She should count herself lucky she’d discovered Karim’s true nature when she had. He hadn’t been the paragon she’d believed.

‘There’s no reason for us to marry.’

‘You don’t think so?’ He shook his head. ‘I disagree. Despite what your law says, even the most optimistic supporter couldn’t expect me to take the throne of Assara without a ripple. I’m a foreigner, an unknown quantity. You’ve said yourself that there are political undercurrents and rivalry in the country’s ruling elite. To overcome those an incoming ruler would need to show a strong link to Assara and to the throne.’

He paused, watching her reaction. Now, with a sinking heart, Safiyah understood where he was going. And it made a horrible sort of sense.

‘What better way of showing my respect for Assara and cultivating a sense of continuity than to marry the current Queen?’

Except said Queen would do just about anything to avoid another marriage. Particularly marriage to this man. Call it pride, call it self-preservation, but she’d be mad to agree.

‘I disagree. With the Council’s backing a newcomer, especially one with your qualities and experience, would be able to establish himself.’ He was far, far better than the other alternatives.

Karim steepled his fingertips beneath his chin as if considering. But his response came so quickly she knew he’d immediately discounted her words.

‘Besides, if I married you…’

Was it her imagination or did his voice slow on the words?

‘Your son wouldn’t be disinherited. That would satisfy any elements concerned at him being replaced by a foreigner. It would ensure the long-term continuity of the current dynasty.’

Safiyah sat in stunned silence, thinking through the implications of his words. ‘You mean Tarek would be your heir? You’d adopt him?’ The idea stunned her.

Emotion flickered across Karim’s unreadable expression. ‘I’m not a man who’d happily rip away someone’s birthright, no matter what the constitution allows.’

There was something in his tone of voice, a peculiar resonance, that piqued her curiosity. Safiyah sensed there was more to his words than there seemed. But what?

She was on the verge of probing, till she read his body language. His hard-set jaw and flared nostrils revealed a man holding in strong emotion. Now wasn’t the time to pursue this—not if she wanted him to take the throne.

Which was why she didn’t instantly refuse. She needed time to persuade him.

‘Are you saying if I agree to marry you…’ she paused, fighting to keep her voice even ‘…you’d take the crown?’

His gaze sharpened. She felt it like an abrasive scrape across her flesh. The grooves bracketing those firm lips deepened, as if hinting at a smile, yet there was no softening in that austere, powerful face.

‘I’m saying that if you agree to marry me I’ll consider changing my mind about accepting the sheikhdom.’

Well, that put her in her place. Safiyah felt the air whoosh from her lungs, her chest crumpling with the force of that outward breath. Even if she agreed to marriage, it might not be enough to persuade him.

She’d never thought herself a particularly proud woman, but she hated that Karim had the power, still, to deflate her. To make her feel she was of no consequence. That incensed her.

For years she’d fought to maintain her self-respect and sense of worth, married to a man who adhered to the traditional view that a wife was merely an extension of her husband’s will. Particularly a wife who’d been exalted by marrying a royal sheikh.

Fury surged at Karim’s off-hand attitude. How dared he on the one hand ask her to marry him and on the other make it clear that even such a sacrifice on her part might not be enough to sway him?

Not that he’d asked her to marry him. He’d put it out there like some clause in a business contract.

Safiyah felt hot blood creep up her throat and into her cheeks. She wanted to let rip. To tell him he was an arrogant jerk, despite his royal blood. Her marriage had taught her that royals were no more perfect than anyone else. If anything, their ability to command not only great wealth, but the obedience of everyone around them, could amplify their character flaws.

But she didn’t have the luxury of plain speaking. This wasn’t about her. It was about Tarek’s future, his safety. As well as the future of their country.

‘What do you say, Safiyah? Is your country’s wellbeing enough to tempt you into marriage again?’ He sat back, relaxed in his chair, as if he didn’t care one way or the other.

‘There’s something else.’

She’d hoped to persuade Karim without telling him of her fears, knowing he might well dismiss them since she had no proof. But what proof could she have till it was too late? The idea curdled her stomach.

‘Another important reason for you to accept the throne. Hassan Shakroun—’

Karim cut her off. ‘No more! I’ve already heard everything I need from the official envoy.’

As if she, the Queen of Assara, had no insight to offer! Perhaps he believed as Abbas had—that women weren’t suited for politics. Or perhaps he was simply impatient that she hadn’t leapt at the chance to marry him.

Safiyah was convinced Tarek would be in danger if Shakroun took the throne. She’d never liked the man, but the things she’d learned recently made her blood freeze at the idea of him in the palace. He wouldn’t leave a potential rival sheikh with royal blood alive, even if that rival was a mere toddler.

Her throat closed, making her voice husky. ‘But you must listen—’

‘No.’

Karim didn’t raise his voice, but that decisive tone stopped her.

‘No more arguments. I don’t have to listen to anything. You came to me, not the other way around.’

His words stilled her instinctive protest.