The Princess Brides: The Sultan's Bought Bride / The Greek's Royal Mistress / The Italian's Virgin Princess

‘‘You do.’’ He smiled almost benevolently. ‘‘It’ll help you manage the stress.’’

‘‘I don’t feel any stress.’’

He smiled even more benevolently. ‘‘You will.’’

Actually, she had lied. She was feeling unbelievable stress at the moment. If she couldn’t get out of Baraka…if she couldn’t get her sister and Lilly to the States…if the wedding went forward without an escape route…

To hide her worry, Nic opened the bound leather calendar and skimmed the pages, noting the various names and dates written in. Meet personal assistant, first Arabic lesson, first fitting for wedding gown, selection of wedding ring, second Arabic lesson, first engagement party, culture lesson, third Arabic lesson, city tour with King Nuri, fourth Arabic lesson. And on and on all the way until the wedding.

Eighteen days of activities. Eighteen endless days of pretending to be somebody she wasn’t. Eighteen days of acting as if she were about to become King Nuri’s queen. ‘‘I have something scheduled every day.’’

‘‘Exactly.’’

It boggled her mind. He’d thought it all out. He was training her for the wedding. Language lessons, beauty lessons, public appearances, private activities with her betrothed. It was a whirlwind of activity to ensure a smooth wedding and transition into married life. ‘‘King Nuri—’’

‘‘Malik,’’ he gently corrected.

‘‘Malik,’’ she amended, wondering where to even start with her concerns. ‘‘Is this all necessary?’’

‘‘You’re to be Queen.’’

‘‘Yes, but some of this can happen after the wedding. The language lessons…the cooking classes…’’

‘‘It is better to take care of as much as possible now, before the wedding.’’ His tone allowed for no argument. ‘‘I expect you’ll be carrying my child soon after the wedding, and I understand some women do not feel up to much activity in their first trimester. My desire is to simplify your life so that after the wedding you are free to concentrate on the family.’’

This was definitely not part of the plan.

The plan was to rescue Lilly via America—not get stuck here in Baraka with a wedding ring on her finger and a sultan’s baby in her womb. ‘‘You want to try for children immediately?’’ Nic prayed she didn’t sound as horrified as she felt. Nic loved kids—other people’s kids. She wasn’t the nesting sort. Felt no intense maternal urges. Had never been one to want to hold the babies when friends came by the palace with their latest.

‘‘But surely you want more children?’’

More, that’s right. He saw her as a mother already. She had one daughter, what was oh, five or six or seven more?

‘‘Yes, of course, but we’re still strangers….’’

‘‘We won’t be in a few weeks time.’’ He gestured to the calendar she held limply in her hand. ‘‘If you’ll check your schedule you’ll see we spend a significant amount of time together every day. Some days we’ll be dining alone. Some days we’ll be entertained. Other days we’ll be shopping for necessities like a marriage bed.’’

Marriage bed. A fate worse than death.

Nic felt the blood drain from her face. She didn’t want a marriage bed. She wasn’t going to share any bed with Malik Roman Nuri, especially no bed that had ‘‘husband and wife’’ hung over it.

Making love was one thing. Getting married for the rest of your life was another. Unfortunately, King Nuri had them on a fast track to the ceremony, and right now, he was providing no loopholes.

Wasn’t this just what Grandfather Remi had predicted? He’d said for years that one day Nic was going to meet the man who was more than her match.

‘‘Not all men are going to roll over and play dead just because you snap your fingers,’’ Grandfather had said. ‘‘There are men who can be shaped, directed, and then there are men who do the shaping.’’

Malik watched her face, seeing the wariness in the princess’ blue eyes. He’d never seen a less eager bride in his life. But then, he understood some of her apprehensions. When he realized he’d have to marry, he’d had plenty of his own.

He was marrying out of necessity. The issue of succession had become more pressing since the assassination attempt last year. His younger brother, Kalen, wasn’t about to leave London, having renounced all ties to Baraka and his royal family. Malik had sisters with young sons, as well as numerous male cousins, but none had remained in Baraka, all choosing Western culture over their own.

That left the issue of succession to him. He needed heirs. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter. He could rewrite law, change the rules. The key was having a direct descendant. And he’d chosen the Princess Ducasse to bear him that descendant. ‘‘I don’t want you to worry,’’ he added soothingly. ‘‘I shall be a loyal, monogamous husband dedicated to fulfilling my responsibility as husband and mate.’’

Nic’s head spun, the words husband and mate swimming through her tortured brain. Mate…mate…mate. ‘‘Most royals have separate bed chambers,’’ she said at length, fingers knotting around the calendar. ‘‘Is that not the custom here?’’

‘‘My parents always shared their bed.’’

‘‘Ah.’’

‘‘Yours did not?’’ he swiftly rebutted.

She was losing focus. King Nuri was too smart, too fast, too sharp. He was taking their discussion places she really didn’t want to go. ‘‘My parents had a love marriage.’’ Her parents’ marriage had been scandalous. Surely he would have heard of it even here.

Her parents had married against the wishes of her father’s parents and it’d been shocking at the time, the golden boy, Prince Julien marrying the trashy American pop star. Everyone said the marriage wouldn’t last the year. It lasted ten, and they were still together, still happy together when they died in the car accident on the coastal road near St. Tropez.

Nic glanced at the calendar in her hand, the edge of the small appointment book pressed to her palm. ‘‘Apparently I meet my staff in an hour and a half.’’

‘‘After you freshen up. Tea and sandwiches will be served to you in your room. You’ll even have time for a short nap.’’

Suddenly her temper snapped and she turned the little leather book around, flashing the pages. ‘‘Really? Are you certain? I don’t see it in my calendar.’’

King Nuri didn’t even glance down at the book. He simply stood there, considering her. After a moment he said, ‘‘If you do not want this marriage, Princess Chantal, say so.’’

The quiet authority in his voice echoed in the elegant salon.

Ashamed that she’d so completely blown her cool, Nic slowly closed the leather book, drawing it against her chest. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’

He waited until she looked up from the intricate pattern of the crimson carpet at their feet. ‘‘I do not hold a gun to your head, Princess. This isn’t obligatory. If you are dissatisfied with me as a groom, speak now. This is the time to break off the plans, not one week before the ceremony, not one day before the ceremony. The wedding is a fortnight away. We have not yet publicly celebrated. If you have reservations, tell me. I will not judge you, and I promise I will not be angry or cruel.’’

His words streamed in and out her ears, but the only thing she heard was the phrase, if you have reservations…

She only had reservations. Nothing about this was right. Nothing they were discussing was going to come to pass. She was a hypocrite. She was standing here, lying to him, intentionally deceiving him.

But how could she tell him the truth? If she told him who she really was, and why she was in Baraka, the engagement would be off, his assistance would end, and all efforts to free Lilly and Chantal would be for naught. No, she couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t stop what she’d started until they were in America, Chantal and Lilly secreted away and Nic was boarding the first plane home.

‘‘Well?’’ he quietly prompted, clearly at the end of his patience.

He’d never forgive her for dumping him at the last minute.

He’d never ever forgive her family for humiliating him…

Nic closed her eyes, forced herself to block out everything but little Lilly’s delicate face. Lilly, like a butterfly, so small, so fragile, so painfully vulnerable.

Just thinking of Lilly trapped in La Croix made Nic’s temper flare. How could people…society…be so unjust? Girls should be raised without fear and intimidation. Girls should be protected.

She opened her eyes, met Malik’s dark gaze. ‘‘My only reservation is that I am to be married so far from those I love.’’ Lie, lie, lie. She wanted to be married in America only because the country was vast, Louisiana was clannish, and her mother’s network of old friends and distant relatives would definitely provide cover for Chantal and Lilly once they went into hiding. ‘‘I would feel much more comfortable if you’d be willing to consider my…thoughts…my request.’’

He stared at her for a long, heated moment, before inclining his head. ‘‘If it means so much to you, yes. I shall consider your thoughts, and think more on your request.’’