Royals: Claimed By The Prince: The Heartbreaker Prince / Passion and the Prince / Prince of Secrets

‘I, on the other hand, am feeling a little insecure about being on a plane with a total stranger going...’ she gave an expressive shrug ‘...God knows where. So do you mind filling in a few blanks?’

He nodded. She didn’t sound insecure. She sounded and looked confident and sexy and in control. What would it take to make her lose it? It could be he was about to find out.

‘My father sent you?’

He tipped his head in acknowledgement and she gave a gusty sigh of relief. ‘He sends his love.’

‘I’m sure Dad appreciates your sense of humour, but I’m a bit...’

‘Uptight? Humourless?’

Her blue eyes narrowed to slits. She had very little energy left, and being angry with him was using it all up. She took a deep breath and thought, Rise above it, Hannah. People had said a lot worse about her and she’d maintained her dignity.

It was a power thing. If they saw it got to her they had the power and she lost it. It didn’t matter who they were—school bullies, journalists—the same rule applied. If you showed weakness they reacted like pack animals scenting blood.

‘I’d prefer to know what’s happening, so if you could just fill me in...? Tell me where the plane is headed and then I’ll let you sleep in peace.’

‘Surana.’

The mention of the oil-rich desert state fired a memory. That was where she’d seen the crest on the plane before, and it fitted: her father had called in some favours. She knew he counted the King of Surana as a personal friend; the two men had met forty years earlier at the public school they had attended as boys. The friendship had survived the years—apparently the King had once dandled her on his knee but Hannah had no recollection of the event.

‘So Dad will be there to meet us?’

‘No, he’ll be waiting at the chapel.’

Hannah fought for composure. Was this man on something? ‘Hilarious.’ She tried to laugh but laughing in the face of the ruthless resolve stamped on his hard-boned face was difficult. She hefted a weary sigh and reminded herself she was free. It was all up from here, once she got a straight answer from this man. ‘This is not a joke that has the legs to run and run.’

His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug that suggested he didn’t care. ‘Look, I wish it were a joke. I have no more wish to marry you than you have me, but before you start bleating for Daddy ask yourself what you would have preferred if I’d offered you the option back there: marrying me, or spending twenty years in a boiling-hot jail where luxury is considered a tap shared by several hundred. Or even worse—’

‘How does it get worse?’

‘How about the death penalty?’

‘That was never a possibility.’ Her scorn faltered and her stomach clenched with terror. Had she really been that close? ‘Was it?’

He arched a sardonic brow.

‘So if I’d signed the confession...?’ Her voice trailed away as she spoke until ‘confession’ emerged from her white lips as a husky whisper.

‘You didn’t.’ Kamel fought the irrational feeling of guilt. He was only spelling out the ugly facts; he was not responsible. Still, it gave him no pleasure to see the shadow of terror in her wide eyes. ‘So don’t think about it.’

The advice brought her chin up with a snap. ‘I wouldn’t be thinking about it at all if you hadn’t told me.’

‘Maybe it’s about time you faced unpleasant facts and accepted that there are some things we cannot run away from.’

Not several thousand feet off the ground, but once they landed Hannah intended to run very fast indeed from this man. ‘I’m grateful to be free, obviously, but I didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘You entered a sovereign state illegally, carrying drugs.’

Hannah’s clenched teeth ached. His righteous attitude was really getting under her skin.

‘I got lost and I was carrying medicine. Vaccines and antibiotics.’

‘Morphine?’

Feeling defensive, Hannah rubbed her damp palms against her thighs. With his steely eyes and relentless delivery he was a much more effective interrogator than her captors had been. ‘Yes.’

‘And a camera.’

‘No!’

‘Isn’t there a camera on your phone?’

He would have thought better of her if she had the guts to hold up her hands and take responsibility for her own actions, but that obviously wasn’t her style.

‘Weren’t you told to stay with the vehicle if it broke down?’

How did he know? ‘It was an emergency.’ And that was the only reason she had been entrusted the responsibility. There simply had been no one else available.

‘And you were the one on the ground and you made a tough call...fine. But now you have to take the consequences for that decision.’

Struggling to keep pace with the relentless pace of his reasoning, she shook her head. ‘So I have to marry you because you rescued me? Sure, obvious. I should have realised.’

The bored façade and the last shades of cynical amusement in his manner fell away as he vaulted to his feet.

He towered over her, eyes blazing with contempt. She could feel the anger spilling out of him and presumably so could the bird sitting on its perch—it began to squawk and Hannah lifted her hands to her head to protect herself.

The act of soothing the spooked creature seemed to help Kamel regain some semblance of control. ‘She won’t hurt you.’

Hannah dropped her hands, cast a quick sideways glance at the fascinating wild creature, and then returned her attention to the man. ‘I wasn’t worried about the bird.’

His jaw tightened in response to the pointed comment, and he stared at the mouth that delivered it...her wide, full, sexy lower lip. Hers was a mouth actually made for kissing.

‘I wouldn’t marry you even if you were sane!’

She might have a point. Wasn’t it insane to be checking out her impossibly long legs? Wasn’t it even more insane to actually like the fact she didn’t back away from him, that her pride made her give as good as she got?

‘And came gift-wrapped!’ Hannah caught herself wondering how many women would have liked to unwrap him, and felt a lick of fear before she told herself that she was not one of them.

‘You want facts? Fine. When we land in Surana in—’ He turned his wrist and glanced at the watch that glinted against his dark skin.

‘Thirty minutes. There will be a red carpet and reception committee for Your Royal Highness,’ she finished his sentence for him, and, keeping her eyes on his face, she performed a graceful bow.

He took her sarcasm at face value.

‘There will be no official reception under the circumstances. Things will be low-key. We will go straight to the palace where my uncle, the King—’

Her eyes flew wide. ‘King? You’re asking me to believe you’re really a prince?’