Beholden to the Throne - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,18

to his dilemma sat beside him now, and her voice, Emir noticed, was just a little breathy when she spoke to him.

‘Perhaps a year is too soon to expect …’ She licked dry lips, wished she could suddenly be busy with the twins, for this conversation was far too intimate, but the girls were sitting playing with each other. ‘Marriage is a huge step.’

‘And a step I must take seriously. Though …’ He must not rush her, Emir was aware of that. ‘I am not thinking of marriage today.’

‘Oh …’

Sometimes he made her dizzy. Sometimes when he looked at her with those black eyes it was all she could do to return his gaze. Sometimes she was terrified he would see the lust that burnt inside her.

Not all the time.

But at times.

And this was one of them.

Sometimes, and this was also one of them, she held the impossible thought that he might kiss her—that the noble head might lower a fraction to hers. The sun must be making her crazy because she could almost taste his mouth … The conversation was too intimate.

His next words made her burn.

‘You are worried about tonight?’ Emir said. ‘About what might happen?’ He saw the dart of her eyes, saw her top teeth move to her lower lip. He could kiss her mouth now, could feel her want, was almost certain of it. He would confirm it now. ‘They will be fine.’

‘They?’

Her eyes narrowed as his words confused her and he knew then that in her mind she had been alone in the tent with him. Emir suppressed a triumphant smile.

‘They will be looked after,’ he assured her. And so too, Emir decided, would she.

Embarrassed, she turned away, looked to the oasis, to the clear cool water. She wished she could jump in, for her cheeks were on fire now and she was honest enough with herself to know why. Perhaps it was she who was not ready for the presence of a new sheikha queen?

How foolish had she been to think he might have been about to kiss her? That Emir might even see her in that way?

‘I have thought about what you said—about the girls needing someone …’ He should be patient and yet he could not. ‘You love my daughters.’

He said it as a fact.

It was a fact.

She stared deeper into the water, wondered if she was crazy with the thoughts she was entertaining—that Emir might be considering her as his lover, a mistress, a proxy mother for his girls. Then she felt his hand on her cheek and she could not breathe. She felt his finger trace down to her throat and caress the piece of flesh she truly loathed.

‘What is this from?’ His strong fingers were surprisingly gentle, his skin cool against her warm throat, and his questions, his touch, were both gentle and probing.

‘Please, Emir …’

The Bedouin caravan was travelling towards them, the moment they were both dreading nearing. A kiss would have to wait. He stood and watched them approach—a line of camels and their riders. He listened to his daughters laughing, knowing in a short while there would be the sound of tears, and he wanted to bury his head in Amy’s hair. He wanted the escape of her mouth. And yet now there was duty.

He stood and picked up both daughters, looked into their eyes so dark and trusting. He could not stand to hand them over, for he remembered being ripped from his own parents’ arms, his own screams and pleas, and then the campfire and the strange faces and he remembered his own fear. Right now he hated the land that he ruled—hated the ways of old and the laws that could not be changed without both Kings’ agreement.

He had survived it, Emir told himself as the wizened old man approached. The twins shrieked in terror as he held out his arms to them.

Emir walked over and spoke with the man, though Amy could not understand what was said.

‘They are upset—you need to be kind with them,’ Emir explained.

‘It is your fear that scares them.’ The black eyes were young in his wizened old face. ‘You do not wish to come and speak with me?’

‘I have decisions I must make alone.’

‘Then make them!’ the old man said.

‘They are difficult ones.’

‘Difficult if made from the palace, perhaps,’ the old man said. ‘But here the only king is the desert—it always brings solutions if you ask for them.’

Emir walked back to Amy, who should be