Beholden to the Throne - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,26

had never felt closer to another, even Hannah, and he prayed for forgiveness.

He prayed for his daughters and the decision he was making and he got no comfort, for his heart still told him he was making the wrong one.

Then he remembered what his father had fought for and he knew he must honour it—so he prayed again for his country.

Amy lay silent, taking in this last time she would be in his bed, the masculine scent of him. Her hand moved to the warm area where he had slept and she yearned to wait for him to return to the bed and make love to her just one more time. But for both of them that would be unfair, so she headed to the bathing area and then to her own room.

She fixed her hair and put on the blue robe, became the nanny again.

For Emir there was both regret and relief when he returned from prayer and saw the empty bed. Regret and relief as they shared a quiet breakfast. She did not once refer to last night, but it killed him to see her in the familiar blue robe and to know what was beneath.

And when the silence deafened her, when she knew if she met his eyes just one more time, it would end in a kiss she wished him good morning and headed to her room. She lay on her bed and willed the twins to return, for sanity to come back to her life and to resume again her role.

But of course it felt different.

Her heart swelled with pride and relief when the birthday girls were returned.

Their squeals of delight as she kissed them made her eyes burn from the salt of unshed tears. She realised how close to being their mother she had come.

‘What are these?’ She attempted normal conversation, looked at the heart-shaped vials that now hung around their necks.

‘They are filled with the sands of the desert—they must be worn till they go to bed tonight, then they are to be locked away until their wedding day.’

‘They’re gorgeous.’ Amy held one between her finger and thumb. ‘What are they for?’

‘Fertility.’ He almost spat the word out, his mood as dark as it had been the morning she had faced him in his office, and it didn’t improve as they boarded the helicopter for their return to the palace.

The twins were crying as the helicopter took off.

‘They are not to arrive with teary faces. There will be many people gathered to greet them. My people will line the streets.’

‘Then comfort them!’ Amy said, but his face was as hard as granite and he turned to the window. ‘Emir, please.’ Amy spoke when perhaps she should not, but he had been so much better with the girls yesterday, and it worried her that she had made things worse instead of better. ‘Please don’t let last night …’

He looked over to Amy, his eyes silencing her, warning her not to continue, and then he made things exceptionally clear. ‘Do you really think what happened last night might have any bearing on the way I am with my daughters?’ He mocked her with one small incredulous shake of his head. ‘You are the nanny—you are in my country and you have to accept our laws and our ways. They are to be stoic. They are to be strong.’

But he did take Clemira and hold her on his knees, and when Clemira was quiet so too was Nakia.

Amy sat silent, craning her neck as the palace loomed into view, bouncing Nakia on her knee, ready to point out all the people, to tell the little girl that the waving flags were for her sister and herself.

Except the streets were empty.

She looked to Emir. His face was still set in stone and he said nothing.

He strode from the helicopter, which left Amy to struggle with the twins. He was greeted by Patel and whatever was said was clearly not good news, for Emir’s already severe expression hardened even more.

Amy had no idea what was happening.

She took the twins to the nursery and waited for information, to find out what time the party would be, but with each passing hour any hope of celebration faded and again it was left to Amy to amuse the little girls on what should be the happiest of days.

Her heart was heavy in her chest and she fought back tears as she made them cupcakes in the small kitchen annexe. At supper