Beholden to the Throne - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,36

good it could have been, had the rules allowed her to join him, to be at his side.

Little more than a year ago she would have been veiled and hidden. A year ago he would not have had to suffer the tease of her beauty. But there was a new Sheikha Queen in Alizirz and times were changing.

Amy was changing.

Before his eyes, as she chatted with Natasha, he witnessed the effortless seduction of her body. For even as she turned slightly away from him her gestures seemed designed for him. She threw her head back and laughed, and then, as he knew it would, her hand instinctively moved to cover the scar on her throat. She twisted her hair around her fingers and he fought his desire to snake a hand around her waist. He wanted to join in the conversation as he would with a partner, to squeeze her waist just once to remind her that soon it would be over and soon they would be alone.

He put down the glass he was gripping rather than break it.

He turned away, but her laughter filled his ears.

Emir tried to remember the shy woman who had first entered the palace. He had not noticed her—or at least not in that way. His mind had been too consumed with worry for his wife, who had been fading by the day, for him to notice Amy. He wanted that back. He wanted the invisible woman she had been then.

But she wasn’t invisible now.

She was there before his eyes.

And for her he might not be King.

‘Thank you so much for coming down.’ Natasha kissed Amy’s cheek an agonising couple of hours later. ‘It was lovely to talk.’

‘It was my pleasure,’ Amy said. ‘Thank you for the invitation.’

She meant not a word.

And neither did Emir as he too politely thanked Rakhal and headed to the stairs.

She could not do this.

She stepped out into a fragrant garden, breathed in the blossom and begged it to quell the hammering of her mind. She listened to the fountain that should soothe. Except it did not, for she understood now a little of what Emir had meant about being in hell.

To stand apart while their minds were together, to ignore the other while their bodies silently screamed, was a potent taste of what might be to come when he married.

If she stayed.

Her fury was silent as she walked to her room, but she knew what she had to do. Her eyes took in the empty bed, but the scent of him confirmed that he was there. She saw that the doors were open and looked beyond them to where he stood by the pool. His jacket was undone and his eyes met hers. She shook her head, for forbidden lovers they must not be.

‘ No.’

Brave in her decision, she walked towards him, her anger building as she did so, reminding herself of all she did not admire about this man. She tried to dull the passion he triggered, determined that it be over.

‘I’m through with this, Emir.’ She made herself say it. ‘I don’t even like you.’

He simply looked.

His silence let her speak.

‘I could never be with a man willing to ignore his children—despite my health problems, despite the fact I can’t have children. Even without that I’d never have said yes.’ She was lying, she could hear it, but her mind begged for it to be true. ‘How can I love a man who doesn’t care about his children?’

She watched his eyes narrow. Perhaps this was not the conversation he’d been expecting. It was a mistress he wanted, Amy reminded herself, not an argument about his children. But her racing heart surely stopped for a moment when his low voice delivered a response she was not expecting.

‘Never say that.’

She thought he might throw the drink he was holding in her face. He might just as well have, because nothing could have shocked her more than the passion in his voice when his next words were delivered.

‘I love my children.’

Except his actions did not show it, even if his words sounded true.

‘You say that …’

‘Trust that I have my daughters’ best interests at heart.’

And she looked at his pain ravaged face and into eyes that glittered with the flames of hell. Somehow she did trust him. Despite all evidence to the contrary, she did believe him.

What did this man do to her? she begged of herself.

‘Please, Emir, go.’

She could not think when he was around; she lost herself when