Guarding the Princess - By Loreth Anne White Page 0,70
than just who I want to sleep with.”
His eyes darkened, a muscle working on his brow.
“You know what,” she said suddenly. “I lied—I did expect you to understand, because of the importance you said you placed in a promise. Because of the way you spoke about loyalty and honor.” She held her arm up. “And that is what my ring is about—loyalty, honor, duty.”
He stared at her, then the ring.
A vulture circled up high, casting a shadow. Brandt rubbed the back of his neck.
“It’s the double standard,” he said quietly. “That’s what irks the hell out of me. Your brothers got to marry whoever they wanted. Omair was the king of one-night stands before he took a bride. Yet you—you can’t enjoy those same freedoms and choices. You’re sold like a pawn for their benefit.”
“And what about my benefit?”
“Really?”
She glared at him, her pulse racing. Then she said, very quietly. “You know, I wavered once, several years ago. I had met a guy that I liked. A lot. And one night...it led to a kiss, and I wondered if I could go through with this. Then, the very next morning, I got news of the coup in Al Na’Jar—my mother and father had just been murdered in their own beds—their throats slit by their own guards. And on that same night, my oldest brother, Da’ud, was murdered on his yacht off Barcelona. Assassins also went to Zakir’s penthouse in Paris and the only reason he escaped was because he was out that night.” She inhaled deeply.
“Da’ud had been next in line to take the throne and he’d been ready for it. But Zakir wasn’t prepared to lead—he never wanted to. He was a playboy and an entrepreneur, yet he was compelled to return to Al Na’Jar, where he took the throne in a very troubled and violent time of rebellion. Zakir did his duty, Brandt. He gave up his life for our kingdom. And he didn’t tell anyone he was going blind as he did this.” Her voice grew thick, emotional. Caught.
“Dalilah, this is not the time to—”
“No! I want you to hear it. I need you to hear this. Omair didn’t shy from committing to relationships because he didn’t want one. He had to. He couldn’t have a normal life. He couldn’t involve a woman in what he was doing. He was driven to hunt the globe to bring those assassins to justice, desert style. A blood honor. Only through that process did he find Faith, his wife—and he was able to bring her into his life because she was like him, a soldier. An assassin. She understood him, and his life.”
Brandt opened his mouth, but Dalilah raised her hand. “No, hear me out, Brandt, please. Tariq was a neurosurgeon and he was engaged to a woman he loved more than life itself. But Amal’s father had a bomb planted on our royal jet and Tariq’s fiancée died in his arms as he tried to save her. Tariq was badly scarred in more ways than one, and he lost the use of his arm in that blast. His career was over. In some ways he died himself that day. And it took a long time, and the help of a special woman to bring him back to life.”
She paused, looking into his eyes, emotion ballooning in her chest. “And me? I went to school in the United States. I got to pursue my career, my interests. Sure, I built something, but I never suffered like they did.” She inhaled deeply. “My brothers did their duty, are doing it. And now, this is my cross to bear, my way to give. It was my dead father’s wish.”
He stared at her. “You’re doing it out of guilt,” he whispered.
“I’m doing it for family and kingdom.”
Something changed in his face. “It’s not right, Dalilah,” he said quietly. “It’s not you.”
“You barely even know me, Brandt.”
“Oh, I know what you’re made of. You put someone into a life-and-death situation and you get to see pretty damn quick what’s at the core of that person. You’ve got what it takes—you’ve got so much. I hate to see you throw your life away.”
“I’m not throwing it away—I’m gaining a political advantage.”
“Yeah, well, apparently you’ve made up your mind about that one. So, don’t come looking to me for endorsement, because I don’t think your brothers deserve what you’re doing for them. How well do you know this Haroun anyway—apart from meeting him five times?”