Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
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his, for she was through with thinking. She could make decisions later, could work things out then. Right now she simply had to have him.
And she would have.
He would have had her.
Had the bell not rung again.
He looked down at where she lay, a breath away from coming. Regret was in both their eyes—not just at the interruption, but at what had taken place.
‘That didn’t just happen,’ Amy said. Except it had. And now, even more so than before, it was impossible for her to stay.
No longer could their night in the desert be put down to a one-off. The attraction between them was undeniable and yet soon he would be taking a wife.
‘It won’t happen again,’ Emir said.
They both knew he was lying.
He buckled up his belt, took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom. He checked his appearance in the mirror and then called to open the door. He watched as maidens bought in an array of clothing. He told them that Amy was in the shower and they must quickly prepare her to be brought down, and then he called out to her where she sat, crouched and shivering on the bathroom floor.
‘You will get ready quickly.’ He spoke as a king would when addressing a belligerent servant. He tried to remember his place and so too must she. ‘Queen Natasha is waiting for you.’
‘TOMORROW we leave for the desert.’
Natasha was irritating. She insisted on chatting as if they were old friends. And yet, Emir conceded, he would find any conversation annoying now, for his mind was only on Amy and what had just taken place.
Fool, he said to himself. Fool for not resisting. Fool for being weak.
And fool because tonight he would take her, only to lose her again in the morning.
Only to have her leave.
‘I’m looking forward to it.’ Natasha persisted with their one-way conversation. ‘After all the celebrations and pomp surrounding the birth, it will be nice to get some peace.’
Now Emir did respond—and very deliberately he chose to get things wrong. ‘I’m sure that the Bedouins will take good care of him.’ He saw the flare of horror in Natasha’s eyes.
‘Oh, it’s not for that. It’s way too soon to even think of being parted from him. That doesn’t have to happen until he turns one.’
‘Before he turns one,’ Emir said, enjoying one pleasure in this night.
Two pleasures, he corrected, his mind drifting to Amy again. But he must stay focussed. He must concentrate on the conversation rather than anticipating her arrival, rather then remembering what had just happened. And perhaps it was time to give Natasha a taste of the medicine he had so recently sampled.
‘I handed over the girls last week. Your husband was kind enough to grant a concession that they only stay in the desert for one night, given what happened to their mother.’ He watched Natasha’s lips tighten as he reminded her, none too gently, that her son would be in the desert for several nights—unless, of course, he lost his mother too. Unless he was forced to be weaned early, as Emir’s daughters had been.
‘How did the girls get on?’ Natasha attempted to make it sound like a polite enquiry, as if she were asking after the girls rather than about what she could expect for her own son.
Emir knew that—it was the reason he didn’t mollify her with his response. ‘They screamed, they wept and they begged,’ Emir said, watching as her face grew paler with each passing word. ‘But they are the rules.’ Emir shrugged. ‘My daughters have been forced to be strong by circumstance, and so they survived it.’
He stopped twisting the knife then—not to save her from further distress, but because at that moment it seemed to Emir that everything simply stopped.
He had wondered far too often what Amy might look like out of that robe—he had pictured her not just in her nightdress, or naked beneath him, but dressed as his Queen.
She stepped into that vision now and claimed it, and deep in his gut a knife twisted.
She was dressed in a dark emerald velvet gown, her lips painted red and her eyes skilfully lined with kohl. Her hair was down. But nothing, not even the work of a skilled make-up artist, could temper the glitter in her eyes and the blush of her cheeks that their kiss had evoked. A riot of ringlets framed her face.
The world was cruel, Emir decided, for it taunted him with what he could not have. It showed him exactly how 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