The Royal House of Karedes: The Desert Throne: Tamed: The Barbarian King / Forbidden: The Sheikh's Virgin / Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child. Annie West
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darkness. He passed many whispered conversations that he knew would never be spoken before the king.
“…Jasmine Kouri,” he heard a woman hiss, and in spite of himself, he slowed to listen. “Spending every day with him at the palace—and nights, too, I wager. The king’s a good, honorable man but when a woman is so determined to spread her legs…”
“And her an engaged woman!” came the spiteful reply. “She’s made a fool out of Umar Hajjar for wanting to marry her. You remember that scandal when she was young? She was bad from the start.”
“She’ll get her comeuppance. Wait and see.…”
Hands clenched, Kareef whirled to see who was speaking, but the women’s voices faded and blended into the rest of the crowd. He saw only moving shadows.
Oh God, give him an honest fight! A fight where he could face his enemy—not the whisper of spiteful gossips in the dark!
He was still trembling with fury when he reached the lower tables of the ballroom. He whispered Jasmine’s name silently. He craved her touch, yearned to have her in his arms. He yearned to keep her safe, to somehow give her shelter from the cruel words.
But when he reached for her chair, it was empty.
The instant the musicians entered the ballroom with their guitars, dulcimers and flutes in an eerie, haunting accompaniment to dancing swords of fire in the abruptly darkened ballroom, Jasmine bolted from her seat.
The banquet had been hell. She’d heard whispers and caught stares in her direction—some curious, some envious, a few hateful. It was clear that in spite of the fact that she and Kareef had neither kissed nor slept in the same bed since they’d returned to the palace, everyone already believed she was his lover. And they blamed her—only her—for that sin.
On her right side at the table, a fat, balding man had leered at her throughout the meal. On her left, a plain woman had stiffened in her mousy brown suit and pointedly ignored her for a solid hour.
Jasmine had watched Kareef across the ballroom. He was clearly adored and praised by his subjects, and he accepted their attention carelessly, as his due.
Kareef didn’t need her in his life, whatever he might say. He was surrounded by people begging for his attention, including the virginal blonde princess seated beside him. She was the type of woman he no doubt would marry—very soon.
She’d fled as soon as the ballroom went dark. She’d been desperate to escape before anyone could see her tears. But as soon as she was in the hallway, she felt a hand on her shoulder and whirled around, her hands tightened into fists.
Then her hands grew lax. Her body went numb.
“Father,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”
Yazid Kouri seemed to have aged in just the last few days, his once-powerful frame grown stooped and thin. He looked her over from her careful chignon to the black formal dress she’d borrowed from her old friend Sera for the occasion.
He gave a harsh laugh. “Why did you come back here?”
“You know why—”
“I thought you’d at last become a respectable, dutiful girl.” He shook his head, his black eyes suspiciously bright. “Why would you agree to marry a respectable man, only to betray him with the king before you have even spoken your vows?”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand!”
“Tell me you’ve never lain with the king,” he said. “Tell me it’s just an ugly rumor, and I’ll believe you.”
Blinking fast, she looked away. Her father’s disappointment hurt her so badly she could hardly bear it. “I’ve betrayed no one except myself. There is no shame if I am with the king, not when he…not when we…”
Not when we’re married. But the words caught at her throat. She couldn’t reveal their secret. The king’s word of honor was admired around the world. How could she reveal that he’d hidden such a secret for thirteen years?
As a girl, she’d remained silent to protect him.
As a woman, she still would.
“You see nothing wrong in sleeping with a man who is not your husband?” her father continued, his voice sodden with grief. “That sort of behavior might be acceptable in the modern world, but not in our family. Your sister needs you. Marry Umar. Return to New York with your new husband and family. Help Nima raise her child!”
Jasmine’s jaw dropped. “You’ve spoken to her?”
“She called us two hours ago.” He looked away, his jaw clenching. “She says she doesn’t know how to be a mother. She’s threatening to give the child to strangers when it’s born! She’s scared. She’s so young.”
Fury suddenly raced through Jasmine, fury she could not control. She raised her head.
“Just as I was!” she cried. “I was sixteen when you threw me out of our family, out of our country!”
“I was angry,” he whispered. Tears filled his bleary eyes. “I had different expectations of you, Jasmine. You were my eldest. You had such intelligence, such strength. I took so much pride in you. Then…it all fell apart.”
Her heart turned over in her chest.
“Go back to New York as a married woman. Steady Nima with your strength.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Tomorrow, I will be in Qais, expecting to see a wedding.”
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