Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride. Marguerite Kaye
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The throne or divan or whatever it was, was covered in scarlet cushions tasselled with gold. Prince Kadar began to strew them on the floor. ‘There,’ he said, when the throne lay bare and the floor contained two heaps of cushions, ‘now we may both be seated in comfort.’
He sank down with a fluidity she could not dream of imitating, crossing his legs with enviable ease, indicating that she sit opposite him. Considerably impeded by her voluminous tunic, Constance did as he bid her. The Prince tugged off his headdress, casting it carelessly, with its diamond-encrusted band, onto the stripped throne. His hair was black, silky, dishevelled, curling down over the collar of his tunic at the back, the contrast with his austere countenance adding another dimension to his allure. He really was a very, very attractive man.
‘You were saying?’
Constance started. ‘What?’ She blushed. ‘I mean, I beg your pardon.’ She pushed her wild tangle of hair away from her face. ‘I mean, yes, I was. I was wondering—that is—the other passengers on the Kent, the crew, Captain Cobb.’
‘Of course.’
Prince Kadar rested his chin on his steepled fingers. His eyes really were an extraordinary colour, like stone speckled with lichen. What was he thinking? She shifted uncomfortably on the cushions. She wished he would say something. ‘Your Highness? I cannot be the only survivor, surely?’
‘No. No, of course not.’ Another pause. ‘You are anxious. Forgive me, the situation is somewhat awkward, I was trying to think how best to explain it.’
‘I much prefer the unvarnished truth. I find it is less painful in the long run.’
This remark earned her another of those looks. Assessing, that was the word she had been searching for. ‘You speak as one who has experience of—er—painful truths?’
‘That’s not what I said.’
‘It is what you implied.’
‘Goodness,’ Constance retorted, ‘am I on trial?’
Prince Kadar flinched. Then he smiled ruefully. ‘I beg your pardon, of course not. I find you—interesting.’
Which was no compliment, she was sure, but she was blushing all the same. ‘Well,’ Constance said, flustered, ‘I find you interesting too.’ Could she find anything more fatuous to say! ‘I mean, I have never met a prince before.’ Or inane! ‘You were right.’ Deflated, she smiled at him awkwardly. ‘I have had a great deal of experience in painful truths of late, but if you are thinking that I am likely to dissolve into hysterics at whatever it is you have to tell me, then let me reassure you, I am not the hysterical type.’
‘After what you have been through, I am surprised that you have any equanimity at all,’ the Prince replied. ‘Your composure is admirable.’
‘Oh, it’s not. Trust me, beneath this stylish piece of clothing, which is the only one I possess, I am shaking like a jelly.’
The faintest trace of colour stained his cheeks in response to this remark. His gaze was fixed on the gaping neck of her tunic. She had embarrassed him. And now she had embarrassed herself again. Constance bit back her apology, realizing just in time that it would only make matters worse, deciding to take a leaf out of the Prince’s book, and hold her tongue. And stop fidgeting. And stop staring.
‘The sinking of the Kent,’ Prince Kadar pronounced finally, as if he were reading from Shakespeare. ‘First of all, I must apologise. I was out of the country on state business when the ship went down, and since my return I have been required to devote my time to dealing with the consequences of the shipwreck. I am afraid the message sent to the palace informing us of your survival was overlooked until yesterday. Be assured that I acted upon it immediately.’
‘The man you sent was certainly efficient,’ Constance replied, ‘though I confess I found the sea journey somewhat more of an ordeal than I anticipated. I fear I can no longer claim to be such an excellent sailor as I once was.’
‘I am sorry. It did not occur to me that another sea voyage so soon after your ordeal would be a fraught experience for you. I thought only to have you brought here by the fastest route possible.’
‘Please, think nothing of it.’ Constance repressed a shudder. ‘My only regret is that my expression of thanks to Bashir, the village elder whose family cared for me, were woefully inadequate.’
‘You need not fret about that. I instructed my Chief Adviser to ensure that the village was rewarded for the care which they took of you. I am sure that Abdul-Majid said and did everything that was appropriate. He is a most—a most conscientious servant of the crown.’
Though not a servant close to Prince Kadar’s heart, if she did not mistake that tiny little moue of distaste. ‘A Chief Adviser,’ Constance said, ‘implies that you have many others.’
‘A great many, all most anxious to air their opinions, none of which, I am fairly certain, coincide with mine.’
The words were spoken with some feeling. The Prince looked as if he would prefer them unsaid. Tempted as she was—very tempted—to pursue the matter, Constance decided not to risk a further retreat into that haughty shell of his. Her fingers strayed to her wound, which was beginning to throb.
‘Does it pain you? Will I call a physician? Has the journey exhausted you? Would you prefer to postpone this discussion until you are rested?’
‘No.’ She smiled reassuringly, for the Prince looked genuinely concerned. ‘No and no.’ Constance sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees as butterflies started up in her stomach again. ‘Please continue.’
‘Very well,’ he said brusquely. ‘First of all, I should inform you most regretfully that there were fatalities. Twenty-seven—twenty-six, now that we know you are not one of them, a small percentage from a ship’s complement of six hundred. The captain managed to steer close enough to our waters for our fishing dhows to rescue the vast majority of people on board, and to recover the bodies of all those unfortunate souls who perished. You are the only one who seems to have been swept so far from our main port. The piece of broken mast you were found clinging to in all likelihood saved your life.’
‘Is Captain Cobb among the survivors?’
‘Yes, it is from him that we gained some basic knowledge of you. Your name, your place of embarkation, your destination, and your companion for the journey. I am afraid, Lady Constance, that she was one of the souls who perished. Please accept my condolences for your loss.’
‘Oh, dear. Excuse me.’ Constance dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. ‘Mrs Peacock was returning to India to rejoin her husband after an extended visit with her family in England. Poor woman.’
‘We had assumed she was a relative.’
‘No, I met her only the day before we boarded, but I am truly sorry to hear that she has perished. My father paid her to play companion to me. We shared a cabin. It would not have been proper for me to have travelled alone.’
‘Your father is in England, then, and not in Bombay?’
‘Both my parents are in England. Why do you ask?’
Prince Kadar looked grave. ‘A full report of the fate of the Kent, its cargo, its passengers and crew, and the numerous steps my kingdom has taken to provide assistance, has already been sent to your Consul General in Cairo. I am not sure how long it will be before that report arrives in England, but I fear it will be before we can have an addendum sent.’
‘Addendum?’
‘Lady Constance, in my report you are listed as missing, presumed dead. Yours was the only body from the ship’s complement unaccounted for. As time passed it became ever more certain that you had perished, unfortunately.’
Constance stared at him in dismay. ‘You mean my mother will be informed that I have drowned?’
‘I am afraid so. And so too will