Royals: Claimed By The Prince. Penny Jordan
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from Amira one day, but when you lose someone that way...’ She gave an expressive shrug. ‘I ask myself sometimes, could I have been as noble if I knew that Steve had fallen for someone?’
For a moment a frustrated Hannah thought the flow of confidences had ended, but then Raini’s voice dropped to a confidential whisper.
‘Amira told me that Kamel said she’d make a beautiful queen, and that all he wanted was for her to be happy. He and Hakim were like brothers—talk about triangles.’
Hannah gave a non-committal grunt, struggling to put the people and places mentioned in context, and then she remembered what he had said: ‘She found him...preferable.’ This love that Hannah was meant to be replacing was the woman who had married Kamel’s cousin, only to lose her life in the plane crash that had moved Kamel up the line of succession. He had acted as though he didn’t care but if his cousin had it right...? She shook her head, struggling to see the man who had showed her zero empathy caring for anyone. It was almost as strange an idea as him being rejected. Whether he wore a crown or not, Kamel was not the sort of man women ran away from.
‘She would have, too.’
Hannah wrenched her wandering thoughts back to the present and shook her head, mumbling, ‘Sorry?’
‘She would have made a beautiful queen. But she never got the chance...’ Raini breathed a deep sigh. ‘So sad.’ Then, visibly pulling herself together, she produced a warm smile. ‘But this is not a day for tears. You will make a beautiful queen, and you’re marrying a man in a million.’
Hannah knew she was meant to respond. ‘I would still be in the jail cell if it hadn’t been for him.’
The other woman looked mistily emotional as she nodded. ‘He’s the man you need in an emergency. When Steve was kidnapped...’ She gave her head a tiny shake and pulled open the wardrobe door. ‘Like I said, Kamel is a guy in a million but patience is not one of his virtues, and my instructions are to have you on the road in thirty minutes.
‘Take your pick of the dresses, Hannah.’ She indicated a row of white gowns. ‘They delivered a few.’
Hannah blinked at the understatement, and Raini continued to deliver the information at the same shotgun speed.
‘Your father wasn’t sure of your size so I got them to send them all in three sizes, but...’ Her bright eyes moved in an assessing sweep up and down Hannah. ‘You’re an eight?’
Hannah nodded.
‘Shower that way.’ Her efficient mother hen nodded at a door. ‘You’ll find toiletries and make-up by the mirror—anything you want just yell. I’ll just go and get changed into something much less comfortable.’
The shower was bliss. All the gowns were beautiful but she selected the simplest: a column with the hem and high neck heavily encrusted with beads and crystals. It fitted like a silken glove. Smooth and butter-soft, in dramatic contrast to the emotional rawness of her emotions. She took a deep breath and pulled the shattered threads of her protective composure tight about her shoulders, refusing to acknowledge the fear in her belly.
When Raini returned, looking elegant in a tailored silk trouser suit, Hannah was struggling with her hair. Freshly washed, it was evading her efforts to secure it in an elegant chignon.
‘You look beautiful,’ the older woman said, standing back to view her. ‘I thought you might like this.’
Hannah’s eyes travelled from the mist of emotional tears in the other woman’s eyes to the lace veil she held out and her armour of cool detachment crumbled.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, hating the fact she couldn’t tell this woman who was so genuine the truth—that this marriage was all an awful sham.
‘It was my grandmother’s. I wore it when I was married. I thought you might like it.’
Hannah backed away, feeling even more wretched that she was playing the loving bride for this woman. ‘I couldn’t—it looks so delicate.’
‘I insist. Besides, it will go perfectly with this.’ She presented what Hannah had assumed was a clutch bag, but turned out to be a large rectangular wooden box.
‘What beautiful work.’ Hannah ran a finger along the intricate engraving work that covered the rosewood lid.
‘Not nearly as beautiful as this.’ With a magician’s flourish Raini flicked the lid open. Her eyes were not on the contents, but on Hannah’s face. She gave a smile as Hannah’s jaw dropped.
‘No, you’re really kind, but I really couldn’t wear that. It’s far too precious. This is lovely,’ she said, draping the lace veil over her head, ‘but really, no.’ She stepped back, waving her hands in a fluttering gesture of refusal.
‘It’s not mine...I wish.’ Raini laughed, removing the tiara from its silken bed. The diamonds in the delicately wrought gold circlet glittered as she held it up. ‘Kamel had it couriered over. He wants you to wear it. Let me...’ Her face a mask of serious concentration, she placed the tiara carefully on top of the lace. ‘Dieu,’ she breathed reverently. ‘You look like something out of a book of fairy tales. You really are a princess.’
Hannah lifted her hands to remove it. ‘I haven’t put my hair up yet.’
‘If I were you I’d leave it loose. It’s very beautiful.’
Hannah shrugged. Her hairstyle was the least of her worries.
HANNAH’S FIRST GLIMPSE of her future home drew a pained gasp from her lips.
‘I know.’ Raini was all amused sympathy. ‘I’d like to tell you it’s not as awe-inspiring as it looks, but actually,’ she admitted, directing her critical stare at the multitude of minarets, ‘it is. Even Hollywood couldn’t build a set like this. The family, as you’ll learn, has never been into less is more. When I lived here—’
‘You lived here?’ How did anyone ever relax in a setting this ostentatiously grand?
Raini gave a warm chuckle. ‘Oh, my parents occupied a small attic,’ she joked. ‘Until Dad got posted. He’s a diplomat,’ she explained. ‘By the time I was eighteen I’d lived in a dozen cities.’ They drove under a gilded archway into a courtyard the size of a football pitch, filled with fountains. ‘But nothing ever came close to this.’
Hannah believed her.
Rafiq escorted them into the building through a small antechamber that had seemed large until they stepped through the next door and entered a massive hall. The wall sconces in there were all lit, creating swirling patterns on the mosaic floor.
The awful sense of impending doom that lay like a cold stone in Hannah’s chest became heavier as they followed the tall, gowned figure down a maze of marble-floored empty corridors. By the time she saw a familiar figure, she was struggling to breathe past the oppressive weight.
‘Dad!’
‘Hello, Hannah! You look very beautiful, child.’
Hannah struggled to hide her shock at her father’s appearance. She had never seen him look so pale and haggard. Not even when he’d lain in a hospital bed attached to bleeping machines had he looked this frail. He seemed to have aged ten years since she last saw him.
Any lingering mental image of her walking into his arms and asking him to make everything right vanished as the tears began to slide down his cheeks. She had never seen her ebullient parent cry except on the anniversary of her mother’s death—her birthday. On that day he always vanished to be alone with his grief, and the sight of tears now was as painful to her as a knife thrust.
Intentionally or not, it always felt as if she was the cause of his tears. If she hadn’t been born the woman he loved would