The Defiant Princess (12 page)

Slowly, Khalid reached out and placed his hands on hers. He drew them down and held them firmly against his chest. He felt her tremble and his first instinct was to lend her physical comfort. He resisted, unsure he could ignore the physical pull of attraction. Instead, he regarded her steadily. “It's
not
your fault.” Shifting one of his hands so the tips of his fingers trailed down her soft cheek he told her, “You are the solution, not the problem.”

“I don't see how.”

Tears pooled in her eyes, making them the deep blue of the ocean. The vulnerability she felt was evident in the way her perfect upper teeth bit down onto the fullness of her lower lip. For all her strength and confidence, she wanted reassurance. Despite her intelligence, she needed guidance. Something moved in his chest—an indefinable emotion assailed him. He wanted to provide her with that reassurance and guidance. He was pleased she looked to him for it.

It felt … right.

“How can I provide a solution? If it wasn't for me he wouldn't be preparing for war.” Her voice hitched on the final word.

“You're wrong. Only days ago Mustaf threatened to cut off the main source of water to Turastan if my sister, Lalita, does not marry his son,” he told her quietly. “War was likely to ensue.”

She frowned up at him. “I remember you mentioned something about that. That's why your father was so happy to locate me?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” She pulled away from him abruptly.

When she met his eyes again, the blue depths of hers glittered with pain and anger. “Why am I surprised?” Her expression taut, her voice hard, she said, “This has never been about any right I have to assume the throne.”

“You're wrong.”

“No, I'm not. Rhajia's been in crisis for years yet your father did nothing to renew his search for me. The betrothal arrangement made between our fathers was easily forgotten as Hazim married Barika. Now, I'm just a convenience for Turastan. Bring me out of the woodwork and you get rid of Mustaf. You're just trying to prevent your water supply drying up. You're trying to avert a war and saving your sister from an unwanted marriage.” Her arms crossed over her chest in what appeared to be a self-comforting action. “You're both prepared to make me the human sacrifice instead of your sister. Did you or your father ever care about the people of Rhajia? You certainly don't give a hoot about me.”

“Sabihah—”

“You're as inhuman as Mustaf.”

Khalid drew in a sharp breath and clenched his hands. Her accusation was both offensive and inaccurate. He forced himself to breathe deeper and regain control. One of them had to stay logical. Fists unclenched slowly. “Luckily for you, that isn't true,” he said savagely. “So don't
ever
compare me to that bastard.”

“You don't give a damn about how this will affect my life. You wouldn't have even come looking for me except that you were backed into a corner,” she flung back.

“I told you my father looked for you years ago,” Khalid argued, but even to his own ears it sounded lame.

She totally ignored him. “You're just strategists treating this like a game of chess. You're ignoring the fact that Rhajians have just as many rights as the Turastani people, and you've grossly underestimated me if you think I'll be treated like a pawn in your game!”

“That's not the case!”

“Save it.” Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the result of too many short, choppy breaths. “I may've been a bit slow, but I've got it figured out now. Neither you nor Mustaf really care about the people of Rhajia. It's going to come down to someone who's essentially a foreigner, with no idea how to start ruling a country, to try to set things right.”

Her accusation shamed him. As unjust as her fundamental accusations had been, they did contain a shred of truth. She was the only weapon King Hassan had to use against Mustaf. First and foremost, both Khalid and his father were trying to save Lalita and the people of Turastan.

At his father's bidding, Khalid had ridden roughshod over Sabihah's objections, placed her in danger and forced her to come to Turastan. He'd forced her to accept her royal birthright when she had no desire to do so. And, given how much Khalid resented his royal duty at times, what was he doing forcing someone else to wear the leg-irons that were part and parcel of being royal?

While Sabihah continued to glare at him, Khalid sat down and tried to think clearly through the emotion-charged atmosphere.

“You're right to some degree,” he finally admitted.

She made a scoffing sound.

“Sabihah—”

“Sabrina,” she corrected mutinously, everything in her stance telling him she wasn't prepared to trust him an inch.

He raised an eyebrow. It made no difference how he addressed her. She was the Rhajian princess. “Sabrina,” he conceded.

She continued to glare at him.

“I'm sorry your parents were murdered.”

At the mention of her parents' murder her posture lost some of its starch and her anger seemed to drain away a fraction. “That was hardly your fault.”

“No, but it left you alone and I regret my father didn't keep up his search for you. In his defence, I repeat his claims that he was concerned his investigations would get back to Mustaf and place you in danger.”

“And now that's happened anyway,” she retorted. “First your father allowed me to be cut off from my past, and now your actions have cut me off from the plans I had for my future.”

“Yes,” he agreed with quiet sincerity. She spoke the truth.

“So where the hell does that leave me?”

“You're right in saying you're a convenient way to resolve the conflicts between Turastan and Rhajia, although from my father's perspective, he's fulfilling the promise he made to your father.” He shook his head when she opened her mouth and seemed to be about to object. “If I could guarantee your safety and the safety of those closest to you—if I could see another way out of this mess—I'd turn this jet around now and take you back to Australia. Back to the plans you had.”

“But you can't.”

He heard the bleakness in her voice and felt crushed by it. “No,” he said.

“So, here we are, on our way to claim the Rhajian throne,” she declared flatly.

He let out a heavy breath. “What I can do is buy you more time. The officials must be sent away from the airport and wait until you're ready to meet with them.”

Her head tilted slightly. “You would do that for me?”

He nodded.

“Why?” Her tone was suspicious.

“I truly regret the way all this has been handled. While I'm ashamed to admit that some of your accusations are true, I can tell you my father has always been deeply concerned about the plight of the Rhajian people. He loved your father like a brother, and you must know our two countries were once closely united in a multitude of ways.”

“Which is why our parents wanted to unite the two countries through marriage,” she said almost to herself as she frowned at a spot on the carpeted floor.

“Yes,” he agreed. “That was their plan. It's burdened my father all these years that he hasn't been able to intercede and assist when Mustaf has slowly torn down everything your father worked so hard to accomplish.”

“And now it's my responsibility to try to undo all Mustaf's wrongs,” she said and turned completely away from him.

“You're strong,” he told her confidently. “I believe you'll succeed, and I pledge my assistance to you in this.”

“Of course,” she agreed a little waspishly. “In helping Rhajia, Turastan will also benefit.”

He watched as her foot began to tap in agitation. “I regret you're being forced to do something against your will.”

“That cuts both ways doesn't it, Khalid? I'm forcing you into a temporary marriage so you can take over my rule of Rhajia and I can return to my own life.”

Now was his opportunity to tell her. To confess that once the marriage went ahead there would be no way out. “Sabihah—”

She spun around toward him. “Khalid, I'm sorry if I've misjudged you. Thank you for being prepared to give me more time to come to terms with all of this. The fact is that I have to go ahead with this before I can return to my own life in Australia. I probably need to achieve closure on my past in Rhajia and do my duty as my parents would've expected me to before I can sever ties with the country of my birth with a clear conscience.” She shrugged and her lips twisted ruefully. “I'm sorry I bit your head off and kind of shot the messenger. I realise I need you to help me through this, and I don't have any other option but to trust you.”

“You can trust me.” And in order for that trust to be well placed, he needed to tell her the truth about their future. “I—”

“There's no point delaying the inevitable. The introductions at the airport may as well go ahead. But I'm nervous as hell because I don't know what they'll expect from me.”

Unable to stop himself, he stood and walked to her. He reached out and stroked one hand down her silky hair in a gesture meant to comfort and reassure. Immediately her lips parted and he had to take a firm rein to his desires. “The meeting will be very brief. We'll walk off the plane, introductions will be made, and we'll drive straight to the palace.”

“That's it?”

“Council members want to interview you this afternoon but I'll delay that until you're ready to answer their questions about your disappearance and your life to date. You must convince them you're here to claim the Rhajian throne.”

“But I'm not.” Conflict and guilt chased each other across her features. “Not really. Not in the long-term. That responsibility will be yours.”

“That's—”

“I want to help but I feel like a hypocrite. Yesterday it all seemed possible.” She stepped away from him and her hands moved in agitation in front of her. “Now I realise it's all a lie. These people will be pinning their hopes on me, and there's no way I can deliver.”

“You must take this one step at a time.”

“But I'm a hopeless liar. They'll see through me.”

“I will be with you through everything.” He must tell her that her plans for him to assume the throne of Rhajia were invalid. It wasn't a simple matter of marrying him and signing over her sovereignty. “Regarding our marriage …”

She turned away from him slightly and let out a deep, worried breath. “How are we going to stop a war?”

He bit back his confession to answer her question. “My father and his advisors are working on that through diplomatic channels, but the Arab Council must be convinced of your identity. That's why this is all happening so quickly.”

She looked uncomfortable. “Will Inaya understand why this is so important?”

He clenched his jaw and made a decision that went against the grain. He couldn't take the risk that Sabihah would back out of the plan to accept the throne. At this stage she must think she still had a chance to return to her life in Australia.

“Inaya will understand.”

He was lying by omission, but surely he had no other choice?

Anyway, he rationalised, Sabihah had just admitted ties still bound her to Rhajia. If she walked away now her conscience would probably trouble her for the rest of her life. If she abandoned Rhajia and left Mustaf on the throne, her life would be in jeopardy.

She fiddled with the hem of her blouse then gestured toward her casual clothing. “I'm hardly dressed for the part.”

“That's already been considered. You'll find a selection of clothing in the cabin off to the left—both traditional and Western outfits.”

“I can't wear anything traditional.” She shook her head. “I know I'm playing a role but I can't change so completely in such a short period of time. I would feel even more phony if I'm wearing traditional clothing.”

He touched her arm again then fought to deny the more desperate need he had to encircle her slim body in his arms, hold her against him and smooth the silken sheen of her hair with his hands. To join his lips with hers and …

He drew back a step and pulled himself together. “Choose something from the Western wardrobe then, and I will wear a suit. The last three queens of Rhajia have been Westerners, and there have been numerous European brides over the last few centuries. The people held them all in high regard. Your clothing will probably make little difference.”

“There's one other thing.” She hesitated. “I know Sabihah is my birth name, but the child Sabihah is not who I am anymore. I wish to be known by my English name.”

Khalid disagreed. “You may decree that in time, but for the moment the people and all the leaders must know you as Princess Sabihah. It will help them to acknowledge and accept your rightful position.”

Her lips tightened and he prepared himself for an argument until she finally said, “Alright then … until Mustaf is deposed. Soon after that I will be Sabrina. That might just help the people realise I'm a Westerner, and my future does not lie in Rhajia.”

***

Sabrina smoothed down the pale blue fabric of the skirt and went to join Khalid in the main cabin for landing. She'd never worn anything designer-label before and she had to admit the Chanel suit buoyed her confidence. It was understated elegance. Now she had to adopt an appropriate degree of regal bearing and graciousness. This was the right course of action for the country her parents had given their lives for. The memory of her parents would carry her forward, but she still felt like an interloper.

The reception committee would be the first test. Khalid would be there to guide her and she was certain now that she could depend on him for support. Part of her wished that he was going to be there because he cared about her, not because he'd been ordered to by his father. She wasn't sure what disturbed her more, meeting with the officials in her role as Rhajian princess or having the powerful Turastani prince by her side acting in the role of her fiancé.