Bound By His Desert Diamond. Andie Brock
just wondering how you know that—if they aren’t given the chance, I mean. That sounds like censorship to me.’
Temper snaked through him, slowing his heart to a dull thud. He narrowed his eyes, the thick lashes blurring his image of this infuriating woman. ‘Let me make something clear right from the start, Princess Annalina. I may, or may not, seek your views on matters to do with European culture and traditions that I am not familiar with. That is your role. However, you do not attempt to interfere with the running of my country. Your opinions are neither needed nor wanted.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do.’
‘All I’m saying is...’ she raised finely shaped eyebrows ‘...you can’t have it both ways.’ It seemed she was determined to stand up to him. To have the last word. ‘If you are marrying me solely because I am a Western princess, because you want entrée into Europe that my family, my country, can give you, then you are going to have to accept this sort of media attention. It comes with the job. It comes with me.’
Zahir scowled. Was this true? If so he was going to have to put a stop to it. He had no intention of becoming part of some celebrity circus. But then twenty-four hours ago he had had no intention of marrying at all.
‘I have to say, I am somewhat surprised that you would be happy for the first sighting the people of Nabatean have of their new princess to be a grubby little paparazzi shot of you wantonly pressing your body up against mine.’ He wished he hadn’t reminded himself of that now. Not when she was so close. Not when he knew he wanted her to do it again.
‘It doesn’t bother me.’ She tossed her head, her hair rippling over her shoulders, deliberately countering his pomposity with a throwaway remark. It felt to Zahir as if she was throwing his weakness for her back in his face too, even though he had gone to great pains to cover it up.
‘Well, it should bother you. It is hardly becoming.’ The pomposity solidified inside him, holding him ramrod-straight.
‘Look. The paparazzi have been following me all my life. I’m used to it—it’s part of the role I was unwittingly born into. There are probably hundreds of images of me being unbecoming, as you put it.’
Zahir felt himself pale beneath his olive skin. This was worse than he’d thought. In his haste to arrange a suitable match for his brother it appeared he hadn’t been thorough enough in his research. He knew there had been a broken engagement but what was she telling him now? That she had a history of debauched behaviour? This woman who he now had to take as his wife.
‘It’s okay!’ Suddenly she let out a laugh, a light-hearted chuckle that echoed between them, seeming to surprise the cavernous room as much as it did him. ‘There’s no need to look like that.’ Now she was reaching for his hand, laying her own over the top of it. ‘I haven’t done anything really terrible! And, who knows, maybe now that I’m officially engaged the paparazzi will lose interest in me, find someone else to train their zoom lenses on. Especially as you are not well known in Europe.’
‘Unlike your last fiancé, you mean?’
Annalina withdrew her hand, all traces of humour gone now, colour touching her cheeks at his mention of her former partner. If he had wanted to snuff out her sunshine, he had achieved it.
‘Well, yes, Prince Henrik was well known to the gossip columnists. When that relationship ended it was inevitable that there was going to be a feeding frenzy.’
There was silence as Zahir refilled his coffee cup before returning his gaze to Annalina’s face.
‘I expect you want to know what happened.’ She twisted her hands in her lap.
‘No.’
‘I will tell you if you ask.’
‘I have no intention of asking. It’s none of my business.’ And, more than that, he didn’t want to think about it. She continued to stare at him, a strange sort of expression playing across her face, as if she was trying to decide where to go from here.
‘I suggest we concentrate on making plans for the future.’ There, he could be sensitive, moving her on from what was obviously a painful subject.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I see no reason for a long engagement.’
‘No.’ Now she was chewing her lip.
‘A month should be ample time to make the arrangements. I’m assuming you’ll want some sort of society wedding in Dorrada? If we follow that with a blessing here in Nabatean, that should suffice.’
‘Right.’
‘So I can leave you to organise it? The wedding, I mean? Or hire people to do it, or however these things work.’ At the mention of the wedding she seemed to have gone into some kind of stupor. Wasn’t the idea of arranging your wedding day supposed to be appealing to a young woman? Clearly not to Annalina. A thought occurred to him and he leant back in his chair. ‘If it’s money that is concerning you, let me assure you that is not a problem. No expense is to be spared.’
But instead of lessening her worry his statement only furrowed her brow deeper and was now coupled with a distinct look of distaste in her eyes. Perhaps talking about money was distasteful—he had no idea, and frankly he didn’t care. Or perhaps he was the thing that she found distasteful. He didn’t want to care about that either. But somehow he did. Abruptly scraping back his chair, he pushed himself to his feet, suddenly needing to end this meeting right now.
‘Perhaps you will inform me of the date of the wedding as soon as you know it.’
He looked down on Annalina from the superior position of his height. He heard himself, cold and aloof.
‘YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS?’
Anna was wandering around the palace when one of the servants came to find her. She had spent the last hour pacing from one room to the next, still fuming too much over Zahir’s abrupt departure from their so-called meeting to pay much attention to her opulent surroundings. The way he had just got up and walked out, ending their discussion with no warning, no manners!
She had thought she would try and distract herself by finding her way around this grand edifice but it was all too huge, too daunting, each room grander than the last, all domed ceilings, brightly coloured marble floors and micro-mosaic decorations. But there was nothing homely about it. In fact it had a new, unlived-in feel to it, as if no laughter had ever echoed through its stately rooms, no children’s feet had ever raced along its miles of corridors or young bottoms slid down its sweepingly ornate banisters. Which, no doubt, they hadn’t. This was a show home, nothing more. A monument erected as a display of wealth and power, a symbol of national pride for the people of Nabatean.
‘Prince Zahir has instructed that you are to meet him at the palace entrance.’ The servant bowed respectfully. ‘If you would like to follow me?’
So that would be right now, would it? This was how it was to be—Zahir issued his orders and she was expected to obey. Just like any other member of his staff. Instinctively Anna wanted to rebel, to say no, just to prove that she wasn’t at his beck and call. But what would that achieve, other than deliberately antagonising him? Something which she strongly suspected would not prove to be a good idea. Besides, she had nothing else to do.
A wall of heat hit her when she stepped out into the searing afternoon sun. Shielding her eyes, she could see Zahir standing by the limousine, waiting for the chauffeur to help her inside before getting in beside her.
‘Can I ask where we’re going?’ She settled in her seat, preparing herself to turn and look at him. It still gave her a jolt every single time her eyes met his, every time she stared into his darkly rugged features. It was like a cattle prod to her nervous system. He had changed into a sharply cut suit, she noticed, so presumably this