The Sheikh's Reluctant Bride. Teresa Southwick
she thought, before her outraged self scratched the observation and replaced it. He was no boy. The girly parts of her recognized and responded to his masculinity against her will and better judgment.
“What did you do?” she managed to ask.
“Why do you assume that I am at fault without really knowing me?”
She folded her arms over her chest and looked up. “How can you ask that with a straight face. This is you we’re talking about. The whole world knows about your romantic escapades. Of course you did something. What was it this time? I’m sure a woman is involved,” she guessed.
“She left her husband, although the separation is not yet legal.”
“That would make her a married woman. I guess the king wasn’t too happy with you.”
“Not me so much as it is the pictures of myself and the lady taken with the telephoto lens.” He shrugged, but his eyes narrowed. “My father and his advisers made it clear that this was an opportune time to—what is the expression—kill two birds with one stone.”
“Squash the scandal and do your duty?”
“Exactly,” he agreed.
So the king had one nerve left and Kardahl had gotten on it—and dragged her along with him. She put her hands on her hips. “There’s just one problem. I don’t want to be married.”
“May I ask why?”
“So many reasons, so little time,” she said. “And if I did decide to walk down the aisle—and I mean walk down the aisle, not sign a piece of paper and presto you’re hitched—you’re the last man on the face of the earth I would choose.”
Instead of irritation, amusement sparkled in his eyes. “Is that so?”
“Your behavior proves you’re not capable of commitment.” She waited for his expression to change and when it didn’t, she said, “Feel free to deny it and set the record straight. The basis for that opinion comes directly from the tabloids.”
“There is no need to deny it. You are correct.”
“Then why didn’t you refuse to go through with this proxy thing?”
The amusement finally disappeared, replaced by a dark look that made his eyes hard as granite. “It is the price of royal birth. This marriage is about duty.”
“That’s the thing. There is no marriage because I didn’t knowingly give my consent.” She never would have given it, especially if she’d known who she was marrying. “In case there’s any question, I am not happy about this.”
“That is understandable. You have been ill used.”
He was agreeing with her again. Why did he keep doing that?
“Come again?”
“You should have been apprised of all the facts of the situation. The aide responsible for this will be severely disciplined.”
“That’s a start. How severely?” she asked cautiously.
“How severely would you like?”
Good question. How did you chastise someone responsible for marrying you to the kind of man you’d avoided like the stomach flu?
She looked at him. “If the punishment were to fit the crime, he should be forced into a marriage with the last person on the planet he would choose.”
“He is already married.”
Laughter slid into Kardahl’s eyes indicating he got her drift and didn’t care that she’d slighted him. Why should he when the world was his playground and all the women in it his adoring toys.
“I see. And does he also have children?” she asked.
“Three.”
Ouch. She didn’t want to be responsible for the man losing his job when he had a wife and kids depending on him. “Maybe a severe talking to would be enough. Along with a warning not to play with people’s lives.”
“I will arrange it,” he said. He bowed slightly and smiled.
“Don’t do that.”
“It is a gesture of respect,” he explained.
“Not the bow. Don’t smile at me.”
He tilted his head as he studied her. “You would rather I frown?”
Yes, she thought. For many reasons. Not the least of which was the way his smile made breathing a challenge and threatened her equilibrium. “How can you smile when we still have a big problem? How are you going to get me out of this marriage?”
“It is possible to obtain an annulment,” he said.
“Okay,” she said nodding. “I’m almost smiling. What do I have to do?”
“You must not consummate the marriage.”
This must be hopeless romantic hell. She was discussing sex as if it were a business deal. So much for being swept away. “Okay then, start the paperwork. I promise not to seduce you and I’m quite sure you can’t seduce me.”
“Are you so very certain?” There was a gleam in his eyes. The glitter of competition, a challenge issued.
“Oh, please. I’m looking for a man who can put his heart and soul into a relationship. You’re not that man and we both know it.”
“Do we?” He looked at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “If you wish it, I will begin the process of dissolution.”
“I wish it very much.” Clearly he was being so agreeable because he didn’t want to be married. Then a thought struck her. “Is this going to get you in more trouble?”
“Do not worry about me. I will explain to the king and queen.”
“There won’t be more scandal?” she asked.
“My public relations staff will issue appropriate statements. But—”
“What?”
“If I could prevail upon you to play the part of my wife—only in public,” he added, “until any hint of scandal has faded away. You would have my gratitude. And although my family has caused you some distress, they would be forever in your debt as well. And in the meantime, I will give you every possible assistance in meeting your family.”
Family. It’s why she’d come halfway around the world. Because she’d had no one after her mother died, she’d always longed to have the problems with relatives that others moaned about. She would cherish interference, being judged and unwanted advice if she gained unconditional love.
“It’s a deal,” she agreed. “As long as no one expects me to produce children.”
His only response was a smile and a look that reminded her of a large hunting cat selecting his prey.
As the limousine drove past the colorful booths of the open marketplace and continued toward the heart of Bha’Khar’s capital city, Jessica stared out the window shaking her head.
“Something is not to your liking?” Kardahl asked.
“Everything is fine.”
And that was an understatement. True to his promise, he had shown her to her own room and she’d spent the night—alone—in the most beautiful bedroom she’d ever seen with a closet as big as her whole apartment in L.A. The bed was so high, she’d half expected her nose to bleed. The bathroom vanity was marble and all the fixtures were gold. After a pleasant breakfast, Kardahl had told her his staff was contacting her family and while they were waiting for a response he offered to take her on a tour of the city. It was very sweet, but probably part of his scandal-suppressing charade. And she was okay with that.
What saddened