Abby Green - A Christmas Bride For The King

She longed to be able to stop and explore as they passed intriguing-looking courtyards with colourful mosaics and ornate fountains. They rounded another corner and Charlotte jumped when a peacock appeared in their path, as nonchalant as if they were intruding on its turf, its long and vibrantly coloured tail trailing behind it.

Sheikh Al-Noury stepped around it and kept going. Charlotte felt disorientated. She’d built a picture of this man in her mind that had been based on lurid headlines:

Playboy Sheikh opens new nightclub

in Monte Carlo!

Al-Noury triples fortune overnight by

floating new social media messaging site!

And, while he wasn’t doing much to dispel that image with his appearance or attitude, he didn’t seem as…shallow as Charlotte might have expected.

They came to a set of huge double doors at the end of the corridor. Sheikh Al-Noury opened them and stood back to let her precede him. When Charlotte stepped over the threshold she sucked in a breath. This was a different palace. One that hadn’t been frozen in time and left to crumble to pieces.

It was a suite containing numerous rooms, each one covered in exquisite Persian carpets. The furnishings were sumptuous and sensual—dark reds and purples. A little over the top for her tastes, but effortlessly regal. There was a private dining area, and a living room that led into a palatial en-suite bedroom dominated by a four-poster bed.

She avoided looking at that, acutely aware of the man only feet away and how he might be observing her reaction and somehow judging her. She’d never felt so conscious of being a woman before. And a woman who was lacking.

The room was pleasantly cool, thanks to the air-conditioning, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows and French doors that led out onto a private terrace, complete with a decorative swimming pool.

She turned around to face her reluctant host. ‘These rooms are beautiful, but I’d be quite happy in something less…luxurious.’

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘These are usually reserved for my mother’s use, and they were decorated to her specifications, but as she won’t be visiting any time soon you are welcome to use them.’

There was a distinctly chilly tone to his voice and Charlotte said, ‘Not even for your coronation?’

Sheikh Al-Noury’s face became shuttered. ‘She knows she’s not welcome here while I’m in residence.’

Charlotte couldn’t claim much of a relationship with either of her parents, but the cold tone of Sheikh Al-Noury’s voice shocked her. ‘But isn’t this her homeland?’

He responded curtly. ‘It was.’

He backed away then, and suddenly Charlotte had an irrational fear of being left alone in this seemingly empty palace. In truth, it wasn’t a totally irrational fear because she’d had plenty of experience being left to her own devices, with only a nanny and staff for company in big houses, but she refused to think of her own demons now.

She’d already revealed too much by admitting she had no desire to be at home for Christmas. Not that he’d shown much interest in why that might be. Not that she wanted him to show interest she told herself fervently. So she said nothing.

He was almost at the door when he turned back and said, ‘Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll instruct someone to bring you some dinner.’

So she was to be consigned to her rooms.

But then he added, ‘Do feel free to explore… I must warn you, though, that it is perilously easy to get lost in this place, so don’t stray too far. The palace library is on this corridor, if you go left when you step outside.’

Just before he disappeared Charlotte blurted out, ‘Sheikh Al-Noury?’

He turned around, his hand on the door. ‘Yes?’

For a moment her mind went dismayingly blank at the way he so effortlessly dominated even this vast room, but she forced herself to focus and said, ‘I’m not here to be a nuisance… I am actually here to try and help ease your transition into becoming king.’

She could see his jaw clench from where she stood, and he said, ‘Miss McQuillan, you wouldn’t be here if it had been up to me. The last thing I need is an expert in diplomacy. But you are here, and I suspect you’re going to prove to be a nuisance whether you intend to or not, so you can start by calling me Salim. The way you say Sheikh Al-Noury makes me feel old.’

Before Charlotte could respond to that, or object to the way he insisted on calling her Miss McQuillan, as if she were a headmistress, he said, ‘I’ll have someone bring you some food, and I suggest that in the meantime we stay out of each other’s way.’

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.