Carol Marinelli - Beholden to the Throne

It was a hell of his own making, though, Amy remembered, moving away from him and stepping out onto the balcony, once again ruing the sultry nights.

But it was not just the night that was oppressive. He had joined her outside. She gulped in air, wished the breeze would cool, for it was not just her face that was burning. She felt as if her body was on fire.

‘Soon I will marry …’ He saw her shoulders tense, watched her hands grip the balcony, and as the breeze caught her nightdress it outlined her shape, detailing soft curves. In that moment Emir could not speak—was this the first time he’d noticed her as a woman?

No .

But this was the first time he allowed himself to properly acknowledge it.

He had seen her in the nursery when he had visited the children a few weeks ago. That day he had sat through a difficult meeting with his elders and advisers, hearing that Queen Natasha was due to give birth soon and being told that soon he must marry.

Emir did not like to be told to do anything, and he rarely ever was.

But in this he was powerless and it did not sit well.

He had walked into the nursery, dark thoughts chasing him. But seeing Amy sitting reading to the twins, her blue eyes looking up, smiling as he entered, he had felt his black thoughts leave him. For the first time in months he had glimpsed peace. Had wanted to stay awhile with his children, with the woman he and Hannah had entrusted to care for them.

He had wanted to hide.

But a king could not hide.

Now what he saw was not so soothing. Now her soft femininity did not bring peace. For a year his passion might as well have been buried in the sands with his wife. For a year he had not fought temptation—there had been none. But something had changed since that moment in the nursery, since that day when he had noticed not just her smile but her mouth, not just her words but her voice. At first those thoughts had been stealthy, invading dreams over which he had no control, but now they were bolder and crept in by day. The scent of her perfume in an empty corridor might suddenly reach him, telling him the path she had recently walked, reminding him of a buried dream. And the mention of her name when she had requested a meeting had hauled him from loftier thoughts to ones more basic.

And basic were his thoughts now, yet he fought them.

He tried to look at the problem, not the temptation before him, the woman standing with her back to him. He wanted to turn her around, wanted to in a way he hadn’t in a long time. But he was not locked in dreams now. He had control here and he forced himself to speak on.

‘I did look through your contract and you are right. It has not been adhered to.’

Still she did not turn to look at him, though her body told her to. She wished he would leave—could not deal with him here even if it was to discuss the twins.

‘After their birthday things are going to get busy here,’ Emir said.

‘When you select your bride and marry?’

He did not answer directly. ‘These are complicated times for Alzan. Perhaps it would be better if the girls spent some time in London—a holiday.’

She closed her eyes, knew what was coming. Yes, a flight on his luxury jet, a few weeks at home with the twins, time with her family, luxurious hotels … What was there to say no to? Except … She took a deep breath and turned to him. ‘Without you?’

‘Yes,’ Emir said.

She looked at the man who had so loved his children, who was now so closed off, so remote, so able to turn from them, and she had to know why.

‘Is it because they remind you of Hannah?’ Amy asked. ‘Is that why it hurts so much to have them around?’

‘Leave it,’ he said. He wished the answer was that simple, wished there was someone in whom he could confide. ‘I will have the trip scheduled.’

‘So you can remove them a bit more from your life?’

‘You do not talk to me like that.’ ‘Here I do.’

‘Once I am married the twins will have a mother figure …’

‘Oh, please!’

He frowned at her inappropriate response, but that did not deter her.

‘Is it a mother for the twins you are selecting or a bride to give you sons?’

‘I’ve told you already: it is not for you to question our ways. What would you know …?’

‘Plenty.’ Amy retorted. ‘My parents divorced when I was two and I remember going to my father’s; I remember when he married his new wife—a woman who had no interest in his children, who would really have preferred that we didn’t inconvenience her one Saturday in two.’ She stopped her tirade. There was no point. This was about the twins, not her past.

But instead of telling her off again, instead of telling her her words were inappropriate, he asked questions.

‘How did you deal with it as a child?’ Emir asked—because it mattered. He did want to make things better for his girls. ‘Were you unhappy? Were you …?’

‘Ignored?’ She finished his sentence for him and Emir nodded, making her tell him some of her truth. ‘Dad bought me a dolls’ house.’ She gave a pale smile at the memory. ‘I spent hours playing with it. There the mum and dad slept and ate together. The kids played in the garden or in the living room, not up in their room …’ There she’d been able to fix things. Her smile faded and trembled. Here she couldn’t fix things.

She felt his hand on her bare arm, felt his fingers brush her skin as if to comfort.

It did not.

She felt his flesh meet hers and it was all she could think of. His dark hand making contact was all she could think of when her mind should surely be only on the twins.

She hauled her thoughts back to them. ‘Can I ask,’ she said, ‘that when you consider a bride you think of them?’

‘Of course.’

His voice was soft and low, his hand still warm on her arm and there was a different tension surrounding them, the certainty that she was but a second away from a kiss.

A kiss that could only spell danger.

Perhaps that was his plan? Amy thought, shrugging off his hand, turning again to the desert. Perhaps he wanted her to fall in love with him. How convenient to keep her here, to bind her a little closer to the twins, to ensure that she did not resign. For he deemed her better for the twins.

‘Leave!’ She spat the word out over her shoulder, but still he stood. ‘Leave …’ she said again. But there was no relief when he complied, no respite when she heard the door close. Amy choked back angry tears as she stood on the balcony, she wanted to call him back, wanted to continue their discussion.… wanted …

There was the other reason she had to consider leaving.

Despite herself, despite the way he had been these past months, when he made any brief appearance in the nursery, on the rare occasions when he deigned to appear, her heart foolishly leapt at the sight of him—and lately her dreams had allowed more intimate glimpses of him. It confused her that she could have feelings for a man who paid so little attention to his own children.

Feelings that were forbidden.

Hidden.

And they must stay that way, Amy told herself, climbing into bed and willing sleep to come. But she was nervous all the same, for when she woke it would be morning.

And tomorrow she would be alone in the desert with him.

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