Page 40 of Unknown Royal Baby

‘I do. I never thought I could look so—’ Avril shook her head.

For the first time in their acquaintance, the older woman smiled. ‘I rarely heed fashion advice from men. But I believe His Majesty chose well, insisting you’d be more comfortable in Western dress for the occasion.’

Isamhad insisted? It was a small thing but it warmed Avril. She’d left everything to the designer, trusting she’d know best what would be suitable.

As if on cue a knock sounded at the door, a footman opened it and Isam swept in, resplendent in white, a heavy ring of old gold, symbol of royal authority, on his hand.

He stopped midstride, his robes swirling about his legs. Dimly Avril was aware of the women curtseying then following Bethany out through another door. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the man who today would pledge himself to her. A royal betrothal was almost as binding as marriage.

Her heart pattered faster and her chest swelled on a deep breath. She watched his eyes widen then narrow as he surveyed her from top to toe then slowly, devastatingly slowly, back up.

Avril’s flesh tingled. Her nape tightened and so did her nipples, thrusting against her new satin bra. Low inside, heat bloomed and muscles spasmed as if reliving memories of the night they’d been together.

He paced towards her, stopping only when he was so close she could smell the warm citrus scent of his skin and admire the close shave of his angled jaw. ‘You look magnificent.’

His voice was husky, catapulting her back in time, making her remember how he’d made love to her, not just with his body, his mouth and hands, but with words of praise and enticement that had made her feel—

‘Thank you, Isam. So do you. Every inch the Sheikh.’

She had to wrest back some control of herself. It was daunting enough to face an official photoshoot, knowing the photos would be pored over not only in Zahdar, but across the world. Isam was young to be Sheikh, handsome, talented and with a recent tragedy in his past. The world would be agog to see the woman he’d chosen as his bride.

A dreadful, plummeting sensation hollowed her belly. Was she foolish to think she could do this?

‘What is it, Avril?’

She swallowed hard, tasting trepidation. ‘I just...’ She shook her head. ‘How can you believe this will work? I’m not—’

Isam curled his fingers around hers and drew her against him. It was the first time they’d been so close since the night Maryam was conceived. The night he’d introduced her to a world of delight she’d never guessed at. A wonderful, golden world where anything was possible.

‘It will work because we’ll make it work. And youareeverything you need to be.’ Her gaze lifted to his, those grey eyes mesmerising and bright as liquid mercury. ‘You’re the mother Maryam needs and loves. You’re talented, capable and caring. That’s more than enough.’

The intensity of his stare made it hard to remember he wanted her for purely pragmatic reasons. Because when he looked at her like that she could almost believe...

Heat surged in her veins, bringing her skin to tingling life, flushing her throat and face. The way he looked at her, a huskiness in his voice she’d heard only once before, the words branding themselves in her brain... All those undermined her doubts and stripped bare her vulnerabilities. Made her hope.

Something cool touched her finger and she looked down to see him hold a ring to it. He paused, as if waiting for approval or objection, then as she watched, he slid it home.

Her breath seized. The ring was remarkable. A huge crimson stone that she guessed was a ruby glowed with a dazzling inner light. Its setting was of old gold filigree that extended right up to her first knuckle. She blinked, trying to take in the delicately wrought flowers and...were those birds? She’d never seen such a thing.

It was a ring for a queen. A statement piece that spoke of extraordinary wealth and, she suspected, generations of tradition.

Daunting, much?

‘I know in your country engagement rings are often chosen by the bride. But in mine they are usually an heirloom from the husband’s family. I hope you like it.’

Avril swallowed, shaky at the grandeur and beauty of what she wore. It struck her that her dress was a perfect match for the stone, which was the perfect size for her finger. Had he organised it that way?

Of course he had. Isam was a man who saw details as well as the bigger picture. It was one of the reasons she’d enjoyed working with him.

‘It’s gorgeous but very grand. I’m not sure—’

‘It was my grandmother’s. I thought you’d enjoy wearing something from another bride who was an incomer. She was very happy in Zahdar and I hope you will be too.’

Avril looked up into his face, seeking a clue to his thoughts. She read tenderness when he referred to his grandmother but apart from that he wore his inscrutable expression. The one that left her second-guessing his thoughts.

He’s probably wondering if you’re up to the ordeal waiting for you now. At least it’s better than him pretending you’re special to him.

Finally she nodded. ‘Thank you. That’s very thoughtful. I’ll wear it with pride.’

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