Page 8 of Her Vow to Be His Desert Queen

Khalil was normally a patient man. The heir to the throne wasn’t permitted to marry until they’d been crowned, and he’d had to wait longer than most because his father had taken his time dying. Then, after his own coronation, he’d had to tidy up the mess Amir had left. It had all taken time. Too much time. He wasn’t getting any younger and the business of heirs needed to be seen to now the political situation had been handled, and he didn’t want to wait any more.

He’d expected some resistance when he’d arrived, but he’d thought that she’d at least be open to discussion, and it was irritating to get a flat ‘no’ immediately. However, her resistance wasn’t insurmountable. There were ways he could make her more receptive to him. He hadn’t, for example, explored the extent of their physical chemistry yet. He’d wanted to, but he’d never crossed that line with her, and not because she didn’t want him, because she had. No, he’d decided it was better not to start something he couldn’t finish, and so he’d kept his distance.

If she agreed to be his wife, there was no need for that now.

‘I mean,’ he said calmly, ‘that we will leave England and return to Al Da’ira.’

Shock rippled across her face. ‘Leave England? But you can’t be...’

He didn’t wait for her to finish. He didn’t want her thinking too hard about this or arguing further. So he leaned forward, took the balloon from her fingers and held it out wordlessly. One of his security detail sprang to take it from his hand and then did the same when he picked the cupcake up and held that out too. When they were both taken care of he rose, stepped from the booth, and held out a hand. ‘Come,ya hayati. We can have this discussion on the way to the helicopter.’

‘The helicopter?’ Her self-possession wavered and she stared at him as if she’d never seen him before in her entire life. And to be fair she probably hadn’t. She’d only seen the man. She’d never seen the King.

A good thing, in that case. Better she saw him as he was now rather than thinking he was still the same man he’d once been.

He wasn’t her friend any longer. He couldn’t afford to be.

The King was merciless, pitiless. The King protected his country with his life and so he had to be harder than the rock his palace was carved out of. Harder than iron. Hard so the enemies of his country would shatter dashing themselves against him while he remained strong, a bulwark for his people.

To themhewasthe power and the glory, to be feared and obeyed. If not, there was the possibility that the unrest that had already cost his country so much would return, and he could not permit that. Not again.

But you don’t want her to fear you. Fear wasn’t supposed to be part of this.

No, and it wouldn’t. If he had to take the time to convince her of the rightness of this marriage, then he would have to take the time. He wasn’t his father. He wasn’t.

‘Yes, the helicopter,’ he said. ‘I have another birthday surprise for you.’

Except it was clear that she didn’t want any more birthday surprises, because her beautiful green eyes turned sharp as broken glass, and her delectably soft-looking mouth firmed in a way that was most un-Sidonie-like.

‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘I am not going anywhere with you.’

CHAPTER TWO

KHALILREGARDEDHERimpassively for a couple of moments. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the door.

She was still staring after him, the anger that had been steadily building in response to his ridiculous demand knotting inside her, when two of his security detail approached her booth. They said nothing, merely stood to attention on either side of it, and it took her a full minute to realise that they were waiting for her.

For a second all she could do was sit there seething. Apparently, after presenting her with that ridiculous promise she could barely remember writing, let alone signing, he assumed she’d follow obediently. That she’d say yes and do whatever he wanted. Fly off in his stupid helicopter to Al Da’ira.

Perhaps the Sidonie of five years ago, desperately in love with a man so far out of her league he may as well have been on Pluto, would have done so. That Sidonie would have fallen gratefully into his arms and let him take her anywhere.

But she wasn’t that Sidonie any more. Now she was busy and her life was full. She had friends and colleagues, and Mr Sparkle, her cat. She didn’t need him.

The two men standing on either side of her booth didn’t move and it was clear they weren’t going to leave until she did. She was very tempted to keep sitting there purely because Khalil expected her to follow him, but, since she didn’t want to cause any trouble for his men—it wasn’t their fault their king was an arrogant idiot—and giving Khalil a piece of her mind was far too attractive, she got to her feet and walked briskly out of the pub, the men beside the booth hurrying after her.

Outside there was quite a commotion.

The pub faced onto a large village green and sitting in the middle of the green was a sleek black helicopter. A crowd of small children was standing near by gazing in awe at it, and Sidonie found herself staring as Khalil strode straight over to them. He smiled and crouched down, digging into his pockets as he did so and bringing something out, handing whatever it was to the awestruck children. Then he said something and they all scattered like a flock of seagulls, whooping and shouting as they did so. All the while the black-clad security men gently ushered a few gawking adults away from the helicopter as the rotors began to spin.

She came to a stop, staring at him, watching the hard, sharp lines of his face soften as he spoke with the children. And, despite everything she’d told herself, her heart twisted behind her ribs. Just for a moment he’d looked like Khal, the man who’d once been her best friend. The man whose smiles had lit up her world and whose deep, soft laugh had made even the depths of winter feel like summer.

But as the children scattered the warmth left his expression and his features hardened. He rose to his full height and strode over to the helicopter. There, he finally paused and glanced in her direction, and she felt one of the security guys grab her elbow. Then, much to her shock, she found herself being ushered firmly towards the helicopter.

‘Wait,’ she said breathlessly, more startled than anything else. ‘I said I didn’t want to—’

But everything got lost beneath the noise of the rotors and then she momentarily lost the power of speech as the man holding her handed her over to Khalil, whose strong fingers closed around her elbow. Even through the light cotton of her shirt she could feel the warmth of his skin, his grip firm and assured, sending shivers through her.

It had been years since she’d been this close to him, years since he’d touched her, and she found herself unable to pull away as he guided her into the sleek machine with effortless strength, sitting her down in a seat of soft black leather. A headset was put on her and her seatbelt buckled. Then the door was being closed and he was beside her, speaking to the pilot in Arabic, then the whole thing shuddered before lifting off into the air.

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