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“I’m hoping for daughters, too,” he interjected drily, obviously no longer interested in hearing about every other, willing woman available to him.
She blinked, gauging his sincerity. “Would you value your daughters as much as you would your sons?”
“Of course.” He cocked his head to the side. “Did your father not regard you as highly as he did your brother?”
“If you mean would he have mourned me as deeply as he did my brother, then no. His son was his pride and joy, the man who’d one day take over his rule.” She lifted her chin, barely withholding her pain. “I loved my brother, too. But I’d like to believe even he saw the unfairness of my father’s treatment. I’d also like to believe he’d understand why I ran away from this marriage to you.”
Mahindar stayed silent as he took the crook of her arm and led her past the misty fountains and rustling palm trees, then up the marble stairs. She looked around. Already the sand had been cleared away, with only a few particles daring to roll along the long, wide steps.
His staff were efficient, the palace a place of beauty in such an unforgiving desert landscape. Not that this was his only residence. He kept a smaller palace in the city, but rumor had it he much preferred the solitary existence of his desert home.
They stepped inside the palace, where chandeliers and downlights automatically brightened the gloom and pushed back the shadows of an approaching nightfall. Though she’d already seen inside she couldn’t help but be awed all over again. Huge gold frames showcased ancient needlework and priceless oil paintings on the stone walls, while portraits of his ancestors were hung at wide-spaced intervals along a corridor where three cars could have easily passed through.
She shuddered at the images of Mahindar’s descendants. The Al Qantisi men were undeniably charismatic and fierce, the women beautiful and haughty. That those same genetics and traits had clearly been passed onto Mahindar left her feeling more than a little weak at the knees.
Who was she to imagine she’d outwit possibly the greatest sheikh in history? A man who’d taken a rundown, war-ridden nation and made it one of the mightiest nations on Earth? There were only three other sheikhs who rivaled him. That all three had been at her and Mahindar’s wedding and were obviously great friends made everything seem even more insurmountable.
Her husband had powerful friends. She had no one but herself.
Any self-pity fled as they came to the last two paintings on the wall, which showcased his parents. Both had been dead for almost a decade after being killed in a mortar attack in a long ago war.
She’d heard the stories. He’d been nineteen when they had died, and far too young to take over the responsibility of running a country. Yet here he was a decade later and not quite thirty years old ruling Rajhabi with a skill of someone three times his age. That he’d turned his reign into something prosperous and peaceful was a credit to him.
Not that he’d done it without his share of ruthlessness. To achieve greatness he hadn’t been shy in doing what needed to be done, including marrying her.
She sighed. Not that her father’s reign had been nearly as stellar. He’d acquired many enemies along the way to making his nation rich. Many of those same enemies now threatened his region’s borders. A sour taste filled her mouth. She’d bet that unrest had settled quite a lot though since his daughter’s marriage to Mahindar.
Well played, Dad. Well played.
“You probably heard about my parents deaths,” he said in an undertone, pausing between the paintings for a moment as though showing his respect.
“I did. Your nation was already in turmoil. But their death created a whole lot more unrest.”
He nodded. “It took great patience and perseverance to earn back my peoples trust and respect.”
She arched a brow. “Earn it back? You were only nineteen. You were as innocent as those who were victims of the war.”
“At the time I felt as bloodied and guilty as anyone else in the violence that killed so many. I’ll do everything in my power to never endure another war again. At least, not in my lifetime.” He drew her away from the portraits and even managed a smile. “I’m just glad you know a little of my nation’s history.”
“Even when I was away I wasn’t completely immune to the goings on that happened over here. I was ten when your parents were murdered, and I still recall it vividly.”
“So young,” he murmured with a frown. “That I was taking on leadership of Rajhabi while you were probably still playing with dolls—“
“Hardly playing with dolls,” she interjected. “I had to grow up fast, too. I’d had no choice. My English skills were second-rate at best, and I’d had to juggle extra classes just to catch up. Which meant my social life was almost non-existent.”
He guided her up some curved, majestic stairs to the next level. “Was it?” he mused aloud. “From all accounts you formed strong friendships with many women and men.”
She glanced up at his dark tone. “I formed friendships…eventually,” she conceded. “Men seemed rather enamored with my looks and accent. And those women who didn’t judge my appearance were really quite nice.”
At the top of the landing he drew her left. There was no hallway, just a big door that he pushed open to reveal a huge master bedroom suite, more spacious than most people’s entire homes. He bent and picked her up, then stepped inside. “I’ve been waiting to carry you across the threshold from the moment I slid the ring on your finger and kissed your luscious lips.”
She did her best to ignore her body’s traitorous reaction to being in his strong arms once again. Instead she looked down at the simple wedding ring, realizing how right it felt on her finger. As for the kiss that sealed their marriage…
She’d been shocked by the electric jolt of awareness between them. That same kiss had burned its way through her body, and sent her running scared even before she’d actually found a way to escape.
He placed her back on her feet, then cupped her face. Tracing her lips with his thumb, he murmured, “I have a few things I need to clear. But I’m sure you’ll want to get out of your gown and take a shower, wash off all that sand before we travel.”
A frisson of electricity zinged through her lips and straight to her core. She fought to stay lucid, logical. “You’re leaving me?”
