His Majesty's Mistake Page 13
“What have you done?” she demanded, voice shaking as she marched toward him. She’d missed him this morning and had wanted to see him, but not on these terms.
“Sorted things out,” he answered calmly, stirring a half teaspoon of sugar into his coffee. “Made things right.”
“No! You didn’t make things right, Makin. You made things worse.”
“How so?”
“My father is in the library rubbing his hands gleefully, anticipating getting his hands on some of your money, which won’t ever happen as we’re not getting married.”
“I told him we are.”
“Apparently you did. But you didn’t ask me—”
“I didn’t, no, not yet. But you need to be protected, and by marrying me, you will be protected—”
“How arrogant.”
“But true.”
“But I won’t marry you. I don’t want to marry you.”
“Why not?”
Her eyebrows arched. “You need reasons?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head, incredulous. “You’re arrogant, controlling, and you keep mistresses.”
“I’ve already ended my relationship with Madeline.”
“You’re mad!”
“Don’t be shortsighted. This is the best thing for the baby, and in your heart you know it.”
“It might be the best thing for the baby, but it’s not the best thing for me.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want this kind of marriage. If I’d wanted an arranged marriage I would have married Zale. But I didn’t. And I don’t need you and my father making bargains in his library.”
“You are being dramatic.”
“Maybe I am,” she choked, pulling out a chair across from him and sitting down heavily. “But you know we’re not suitable. You know we’re not compatible and you only asked for my hand because my mother was screaming.”
“She does have a loud voice.”
“See?” Emmeline was near tears. “You asked my father for my hand because you hate excessive emotion, and weren’t comfortable with the shouting and crying, and so, to keep from feeling powerless, you took control the only way you knew how.”
He sipped his coffee and returned the cup to the saucer. “Is that how it was?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting, but not true. It was a scene in the salon yesterday, and your mother showed a side of her personality that I’ve never seen before, and hope to never see again, but Emmeline, you’re mistaken if you thought I felt powerless. I knew exactly what I was doing.”
For a moment she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. “What?”
“I knew what I was doing when I left your bedroom. I fully intended to speak for you.”
“But you did it out of pity,” she whispered, suddenly chilled. “You did it because you couldn’t bear not to do anything.”
He looked at her long and hard, his dense black lashes concealing his expression. “You still have it wrong. I didn’t do it because I couldn’t bear not to do anything. I did it because I could do something. And I wanted to do something.”
“But how does it help?”
“Because it changes everything. It gives your baby a name and a family. By marrying me, your child will have legitimacy, security and respect. He or she will want for nothing.”
“Except your love.”
“You can’t say that. You don’t know that.”
“But I do. I was a baby adopted by well-meaning people, and they gave me every material thing they could, but it was never enough. I never felt wanted. I never felt loved. And I won’t do that to my child. Not ever!”
Emmeline didn’t wait for him to respond. She turned and practically ran, dashing down the terrace steps to the stretch of emerald lawn. She hurried across the lawn, her high heels sinking into the grass with every step, her emotions wildly chaotic.
When she turned and disappeared around a tall yew hedge, the grass gave way to gravel and the path led to the rose garden and Emmeline let out a hiccup of sound.
She hated him, hated him, hated him!
How could he do this to her? She’d trusted him. Trusted him to protect her.
Emmeline blinked back tears and walked in circles around the rose garden, but her quick steps failed to soothe her. Her emotions ran even hotter.
She felt betrayed by Makin. Worse, she knew he was right.
Marrying him would change everything.
Marrying him guaranteed her child a life of unknown luxury and protection. There would be private jets and private schools and round-the-clock security. The baby would be envied, admired, doted on by all simply because he or she was Sheikh Al-Koury’s child.
Amazing what money and power could do.
And she’d be a fool to walk away from that kind of power and security just because she wanted more. Because she needed love.
Emmeline swallowed hard, torn between the knowledge that Makin could provide a good life for her child and the desire to be free and independent, aware that freedom and independence would come with a price.
People would talk. People could be cruel. People could make her baby’s life a living hell.
Emmeline paused, her gaze skimming the rosebushes. It was too early and cool yet for the roses to be in bloom and they still looked sharp and thorny, still shorn from the pruning they’d had several months before. She felt like the rosebushes—bare, prickly, unlovable.
“I’m not King William.” Makin’s deep voice came from behind her, at the entrance to the rose garden, and he sounded furious. “Nor am I Queen Claire. I am Makin Tahnoon Al-Koury, and I am here because I choose to be here. I didn’t have to fly to Brabant with you. I could have put you on the plane and sent you off. But I didn’t. I wanted to travel to the palace with you. I wanted to be there when you announced you were pregnant—”
“You wanted to see me humiliated?”
“No. I wanted to make sure you were all right. And when I listened to your mother tear you apart yesterday, I realized you needed me. You needed someone to stand up to her and tell her to back off. You needed someone to believe in you. Someone to protect you. And I can. And I will.”
“But why? You might be altruistic when it comes to third-world nations, but you’ve no patience with spoiled, cosseted, self-indulgent royals like me.”
“Obviously, I didn’t know you. I thought I did, but I was wrong. But now that I do know you, there’s so much to like—”
“Like, not love. You don’t love me. You don’t. And you can’t pretend you do.”
His silver-gray gaze raked over her, from the top of her pale golden head to the tips of her dark heels. “I don’t have to love you to want you.” He paused to allow his words to register, his expression intense. “And I do.”
She stared at him, her heart starting to race. “You mean. my body.”
“I mean you.”
“But you don’t want me.”
His lips curved, his expression dark and dangerous. “Oh, but I do,” he said, closing the distance between them and drawing her toward him.
She stiffened as she came into contact with the hard heat of his body, and she flashed to the kiss in the garden in Raha. The kiss had been lovely and yet overwhelming—hot, intense, beautiful, but it had made her want and need. She couldn’t let herself go there again. Couldn’t risk letting her heart hope again. “No,” she choked, trying to twist free.
His head dipped, his mouth slanting across hers, silencing her protest.
It wasn’t a light kiss or a tentative kiss. Makin kissed her hard, his lips parting hers with ruthless intent. She shuddered as his tongue plundered her mouth, taking and tasting her as if she already belonged to him.
But she didn’t. She belonged to no one and she struggled to free herself, but he was too strong. She couldn’t escape. Panic flooded her. She wouldn’t be bought and sold. Wouldn’t be handed over from one man to another. She wouldn’t go through life spineless
and powerless.
Furious, she bit Makin in the lower lip.
He cursed and lifted his head, arms loosening around her. His eyes glowed like molten silver. “What was that for?”
She punched him in the arm. “You don’t own me!”
“Of course I don’t. You’re a woman, not a piece of property.”
“Then why make a deal with my father before you come to me?”
“Because I was trying to help you—”
“You’re just like him. Just like all of them. You don’t respect me. You don’t respect women—”
“Absolutely not true,” he snapped, cutting her short. “I admired my mother immensely. She handled complex, difficult situations with dignity and grace, and I respect her more than anyone else I’ve ever met.”
“What did she do that made her so admirable?”
“What didn’t she do? She was a modern European woman married to a sheikh in the Middle East. She had to cope with my father’s illness. She modeled strength and courage for me. And most of all, she was loving. She loved my father.” He hesitated, shrugged. “She loved me.”
“And that makes her remarkable.”
“Yes.”
He said it with such conviction and authority that she immediately believed it. And the fight suddenly left her.
Emmeline exhaled in a hard whoosh of air. “But you work so hard to accomplish things …”
“I do. But that’s because there isn’t a lot I need for me. I’m financially solvent. I’m blessed with good health. I’ve always felt loved and wanted. And so I can afford to focus on others, which allows me to give back.”
“And so there’s nothing you want? Nothing you need?”
“I didn’t say that. Because I do want something. I want you.”
His deep voice sent a thrill through her. I want you. There was such authority and purpose in his voice. Such firm conviction that she felt another ripple of shock and pleasure.
Alejandro had said he’d wanted her, but he’d always been the charming playboy, handsome but flirty and playful. Makin Al-Koury was far from flirty and playful. Makin was fierce and powerful and supremely focused. When he said he wanted her, she felt it in her bones.
“But why me?”
He was silent a long moment, his features hard, lashes lowered over his intense gaze. “You have no idea of your worth, do you?”
“I’m an expensive headache, Sheikh Al-Koury. A constant problem requiring attention.” She smiled and yet her eyes burned.
“Everyone needs attention. And princesses—particularly beautiful princesses—are notoriously expensive.”
She laughed, and his gaze dropped to her mouth as if he found it absolutely fascinating.
“I did some research on your riding career last night after you’d gone to bed,” he added.
“Did you?”
He nodded. “Even watched several videos of you competing. You were extraordinary, Emmeline. Does your family have any idea of how gifted you are?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not that gifted. When I finally made the Olympic team I fell—”
“Listen to yourself. You made the Olympic team.” His voice dropped, deepened. “You made the Olympic team. And I repeated that for your benefit because your family seems to have done nothing but break you down when they should have built you up and given you confidence and support and unconditional love.”
Emmeline had to look away, absolutely overwhelmed by the fierceness in Makin’s voice. She knew him well enough to know he meant every word he was saying. He truly believed she deserved support and love … unconditional love … and it staggered her. Made her ache for all the things she’d never known and made her hope for all the things she still wanted.
Love. Security.
Happiness.
After a moment when she was sure she had her emotions firmly in control she looked up into Makin’s face, studied his lip. “Did I hurt you?”
He licked the inside of his lip. “Just a little blood. Nothing serious.”
“I drew blood?”
“You have a mean bite.”
She knew he was teasing her but she felt bad. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine. And I’m glad you got mad. I’m glad you have some fight in you. Life isn’t easy and one can’t just lie down and die when things get hard.”
“Is that what you would teach the baby?”
“Absolutely.”
“Even if she’s a girl?”
“Especially if she’s a girl. Life’s difficult and you’re going to be confronted by adversity, and you’re going to get knocked down. But that’s just part of life and so you get up and shake yourself off and keep going.”
“I thought only weak people got knocked down.”
“Everybody gets knocked down. The secret is the getting up again. That’s why I value mental toughness—resilience. You don’t want difficulties to break you. You want them to make you stronger.”
She was silent as she processed this. “Marrying you is definitely the right thing for the baby, but it’s not easy for me. I have a lot of pride. I don’t like being dependent on others. I don’t want others to come in and fix my mistakes, or sort out my problems for me. That’s my job. I’m not helpless or stupid—”
“Good. Because I’d never marry a woman who was.”
Emmeline looked at him a long moment, her pride warring with common sense. Marrying him would be the best thing for the baby. It would give her child a home, a name, legitimacy. And yet it wasn’t that simple. Emmeline had hopes and dreams. there were things she’d wanted for herself. Like marrying the man she loved.
“It would be so easy to just give in, Makin, and let you be Prince Charming and allow you to sweep me off my feet and right all the wrongs. but that’s not what I want from a man. Not anymore.”
“What do you want?”
“To be the prince. To wear a sword and ride off on the white stallion and slay my own dragons.” She laughed at the picture she’d painted, but it was true. She was tired of being helpless and broken. Tired of needing fixing. “There is a strong person inside of me. I just have to find her. Free her.”
“I think you’re on your way,” he answered, taking her hand and slipping his fingers through hers.
Makin’s hand was warm, strong, and she glanced down at their entwined fingers, at the gold of his skin against the pale ivory of hers. It felt good to hold his hand. She felt good with him at her side. Maybe one day she could be a woman like Hannah or his mother. Maybe one day he could respect her. maybe even love her. “Did you really end things with Madeline?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because when I marry you tomorrow I am forsaking all others.”
“You mean that?”
“Of course.”
“So … our marriage … will be real?”
“Absolutely.”
“Oh.”
“You look shocked.”
“Not shocked. Just nervous.”
He led her to the bench near the sundial, and sat down, and drew her onto his lap. Emmeline blushed as she felt the warmth of him through his trousers, and the corded muscles of his thighs against her backside, and shifted uneasily. “Why nervous?” he asked, running a hand over her ponytail.
She liked the feel of his hand on her hair. It felt good. Warm. Soothing. As well as a little sexy. “I. don’t have a lot of experience.”
“You said Alejandro was your first.”
“Yes. And it wasn’t good. I didn’t like it.”
He shifted her around to look into her face. “The first time isn’t usually the best.”
“I don’t think I’d enjoy it after thirty times with him. It just wasn’t … good.”
“Did you like kissing him?”
She shook her head. “It didn’t feel like anything.”
“Did you like kissing me?”
Heat surged to her cheeks. She looked away. “It was all right,” she
admitted grudgingly.
“Just all right?”
She glanced back at him. His lips were twitching. He was trying not to laugh. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
“No.”
“Sounds like it.”
“No, I’m quite confident in that department—”
“Maybe a little too confident.”
“You think so?”
“Quite possibly.”
“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” he asked, dipping his head, his mouth slanting across hers.
As Makin’s head dropped, he breathed in her fragrance—fresh, light, sweet—and he hardened instantly. But he kissed her slowly this morning, taking his time, aware that he had all the time in the world because she would be his. She’d be his wife. His lover. The mother of his child. Call it fate or karma, but she was meant to be his, and now he kissed her as if it was the first time and he was just discovering the shape of her lips, and the softness of her mouth.
He felt Emmeline tremble against him, leaning toward him, and he held her closer, but even then, he refused to rush.
Maybe one day she could be a knight or brave prince, but she wasn’t there yet. She didn’t believe in herself yet. Didn’t even know who she was yet.
Right now Princess Emmeline reminded him of Sleeping Beauty. She needed to be woken with a kiss, a proper kiss, a kiss that would let her know she was beautiful and desirable and safe.
He’d never hurt her. He’d always protect her. She needed to know that first. And then she needed to know how much he wanted her.
Because he did.
He slid the tip of his tongue along her upper lip, finding nerves in the delicate skin, and felt her nipples harden against his chest. His tongue flicked the other lip and he heard the hitch in her breath.
She was growing warm and pliant against him, her body molding to his, and it took all his self-control not to unbutton her blouse or pull up her skirt to get at her bare skin. He wanted to feel the seductive softness of her skin, and explore her tempting curves. He ached to have her naked and wet and open, but he’d make sure she was ready. Not just physically, but emotionally.
Emmeline’s first time had hurt her. Her second time needed to be perfect.
Reluctantly he lifted his head. He gazed down into her eyes. They were darker now, deep purple, and cloudy with passion. “Marry me, Emmeline.”