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‘It will,’ Aziz told her. ‘When I find her. But as for now...’ He gestured to the balcony doors. ‘Our adoring public awaits.’
Nerves coiled tightly in Olivia’s belly and she nodded. There was surely no going back now. ‘All right.’
‘It is important for you to know,’ Aziz said in a low voice as they walked towards the balcony, ‘That, though my marriage to Elena was for convenience only, the public assumed it was a love match. They want it to be a love match.’
Olivia shot him a sharp glance, nerves leaping now, like a nest of snakes had taken up residence in her stomach. ‘Even though you only became engaged a few weeks ago?’
Aziz shrugged. ‘People believe what they want to believe.’
That, she thought grimly, had certainly been true in her own experience. ‘So what does this mean for our appearance out there?’
Aziz gave her a teasing smile and reached out to brush her cheek with his fingers, sending a sudden shower of sparks cascading through Olivia’s senses. Instinctively she jerked back. ‘Only that we both need to act as if we are hopelessly in love. Try to restrain yourself from too much PDA, though, Olivia. This is a conservative country, after all.’
She opened her mouth in outrage, knowing he was joking yet still indignant. Aziz just chuckled softly then slipped his arm through hers and guided her out onto the balcony and the throng that waited below.
A cheer went up as soon as they both stepped outside; the hot, still air hit Olivia full in the face. She blinked, dumbfounded by the roar of approval that sounded from below and seemed to go on and on.
Aziz slid a hand around her waist, his fingers splayed across her hip as he raised one hand in greeting.
‘Wave,’ he murmured and obediently Olivia raised her hand. ‘Smile,’ he added, a hint of laughter in his voice, and she curved her lips upwards.
They stood like that, hip to hip, Aziz’s hand around her waist, waving as the crowd continued to cheer.
‘I thought,’ Olivia said in a whisper, even though no one could possibly hear, ‘That you said the Kadaran people were not loyal to you.’
He shrugged. ‘They are a romantic people as well as a traditional one. They like the idea of my marriage, of a fairy-tale wedding, more than they like me.’
‘It is indeed a fairy tale,’ Olivia answered tartly and Aziz just smiled.
After another endless minute he dropped his hand. Olivia thought they would be finally, thankfully heading back inside, but he stayed her with his hand still around her waist, the other coming up to frame her jaw.
‘What are you doing?’ she hissed.
‘The crowd wants to see us kiss.’
‘What happened to no PDA?’ she retorted through gritted teeth. ‘And this being a conservative country?’
‘Siyad is a little more modern. And we’ll keep it chaste, don’t worry. No tongues,’ he advised, and as her mouth dropped open in shock he kissed her.
Olivia froze beneath the touch of his lips; it had been so long since she’d been kissed she’d forgotten how it felt—how intimate, strange and frankly wonderful. Aziz’s lips were cool and soft, the hand that framed her face both tender and firm. Her eyes closed instinctively as she fought against the tidal wave of want that crashed so unexpectedly through her.
‘There.’ He eased back, smiling. ‘You managed to restrain yourself.’
‘Easily,’ she snapped, and he laughed softly.
‘It’s so delightfully simple to get a rise out of you, Olivia. It makes your eyes sparkle.’
‘How delightful to know,’ Olivia retorted, and he just laughed again.
‘Indeed.’
He was leading her back inside but Olivia was barely aware of her surroundings. Her mind spun with sensation and her lips buzzed, as if his brief kiss had electrocuted her. It had been an appropriately chaste kiss, little more than a brushing of mouths, yet her insides felt alarmingly shivery and weak. Why had a simple kiss affected her so much?
Because it hadn’t been simple for her. When you hadn’t been kissed in nearly a decade, Olivia thought, a little one like that could be explosive. Unforgettable.
It surely had nothing to do with Aziz. Although she had to admit that, in her limited experience at least, he seemed a very good kisser.
As soon as the balcony doors were closed, Olivia tugged her hand from Aziz’s. ‘There.’ She fought the urge to wipe her mouth, as if such a childish action could banish the memory of his kiss and the unwelcome feelings it had stirred up inside her. ‘We’re done. I can go back to Paris.’
‘And so you shall, in the morning.’
‘Why not tonight?’
‘It’s a long flight, Olivia. The pilot needs to rest; the plane to be refuelled. Besides, I am meant to be having dinner with my bride, and I know you don’t want to miss that.’
She ignored the teasing, even though part of her actually was tempted to smile. The man was incorrigible, determinedly so. ‘You never said anything about dinner.’
‘It must have slipped my mind.’
‘Liar.’
‘As Sheikh, I’m in control of how much information to disseminate at a given time, it’s true.’
‘Such big words.’
‘I looked them up in the dictionary.’
And then she did smile, helpless to keep herself from it, knowing that she, like every other woman, was falling prey to his charm. ‘And I’m meant to be Queen Elena at this dinner?’
‘It’s a private dinner, so you only have to pretend for me.’
‘And the staff who see us together,’ Olivia pointed out. ‘Aziz, this is ludicrous. I might be able to pass myself off as Queen Elena from a balcony, but I can hardly do so face to face. One look at me and your staff will know.’
‘You are assuming they will be suspicious,’ Aziz answered calmly. ‘And why should they be? Word went out that Queen Elena arrived by royal jet this afternoon. And so she did. Then she appeared with me on the balcony, as planned. Everything is going just as it should, Olivia. No one has reason to suspect otherwise.’
‘Except for the fact that I don’t look anything like her.’
‘Do you think anyone here has seen Queen Elena in the flesh?’
‘Photographs in the papers,’ she argued. ‘And, in any case, didn’t she come here to discuss your marriage?’
Aziz nodded, still unruffled. ‘Yes, but it was a private meeting, very discreet. At that point, neither of us wanted to make the negotiations public.’
‘Even so.’
He smiled, laid a hand over hers, and Olivia had to fight the urge to yank her hand away. She’d been numb for so long, she hadn’t thought she had any feelings or desires left for Aziz to stir up inside her. Yet he had. So easily, he had. ‘Just dinner, Olivia. And then you can leave in the morning.’
She shook her head again, feeling as if she’d been caught in a riptide. She was being carried away from everything she’d known and wanted, everything safe, so quickly. She couldn’t fight against it.
And yet she was honest enough to admit she was tempted—tempted to enjoy this fleeting time with Aziz, to let herself fall just a little bit under his spell. Just for a night. Then she’d go back to her little life.
‘You need to eat, Olivia,’ he murmured.
‘I could have a sandwich in my room.’
‘Fine, then I’ll join you. Of course, then the staff might really gossip.’
She pulled her hand from his. ‘You’re impossible.’
He smiled and inclined his head. ‘Thank you.’
‘It wasn’t,’ she informed him tartly, ‘A compliment.’
His smile just widened. ‘I know.’
What point was there in resisting? Olivia wondered. Aziz would wear her down eventually with his tireless charm that masked a far more steely sense of purpose. She hadn’t realised that before, hadn’t seen how determined he could be, but then they’d never been at cross purposes before. And were they even now?
You are tempted...
Tempted to enjoy one evening with a beautiful man. Tempted to access those deadened parts of herself and feel like a beautiful, desirable woman, even if it was just pretend.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll have dinner with you. But I leave first thing in the morning.’
She gazed at him in challenge and Aziz just smiled blandly. ‘Of course,’ he answered, and with a creeping sense of foreboding Olivia wondered if she dared to take him at his word—or if she even wanted to.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_03ab507b-2454-59e6-9f73-019e1dce1abc)
THE PRIVATE DINING ROOM, one of the palace’s smaller ones, had been set for a romantic dinner for two. Aziz raised an eyebrow at the snowy linen tablecloth, the creamy candles casting flickering shadows across the dim, wood-panelled room. Olivia, he knew, would not be pleased by any of it. He’d never met a woman so resistant to his charm.
Although, she hadn’t been resistant when he’d kissed her. He’d felt her shock first, tensing her whole body as if a wire that ran through her had been jerked taut, and then he’d felt her compliance, even her desire, as her body had relaxed and her hand had come up to grip his shoulder. He wondered if she’d even been aware of the fullness of her response, how she’d drawn him closer, parted her lips under his. He’d teased her that she’d have to restrain herself but he hadn’t thought she’d take him at his word.
And as she’d responded he’d felt, with a sudden, shocking urgency, a desire or even a need to deepen that kiss, slide his tongue into her mouth and taste her velvety sweetness.
Thank God he hadn’t acted on that overwhelming instinct. The people of Siyad might want to see them kiss chastely; they would have been appalled by such a blatant display of sexual desire.
And what he’d felt for Olivia in that moment had been deeply, potently sexual. A complication, he mused, that he certainly didn’t need right now.
‘Your Highness.’ A member of staff opened the doors of the dining room. ‘Her Highness, Queen Elena.’
So she’d fooled at least one person, Aziz thought with satisfaction. Olivia stepped into the room, her dark hair styled into an ornate twist with a few tendrils curling around her face. She wore an evening gown of shimmering silver; the sparkling bodice hugged her tiny waist before flaring out around her legs in gossamer folds. She looked magnificent, radiant, and more beautiful than he’d ever seen her before. Lust reached out and caught him by the throat, left him momentarily breathless and blindsided.
The doors closed behind her and she stopped in front of them, fixing him with a defiant stare. ‘I didn’t choose this dress,’ she told him. ‘But Mada and Abra insisted. I don’t even know where it came from.’
‘I had some clothes ordered.’
‘For the impostor or the real thing?’ she retorted.
Aziz kept his own voice deliberately mild. ‘Does it matter?’
‘I don’t know.’ She looked lost for a moment, vulnerability melting the ice in her eyes, before she shook her head in weary resignation. ‘This is all so strange.’
‘I agree. But strange, in its own way, can be enjoyable.’ Aziz walked towards her, wanting to touch her. He felt the entirely primal and primitive reaction of a man alone with a beautiful woman; he wanted to enjoy it, enjoy her, and not discuss how strange or wrong or dangerous it all was.
‘You certainly look the part now,’ he said as he gestured to her sparkling dress. ‘You are lovely, Olivia.’
Her cheeks pinked and she arched one elegant eyebrow. ‘I think you’re a little more adept with the compliments than that.’
A smile tugged at his mouth. ‘Oh, am I?’
‘I’ve heard you compare a woman to a rose petal before.’
‘Oh dear, that sounds rather uninspired.’
‘She obviously fell for it. The two of you were upstairs before dessert was served.’
‘Mmm.’ He felt strangely disconcerted. He wasn’t ashamed of his sexual exploits; he’d discovered at fifteen that women liked him, and after an isolated, unhappy childhood that had been a powerful aphrodisiac. So, maybe they only liked his body, his charm, but that was enough.
He wasn’t looking to offer his heart. He knew what happened when you did that. He’d put his on a damn plate for most of his childhood, for anyone to shove away, to shatter.
Yet he was conscious now of how much Olivia knew about him. His housekeeper had turned a blind and clearly unimpressed eye to his goings-on in Paris; why she felt the need to remind him of them now, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t like it.
‘I’ll have to think of an apt comparison,’ he said as he reached for her hand. Her skin was cool and soft. ‘An icicle, perhaps? Glittering, perfect and rather cold.’
‘That sounds more like a criticism.’
‘Well...’ Aziz answered with a hint of a wolfish smile. ‘Icicles melt.’
Olivia melted just a little then, her fingers tightening on his, her cheeks pinking again as she looked away. Her reaction, Aziz decided, was delightful. ‘Come,’ he said as he drew her further into the room. ‘Dinner is waiting.’
‘This is all very romantic,’ she murmured as she let him lead her to the table. Her fingers felt fragile and slender in his, and he let go of her hand with reluctance.
He knew, logically at least, that acting on the desire he felt for Olivia was out of the question. It would complicate what needed to be—for the sake of the monarchy, not to mention his marriage—very simple.
God willing, Olivia would be flying back to Paris tomorrow—and he would have found Elena.
Yet he still wanted to enjoy himself tonight.
As if she could read his mind, Olivia asked, ‘Is there any news on Queen Elena?’
Aziz shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘This Khalil wouldn’t... He wouldn’t hurt her, would he?’ Concern shadowed Olivia’s eyes and Aziz felt an answering clench of both worry and anger in the pit of his stomach.
‘I don’t think so. There would be no purpose to it and, as you said earlier, she is a reigning monarch. Kidnapping her is bad enough, but hurting her would have international consequences.’
‘That’s true,’ Olivia said, frowning. ‘But doesn’t Khalil realise that? He could be brought before an international tribunal.’
‘Kadar exists outside of such things.’ Aziz gave her a bleak smile. ‘At least, at the moment. My father ruled with an iron fist. The people loved him even so, because he was strong and he kept the country stable. But he did things his own way, and it means there are very few repercussions for what happens within its borders.’
