But how had he known where she had been? And what did that mean for Harry’s safety? She could only stare in confusion as Karim dropped to his knees in the snow, reaching under the car at the front.
Jeans that were as tight a fit as that ought to be illegal. Especially over taut, muscled buttocks like this man possessed...
What was she thinking? Clemmie couldn’t believe that the thought had flashed into her mind. She had known from a very early age that she was never going to be able to choose her own partner, her own husband. And she had also known that keeping herself respectable, not letting any scandal seep out about her was essential to her reputation. So she had never had the freedom to enjoy the company of the opposite sex like other girls, and had never even let herself think about such things. Instead, she had focused on her studies, on the books that absorbed her, the lessons with her tutor. She had never been allowed to go out to clubs or the cinema like other girls and so had missed out on chatter about boys, about fashion, even music.
Only a few months of getting to know Mary Clendon, who was just six years older than her, had changed her viewpoint, and her knowledge, on a lot of things. But she hadn’t expected it to have changed to such an extent! She had never had thoughts like that about any man before.
And she had to start having them with the man who was the most unsuitable—the most inappropriate— person possible.
But Karim was getting up now, moving lithely from his position in the snow to stand upright, brushing briefly at the damp flakes still clinging to his knees before he headed back towards the cottage. The snow was whirling even more heavily, making it seem as if he was making his way through a thick white curtain, his face barely visible, his whole body just a black blur. This way, he should seem so very different. That strange, primitive, uncomfortable feeling that he seemed to spark off just by existing should be diluted by the curtain of snow.
The truth was that it was just the opposite. The contrast with the wild delicacy of the snow made him seem bigger, stronger, darker than ever, head down against the howling wind, and she felt her heart jump, skittering against her ribs as he loomed closer to the door. He came back in a rush to stride into the hall, shaking the snow from his big frame, his dark hair, like some wild animal reaching shelter from a storm.
‘Here.’
He tossed something at her, something so small that it was only instinct that had her hand coming out to stop it falling to the floor.
‘What?’
She stared down at the tiny metallic disk in blank confusion, not recognising it in any way.
‘What is this?’
She glanced up as she spoke, meeting that darkly searching gaze head-on. But then something in his expression, the set of that sensual mouth hit home to her and she knew—she just knew. And there had been that tablet computer he had been studying when she had walked in on him in the sitting room. She had briefly glimpsed something that had looked like a map as he had put it down; a blinking cursor that marked where someone—where she had been.
‘A tracking device!’
The words exploded from her in a blaze of indignant fury.
Did he know how this made her feel? She had been hunted as if she was a criminal and he had tracked her down. But why should he give a damn how she felt? It was why he was here; what he had come here to do.
‘It’s a bloody tracking device!’ She tossed the disk at him, not caring that it landed on his cheek.
He didn’t flinch; barely blinked and just a small brusque movement of his head sent the disk tumbling to the floor.
‘And don’t frown at me!’ she flung at him as she saw those straight black brows twitch together in disapproval at her tone or the vehemence of her words. ‘What’s one little swear word in comparison to this? Or don’t princesses swear in your country?’
Mistake. She knew it as she saw his expression change, his mouth tighten.
‘So you remember that you are a princess,’ he declared icily. ‘Soon to be a queen.’
Every word was tightly enunciated, particularly the titles. He couldn’t have made the atmosphere any colder if he’d tried and at that moment a freezing flurry of snow whirled in through the open door, making Clemmie shiver convulsively. With a single backward kick of one booted foot, Karim slammed the door shut and the sudden silence and stillness was unnerving. There was so little space in the small hallway and he seemed bigger, stronger than ever before. The scent of his skin coiled round her senses like some intoxicating drug, making her mouth dry, her head spin.
‘And you claimed that you were a prince—Crown Prince, if I remember rightly.’
A crown prince who knew about such security devices. If he was the prince he claimed to be. A sudden rush of apprehension hit home, the room seeming to swing round her on a wave of near panic. What if he had lied all the time? If he was never who he claimed to be?
Had she done something very stupid?
He was between her and the door this time. Even if she flattened herself against the wall, there was no way he would let her squeeze past. He would grab her in an instant, hold her tight...
Shockingly, the fear that came with that thought was blended with an unholy flash of something that had no place in this situation at all. How could she feel a heated excitement at imagining those strong hands coming out, fastening around her arms, pulling her close...?
Suddenly she felt overdressed in the angora jumper. It really was far too warm in here. Or was that heat coming from inside her rather than the outside?
‘I am exactly who I said I am.’ The cold flicker of rich black eyelashes dismissed her question as unimportant.
‘Then how do you know about such things?’ Clemmie nodded towards the small disk that still lay on the floor, pushing at it with the toe of one leather boot. ‘Is that the sort of hobby that crown princes have nowadays?’
‘I wasn’t always the Crown Prince. I had a brother. Razi.’
Had. That took away the heat in her blood, and the bleakness of his eyes made her heart twist.
‘What happened?’ She had to force the words out because the answer to them was so obvious.
‘He died.’ Cold and desolate and blunt as a hammer.
‘Oh, no...’ Having just begun to get to know Harry, she couldn’t imagine how it would feel to lose a brother in such a shocking way. ‘I’m sorry.’
It was instinctive to reach out a hand to him, but at the same time a brutal sense of self-preservation had her freezing, not having made the connection, when his iced eyes dropped to watch her and then flicked back up to her face, his expression blank and shuttered off.
‘I was a security expert—in charge of defence and particularly my brother’s safety.’
‘But he died—so you failed him?’
Nerves made her say it. Nerves that tightened to screaming pitch when she saw the dark cloud of a scowl that distorted his stunning features, the white lines etched round his nose and mouth.
‘He died in a car crash—it was his own driving that caused the accident.’
And that was all he was going to say on the subject, though she was sure there was more. There had to be more. It was hidden behind the tightly clenched jaw, the skin that was drawn too tight over powerfully carved facial bones. Don’t ask—every line of his expression screamed it without words.
‘I...’ Clemmie began but Karim was looking at his watch and frowning in a very different way.
‘It’s time we were on our way.’
‘But—I need to pack.’
‘And you think I am going to fall for that again?’ His scorn scoured off a much needed protective layer of her skin. ‘You have your overnight bag already.’ A nod of his head indicated where the bag still lay where she had dropped it as she had come through the door. ‘Anything else you might need will be provided on the way. Nabil has already sent clothes for his princess. They will be on the plane, waiting for you there.’
And Clemmie could just imagine what sort of clothing that would be. Traditional costumes, formal and controlled, covering almost every inch of her body. The days of the freedom of tee shirts and jeans, her hair flying loose, were over. Already, and well before she was ready, the doors of the palace of Rhastaan were closing around her.
‘I see.’
There was no point in arguing. Karim was not likely to yield on this or on any other point. She might as well beat her fists against the rigid stone of the cottage walls as beg him to give her any more time.
‘Then let’s get out of here.’
‘You’ll have to move your car first,’ Karim told her. ‘Mine is parked round the back and you’re blocking me in. On second thoughts...’ He reached for the car key that she had tossed on to the small table in the hall. ‘I’ll drive—and don’t even think about running off.’
‘I wouldn’t! I only went...’ Her voice died away. Did he know why she had gone or just where she had gone? ‘I only asked for twenty-four hours—and I said I’d be back. I am back and I’m not planning on running off. You have to believe me.’