CHAPTER TWELVE
‘IT’SALMOSTTIME, Your Majesty. Just a few minutes.’ The technician nodded encouragingly, as if Karim were a stranger to microphones and cameras.
Karim glanced at the notes before him on the vast desk and pushed them aside, ignoring a stifled protest from one of his secretaries. He preferred to speak direct to the camera since the broadcast would be live to the people of Assara. He had no need of prompts.
What he needed, or at least wanted, was to know where Safiyah was. Since they’d returned to the capital he’d barely seen her. Every time he went to talk to her she was missing. ‘Out’, the staff said.
Because she couldn’t bear to be with him?
The idea fed the hollow sensation inside him. His wife found him wanting not due to his birth, but because of the way he’d treated her.
To a man who prided himself on doing the right thing, the knowledge ate like acid, eviscerating him.
The door opened to whispered urgent voices. Then he caught a flash of red and a high, childish voice. He pushed back his chair and stood. ‘Let them in.’ It was Safiyah—and Tarek too.
Karim’s heart hammered his ribs, climbing to his throat as he took her in. She sailed towards him, ignoring the minders who would have kept her out. She looked magnificent and beautiful in a dress of glowing crimson. Her hair was piled high and she wore no jewellery apart from her ruby and diamond wedding ring and matching earrings that swayed against her neck as she walked, emphasising the purity of her slender throat.
Their gazes meshed. She was here for him. To offer her support despite the chasm between them.
Karim’s chest tightened, filled with a swelling bundle of sensations. He swallowed roughly.
His wife. His Queen.
She was regal, and stunning—and, he realised, the only woman ever to have power over him.
Just watching her approach battered him with competing emotions. Desire, pride and fear that he’d irrevocably destroyed any softer feelings she might once have harboured. For those eyes locked on him were coolly guarded, giving nothing away.
He’d given up pretending that it didn’t matter. The news that he’d been wrong about her all this time had stripped all pretence away. He wanted his wife in every way. Not just her sexy body but her admiration, her kindness and her gentle humour.
Beside her marched Tarek, wearing fine clothes and a slight frown, as if he were concentrating hard. Karim felt a pang at the sight of him, remembering how it had felt as a young child, trying to be the perfect little Prince everyone expected.
‘Safiyah.’
Karim started forward. But instead of taking his outstretched hand she sank into a curtsey, clearly for the benefit of their audience. Beside her Tarek bowed—a deep, formal, courtly bow.
Karim saw the Councillors on the other side of the room note the gestures of respect and nod to each other, as if approving this confirmation of the Sheikha’s loyalty.
When she straightened Karim took her hand and pulled her to him, Tarek too. ‘Where have you been?’ His tone was sharper than he’d intended, but he’d felt stymied, not being able to find her.
Safiyah’s eyes flashed, but she said evenly, ‘In the city.’ As if that explained everything.
The technician approached, hovering uncertainly. Safiyah nodded to the man and smiled, then turned to Karim. Her voice was low, for his ears alone. ‘I thought it might help if we were beside you, Tarek and me, when you do your broadcast.’
‘As a show of solidarity?’ Karim felt his eyebrows rise. It wasn’t a bad idea, politically speaking. Beyond her he saw senior government ministers, nodding in approval at the family group they made.
Before she could answer he shook his head. ‘I appreciate your support, Safiyah, and yours too, Tarek.’ He smiled at the boy, who was looking far too solemn, and ruffled his hair. The kid relaxed a little then and smiled back, leaning towards his mother. ‘But this is something I need to do alone. I won’t have anyone accuse me of hiding behind my wife’s skirts, beautiful as they are.’
Safiyah stared up into stunning eyes and felt a flurry of emotion ripple through her. She saw pride there, and determination.
He took her hand, raised it slowly and kissed it.
Safiyah’s knees almost buckled.
Thiswas the man she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. The man she’d given her heart to. Who, if he only knew, still held that floundering organ in his keeping.
Fear settled in her bones. For though he smiled there was no softness in his expression. He was focused beyond her, on the challenge ahead. On the sheikhdom.
That was what mattered to Karim.