Khaled’s gaze drifted from the newspaper.
Creamy seed pearls had been stitched in a heart shape across the lace at the front. A bow graced the back, designed to sit just above the swell of a shapely bottom. But it was all so insubstantial it would fit easily in his closed fist.
His fingers tightened, feeling not the newspaper but the softness of lace, the pearly nub of a lustrous bead.
From beside him came a soft cough. An assistant had returned to the rail and, her lips pressed tight together, was watching him.
A grown man. Infamously stern. Leader of his people.
Transfixed by a silly scrap of lace.
He made a great show of adjusting his newspaper, and to his relief the rail, plus offending panties, disappeared behind the curtain.
Unfortunately the respite lasted only moments.
‘You must try this pink lace bustier,’ he heard the assistant say. ‘It gives a wonderful shape. And there’s a matching thong. The bows and pearls are so pretty. It’s a popular set for honeymoons.’ There was a conspiratorial chuckle. ‘I’m told it brings bridegrooms to their knees.’
The newspaper was forgotten.
Concealed by nothing more than a fall of fabric, Lily and those curves were feet away, trying on man-slaying lingerie.
A message arrived on his phone from Rais.
They’re here.
Thank God. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.
He typed his response.
Expect us in five minutes.
Time to action the next part of his plan.
He dumped the newspaper, banished all thoughts of Lily in pink lace, and beckoned an assistant over.
‘I’d like to see the green dress again. With the heels. Her hair up. Neater this time. Maybe a little make-up.’
The assistant disappeared behind the curtain to deliver his instructions. He heard a murmured discussion, one voice louder and increasingly indignant. But the Crown Prince had asked and, no matter what the objections, those assistants would deliver exactly what he wanted.
Minutes later the curtain was drawn back to reveal their handiwork: Lily in the green dress and heels. Glaring at him, hands fisted at her hips.
‘Well, do I come up to scratch?’
Perfectly.
Except for the angry stance and mutinous look. They wouldn’t suit his purposes at all. It was time to bring back the softly flustered woman from earlier.
Khaled stood and began strolling towards her.
Lily watched as Khaled came closer, all smouldering masculine intent. Seconds ago she’d been in a snit. Now she couldn’t remember why. By the time he reached her she was boneless and unresisting, letting him gather her hand and lift it to his lips.
‘Habiba, you are beautiful,’ he purred.
Beautiful? Her breath fluttered out. Dear Lord, she’d sighed. She’d actually just sighed.
He dipped his head. He was going to kiss her. She shivered as warm lips brushed the tender skin of her ear. A delicious, scintillating caress.
But not a kiss.