A Question of Honor

Chapter NINE


‘YOU WANTED ME but it was more than that.’

‘How could it be more? We were just a man and a woman...’

‘We weren’t just anything. Don’t you believe that there must be one person who is truly special—one person who’s meant for us, for however short a time? Someone we meet who changes our life, puts our existence on a new path once and for ever.’

She thought he wasn’t going to respond. That his mouth and his whole being had frozen so that he had lost all ability, all need to say a word. Then suddenly he blinked hard, just once, shutting his thoughts off from her.

‘No,’ he said, cold and stark, totally ruthless. ‘No, I don’t believe such fanciful nonsense.’

‘But your brother—he was going to be married. He must have loved... No?’ She broke off as the violent shake of his head, the tight line of his mouth rejected everything she said.

‘What has love got to do with it?’ he said.

‘It’s usual...’ Clemmie began then caught the way he was looking at her and backed down hastily. Karim nodded grimly.

‘My brother’s marriage was carefully arranged, planned for the best, for the future, to bring together our country and hers for their mutual benefit—like yours.’

It was stabbing, pointed, deliberately so.

‘He knew it and so did she. They both knew their duty.’

There was something behind those words, something she couldn’t interpret. There had been an unusual emphasis on that, ‘They both knew their duty’, even with Karim’s personal emphasis on duty and honour, that scraped over nerves that seemed too close to the surface. The memory of the look he had turned on her when she had questioned his miscounting on the game of Snakes and Ladders came back to haunt her so that she shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and then back again.

‘And his fiancée—what happened to her when your brother died? What would have been her duty then?’

‘And mine.’ It was flat, toneless, as opaque as his eyes.

‘And yours?’

She had a nasty creeping sensation that she knew what he meant but she didn’t want to accept it. But his reply took away that faint hope.

‘With my brother gone, I was the Crown Prince. I inherited everything—his title, his lands—his fiancée.’

‘His...You would have married the woman who had been engaged to your brother? She would have become your wife?’

Why ever not? What else would I do? He didn’t have to say the words; they were there in the cold-eyed look he turned on her.

‘The marriage was arranged between the Princess of Salahara and the Crown Prince of Markhazad. It didn’t matter who held the title.’

‘So you...’ Was this behind the way he had behaved in the cottage? Why he had held back, pushed her aside as if she was contaminating him. ‘You’re married?’

If his expression had been cold before, it was positively glacial now. She’d trampled in unawares, and the glare he turned on her sent a damp shiver crawling down her spine.

‘I am not married. She would not have me.’

Was the woman mad? Clemmie had no idea what his brother had been like, but given the chance of having Karim as her husband—arranged marriage or not—what woman would be crazy enough to turn down the idea?

‘I don’t believe you. There had to be more to it than that.’

‘There was.’

Well, she’d pushed for that answer, but did she really want to hear the rest of what he had to say? Her throat felt so tight and horribly dry that she couldn’t have asked him to stop if she’d tried.

Karim stalked away from her, the beautiful white robe swirling around his taut frame, his dark gaze fixed on a point some distance beyond the window. A point that she was convinced he was not actually seeing.

‘Meleya was promised to my brother almost from birth. Then, when she was eighteen, she came to live in the palace, to get to know him. Their marriage was arranged—a date fixed, but my brother was out of the palace a lot. He was restless, unsettled. One day I followed him. I saw him with another woman.’


Cold, stiff, deeply disapproving of the way his brother had behaved. Did this man have no gentler streak in him, no understanding of what the softer feelings might mean? Was there only duty and honour in his make-up?

‘That was the day that Razi crashed his car,’ he said.

Did Karim know how his hand had moved to his chest, to rub at the spot where the scars, barely healed by time, ridged his skin under the fine material of his robe? Clemmie didn’t need reminding just how he had got the damage to his body.

‘You tried to save him.’ And, of course, to save the honour of his family.

‘I tried to get them both out. I failed.’

Did he even realise who he was speaking to? His eyes still had that unfocused stare into the distance.

‘She was a married woman—married to someone else.’

Clemmie’s throat closed up, shutting off her breath so that she thought she was going to choke. No wonder he felt so strongly about these things. It was no surprise after seeing his brother die in such circumstances. The pain of loss must be like the scars on his body. Healed over but still there, still needing to be lived around.

‘Meleya’s father refused to let her marry anyone from my brother’s family.’

And that would have been the final insult, the final realisation that his brother had damaged the honour of his family, so that even his arranged bride would turn away. Clemmie felt that she could see why Karim had felt obliged to come and fetch her, to fulfil the debt his father owed, to restore his family’s honour in the eyes of his world.

Impulsively she moved forward, laid a hand on his arm.

‘I’m sorry.’

Polished jet eyes dropped to where her hand rested against his, her fingers manicured now, nails polished and groomed in a way they had never been before. Then he lifted his gaze again, clashed with hers, and held.

She should move away, Clemmie told herself. Should take her hand from his arm and step back as far away as possible. If she was wise—if she was sensible...

But she didn’t feel sensible. She didn’t want to move away. Even when she saw his head move, angling slightly so that she knew what was coming. His eyes were fixed on her lips, so intent that she could almost taste him already, know the pressure of his mouth on hers. And she wanted it. Needed it like breathing.

It was her last chance. The last time. He had said that he had come here to say goodbye and she knew that nothing could possibly change that. How could the man who valued honour so much—and now she knew why—ever do anything else? This was the last time she would see him. The last time she would touch him. The last time she would...

She didn’t know if she moved first or if it was Karim. She only knew that at some place, halfway between them, their lips met and clung, breath mingling, eyes closing the better to experience the sensations that were flaring through every nerve, every cell.

Her hands twisted in his, turning, clutching, clinging. Time evaporated, their surroundings disappearing into a buzzing haze. There was only her and this man who just by existing had taught her what it meant to be a woman. How it meant to feel as a woman. To know the wild and carnal force that was sexual need, sexual hunger. She didn’t care what might come between them, what Karim might put between them, she only knew that what she wanted was right here and now, in this place and—her breath escaped in a choking cry as his arms closed round her, hauling her tight up against him.

Swinging her round, he almost slammed her up against the wall, the marble hard and cold against her spine, the turquoise silk little to no protection against its cold smoothness. She welcomed it. She needed it to keep her in reality, her feet on this planet. Everywhere else in her was fire and heat, a conflagration that pulsed with every beat of her heart.

She was crushed between him and the wall, feeling the hardness of his need pressed against her and, with an instinct as old as time, she moved, adjusted her position so that his erection was held in the cradle of her pelvis, as close as she could get to the hungry pulse low down in her own body.

‘Clemen...’ Karim began but because she feared what he might say in spite of the evidence of his body against hers, she reached up, laced her fingers in the dark, crisp hair and pulled his head down to meet hers, her mouth opening to his.

He tasted wonderful. He felt wonderful. The jet-black hair slid under her fingers, the strong bones of his skull hard against their tips. He smelt wonderful, the scent of his body enclosing her like incense, making her senses spin. She couldn’t believe that it had only been a couple of days since she had been close to him like this. It felt like a lifetime since he had been in the cocoon of blankets and had held her close.

But she had wanted more then and she wanted more now. In fact, she’d had more then. She’d had the real closeness of skin on skin, the touch of his hands on her flesh.

And it still hadn’t been enough.

It could never be enough. The hunger that had started then had only grown in the time in between. The yearning that had built with the thought that Karim had left, that he had gone out of her life was overwhelming, taking her over. He’d come to say goodbye and she couldn’t let him go, couldn’t end it now without knowing, without experiencing more. It was obvious that Nabil wasn’t interested in her. He might be bound to her by law, by diplomacy, but he had yet to show any interest in her as a person.

Her future might be mapped out for her by others, dictated by treaties and politics, but there were still a few days before those treaties came into being, before she was actually twenty-three. And for the first time in her life she was in the arms of a man who made her heart pound, who heated her blood, and drove all rational thought from her mind. She wanted this. She wanted Karim. No one else could ever create this feeling inside her. This need. This hunger. She wasn’t going to waste this excitement, this magic on anyone else.

His mouth was at the base of her throat, his teeth grazing the fine skin over her racing pulse, his lips hot on her skin as he muttered her name, thick and raw. But it was when his hand skimmed up over her body, making her breasts burn, her nipples sting, that she moaned her hunger aloud, wild and unrestrained. The fire between her legs was making her writhe against Karim’s hard powerful form, heat and moisture flooding her with every touch, every kiss. He was tugging at the turquoise silk, wrenching it aside, ripping the fine fabric as he did so, the tearing sound telling her that his own control was lost as much as hers. He was oblivious to where he was, to the fact that there was only the door between them and the rest of the palace.

Between them and total exposure.

‘We can’t do this here...’

She pulled his head up again, muttered the words roughly against his lips, terrified not so much that anyone might hear but that he might try to speak, to deny what was between them. They only had today. Just a few short hours. Surely he would not deny her... He couldn’t...

She wasn’t going to give him the chance as she clamped her mouth against his, met the invasion of his tongue with the welcome of her own. Somehow, awkwardly, sideways, she edged him towards the secret inner stairway she had discovered only the previous day. The small staircase that was used by the royal family only, hidden from public view. With Karim’s back against the wall this time, she urged him onwards, upwards, holding his head prisoner against hers with one hand while she let her other hand stroke over his straining body, touching, caressing, teasing, deliberately tormenting him so that he wouldn’t be able to think, to have any hesitation. She caught his moans of response in her own mouth, tasting his breath and the hunger on it as she urged him up towards the door to her room, each step a near stumble of need and yearning as they climbed blind, somehow making it to the landing without mishap.


‘Inside...’

Clemmie knew she sounded breathless but it wasn’t the climb that had made her that way. She was burning with frustration as the long robes that Karim wore came between her demanding hands and the need to touch his skin, to feel the heat of his flesh.

‘Clemmie...’

The door slammed back against the wall, the sound reverberating round the silent palace. Clemmie tensed, hearing Karim’s shaken voice, fearful that it was now when he would say that this had to stop. She had barely survived his rejection once before. She didn’t know if she could endure it over again.

But Karim’s hands were on her arms as he whirled her into the room and kicked the door to behind them. The spinning motion carried them part way across the floor, heading almost to the huge silk-covered bed that stood on a small dais in the centre of the room.

Almost but not quite. Somehow Karim took hold of the crazy dance that had caught them up. He stopped the careering path across the marble floor, almost stumbled, almost lost his footing. Almost.

But then he had a hold of himself, and of Clemmie. With a hasty adjustment, he brought them both to a halt, holding her upright while her head still spun with disorientation and desperate need, the room swinging round her so that she would have fallen if it was not for that powerful grip on her arms, hard fingers digging into her flesh so that she could almost feel the bruises forming under the pressure.

‘Stop!’

The single word was both a command and a threat, bringing her to a halt even more strongly than his hold on her. She blinked hard, trying to clear her eyes, to meet the powerful glare of his, and shivered as she saw herself reflected once more in the polished jet depths as she had been on the night in the cottage. A night that seemed like a lifetime away.

‘Karim...’

He couldn’t be doing this again, could he? He couldn’t be so cruel—so dishonest! Because to insist on her stopping now could only be a lie. It had to be, with the burn of arousal scoring the knife-edges of his cheeks, the furious beat of his heart under the powerful ribcage. He was still hard and hot against her so why the hell was he...?

‘Karim...’

She wriggled frantically in his hold, managed to raise her hands to his face, wincing as she felt the granite hardness of the muscles that tightened against her caress, the furious jerk of his chin as he repelled her touch. Surely this couldn’t be happening, not when he had been the one who had been kissing her, caressing her in the room below.

‘Karim—please...’

If he wouldn’t let her touch him, then perhaps she could reach him some other way. Her slippers had been lost somewhere along the crazy journey up the stairs so that she had to stand on tiptoe to reach, but somehow she managed to reach up and press a soft and, she hoped, enticing kiss in the hard plane of his cheek. Her mouth lingered just for a moment as the tang of his skin burned against her tongue, the intensely personal flavour of his skin scalding her senses. The moment was a singing delight and a terrible torment all in one as she felt the hardness of him against her, her breasts crushed to the rigidity of his chest, the thunder of his heart a physical sensation against them. The scent of his body surrounded her, enclosing her in a cloud of warm sensation, and that taste on her lips...

‘No!’ Karim’s voice was a rough animal growl in her ear, the snarl of a savage cat that faced an intruder into its territory. An alien, unwelcome intruder.

‘But...’

‘I said no!’

Suddenly the room was spinning round her again, more sickeningly this time. She wasn’t aware of just what had happened, wasn’t aware of anything at all until she hit the side of the bed, landing with a gasp of shock on the silken covers where he had flung her with force, away from him.

For a moment as she looked up into his eyes Karim looked as stunned as she felt, some wild force glazing his eyes, making them look like polished black glass. But then he blinked and the movement wiped away every trace of emotion.

‘I do not want you,’ he stated flatly.

But that was too much. She had felt the tension, the heat in his long body. She had known the taste and pressure of his kisses. Her body still burned and stung where his hands had moved over her skin, the pressure urgent with need.

‘Liar,’ she said softly, then repeated more strongly, conviction giving her voice added force. ‘You are a liar and that is the most impossible untruth. You could at least be honest.’

Karim’s proud head went back as if he had been slapped in the face, dark eyes narrowing violently. For a moment Clemmie thought that he was going to fling something at her, verbally if not physically, or at least that he was going to spin on his heel and stalk out of the room. But then he drew in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he did so, and nodded, slow and controlled. And it was the control that worried her.

‘And what, precisely, would that achieve?’

It would mean so much to her. It would give her something to hold on to in the dark, arid future that lay ahead of her. It would leave her with one happy memory to know that one man—this man—had actually wanted her for her and not because of the money, the power, the treaties that came with her. He had wanted her solely because she excited him. Because she was a woman and he was a man.

But she couldn’t say that. It would be like ripping her soul from her body and laying it out in front of him for him to scorn, or, even worse, to ignore completely.

‘It would be the honourable thing,’ she flung at him and knew a bittersweet sense of triumph as she saw the tiny, almost imperceptible twist to his beautiful mouth that told her dart had hit home.

‘Oh, would it, Princess?’ he questioned and her heart seemed to turn to ashes inside her.

Princess, he had said. And that single word put her right in her place, telling her exactly what he thought about her. He might be attracted to her physically, he might even hunger for her as much as she did him, but she was still just the ‘mission’ he had been sent on. The runaway bride he had been sent to collect. The would-be queen he had to ensure would reach the throne.

So that his honour could be satisfied.

‘It would be honourable to take this situation and make it even worse than it is?’

Karim prowled closer to where she lay in the middle of the bed, the fine material of his robe whispering across the marble floor. Clemmie shifted restlessly, pushed herself up on to her knees to face him.

‘I—don’t understand.’

‘You wanted honesty—well, here’s honesty...’

Suddenly she didn’t want him to say anything. That frankness she had wanted now seemed so dangerous, so threatening. Yet she had pushed him to say it and she couldn’t find the words to stop him. But it was too late.

‘I do want you.’ Karim’s black eyes burned down into her wide amber ones, searing right into her thoughts. ‘I want you like hell. Never doubt it.’

His hand flashed out, caught hold of hers, held it for a moment against his body, his fingers flattening hers against the swollen heat of his erection under the fine material. Just for the space of a couple of jerky heartbeats but then he released her and took several steps back, away from her.

‘I want you so much that it’s tearing me to pieces not to have you. But what does that do for us?’

There was a hard band around her skull, across her forehead and digging into her temples and it was tightening with every heartbeat, twisting cruelly. What was that saying about being careful what you asked for? Karim had given her what she wanted—what she had thought she wanted. She had forced it from him. He had said the words she had claimed, to herself, she wanted to hear.


And all that it had done was to put an even greater distance between them.

‘It... You know it was an arranged marriage. One I had no part in, no agreement given. I was just a child. My father sold me!’

‘The agreement is still binding. You are here to become Nabil’s Queen.’

But I don’t want to be Nabil’s anything! The words burned on the edge of her tongue but she knew the danger they would bring if she spoke them. It was bad enough to know that they were inside her head but if she heard them spoken aloud, between her and Karim, then there was never any going back. How had she managed to live her life, get this far, without ever really facing up to the nightmare that her future was going to be? She knew now why she had made herself keep so much to herself. She had known instinctively that if she had come out from the glass dome she had built around herself she would never be able to go through with this.

But Karim had walked into her life, shattered that glass dome beyond repair. He had forced her out of her seclusion and let the real world in, and, like the story of Pandora opening that box, there was no chance of ever getting anything back inside again. There wasn’t even that one tiny little thing called Hope left to offer her anything.

‘But not yet...’ she said.

Clemmie uncoiled herself from the bed and pushed herself to her feet, needing to be able to look him in the eye, not stare up at him from where she was. His height already gave him too much of an advantage.

‘The agreement between our countries—my official marriage to Nabil—is only legal when I am twenty-three.’

The flashing glare he turned on her warned her not to go on but she couldn’t give in. She was fighting for her life.

‘And Nabil doesn’t care! He wasn’t even here to welcome me and I saw him—with another girl.’

It wasn’t really any evidence of anything, but Karim’s reaction was. A faint flicker of something across his set features, in the darkness of his eyes, told her that he knew more about this than he was letting on. And that gave her the strength to carry on.

‘He has to take me as his Queen—to accept me formally. Before then, I’m free—I can be with anyone else—with you. Like I was that night in the cottage.’

The memories were there at the back of his mind; she could read them in the way he veiled his eyes behind those long lashes, the tight set to his mouth. But he was not going to let them into his rational thoughts.

‘You were never mine.’ It was a cold, blank statement.

‘I could have been!’

‘No, you could not. You were not mine. You are Nabil’s.’

‘Nabil didn’t own me. I was not his possession. He still doesn’t.’

‘You were forbidden. I was sent to bring you here because everyone—Nabil—my father—my country—trusted me. I will not betray their trust.’

‘Because you are a man of honour.’

‘You make it sound as if it’s an insult.’

‘Oh, no—’

‘Then we are back where we started, I think.’

Karim pushed both his hands through the black silk of his hair and rubbed his palms over his face, closing his eyes off from her for a moment.

‘Princess...’ There was that word again, driving home what he wanted without anything else needing to be said. ‘I came to say goodbye—that is the only thing that needs to be spoken between us.’

No... Please, no...

She tried to say it; opened her mouth, once, twice, but no sound would come out. Karim would not have listened either. That much was evident from the opaque look in his eyes, expressionless as a carved statue.

‘So—goodbye.’

His bow was just a faint sketch of a movement, no feeling behind it. An inclination of the head, a swift turn and he was heading for the door, taking everything he had brought into her life with him. Surely he would not be able to walk away from her, turn his back on her. But it seemed that Karim was perfectly capable of doing just that.

How did she argue against that? What could she possibly put before him to make him stop, listen...change his mind?

‘But I love you!’