A Question of Honor

Chapter ELEVEN


‘HE HAS DONE what?’

Karim could not believe what he had just heard. He recognised the words but they just did not make any sense. Or, rather, they did make sense but not one he dared to put his trust in.

‘Nabil has renounced her—revoked the marriage agreement,’ his father stated again, holding out the sheet of paper he had been reading from. Karim snatched it, stared at it, but the words danced before his eyes.

‘It is his right,’ his father said calmly. ‘It was always part of the treaty agreement.’

His right, maybe...but why? The words stilled, settled, and at last he could read...

‘He has renounced her...’ he echoed his father’s words in a very different tone, his voice thick with the implications of this for Clementina, for Rhastaan—for him. ‘But why?’


The rest of the message made things clearer in one way—but so much more confusing in another. His father might not recognise it, but there could be no doubt in Karim’s mind just who was behind this.

It seemed that under interrogation Adnan—the ex-security man who had been in Ankhara’s pay—had told Nabil of the night that Karim and Clemmie had spent together alone in the cottage. A night that her prospective fiancée and everyone at his court had put a very different—a damning—interpretation on instead of the real one. No names were mentioned in the report his father had received, but Karim knew only too well who was the man involved. His conscience twisted at the thought.

But still things didn’t make sense. No matter what accusations had been thrown at her, all Clemmie had had to do was to tell the truth. That nothing had happened. Why had she not said anything, flung Nabil’s accusations in his face?

‘It was Nabil’s right—Nabil’s decision,’ his father was saying now. The older man’s face had so much more colour now and his strength was improving daily. ‘Our part in this is over. You fulfilled my vow to the boy’s father. Honour is satisfied.’

Honour is satisfied.

The words that should have meant so much now rang hollow in Karim’s thoughts. Honour might be satisfied, but he was not. How could he be when every day since he had come back from Rhastaan seemed shadowed, hollow—empty?

But I love you! Clemmie’s impassioned cry echoed in his thoughts, taking him back to the terrible day in Nabil’s palace when he had felt as if he was being torn in half as he had had to walk away from her.

Because she was Nabil’s promised bride: the prospective Queen of Rhastaan. Which she was no longer.

The sound inside his head was so loud that he was stunned his father hadn’t actually heard it. It was deafening enough to make his head reel, his thoughts spin.

It was the sound of chains dropping away, falling to the floor. The chains that had bound both him and Clemmie. Tying them into a situation where they could have no hope of ever being true to themselves.

Of ever being just a man and a woman.

Once again he was back in Nabil’s palace, recalling how he had looked at Clemmie, decked out in the silken robe, the ornate hairstyle, the elaborate make-up that marked her out as the promised Queen of Rhastaan. The woman who was forbidden to him.

No longer.

All that had been stripped away. She was no longer Princess Clementina, but just Clemmie Savanevski. Then he had wished that she was no princess, but just a woman—as she was now.

And in these circumstances, he was just a man. The man that Clemmie had enchanted from the moment he had first met her, and whose absence had darkened and frustrated his existence ever since.

And as just a man and a woman, was it possible that they could begin again?

* * *

‘Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!’

The chirpy refrain ran through Clemmie’s head over and over, its bright, cheerful sound totally at odds with her mood.

Today was her twenty-third birthday, but there were no festivities, nothing in the world she felt at all like celebrating. Her life was so totally different from the way she had thought it would be. The path she had thought she was to take was now closed to her and she had no real idea of where she would go. She felt lost and unsure, and so cold!

With a shiver she wrapped her arms around herself, pacing around the room in an attempt to warm herself when even the fire she’d lit didn’t seem to have enough heat to take the bite out of the air. Was it just because she had become accustomed to living in the heat of the desert—for a short while at least—so that she felt the cold more than before? Or was it the truth that the chill came more from inside, from her heart, rather than the wintry weather?

It was all so very different from the day just forty-eight hours before, when she had been summoned to the throne room to meet with Nabil at last.

Clemmie sighed and moved aside the curtains at the window, staring out at the icy rain that lashed against the glass. The sun had been high and fierce in Rhastaan then and it was probably still shining down on Nabil and his new princess. The girl he had wanted all the time to take as his bride. The girl he had cast her aside for.

The morning had been like any other since arriving at the palace. Her breakfast tray had been brought to her, clothes laid out for her—a long silken dress in fuchsia pink. Her maid had been as attentive as ever, her eyes down bent, her attitude totally respectful. If there had been anything in the air, something to warn her of what was coming, she hadn’t noticed it. But then she had been so down, her spirits so very low after the way that Karim had walked out on her two nights before, that she had gone through her dressing, the styling of her hair, the application of the ornate make-up, like an automaton. There had to be some way out of this but for the life of her she couldn’t think of one.

In the end it was Nabil himself who had come up with the escape clause. And not in the way she had anticipated.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs had her swinging round from the window, plastering the necessary smile on to her face as a small, dark-haired bundle of energy came thundering into the room, followed more sedately by his mother.

‘Clemmie!’ Harry flung himself into her welcoming arms, enveloping her in a huge hug. ‘’appy birfday!’

‘Do you think he’ll ever get tired of saying it?’ she asked Mary as their eyes met over the top of the dark, shining head.

‘I doubt it,’ her friend laughed. ‘After all, this is the first year he’s had a big sister to wish a happy birthday to.’

‘Well, I hope there will be dozens and dozens more.’ With an effort she managed to smooth out the shake in her voice, that smile a little less fixed and forced now. ‘After all, it looks like this will be my home from now on.’

‘Such a tiny place after what you could have had.’ Mary’s gaze went round the small shabby room. ‘When I think of what you’ve had taken from you.’

‘Oh, no,’ Clemmie hastened to reassure her. ‘What was taken from me? A marriage I didn’t want. To a man I didn’t love and who didn’t want me. A kingdom I could never have belonged in.’

On the positive side, she’d gained her freedom from her father’s tyrannical rule and now had the chance to develop a real relationship with her adored little brother.

‘True enough.’ Mary nodded, picking up Harry’s coat in preparation for the journey home. ‘Looked at that way, you didn’t really lose so very much after all.’

Mary had to say that, Clemmie admitted to herself. Because she hadn’t been told the whole story. So she knew nothing about the real loss she’d endured in all this. The emptiness that tore at her heart. The loss of the man she had fallen headlong in love with. Fallen so deeply and so completely that now her life felt as if it had a gaping, raw hole right at the centre of it.

‘And even the peace treaty managed to work out in the end—after some heavy-duty diplomacy.’

‘But only because you let Nabil get away with everything he wanted. You could have put up more of a fight; told him how wrong he’d got everything.’

Clemmie felt a chill slide down her spine as her friend’s words made her remember her last day in the palace at Rhastaan, the accusations that Nabil had flung at her.

‘I didn’t want to fight—and what good would it have done?’


The only fight she’d had in her had been to declare the truth. And that would have made matters so much worse.

‘But he threw you out. Now even your own father won’t have you back. You told me what he said.’ Mary shook her head, her eyes darkened with concern for her friend.

‘“You are tainted—what man will want you now?”’ Clemmie echoed her father’s dismissive response.

‘I will.’ The voice came from behind her. From where the battered wooden door had opened silently, allowing a man to come into the room.

A man. The man. The man she had thought that she would never ever see again.

A man who seemed taller, darker, more dangerous than he had ever been before. She had met this man here when he had come for her. He had taken her back to Rhastaan because he had been given the task by his father and because his honour demanded that he carried out that debt which his family owed to Nabil. He had handed her over...

And then he had walked away from her because, in spite of the fact that he admitted he wanted her, hungered for her more than he could bear, his damned honour demanded that he did so.

She had told him that she loved him; that she wanted him as much as he wanted her and he had still walked away.

Now Karim was back in her life and she had no idea why he was here or what his plans might be.

‘Karim...’ It was just a breath, a whisper of reaction.

‘Clementina.’

There was much more strength in his response but his voice was rough and uneven as if it was fraying at the edges. He barely looked around the room, taking no notice of Mary and the little boy who was gaping at this new arrival in frank curiosity.

He was hardly dressed for the cruel weather outside. A supple leather jacket, a tee shirt that was so wet from the rain that the dark curls on his chest showed through the white material. The black silky hair was plastered to the fine bones of his skull, his bronzed skin slick with the rain so that his high cheekbones looked sharp as knives. But it was the burn of the dark eyes above them that caught and held her, stopping the breath in her lungs.

Those black eyes were fixed on her face, his stare so intent it burned away the topmost protective layers of skin, leaving her raw and exposed underneath. Her own gaze was caught and held, mesmerised, unable to look away, trapped into immobility no matter how wildly her mind screamed at her to break away. To run.

But to run from him or to him? She had no idea and her brain couldn’t compute any possible answer.

‘Clemmie...’ Mary tried for her attention, her tone making it plain that she knew there was little chance of her being noticed. ‘I think I should go. Harry—come here—get your coat on.’

Something in the thickening atmosphere in the room had communicated itself to the little boy and he made no protest, didn’t even resist when his mother bundled him into his coat, then grabbed for her own jacket. And still the connection between Clemmie and Karim was locked, absorbed, almost a physical thing, a spider’s web of connection, so fine and yet impossible to break.

‘Call me...’

Mary was bustling Harry out of the room, but she turned for a moment in the doorway to glare both at Karim and then at Clemmie, but in such very different ways.

‘If you need me...’

‘She will.’

Karim might have been speaking to the air; not the slightest turn of his head acknowledged Mary’s presence behind him. And Clemmie could only bring herself to dip her head in agreement, unable to drag her eyes away from the man before her.

The slam of the door behind her friend and Harry made her blink once, hard. But when she looked again he was still there.

‘What are you doing here?’ She forced the words out, hearing them crack in the middle.

Not even the flicker of a smile warmed his face.

‘You know why I’m here,’ he said harshly. ‘I’ve come for you.’

The words he had used the first time he had come here. On the day that he had appeared at the door of the cottage. Then he had taken her life, her heart, into those powerful hands of his and turned them inside out.

So was she crazy to feel so glad to see him? She didn’t know, didn’t care, only knew that her heart had leapt at the sight of him and that she was glad for the chance to spend a few more hours in his company. A few more hours when her eyes could linger on the dark strength of his face. When she could hear his voice. When the hunger that had haunted her nights, made her toss and turn, waking in sweat-soaked sheets, now had physical form. And he was only metres away from her.

‘How do we do this?’

Was he feeling anything like the way she was? Had the same yearning she was feeling put that rough laughter into his voice? Was there really just a shabby rug on the floor between them or had an enormous chasm opened up at their feet that she didn’t know how to cross to reach him?

Suddenly Karim flung his arms open wide, stretching the white tee shirt tight across his chest, his eyes burning into hers.

‘Hell and damnation, Clementina, we can do this now. Come here. Come to me before I go crazy with wanting you.’

She wanted it too. She wanted his arms around her so much but in the same breath her mind was warning her, telling her that she knew nothing of his reasons for being here. Nothing except that he had come for her. She took one hesitant step forward and then it was as if just the movement had broken the spell that held her frozen.

One more step—and then another. And then she was running—flying it felt like—over the floor to where he stood waiting for her, those powerful arms still outstretched.

He was moving too, rushing towards her so that they met—collided—with such force that Clemmie lost her footing, stumbled, fell, taking Karim with her. She landed on the settee, the breath driven from her lungs as the weight of Karim’s body crushed her, her gasp of surprise snatched from her lips as his mouth took hers. The taste of him went straight to her head like the most potent fiery spirit, intoxicating her in a second. It was all she wanted but it was not enough. How could it ever be enough when this was what she needed, what she’d longed for? She’d only been apart from him for a few days but those days had left her starved, desperate for this. In the moment that he lifted his body slightly she thought he might move away from her and grabbed at his shoulders, at his head, clenching desperate fingers in the crisp darkness of his hair to hold him still, close to her.

‘No... Don’t leave me...’ It was a yearning cry and she felt rather than heard the laughter that shook his long body.

‘No,’ he muttered, rough against her lips. ‘Definitely no. I have travelled halfway across the world for this. I have no intention of giving up now.’

He had only moved to pull her underneath him so that the heat and weight of his body pressed her into the scattered cushions of the sofa. He was almost crushing the breath out of her but she welcomed the heated imprisonment, knowing that this was what she had been dreaming of at nights, what she had been longing for through the days.

His mouth was on hers, his tongue seeking hers, tasting her, inviting her, provoking her. She followed his lead so gladly, her head spinning with the joy of it, the sensual force of his kisses making her mind blow apart. The wet tee shirt was damp against her face but she didn’t care. It brought home to her that this was no fantasy, no figment of her imagination. It was real—it was true. He was here, with her and this was actually happening.

He tasted wonderful. He smelled wonderful. He felt wonderful. He was all male and everything about her that was female was responding to his touch on her skin, his fingers tangling in her hair. His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, enticing, demanding. When he curved them over her breasts, cupping her through the soft wool of her sweater, she arched her back up to meet the caress, pressing herself against his touch. Needing more.


Her own hands were scrabbling at his clothes, tugging the leather jacket off and discarding it somewhere on the floor. The tee shirt followed it, tangling crazily, wildly with her own sweater as he pulled it off to allow him freer access to the curves of her breasts pushing against the pink silk of her bra. A moment later that too had joined the growing bundle of their clothes on the floor and Clemmie’s breath hissed in between her teeth as skin burned against skin and she felt she would pass out from the pleasure the intimate friction brought her.

His mouth was at her breast now, suckling her, delicately at first, then harder, deeper, stronger. Drawing her distended nipple deep into his mouth and scraping his teeth gently over it so that she moaned aloud in uncontrolled response.

‘More...more...’

She panted it from between dry lips, her body writhing under his, knowing what she wanted and yet not daring to believe that it might actually be within her grasp. That she might actually know the truth of this man’s possession.

‘There will be more—I promise,’ Karim assured her, thick-voiced. ‘I’ve waited—and wanted—and now I’ve come to take my reward—and to give you all that you need. Like this...’

Another set of heated kisses were pressed against her other breast, licking it, nibbling at it until it was burning in sensation like the first.

‘And this...’

That wicked mouth moved lower, sliding down over her skin, kissing its way to where the waistband of her jeans was an unwanted barrier. Clemmie’s breath caught in her throat as she waited, frozen, yearning, needing...

He paused for just a moment, tracing the line of her belt with the warmth of his tongue, and then he flicked open the buckle, slid down the zip, following the line of pale skin that he had exposed with yet more kisses as he tugged the soft denim from her hips.

‘Yes—oh, yes.’

Her hands tangled in the dark hair, holding him tight against her while her most intimate core pulsed in hungry anticipation, needing more, needing it now—and yet not wanting to lose a minute of every wonderful sensation he was creating in her. Bolder than she had ever anticipated being, she found the fastening of his jeans, tugging them open, fighting to push them off. Karim helped her, lifting his hips so that the material slipped down his legs, kicking them off the edge of the sofa before he came to settle, warm and strong, and so very powerful, between her opening thighs.

She was naked to him now. Naked and open and so very willing. The fear she might have thought would intervene, making her pause and hesitate, didn’t strike at all. Instead it was Karim who paused, drawing in a deep ragged breath, and he looked down into her eyes, searching for what he needed in her face.

‘This is your first time...’ The rough growl of his voice told him how hard he was finding it to keep his control for long enough to ask the question. ‘Are you...?’

‘Yes.’ Her kiss, hot, hungry, passionate, closed off the question he had been about to ask. He didn’t need to ask but she still had to reassure him, couldn’t let him wonder, doubt for a minute that this was what she wanted. ‘I couldn’t be any surer—I’ve waited so long—too long!’

The last word was a cry of shock and delight as, not needing any further encouragement, Karim yielded to the hungry force that was pulsing through him and eased himself inside her, sliding deep surprisingly easily where she was slick and moist with wanting him.

‘All right?’ he breathed, raw and uneven, and she couldn’t find a word to answer him. She could only nod again and again, pushing herself against him, opening up to him, drawing him in.

‘Yes...’ she managed as he shifted his weight, pressed harder, further.

Just for a moment there was a burning pain, a stinging discomfort that had her gasping, fingers digging into the hard naked shoulders above her, eyes open wide. For a couple of heartbeats she froze, waiting until the burn had subsided, but then she relaxed back against him, moving her hips to encourage him, slowly, tentatively at first then more confidently, faster, meeting every powerful thrust of his strong body into hers.

You’re mine.

The words sang inside her head as she gave herself up to the sensations that took over her body, loving the way they were building up, reaching for something just out of reach, something so wonderful she didn’t dare to begin to imagine it.

You’re mine and I’m yours—yours—yours...

And then there was no possibility of words, or thoughts, only feelings and wonder. Whatever had been out of reach was now rushing towards her, wild and glorious and out of this world. She opened herself up to it and let it take her, let him push her right over the edge into a brilliant and explosive world where there was nothing but herself and Karim and the sensations that they had created between them.