A Question of Honor

Chapter EIGHT


ENGLAND WAS A lifetime away.

Three days. Thousands of miles. The other side of the world. And she felt as if she’d lived a whole lifetime since then.

Clemmie stood by the high window and stared out at Rhastaan city spread out below her at the foot of the hill on which the palace was built. If anything brought home to her how much her life had changed, then it was this city set on the outskirts of the desert, a heavy heat haze hovering on the horizon and a total lack of any wind to stir the flags on the royal buildings.

If she opened the window, then the ferocious heat of the day would rush into the room, fighting against the almost brutal air-conditioning that kept the place cool. Kept it liveable in. It was amazing just how quickly she had got used to a very different atmosphere, very different temperatures so that in spite of the fact that it was the sort of environment she’d grown up in, the raw heat of this desert kingdom was almost unbearable. She was actually longing for the cold of the little cottage that had been her home, her haven for such a short time. Here, she was surrounded by every comfort, every luxury, and yet she would trade it all in an instant for another few days of feeling free, of really being herself as she had been in Yorkshire.

But that was never going to happen.

With a deep, dragging sigh, Clemmie turned away from the window and moved back into her room, her bare feet making no sound on the pink veined marble tiles, the turquoise silk of her long robe sliding sensuously over their polished surface. Another thing that she would gladly go without if she could. The robe might be made from the finest silk, be decorated with beautiful embroidery and have been made exactly to her measurements but she longed for the battered jeans and tee shirts she had lived in before.


Clemmie plonked herself down on a padded stool and stared at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. She barely recognised herself, with her make-up done in a way she would never have chosen, heavy kohl outlining her eyes, rich red lipstick emphasising her mouth. And her hair...!

The wild dark locks had been pushed and pinned into an ornate arrangement of smooth, elaborate curls that pulled at her scalp and made her head itch. She was the woman her father had wanted her to be, trained her to be, but she couldn’t help wondering what Karim, who had wanted her to look and behave like a future queen, would think of it.

Karim.

Just his name sounded alien inside her head. He had come into her life in a storm and had turned it upside down. For a few crazy, dangerous hours she had thought that he might be more than just the man who had been sent to collect her. That he could be something special. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

If she had needed anything to drive that home to her, then the journey here would have been all that it would have taken. She might as well have been a piece of luggage that he had collected and had to deliver to Nabil, he had spared her so little attention. With her car out of the way, he had grabbed her small case, taking it out to dump it in his vehicle, then, opening the front passenger door, he had stood there waiting for her, not a word being spoken. When she had come past him to slide into her seat he had held himself stiff as a statue hewn from granite, keeping well back from touching her. Only his eyes had moved but when she had met his gaze it had been hard as polished jet and every bit as impenetrable.

Had he spoken more than one sentence to her?

‘Seat belt...’

The command had been tossed at her as he’d climbed into the car beside her and put the key in the ignition. And then that had been it. Silence. When she’d tried to speak, he had just flicked a sidelong glance at her and then made a gesture to where the rain that had replaced the snow was lashing against the windscreen, reducing visibility to a minimum and making driving conditions very difficult.

‘I need to concentrate.’ It was clipped, blunt, totally dismissive. And then he had added, ‘We need to get to the airport and on a plane to Rhastaan before Ankhara finds out where we are.’

If there was anything guaranteed to clamp her mouth shut, then it was that. How could she have forgotten about the man who was set against her marriage to Nabil? He was the head of a group who would do almost anything to make sure that the alliance that marriage represented never took place. Huddling into the raincoat she had pulled on over jeans and a jumper, she pulled her jacket tightly round her, chilled to the bone in a way that had little to do with the weather and was more the result of her thoughts.

Whatever else had happened between them, she needed Karim to get her to Rhastaan safely. He had been sent to protect her, and that was clearly what he was intent on doing—that and nothing more. She could do nothing but go along with him and do as she was told, for now.

It had been the same at the airport. Clemmie had been ushered from the car, through a bewildering series of gates and up into the private jet before she had fully registered just where they were. All formalities were dealt with by Karim, her luggage was loaded on board—and once she was settled in the plane, safely belted into her comfortable seat, it was Karim who disappeared into the cockpit to pilot them to Rhastaan himself. She hadn’t seen him from the moment they had taken off until just before landing. Or, if he had come back into the cabin at any point, she hadn’t been aware of it. Once in the air, and with her body finally feeling warm and something close to relaxed after the small meal and a hot drink prepared by an attentive stewardess, the stress of the past couple of days and the broken night had caught up with her and she’d fallen fast asleep. She’d only woken when the same stewardess had touched her shoulder to warn her to fasten herself in for landing.

‘Madam...’

A careful cough, a quiet voice, drew her attention now to where Aliya, the maid who had been assigned to her on arrival at the palace, stood in the doorway.

‘You have a visitor, madam—downstairs.’

Nabil. Who else could it be? She had been waiting for this summons ever since they had arrived at the palace. In fact she had been surprised to find that her husband-to-be hadn’t been at the airport to greet them, or at least arranged a meeting as soon as the sleek black car with the darkly tinted windows had swept up to the palace. She had nerved herself for it, determined not to show any weakness in front of Karim. He believed she had tried to run away from her responsibilities, that she was not fit to be a queen. So she would not let him see that she was afraid, or that she was concerned in any way. Head high, back straight, she had stalked into the palace, expecting to see Nabil.

And had only been met by his High Chamberlain.

Since then she had been alone in the palace apartment assigned to her. No one to talk to. No one to keep her company. Once from her window she had seen Nabil, walking in the courtyard.

He had been talking to a young woman, small, dark, very pretty, his head bent towards her, and he hadn’t noticed Clemmie at her window, watching them. For a moment she had considered going out to speak to him but in the end had changed her mind. This relationship, this marriage had been forced on both of them when they were too young to do anything about it. It was best to leave things until Nabil was ready to come to her. But after that she had heard that he had left the capital, flying out to his summer palace. Obviously he was no keener than her to get this marriage underway.

So now, it seemed, the summons she had been expecting had finally arrived. Squaring her shoulders, she drew in a deep breath as she nodded to Aliya.

‘I’m coming.’

The man who was waiting in the reception room on the ground floor was bigger than she had expected. Taller, broader in every way than she might have anticipated of a boy who had just had his eighteenth birthday. He was standing as she had been minutes before, staring out of the window, head slightly bent, one strong hand braced against the wall. And it was that hand that gave him away as she came nearer, recognising a gold signet ring on the fourth finger.

‘I... Karim?’

Had her heart really leapt up into her throat, pounding so hard that it seemed to have cut off her breathing, making her pulse thunder in her ears?

He took his time about turning round, making her feel that perhaps he had known she was there in spite of the soundless steps that had taken her into the room, closer to him.

‘Clementina...’

The slight inclination of his dark head was the only acknowledgement of her position here at this court. He was a High Prince too, his attitude said, and as such he wasn’t going to bow to her. Which was fine with Clemmie. The truth was that she was already sick of all the bowing and scraping she had received. It would have been bad enough anyway, but after the months of freedom, of living like an ordinary woman in her grandmother’s cottage, it seemed even more over the top.

‘Or should I say, Princess Clementina?’

‘Oh, please don’t!’

She was too busy taking in the sight of him standing there, big and strong and even more gorgeous than before, to think about holding her tongue and just let the words escape. She had never seen Karim in traditional robes before, the flowing white garment contrasting startlingly with the bronze tones of his skin, the polished jet of his eyes. He had discarded the headdress and the black silk of his hair gleamed in the shafts of sunlight that came in through the leaded windows.


She knew she had missed him, but she hadn’t known how much until now he was here again, standing before her, tall and powerful and devastating. She felt like someone who had been starving and who had suddenly had an incredible feast placed before her so that she didn’t know where to look first, what to enjoy most. How could two days’ absence have felt so long? How could this man have become so central to her life in the space of less than a week? And how had she survived the past days with the huge hole in her life that he had left behind?

‘I did ask you to call me Clemmie.’

‘But that was in another time, another place.’

Another lifetime, his tone said, forcing her to remember how he had reacted to her na?ve attempts at seduction, the way he had assiduously kept so distant from her. He had delivered his parcel, completed his mission and he was done...

So why was he here now?

‘I have come to say goodbye.’

It was as if Karim had read her thoughts as he offered the flat-voiced explanation of his appearance here. If the truth was told, she had never imagined that she would see him again and just to have the chance to see his face, hear his voice was more than she had dreamed of. But...

‘Goodbye?’

He should never have come, Karim acknowledged as he saw her huge eyes widen in shock and surprise. He had told himself that he wouldn’t ever see her again. That it was so much better that way—the only way. He had made a vow to fulfil his father’s debt of honour and deliver Clementina to Nabil, and he had done just that. His duty done, honour satisfied, he was free to leave and go back home. Back to take responsibilities from the shoulders of his ailing father, to take the reins of government of the country he had never thought he would come to rule.

‘What else is there to say between us?’

His conscience gave a nasty twist when she saw the flinch she gave at his tone. She tried to hide it, of course, bringing her head up and meeting his eyes so defiantly that it was all he could do to bite back a smile. So the other Clementina, the wild, mutinous creature who had answered the door to him that first day at the cottage, was still there underneath this new version. The tall, elegant woman in turquoise silk, that wild hair tamed and sleeked into an ornate arrangement, who had stunned him into silence when he had turned to see her standing there.

It was the wild-haired, barefoot creature he’d first seen he remembered when awake. But it was that other Clementina, skin warm from the nest of blankets, silken hair spread out over his chest, the sound of her voice whispering his name in his ear who’d haunted his dreams. That memory made him toss and turn in restless hunger so that he had woken, bathed in sweat and with his heart racing, his body hard even from imagining her. Her choking cry of ‘I want you...’ was always there inside his head, driving him to a feeling of near-madness as he tried to rid himself of it.

He had told himself that the only sane way to deal with this was to go, never looking back. To put her behind him and head home, to the life that was now his and that she could never be a part of. That was best—for both of them.

So why the hell had he found it impossible to leave without seeing her one last time? Why had he come here now, like this, like some fool of a na?ve adolescent unable to tear himself away from the current object of his adoration? Because that was all she was, all she could ever be. Today’s sexual fantasy. One he could easily replace with another willing, warm—and much less dangerous—woman in his bed.

No, that thought had been a mistake. The idea of any woman in his bed only reminded him of how it had felt to hold Clementina so close. To know she was warm and willing—and totally forbidden to him. It had almost torn him apart to say no to her then. It would destroy him to remember it over again.

‘You are here, where you belong, with your future ahead of you. Your birthday will be very soon.’

‘Four days.’ It was only a whisper so that he had to lean forward to catch it then immediately cursed himself for doing so as a waft of some heady floral perfume, mixed dangerously with the clean ultra-feminine scent of her skin tantalised his senses and made his lower body ache in hungry response.

To conceal his reaction he nodded sharply, taking a much-needed step back and leaning against a high carved pillar.

‘Your wedding will be arranged soon and your coronation immediately after that.’

‘My destiny.’

It was stronger this time, infused with the defiance he had expected. But there was something else, something that stiffened her slender neck, brought that pretty chin up just a touch too high. There was a new sheen behind those thick, lustrous eyelashes, something that betrayed an emotion she was determined to hold back and not quite succeeding.

‘I will be Queen of Rhastaan.’

‘You will.’

It was strangely difficult to nod in response. His own neck seemed to have seized up, his head refusing to move. He had been forced up against the thing he didn’t want to think of. The image of Clemmie—Clementina—as Nabil’s wife. In Nabil’s bed. That long sexy body entwined with the younger man’s plumper frame, her mouth kissing him, her legs opening...

Hell and damnation—no! With a ruthless effort he forced his hands to uncurl from the fists into which they had clenched, knowing without looking that the crescent shapes of his nails would be etched into his palms from the pressure he’d exerted on them.

The memories of the Clemmie he had known were the ones he had to push aside—for good. If anything brought home to him why that was vital then this woman, the tall, regal creature whose ornate make-up had nothing like the impact of her fresh-faced beauty, was a statement without words of all that came between them.

Clemmie was the woman he wanted most in all the world. But she was not just any woman. And he was not just any man. What he wanted had no place at all in what must happen, no matter how it clawed at his soul to acknowledge it. The Clemmie of the cottage no longer existed. There was only the future queen of Rhastaan. This was the Princess Clementina he must turn his back on or bring his country and his family’s reputation down lower than Razi had already taken it.

‘And my part in all this is done. I heard this morning that Ankhara’s man has been found and captured. He will not be able to interfere in anything ever again. And you will be in no further danger from him.’

‘So you are free to go. To get back to your own life. I should thank you for bringing me here safely...’

Could her voice have any less life in it? Clemmie wondered. She couldn’t find the strength to say anything more, or ease up on the rigid control she was imposing on herself. If she did then she feared she would break down, reveal the turmoil that was churning viciously inside her, maybe even risk saying the one thing she knew she should never say.

‘Don’t go...’

The words reverberated inside her skull, making her head go back in horror as she heard her own voice and realised that she had done exactly what she had told herself she must not do. She should have clamped her lips tight over the words but they had escaped and now that they were said she couldn’t call them back.

‘Don’t...’

Could his eyes get any blacker, his face stiffen more into marble stillness? He was looking at her in such shock that she wished the ground would open at her feet and swallow her whole.

‘Do not say such a thing.’

His hand had come up, flattening against his chest, just below the base of his strong throat. Underneath his fingers, hidden now by the fine white material of his robe, were the scars she had felt on his body, the marks that had marred the beautiful tanned skin. Skin she had once been able to touch, to kiss. But only once.


‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘Oh, but I do.’

In for a penny, in for a pound. She’d told herself she must never say anything—but, now that she had, there was little point in holding back any more. They had no future. No hope of any time together. But they did at least have this. And she was going to snatch at her one chance of letting him know how she felt.

‘I’ve missed you. So much.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

What had she expected him to say? That he had missed her too? Stupid, stupid, stupid! A na?ve fantasy—a child’s dream.

‘Busy with more of those duties that are so important to you?’

The dark frown that snapped his black brows together almost unnerved her. But she didn’t care. She refused to let that icy stare freeze her into silence. If this was the last time she could spend with him—the last time she would see him—then she wasn’t going to waste it in pretending to feel anything other than what was really in her heart.

‘I hope they were fascinating—and fulfilling. Unlike our night together.’

That made the heavy eyelids drop down over the glittering eyes, narrowing them to just slits, the burn of his scrutiny gleaming behind the thick black lashes.

‘We did not have a night together.’

His voice was thick with a rejection that burned like acid deep inside. But her memories—memories she had relived over and over since she had arrived in Rhastaan—gave her the strength to go on.

‘We could have had.’

Violently he shook his head, swinging away from her, turning towards the door.

‘You were unhappy—afraid. You had nightmares... and I comforted you.’

‘And that was all you did?’ Clemmie challenged.

‘All...’ It sounded as if it came from a strangled throat, rough and raw, and that determined her that she was not going to let him get away with it.

‘Liar,’ she said softly, then, encouraged by the way he had frozen, absolutely still, she made herself go on. ‘You are a liar,’ she said more forcefully, ‘and a coward not to admit it. I’m not afraid to say I wanted more.’

Had she overstepped the mark, pushed him to a point where he wouldn’t take any more? She saw his long body stiffen, recognised with a clench of the nerves in her stomach, a twist to her heart, the small movement towards the door, away from her. A movement that he stilled then reversed only a moment later.

‘I wanted more...’ he conceded and it was only as she tasted the faint tang of blood on her tongue that Clemmie realised just how hard her teeth had been digging into her lower lip, breaking the skin under their sharpness.

‘I wanted you,’ she croaked. ‘And you...’

The words died in her throat as he swung back to face her, the livid burn of his eyes stark and harsh against the tautness of his skin, the white marks that were drawn tight at his nose and mouth.

You wanted me...

She tried to say it. She opened her mouth, once, twice. Her lips moved but no sound came out. No words were needed. But then she looked into his eyes and what she saw there meant that the words didn’t need to be said.

Not those at least. But there was something she had to say before she could let him go. He had to hear it and then she would see if he could still walk out of the door.