Chosen by the Sheikh (2 page)

‘I'm not marrying anyone's brother,' she promised him.

Irritation chased across his lean features. ‘Then this is not you?' he drawled.

Beatrice looked suspiciously for a moment at the item he extracted from a file and placed on her side of the desk before she picked it up.

Her eyebrows almost hit her hairline when she recognised the holiday snap. It had been taken two summers earlier, when she had been working as an au pair in the South of France.

The two people with her on the beach were friends she had met that summer. Emma, whose father had owned the villa next to hers, and Khalid, the charming young man Emma had introduced her to.

Both had remained her friends—in fact her sleeping bag was at present on the sofa in Emma's London flat.

Her narrowed eyes left the photo and flew to the man's face. ‘How did you get this?'

He dismissed the question with a shrug of his powerful shoulders. ‘That is not relevant.'

Strange men with photos of her in a bikini were extremely relevant to Beatrice!

‘I do not normally concern myself with my brother's holiday romances.'

‘Your brother… Khalid is your brother? Then that makes you…' She swallowed, her voice trailing off. That made him Tariq Al Kamal, heir to the throne of one of the richest countries in the world.

This in credible information certainly explained the autocratic air and the imperious arrogance she had been witness to since she had arrived.

Not that Beatrice was impressed. Why be impressed by an accident of birth? This man had been handed everything on a plate. Beatrice, on the other hand, had worked for everything she had. The way she saw it, the people who had been born to wealth and privilege should be required to prove them selves, not the other way around.

Khalid was the most self-deprecating
un
-royal person you could ever imagine meeting. The summer she had spent with Emma and him had been half over before Emma had discovered by accident his royal connection. A connection that he had typically played down.

‘Sorry, if I'd known who you were I'd have curtsied.' Which no doubt he'd take as his due. God, the man was everything she detested most wrapped up in one package!

A gorgeous package, admittedly. Her glance drifted as he shrugged off his jacket. The suggestive dark shadowy triangle on his chest, visible beneath the fine white fabric of his shirt, sent an embarrassing rush of heat through her.

‘Forget the pretence, Miss Devlin.'

Forget the body, Beatrice.

‘I am aware of your relationship with my brother.'

She didn't have the faintest idea how the man had got the idea she and Khalid were an item—Emma would laugh when she shared the joke—but it was definitely time she put an end to this farce and got out of here.

‘Look, I know Khalid—sure.' She spread her hands
in a pacifying gesture and raised her eyes to his. ‘He's a friend, but—'

‘Men and women are not
friends
.'

Beatrice couldn't restrain herself. He clearly thought his opinion on any given subject was definitive. ‘And you'd know all about friendship…?'

His sensuous mouth curled. ‘I know all about women,' he corrected.

Now, that, she admitted, was easy to believe. Combating a fresh rush of cheek-burning colour, she tore her gaze from the sensual outline of his lips and pleaded sarcastically, ‘Spare me the tales of your conquests.' The last thing she needed was any more fuel for the images already playing in her head!

His lips thinned in distaste and he qualified, ‘I know all about women like you. I know of your ambitions.'

His voice dropped to a menacing purr that did painful things to her sensitive nerve-endings as he leaned forward and added softly, ‘Let me tell you it is not going to happen, Miss Devlin. You will not trap my brother into marriage.'

‘Is that a threat?' Daft question. Of course it was a threat. And Beatrice responded the same way she always did when she came across someone who thought they could intimidate her. She saw red and came out fighting.

‘Trap, you said…?' She pressed a finger to the suggestion of a cleft in her softly rounded chin and pretended to consider the comment. ‘Get pregnant, you mean…? I actually hadn't thought of that,' she admitted, before throwing back her head and loosing a husky laugh of amusement.

His dark face tautened with anger, the golden skin pulling tight across his prominent cheek bones as his contemptuous eyes locked onto her face. ‘You would be wise not to consider such a thing.'

‘And you would be wise to keep your opinions and your orders and your damned condescending attitude to yourself!' she retorted, rising to her feet and fixing him with a wrathful glare.

‘How dare you speak to me in that way?'

An overload of adrenaline was still pumping through her veins, and his astonished demand made no impact on her.

‘Don't you think your brother is old enough to decide who he marries?' She for one pitied the woman—who would presumably need to gain this man's approval. ‘I don't see there's much you can do about it.' Except strangle me. And he looked quite capable of doing that!

‘I am not an unreasonable man.'

But he was definitely a very angry one, she thought, her eyes glued to the erratic pulse that clenched and un clenched in his lean cheek.

‘I can see that you should be compensated for the time and energy you have put into this…project.'

‘Project?'

‘I think you'll find I am quite generous,' he replied smoothly as he pushed a piece of paper across the table towards her. ‘Feel free to consult a lawyer, but it is quite straight for ward. Once you sign this agreement, stating you will not marry my brother and you will not make any further attempt to contact him, you will receive half that stated amount. Six months later you will receive the balance.'

‘You're bribing me?' And just when she'd thought this situation couldn't get any more surreal!

‘I am offering you financial compensation.'

‘You want to pay me off?'

‘I am willing to pay to remove you from my brother's life,' he admitted, clearly irritated by her insistence on calling a spade a spade.

‘I'd starve before I'd take a penny off you!' she flared, fixing him with a furious smoky glare.

He looked taken aback by her anger. ‘There is, I think you will find, rather more than a penny on the table.'

Her lips curled contemptuously as she glanced down. ‘This isn't about the amount.' He clearly didn't have the faintest idea he had just offered her an insult. ‘I don't care how— Good God!' she gasped, catching sight of the figure.

Her round eyes moved from the paper to the man behind the
desk, who was watching her with an air of smug complacence. It had obviously never even crossed his mind that she would say no.

‘That's a lot of money,' she admitted, with massive understatement. ‘But actually I've not a lot of use for it. However, being a princess…well, that's something that money can't buy, isn't it…?'

His eyes narrowed to icy slits as he rose majestically to his feet.

She had to tilt her head back to look at him, and her taunting smile dimmed.

‘That, Miss Devlin, will not happen,' he told her positively.

‘We'll see…'

‘If you are trying to extract more money…?' he began grimly.

‘I'm not. The fact is,' she said stabbing her finger in the direction of his chest, ‘you don't have enough money to buy me. I'm sure you've spent your life throwing money at problems to make them go away, but me—I'm not for sale. At any price.'

Her regal exit was slightly marred by the fact that her hands were shaking so much it took her three attempts to open the door.

The irony was, of course, that his insults and his bribe were not really intended for her. He had made a huge mistake. She just hoped that when he discovered Khalid's real girlfriend the other girl would have the guts to tell him to go to hell too.

‘A
RE
you all right, miss?'

It required a supreme effort, but Bea forced a smile as she turned to the concerned-looking silver-haired man who had stopped to make the anxious enquiry. Concerned people who gave a damn were rare commodities nowadays, and in her opinion deserved at least a smile.

‘I'm fine, thank you,' she promised.

He didn't look entirely convinced, and if she looked anything like she felt, Beatrice wasn't surprised.

‘Perhaps you should sit down…? A glass of water…?' He glanced towards the large impressive-looking building Beatrice had just emerged from.

‘Really, I'm fine,' she insisted, able to hide her shaking hands in the pockets of her jacket, but unable to control the emotional quiver in her voice.

In truth, she had never felt less fine. She was, in fact, furious. A laid-back, easy going person, Beatrice rarely lost her temper—but when she did she lost it big time!

She remained so angry that her furious long-legged stride got her back to Emma's flat in record time. Turning the key in the lock, she pushed open the door and stepped into the sitting room.

‘You'll never guess what—' She stopped abruptly. The room was empty, but a muffled sound from the bedroom indicated her friend was home.

‘That didn't take long,' Emma said, belting a robe around
her waist as she emerged from the bedroom, her blonde curls tousled and her cheeks flushed. ‘Well, what was your meeting all about? Has a rich relative left you a fortune?'

Bea, struggling to control her anger, barely registered her friend's breath less voice as she gritted her teeth. ‘A fortune was involved,' she admitted, kicking off her shoes and flopping down onto the sofa. ‘But, like I told you, I don't have any relatives—rich or otherwise.'

Neither, after living in foster care after her mother's death, did she have Emma's romantic imagination.

Bea had responded to the mysterious invitation that had arrived in the post with curiosity and an open mind, but no great expectations. Definitely not the expectation of being insulted so comprehensively!

‘Neither did I bump into a white knight at the corner shop.'

‘Don't be like that, Bea. There's someone out there for you…a soul mate.'

Sometimes Emma's incurable romanticism could be irritating. ‘I won't hold my breath—' She stopped, tilting her head in a listening attitude. ‘Did you hear that? It sounded as if it came—'

Emma threw a nervous look at the closed bedroom door, before perching on the arm of a chair and asking quickly, ‘What on earth did the lawyer say to put you in this mood?'

‘It wasn't the lawyer I spoke to. The man I did speak to offered me a small fortune.'

Actually, Beatrice thought, not so small! The number of noughts on the paper he had handed her had looked like a misprint, but apparently it wasn't.

Emma looked bemused. ‘And that made you angry?'

‘The money was conditional on me… I warn you, Emma, you're not going to believe this.' She un clenched her fists, sucked in a deep breath and tried to smile—it really was absurd. ‘It was conditional on me not marrying Khalid!'

She paused, fully expecting Emma's incredulous laughter, but not expecting to see the colour seep from her friend's face.

‘What did he say when you told him you weren't engaged to Khalid?'

‘He didn't give me the chance. And then I got so mad, because he was so utterly detestable and smug, and… Well,' she admitted ruefully, ‘I lost my temper and told him I fancied the idea of being a princess. Princess Bea…' She struck a pose and chuckled. ‘What do you think? Shall I suggest it to Khalid? Incidentally, I must give him a ring and warn him what his brother is up to.'

‘Oh, God, Bea!' Emma moaned, looking if it was at all possible, even paler. ‘Why did you say that to him…?'

Beatrice was perplexed by her friend's attitude. ‘Could it have had something to do with the fact the man treated me like some cheap little tart? I don't think you under stand, Emma.' Beatrice spelt it out. ‘Poor Khalid must have fallen in love with some girl. His brother is trying to buy this girl off, and for some weird reason he thinks it's me.' She laughed, lifting her hair from the back of her neck and stretching with feline grace. ‘Weird doesn't really cover it.'

‘Oh, Emma under stands, Bea.'

At the sound of the rueful voice Beatrice jumped up—in time to see Khalid emerge from the bedroom, his shirt un but toned to reveal his bronzed torso.

‘Khalid…?' She looked blankly from the man in the doorway to her friend and back again. ‘But you're…' Colour flooded her face as comprehension dawned. ‘How long?' She stopped and shook her head. ‘Never mind. It's none of my business.'

Emma looked stricken. ‘We wanted to tell you, Bea, but…'

Khalid put a protective hand on Emma's shoulder. ‘Tariq and my family have very traditional views on this matter.'

Things were slowly beginning to sink in for Beatrice. ‘I knew something was going on, but I never—' She stopped, her eyes widening. ‘So you and Emma—you're getting married?'

Beatrice watched her friend struggle with tears as she glanced at her lover. ‘It's difficult,' she said unhappily.

‘Yes, we are getting married,' Khalid contradicted her,
sounding firm. He sounded less firm as he added bleakly, ‘Somehow.'

How difficult could it be?

Beatrice bit her tongue and forced a smile. ‘That's…' She was still finding it hard to get her head around the situation, but now she thought about it, it made perfect sense. Khalid and Emma made a perfect couple. ‘It really is fantastic news.'

Well, it would be if you took one apparently oppressive and old-fashioned sibling out of the picture.

Frowning, she expressed her bewilderment and indignation out loud. ‘What is your brother's problem anyway? He's the one who's going to be King, isn't he? Why does it matter who you marry?'

‘Tariq is King in all but name. Since our father had his stroke he isn't seen in public.'

‘If it
was
me you were going to marry I could under stand.' Beatrice could see realistically that she wasn't anyone's idea of a royal bride. ‘But Emma. Well…if I said you could do better, Khalid, I'd be lying. Emma is perfect.'

‘I think so,' Khalid agreed.

The glow in his eyes as he looked at his prospective bride brought a lump to Beatrice's throat. She had to do something for them. They were meant to be together.

‘Tariq has strong views about marriage. He thinks we shouldn't marry—'

‘Beneath you?' Beatrice cut in, unable to repress the bitter retort. ‘Yes, I sort of got that.'

‘It's not that… Our mother was English, and when our parents' marriage broke up it was pretty rough. I was small, so I don't really remember, but I think that it made a big impact on Tariq. When they finally split up she came back to England. She wasn't allowed to take us with her.'

‘That must have been terrible for her.' And pretty tough on the boys, deprived of their mother, she privately conceded.

‘We saw her in the holidays or I did. Tariq always refused to see her and our half sister—then there was the accident.'

‘He blamed her,' Emma, who clearly knew the story, explained.

‘You said the accident…?'

‘A car smash on the motorway. She was killed instantly.'

‘I'm sorry, Khalid,' Beatrice said, her tender heart touched by the story.

Not that it offered any excuses for the dreadful brother's behaviour. She too had lost her own mother, at a similar age, but it didn't make her feel she could go around sitting in judgement on total strangers!

Khalid took Emma's hand. ‘And I'm sorry, Bea—that you had to go through that with Tariq.'

‘Better me than Em,' Beatrice retorted, adding with a shrug, ‘I was mad, not hurt.'

‘Tariq will love Emma once he meets her. It just has to be the right time.'

Beatrice's heart went out to the unhappy lovers. From her experience that morning, she was pretty certain that the right time would be of the ‘when hell freezes over' variety, and from Khalid's expression she was sure that he knew it too.

She felt a surge of frustration. She'd been hoping that she could laugh off this morning, but that was before she knew what was at stake.

‘There must be something I can do or say to this brother of yours.' A brother who seemed to live in another century and who thought everyone had a price. Then it hit her. The solution was right under their noses and so blindingly simple that they couldn't see it!

‘He'll never accept me,' Emma retorted bleakly. ‘Khalid would have to choose between me and his family, and I couldn't let him do that.'

‘What if there was another way?'

The lovers looked at her with a mixture of doubt and hope.

‘He might see you, Em, in a entirely new light if he's just endured a visit from the bride from hell.' Bea's green eyes, dancing with devilish excitement, were at stark variance with her butter-wouldn't-melt expression. She smiled at the bemused-
looking couple. ‘It's perfect,' she enthused as she warmed to the idea forming in her head.

‘What are you talking about, Bea?' Khalid asked impatiently.

‘Don't ask,' Emma advised. ‘Look at her face—she's got one of her crazy plans.'

‘Not crazy—perfect!' Beatrice insisted, punching the air in a triumphant gesture. ‘It can't fail. And the beauty is that it was his idea, so we're just going along with it. Take me home with you, Khalid.'

‘What?'

‘I'll be the fiancée your brother thinks I am, and when you dump me they'll be so relieved that anyone else you bring home will seem perfect,' she promised grimly.

And the other beauty of her plan was that she would be able to exact revenge first-hand on the wretched man.

‘She's serious?' Khalid said, looking to Emma for confirmation.

‘Totally,' Beatrice promised them both. She arched a feathery brow and looked at Khalid. ‘Unless you have a better idea?'

‘It's hard. Family is…'

Hearing the defensive note in her young friend's voice, Beatrice smiled and admitted readily, ‘Something I know zilch about.' At times like this that didn't seem such a bad thing, even though when she was growing up a family and roots had been the only things she'd dreamt of.

‘If we do this crazy thing and it back fires…Tariq realises what we're up to…it will only make things worse,' Khalid said, shaking his head.

‘How?' Emma said in a small voice.

Khalid looked at her.

‘How can it be worse than this?' she asked in a stricken whisper. ‘Tell me, Khalid, what is worse than sneaking around as though we're doing something wrong? Not even able to tell my best friend or my family?'

Khalid stood there for a moment and watched the tears slid
ing down Emma's pale cheeks. Then he heaved a sigh and turned to Beatrice.

‘You would really do this?'

Beatrice smiled, anticipating her revenge. ‘Absolutely.'