The Sheik's Secret Bride (22 page)

“If that doesn’t work, I’ll bet we can find something else,” Heidi said encouragingly. “Then we’ll do your makeup and pin up your hair and you’ll really feel like a princess.”

Liana doubted that was possible, but she decided not to point out the obvious—that she was
a nobody
and would remain a nobody. Maybe she could fake being a princess for a night.

Dora rose to her feet and led the way out of the harem. “How do you feel about tiaras?” she
asked,
her expression serious.

Liana blinked. “I’ve never thought about them one way or the other.”

“Then you’d better start thinking about them because you’ll be wearing one tonight.”

An honest-to-goodness tiara, Liana thought three hours later as she stared at herself in the mirror. Actually she was staring at a woman who looked a lot like herself but was really someone else. She’d never known she could look this good!

Maybe it was the dress or the makeup or the diamonds glittering in her hair. Maybe it was a magic night, and she was caught up in the glow. Whatever the reason, she felt as if she actually looked like a princess.

The gown Dora had loaned her was midnight-blue velvet. The sweetheart neckline dipped low enough to show a hint of cleavage. The fabric smoothed over her body, emphasizing the good curves and hiding the bulges. Small capped sleeves left her arms bare, while the flowing fabric covered the rest of her to the floor.

After Liana was dressed, Heidi had seen to her hair, pulling it up and away from her face. Pins secured the elegant chignon in place. Her bangs had been curled and sprayed and behind them glittered a real diamond tiara. The gems sparkled, and that light added a glow to her eyes. Or maybe it was
Fatima
’s makeup. Liana had never been one to bother with cosmetics, but the king’s mother knew secrets that made eyes widen and skin seem porcelain perfect.

Liana’s gaze drifted over her reflection, taking in the color staining her cheeks and her mouth, the way her hairstyle made her neck appear long and slender. For the first time in her life she felt truly beautiful. Even if all the finery disappeared at
midnight
, she didn’t care. At least she’d had the experience of looking like a princess.

A knock at her door startled her. She walked slowly toward the entrance, her unfamiliar high heels slowing her down. But instead of finding Bethany or one of the servants waiting in the hall, she saw
Malik
standing there.

He wore a black tuxedo and white shirt. The combination of perfect tailoring and his impressive body nearly took her breath away. He was beautiful enough to star in all her daydreams for several lifetimes. Dark eyes regarded her thoughtfully.

“You look lovely,” he said.

She had to force herself to inhale before she could speak. “Ah, thanks.”

“I heard that you wished to attend the dinner tonight. We honor our neighbors to the east.
Bahania
is a country much like our own—a nation with a monarchy and a desire to maintain a hold on the past while moving toward the future. My grandmother is from that land.”

She nodded.
Fatima
had already told her a little about what to expect at the dinner. “Do you mind if I come along? You didn’t mention it to me, and if I’m intruding….” Her voice trailed off.

Malik’s
expression hardened. “I didn’t tell you because you made it clear you weren’t interested in acting as my wife in any capacity. If that has changed, you are welcome to be at my side.”

He’d answered the question without telling her what he was thinking. But that didn’t surprise her. She’d hardly been open and friendly since finding out about their marriage. Not that he had any right to expect anything different from her. After all, he’d been completely wrong to trick her into marriage. Still, she was realistic enough to know that if she was really going to take the time to get to know the man, she had to stop being mad at him all of the time.

Before she could figure out what to say next,
Malik
thrust a wooden box into her hands. It was about the size of a loaf of bread.

“These are for you,” he said gruffly. “They are yours alone. They did not belong to
Iman
. What was hers was sold. I gave the proceeds to the poor.”

Liana had no idea what he was talking about until she opened the lid of the box and found herself staring at a collection of jewels. Diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds and pearls lay tangled together. The display was so
opulent,
she had a fleeting thought that they couldn’t possibly be real. Yet she knew they were.

“I don’t know what to say,” she murmured in complete truthfulness. What did one say when presented with such a gift?
Malik
reached into the box and drew out a stunning sapphire and diamond necklace that he fastened around her neck. When he was done, she saw the matching earrings and put them on. Then she glanced at her reflection.

“I’m a stranger,” she said, looking at the sophisticated woman staring back at her.

“You are most worthy,”
Malik
informed her.

She met his gaze in the mirror and had the oddest feeling that he meant she was worthy for much more than attending the evening’s dinner. But how could he be sure? He barely knew her. She could be many horrible things he’d yet to discover.

Still, he held out his arm and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. At least she had the next few weeks to find out the answer to that question…and many others. The most important of which was—would she stay?

Liana managed to keep breathing right up until they walked through the open double doors of the ballroom, but when she saw the milling people and heard a loud voice announcing “Crown Prince
Malik
and Princess Liana,” she felt she would pass out from a combination of anticipation and fear. To make matters worse, every person in the room turned to look at them.

For the second time that day reality crashed into her with all the subtlety of a herd of wild Arabian horses. If she stayed married to this man, one day she would be queen.

“I suggest you start breathing,”
Malik
murmured into her ear. “If you smile and nod, they’ll start talking with each other again, but I promise, if you pass out, you’ll be the center of attention all evening.”

She sucked in a breath. “I don’t want that.”

Malik
smiled at her—one of those slow, male smiles that was as sweet, rich and tempting as freshly made Christmas fudge. “Try to relax, Liana. You’re charming and very beautiful. No one but me is going to know how close you are to throwing up from nerves.”

She nearly stumbled on the smooth floor. She didn’t know which shocked her more. That he’d figured out how close she was to losing
control,
or his comment that she was beautiful and charming. Was that how
Malik
saw her?

She didn’t get a chance to mull over his words because she found herself swept into a river of introductions. The royal family formed a reception line with her tucked neatly between
Malik
and his brother Jamal. A uniformed officer introduced the guests to each of them. Liana shook hands with ministers, a visiting European head of state, the King of
Bahania
, all four of his handsome sons, along with his spirited-looking daughter. She was verbally admired, congratulated on her marriage and generally made to feel as if her marriage to
Malik
was nothing out of the ordinary.

Her mind whirled, her mouth hurt from smiling and she found out that her lovely dyed-to-match shoes had not been designed for over an hour of standing. Just when she was sure she wouldn’t survive another moment, everyone was invited to move into the dining room. King
Givon
and the King of
Bahania
escorted
Fatima
into the great hall.
Malik
and Liana went next, walking alongside the Crown Prince of
Bahania
.

If the ballroom had been awash with glittering lights and jewelry, the dining room was a fairyland of opulence. Thick brocade tablecloths fell to the floor. There were candles everywhere, the flickering light reflecting in the crystal and fine china.
Exotic blossoms in different shades of red formed elegant centerpieces.
In the far corner,
a small
orchestra provided background music and several dozen uniformed servers moved silently to assist guests to their seats.

Overhead, thousands of tiny white lights twinkled like stars against a darkly tiled ceiling. As in most rooms of the palace, the floors were marble. Liana found herself led to a table set up on a dais, where she was seated between
Malik
and the King of
Bahania
. They were to dine in full view of all their guests. She swallowed hard.

Malik
leaned close. “What are you thinking?”

“That I really don’t want to spill my water or drop food off my fork in front of all these people.”

He reached under the tablecloth and found her hand. After squeezing her fingers gently, he released her, seemingly oblivious to the fire that flared between them with the light touch. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, once the meal is served, most people are more concerned with their own dinner and the conversation at their table than what is happening up here.”

She shifted so that her lips nearly touched his ear. “Am I supposed to make small talk with a king?”

“You’ve had conversations with my father.”

She wanted to point out that that was different, but she wasn’t sure
Malik
would understand. After all, he’d grown up in this world and it was all he knew.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

His steady gaze spoke of his faith in her abilities. Although she knew that she could very easily mess up, she found herself wanting to prove him right—for his own sake as well as hers. Oddly enough she liked that he believed in her and assumed she would do well.

She glanced around the room and smiled when she caught someone staring. A flash of movement caught her attention and she turned to see a young man speaking with a girl a few years younger. The teenagers stood awkwardly, as if they would run from each other at any moment.

The King of
Bahania
noticed her interest. “My youngest,” he said proudly. “He’s just discovering the charms of the gentler sex.”

“He’s very handsome,” Liana said and realized she wasn’t the only one noticing the innocent flirtation. Several other guests were observing the young prince’s activity with the girl.

How horrible to grow up in such a limelight, she thought, wondering what it must have been like for
Malik
. Had he ever had a moment’s peace or privacy? For the first time she considered that his emotional reserve came from self-protection. How else could he have learned to shield himself while being constantly the center of so much attention?

She remembered her determination to get to know the man who was now her husband so that she could decide her future logically rather than emotionally. Yet her heart went out to the small boy who had been expected to act like a man. Who had hugged him when he was afraid? Who had held him close and whispered that he was special and loved? And if no one had been around to offer that kind of support, did he still carry that emptiness inside
himself
?

She looked at her handsome husband, taking in his confident air and closed expression. He held so much inside. What would happen if he felt safe enough to share his heart? How would he respond? Perhaps she should take the time to find out.

They danced in the light of a thousand candles.
Malik
held his wife in his arms and spun her across the floor, only to gather her close and fight the need to kiss her. He was vaguely aware of the other couples, of the music and the voice of reason in his head reminding him he had a responsibility to dance with other women and make polite conversation with the visiting royalty from
Bahania
. What he wanted instead was to take Liana to bed.

He desired her. Worse, he needed her. He needed to lose himself in her lushness, to allow
himself
to find refuge in her answering passion. Desperation added a sharp edge to his desire, making him long to ignore protocol and duty and simply disappear with her. Instead he held her against him as the song ended and told
himself
that one more dance with her wasn’t so great a sin.

“You’re looking fierce about something,” she said, gazing at him, her eyes bright and her smile welcoming. “Compared to you I’m a pretty horrible dancer, but I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“You’re doing very well.”

“I’m counting frantically in my head,” she confessed. “I guess you took lessons. Probably from the Russian ballet when they were in town.”

“Something
like
that,” he admitted, beginning to move to the soft, romantic music. “When this dance is over, we’ll have to change partners.”

The humor fled her face and her eyes flashed with panic.
“Oh, great.
I’ve never stepped on the toes of a visiting monarch. At least I’ll have something to write home about.”