Hajar's Hidden Legacy Read online

She searched her brain for a name. “Kahlah?”

  The older woman turned and treated Katharine to a slight bow and a warm smile. There was no surprise visible in her lined face, but Katharine imagined she’d been trained to keep her emotions buried all of her life. She knew the feeling.

  “Princess Katharine, it has been too long. Do you have business in Hajar?”

  “I …” Technically speaking, she did, even though she’d already dealt with it, and been met with a resounding no. “Yes, I do.”

  Katharine’s mind started working overtime. Zahir didn’t want her here, that much was clear, but she needed to be here. Because she wasn’t going home having failed her objective. That was an impossibility.

  “I will be staying here at the palace for the duration of my time in Hajar.”

  “This is very welcome news, Princess Katharine. We have not had guests in … It has been a long time.” That statement had brought a flicker of emotion to the older woman’s eyes.

  Katharine was certain there hadn’t been guests since the attack. Everything in the palace was different than her last visit. Darker. Quieter. An echo with every footstep. It felt empty.

  “Well, in that case I am honored to be the first guest in so long.” She felt a slight prickle of guilt. But only a slight one. Zahir was being unreasonable and she needed time to come up with another angle. She just needed some time.

  “Can you send some men out to the main entrance?” Katharine asked. “My driver is still there and my luggage is in the car. If you could have them install me in the same quarters I stayed in last time that would be satisfactory.”

  She put on her best regal princess voice. She was a terrible liar. Always had been. Her eyes gave her away. Fortunately Kahlah didn’t seem to be paying attention to her eyes.

  Kahlah looked unsure, but Katharine knew that the other woman wouldn’t dare question her word, not in front of her. Katharine felt like a first-class heel taking advantage of her as she was, but it was for the greater good.

  Certainly not for my good, which must mean I’m not being selfish at least.

  “Would you like me to direct you to your quarters, Princess?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind. But don’t worry about my luggage. Have my things sent at the convenience of the staff. I don’t wish to throw off anyone’s schedules.”

  She’d brought enough clothing and essentials for an indefinite stay, because one thing she’d known for certain when she left home that morning: she was going to succeed. No matter what it took.

  She was a princess who couldn’t rule. One who had resigned herself to having little value beyond the light charity work she’d thrown herself into over the past couple of years. But this, this was big. This was her chance to change the course of things.

  To be something more than beauty and a royal lineage.

  “But of course, it is no trouble.”

  “I very much appreciate it.” Katharine caught herself twisting the large sapphire ring on her right hand, nerves and guilt making her twitchy. She put her hands resolutely back at her sides. Princesses did not twitch.

  Kahlah extended her arm. “This way, Princess.”

  Katharine walked next to Kahlah, looking everywhere but at the other woman. She busied herself with memorizing her surroundings, the route they were taking.

  There was no matching the palace in the capital city of Kadim for opulence. Every surface made from glimmering marble, trimmed in brushed gold, the floor a glossy mosaic of jasper, jade and obsidian.

  It didn’t glitter in the same way it had five years ago. But it was still a testament of wealth and craftsmanship, the finest the country had to offer, she was certain.

  A good thing. Because if the she was going to tempt the Beast of Hajar’s wrath, she might as well do it while surrounded in luxury.

  “What the hell is going on?” Zahir growled when he walked into the main area of the palace to discover a procession of suitcases being brought in.

  There were trunks as tall as he was, large square cases and small leather bags.

  The porter stopped in his tracks and looked in Zahir’s direction, though not at him. They never did. “We’re bringing in Princess Katharine’s belongings, as directed, Sheikh Zahir.”

  “Directed by who?” he asked, ignoring the strange sort of cold feeling that accompanied a breach of his personal space. A loss of control.

  The man edged away from Zahir, his nerves palpable. “By Princess Katharine.”

  Zahir didn’t let the man finish his sentence before he turned and stormed out of the entry chamber and went toward the women’s quarters. Of course, for all he knew she had gone and installed herself in his room.

  In his bed.

  His body tightened at the thought. A near alien sensation, one that was only half-remembered at this point in time. No, she wouldn’t do that. Not even she was so bold. Or so perverse. As a woman would have to be to pursue a night in his bed.

  He saw one of the maids slipping out of one of the bedchambers, closing the door behind her before she rushed off in the opposite direction, acting as though she hadn’t seen him. She probably had. But even the staff tried to avoid him when possible.

  He approached that door and pushed it open. And there she was, standing in the center of the room, her pale strawberry-gold hair loose around her shoulders now. Her simple blue dress, belted at the waist, was demure enough, and yet, the way it skimmed her lush curves easily set fire to a man’s imagination.

  Especially when that man’s imagination had been left to dry up for so many years.

  “What exactly are you doing here, latifa?” he asked, the word beauty escaping his lips before he had a chance to think better of it. Because, as simple as that, she was beauty. She embodied it. It was a shame that the desert withered beauty, the intensity too much for anything so delicate and soft.

  She turned to look at him, green eyes icy. Perhaps she was not soft. Though she looked as though she would be to the touch. Her skin pale like cream, her curves lush.

  His body stirred. His gut tightened. It had been a long time since a woman had affected his body like this. Since he had been affected in almost any way. Any way beyond the endless loop of torment that seemed to play on repeat inside of him.

  “I’m staying,” she said, her neck craned, her expression haughty.

  “I told you to get out.”

  “Of your office.”

  “Of the country. And you knew what I meant.”

  She folded her arms. “I’m afraid that’s not acceptable.”

  He moved to her and he saw her shrink slightly, her shoulders tucking in just a fraction. She wasn’t immune to him, to his face, the ugliness that ravaged his looks, no matter how confident and unaffected she tried to pretend to be.

  Her scent caught hold of him, light and flowery. Feminine. As he’d been reminded just a moment before, even the maids stayed far away from him. How long had it been since he’d been so close to a woman? It had been before everything, he was certain of that.

  “What isn’t acceptable is you parking your pretty royal ass where it’s not welcome,” he growled, using crude words to intimidate, since his looks alone hadn’t done the job. Most people shrank away when they saw him, fear evident on their faces. Not Katharine.

  She arched one pale eyebrow, her expression placid. “Compliments will not move me, I’m afraid.”

  Any fear and uncertainty she’d shown had been momentary, and now she met him face on, her gaze unflinching, her posture straight. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened, either. His staff avoided looking at him too closely if they could help it. And his people … they didn’t seem interested in having him as a public figurehead. So long as he kept things moving.

  His looks bolstered his reputation, or perhaps it was the other way around. Either way, rumors of their sheikh, scarred, possibly mad, kept the majority of them from wanting him to make public appearances. Those who did, who had attached some sort of idea of
him being beyond mortal, a savior of some sort, they were the fools. And they were too afraid to approach him, too. Either one suited his purposes. It kept people out, and it allowed him to rule from within his palace.

  It was not his people he set out to intimidate, but anyone who might try to attack them again. So far, it had worked.

  But Katharine the Great didn’t seem to care. She was all prickles, ice and confidence. Standing in his home as though it was her domain.

  It was time to make the most of his beastly reputation.

  “You want marriage, Katharine?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “You want to be my woman?” He drew closer to her, reached a hand out and ran his finger along one pale, petal-soft cheek. She was like silk. He wanted to touch more of her. All of her. He squashed the impulse. He had denied, no, he had been absent any of those desires for five years. It wouldn’t hurt him to ignore them a while longer. “You want to warm my bed and have my children?”

  Her face flushed scarlet. “No.”

  “I thought not.”

  “But I don’t need to. Not for my purposes.”

  “You don’t need heirs?”

  She faced him with a hard stare. “Not from you. And if everything goes according to plan I won’t need them at all.”

  He gritted his teeth, trying not to envision what creating heirs with her would entail. As he tried to keep his blood ice, keep the fire at bay. He had to keep hold of his control or … he didn’t want to know what might happen. “Why is that?”

  “Because, if my father dies before Alexander reaches legal age, I need you to be named Regent, not my cousin. I’m a woman, and I can’t do it. I can’t protect my brother. If John ends up on the throne … we’re facing possible civil war, a hostile seizing of the throne. If it comes to war it’s bound to affect your country, at least as far as trade is concerned.”

  “So what exactly are you proposing?”

  “Whatever you want. I need this marriage, for my people. I will be your wife in your bed if you want, or your wife in name only. But the choice is up to you. If you refuse, the blood of my people is on both of our hands.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  BLOOD. Enough of it had already been spilled in the world. Enough of it seemed to stain him. It never seemed to come clean. No more. There could be no more.

  “Explain,” he said.

  She took a breath, her breasts rising and falling with the action. “If my father dies before Alexander comes of age, a Regent must be put over him, ruling in his place until he is able to take the throne. If I am married, the position will go to my husband, if not, it goes to the nearest male relative. It so happens that if my closest male relative even gets the tiniest bit of power, I’m certain he’ll do all he can to keep it. With him in charge at best we’re looking at a total economic collapse, at worst, civil war as he attempts to make his position permanent. I will not stand by and watch that happen. Not while I have the power to change things.”

  Katharine’s words carried fire, a passion that nothing in him could match. She didn’t just care for her people, she took the mantle of leadership wholly and completely on herself. As Malik had done. She would have been well-suited to his brother. As always, thoughts of Malik, of his family, brought a heavy, oppressive weight to his chest. Reminded him that he wasn’t the right man to stand here.

  He wasn’t made for massive parties, drafting laws and keeping the delicate balance between neighboring countries. He was about action. Physical action. A joke now, as even that was limited, not just by his position, but by a body that, even after five years, didn’t feel like it could possibly belong to him. It was like being locked in a prison cell. But there was no key, there wasn’t even a door.

  “Find someone else, Katharine. I’m sure there are all manner of titled men who would fight to the death over the honor. I, however, am not one of them.”

  “That isn’t the point. The agreement is done, everything lined out, from the amount of power you will possess over Austrich to which of our children would inherit what, not that that will be a concern for us.”

  There was a moment, so brief he might have imagined it, that he saw vulnerability in her deep green eyes. And that brief moment nearly hit him. Nearly made him lose his grip on the internal shield he held so tight.

  He tightened his jaw. “Your situation is regrettable … for you.” He turned to go and he heard Katharine’s high heels clicking, quick and sharp, against the hard floor.

  “For both of us,” she said. “If John takes control of my country he’ll change everything. We have a good thing going between our two countries now. We’re a huge buyer of your oil supply and you depend on us to supply produce, meat, wool. I don’t see him keeping up with trade agreements. He’s a blind, selfish fool. He’ll be the downfall of Austrich and he’ll do his best to shake Hajar with his incompetence as well.”

  He stopped and turned, his pulse pounding hard. One thing he had done as a leader was his absolute best to create a secure country for his people. To prevent the possibility of more attacks. Of more death. Katharine painted a bleak picture, one that made flashes of light go off in his mind.

  Explosions and chaos. Confusion. Pain. Darkness.

  He tightened his hand into a fist and squeezed. Hard. Working at bringing the walls back up.

  He didn’t want this to be his problem. He wanted to go on as he had, maintaining the balance, living alone. And yet he wasn’t sure it could be ignored. A hot surge of adrenaline pumped through him, the automatic fighter’s instincts filling him, fueling him. There had been a time when he’d been a warrior, when he’d been on the front lines.

  He could picture what civil war would be like. He’d experienced a taste of that hell.

  “In name only, and then what?” he asked.

  “You can divorce me as soon as Alexander turns twenty-one.”

  “And what of your cousin then?”

  “He’s power mad, but he doesn’t possess the wealth or connections to cause any trouble on his own. However, if he can get into power and start war … incite riots … he can declare a state of emergency and keep himself on the throne. That I can’t have.” She took a step toward him, extended her arm, her fingers hovering just above his forearm. She moved slightly, grazing him with her fingertips. “I will do whatever you ask of me.”

  He was hard as rock in an instant. His body’s reaction nearly made him laugh. If she planned to use seduction to make her case then he would win, no question. She would never be able to bring herself to go through with it. And he would have the chance of watching her recoil in horror when she saw the extent of his injuries.

  More than the injuries, it was the horror she would feel when she caught a glimpse of the man beneath the iron control. Hollowed out. Unfeeling. Left damaged and bleeding, wounds that would never heal into the blessed, hardened scars that had formed on the outside of his body. There was nothing whole left in him. All he had left was the will to go on, to rule his country, to do as his father would have wanted. As his brother would have done. Anything more was too much. Impossible.

  Katharine braced herself. For him to yell. For him to do … something befitting a man with his reputation.

  The idea of a temporary marriage had only just come into her mind, and now, she was desperate for him to take it. Because the idea of staying here, with him, for the rest of her life … she didn’t think she could handle that. The palace felt abandoned, the staff at a minimum and Zahir … his disdain for her presence was palpable.

  He almost made her long for her father’s chilly presence.

  And if she did marry him in name only, at the end, her job would be done. A feasible term instead of the life sentence she’d always imagined. A glimmer of hope she hadn’t realized she’d wanted.

  If she could change things … if she could give Alexander time to grow up then she and Zahir could divorce and everything would be set to move forward smoothly.

  She could do something else. Be someone else.r />
  Her pulse pounded in her temples. She hadn’t really let herself hope for that outcome. That her marriage to Zahir really could be nothing more than paper. A paper easily destroyed later.

  “A legal marriage only,” he said, his voice hard.

  “So much the better,” she said, trying to keep the relief from showing through in her tone. “We can both go our separate ways later. And this way we preserve the peace between our nations.” She started pacing, nervous energy demanding that she find a way to relieve it. “And when we do separate it will be amicable, naturally, so the link between Austrich and Hajar will remain strong.”

  Zahir turned his head slightly and she realized he was tracking her movements that way. She’d forgotten about his sight for a moment. Or at least the issue she’d assumed he had with his sight. She truly didn’t know for sure.

  “It must look real,” he said.

  She inclined her head. “Of course it must, if not like a love match, then like a permanent marriage. To my father, to John, to Alexander. None of them can know.”

  His upper lip curled slightly. “My people cannot know.”

  She realized then that it was a matter of his pride. She felt a slight pang in her chest. This would cost him, this man who lived in the shadows. But she couldn’t even contemplate what the consequences would be if she didn’t pull this off.

  “No one,” she said, her pledge to him.

  “You will remain here.”

  “What?”

  “What did you imagine would happen?”

  “I had thought … my father is ill. I had thought to return home.”

  “Ah, and you do not think anyone will see that as strange? That my new wife has abandoned me?” He reached out and curled his fingers around her arm, just above her elbow, his black eyes burning into hers even as her flesh felt branded by his touch. “No one will know.”

  She explored his face visually for a moment. The ravaged skin, the slashing scar that interrupted the shape of his top lip. He could not be called handsome, not now. But he was compelling, fierce. And for a moment she was almost overcome by the desire to skim her fingers over his ruined cheek, to feel the damage for herself.