Maisey Yates
Elyse and Elizabeth, I blame you for this book…
I mean, I thank you for this book. It was as fun
as I thought it would be.
SHE WAS FRAIL. And pale. Her blond hair pulled back into a tight and elegant bun, the long sleeves of her dress and the hem that brushed the floor were likely an attempt at sparing her European skin from the full brunt of the Taharan sun.
It would not do. A few moments out in the environment he’d spent his past decade in and she would perish.
Nothing more than a white lily drying on the sand until she returned back to the dust, sent away on the next dry, hot breeze.
Whatever advisor had imagined she would make a suitable wife for the Sheikh of Tahar was clearly yet another man he needed to have removed from his position.
When it came to his staff, Tarek’s needs were not Malik’s. As was becoming clearer and clearer every day.
A political alliance. That was what this potential marriage had been called. As Tarek knew nothing of politics he’d been more than willing to investigate the possibilities of the union.
But no. Seeing her now... It would not stand.
“Take her away from my sight,” Tarek said.
She looked up, her expression smooth yet shot through with steel. “No.”
He arched a brow. “No?”
“I cannot leave here.”
“Certainly you can. The same way you came in.” It was he who could not leave. He who could not go back and seek the solace of the desert.
He, who had been kept in isolation for most of his life, who now had to find a way to rule a population of millions.
She tilted her chin upward and he could see her regal bearing, the aristocratic lines of her profile. And he realized he had not bothered to hold on to her name.
He was certain he had been told when, two weeks previously, he’d been informed a princess from a European kingdom would be coming to offer herself in marriage. And yet, his brain had sifted through and retained some things, but not others.
Her name was not essential, and therefore it had been dropped.
“You do not understand, my sheikh,” she continued, her voice steady, echoing in the vast throne room.
He rather liked this room. It was very like a cave.
“Do I not?” he asked, still unaccustomed to the title.
“No. I cannot return to Alansund without this union secured. In fact, it would be best