“That is the plan, is it not?” He squeezed her hand. “Now come, let us mingle. And don’t forget to hang on my every word.”
“Except I won’t understand a thing you say,” she grumbled.
He dipped his head toward hers, his breath whispering against her ear. “Then you can gaze at me lovingly instead.” His lips skimmed her cheek and sensation streaked down to her sex. It was shocking and alarming at once. If they weren’t in public, she would...
Emily blinked. No, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do a damn thing.
She forced herself to smile up at him, aware they were the center of attention. “I’ll do my best, Your Highness.”
He stopped his forward motion and gazed down at her, his brows drawing together. “Your Highness? I thought we had an understanding.”
She stood on tiptoe—odd to have to do that in heels, but there it was—and whispered in his ear. “Just reminding myself what’s really happening here. You are the prince. I’m the hoochie mama.”
He shook his head. “And here I thought I understood English. What is this hoochie thing, Emily?”
She could almost laugh at his confusion. Except the words hurt. She didn’t know why she’d said them in the first place, or why it stung so much—no, that wasn’t true. She did know. They made her think of her mother. Of what others had said about her mother when she’d run away with her lover.
Emily gave him a bright smile to hide her discomfort.
His eyes flashed hot. “You are not a hoochie mama. Or a whore, if I understand the meaning correctly.”
She could feel tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. She should not be surprised he’d understood. “It was just a joke, Kadir.”
His expression was fierce. “I won’t allow you to make jokes like that. Not about yourself. Not when it upsets you.”
She hadn’t expected him to be so perceptive. Her impression of Kadir did not include sensitivity—or a desire to protect her. Once more, she had to revise her opinion of him. Her heart throbbed. “It’s nothing. Forget I said it.”
He tipped her chin up with a finger. Beyond him, she could see the people milling about almost impatiently. But Kadir didn’t seem to care as he focused the power of his gaze upon her. He still looked fierce, and her heart swelled with feeling.
“You are my wife. A princess. You are beautiful and valuable. Don’t forget it.”
Emily throat was tight. “I won’t.”
But as Kadir led her into the crowd, his hand tight on hers, all she could think was that this was an act between them. A performance. That was what she couldn’t forget. He did not mean to make her heart pound or her emotions roil with his intensity. He simply did it because that’s what he always did to women. He conquered with words, with looks, with touches.
She could not allow herself to be conquered.
Emily decided to throw herself into her role as Kadir began to speak with different people. She would not fail him. She stayed by his side, smiling at people and chatting to those who spoke to her in English. Some people seemed uncertain what to think of her, but some of the women were openly curious and made no efforts to hide it.
Emily was relieved she was not the only woman in Western clothing or the only one wearing jewels. Some of the Kyrian women dressed in jeweled abayas; some covered their hair, and some did not. They were friendly and polite and she found herself interested in them and they in her. She did not sense that they disapproved of her or despised her. In fact, many of them seemed to enjoy talking with her.