‘Sometimes I think you just love an excuse to beat yourself up and take the worries of the world on your shoulders,’ Molly censored him gently. ‘You didn’t ask for this and you can’t magically solve it. Tahir and his father must sort it out. Will the newspapers write about this?’
‘No. Thankfully our press are restrained. There will be rumours but nobody will see any benefit in embarrassing our closest neighbour or in embarrassing me because Tahir is my brother,’ he completed wryly. ‘He is so irresponsible, so explosive in his defiance of his father—’
‘Stop thinking about it,’ Molly urged.
‘We have to go out this evening. There is a reception at the Quareini Embassy to which we have been invited. Firuz is presiding over it. It will be a gloomy occasion in the mood he will be in. Even before he arrives he is demanding that his son be returned to him.’
‘We’ll manage,’ Molly responded quietly.
His lean brown hands came up to frame her face and tilt up her mouth for the descent of his marauding mouth. The kiss smouldered hotter than fire and she melted down deep inside and shifted closer, leaning into the hard, muscular strength of his big body. He lowered his hands to curve them round her waist until an urgent knock sounded on the door and his head lifted and he loosed a low groan of frustration.
Accustomed to such interruptions, Molly retreated several steps, her cheeks flushed, her mouth swollen from the erotic demand of his. Azrael called out an invitation and Molly headed off to dress for the embassy reception, deciding that if she was finally going to meet Tahir’s father, the difficult Prince Firuz, she would opt to wear something traditional, rather than fashionable.
‘Should I wear the emeralds tonight?’ she asked Azrael when he strode past her, stark naked, to step into the shower she had had completed by telling Butrus to get hold of a plumber who knew how to install a shower, which the castle plumber evidently did not. She savoured her view of her husband’s lithe bronzed beauty. ‘I don’t want to remind your stepfather of your late mother.’
‘She never wore them again after my father’s death,’ he dismissed. ‘Wear them.’
Azrael frowned a little when he saw her garbed in the long embroidered Djalian dress. ‘Why are you wearing that?’
‘Your stepfather isn’t very westernised, is he?’
‘My wife should ignore such prejudices. Wear your own clothes,’ Azrael advised.
A little flushed by the effort of changing again at the very last minute, Molly donned her form-fitting green dress and high heels and Azrael clasped the emerald necklace for her. ‘You look gorgeous,’ he murmured huskily, poised behind her so that she could drink in his reflection in the mirror. ‘I plan to ravish you later but only after you take that devil’s garment off.’
Recalling his struggle with the super-stretchy dress, Molly giggled, feeling wonderfully carefree after the challenging events of the day. But before they could head down the stairs to leave, Azrael was intercepted by Butrus, who announced that the doctor wished to consult him about Tahir’s condition.
Ten minutes later, having been assured that Azrael would join her as soon as he was able, Molly walked alone into the reception being staged in a drab, scantily furnished room. A small, spare man with a tight little mouth, forbidding dark eyes and a greying goatee beard headed straight for her accompanied by the ambassador, who performed an introduction. Even as she explained that Azrael had been delayed, Molly was very tense. The coldness in the Prince’s gaze was no surprise to her because she knew that she had to be the very last woman he would have wanted Azrael to marry. Even worse, she was the young woman whom Tahir, his son, had kidnapped.
‘Your Highness,’ she said smoothly, having been coached well by Zahra.
Polite conversation was exchanged but the strain in the atmosphere was unmistakeable. Molly assumed that everyone present was aware of Tahir’s unsanctioned flight from Quarein and his father’s guardianship as well as his current residence within his brother’s household. The ambassador was hailed by a guest and moved to the other side of the room.
‘You are, I must assume, a very clever woman,’ Prince Firuz remarked stiffly.
Molly’s slim shoulders straightened as she decided to take the comment at face value and not look for double meanings. ‘Why do you think that?’ she parried quietly.
‘First you tempt my son to the edge of madness and then you seduce and marry my stepson,’ the older man murmured in an embittered undertone. ‘But I assure you that you will never be Queen here.’