The Royal Collection. Rebecca Winters

should have been a recipe for continuing on in the manner she had become accustomed to. Surely he was the last person on earth who should have ever been able to reach her.

      She was wretched indeed. And irritated that she was having these realizations while sitting next to him in a car. It wasn’t as if she could jump out of the moving vehicle to escape him.

      On second thought, at the moment it sounded preferable to continuing to be enclosed in this tiny space with him.

      Alas, she wasn’t going to take a chance on a tuck and roll at this moment.

      Which meant she simply had to endure.

      The limousine wound down a narrow street that widened into a highway, leading them from the outskirts of the city down into its heart. It was much more urban than Alansund, and while she had known that, seeing it was an entirely different matter. Living with Tarek as she did, in a palace that was a relic from another time, it was easy to forget that the country itself was a major world power. A capital of finance and technology.

      They moved down deeper into the central business district, the buildings rising around them like sharp, slate-gray waves, threatening to close in on them. She had been raised in New York, upstate, but also partly in Manhattan. She was accustomed to cities. And yet, right now this felt a more foreign landscape than the barren desert that provided her view out her bedchamber at the palace.

      It was strange how quickly that place had become her home. Her world.

      Strange how quickly Tarek had managed to weave himself around her existence.

      The entire car ride was silent. Filled with tension, her head filling with things she would never speak. Finally, they arrived at the memorial statue of a man riding a horse, symbolizing the nation’s strength. This was where his speech would be held. Already a crowd had assembled, and security detail was on hand.

      The bodyguards approached the car, opening the doors for them and flanking them both as they made their way to the podium that was prepared for Tarek’s speech. She removed her sunglasses as they walked to the front, taking her position at his right shoulder, a pace behind him. She knew this pose. The pose of any royal spouse or politician’s wife. She had assumed it many times for Marcus.

      But it had felt different.

      Because now, watching Tarek speak, words she didn’t readily understand due to her poor command of the language, she felt a burst of pride unlike anything she ever experienced before. This wasn’t easy for him. This was not his forte. He was a man who had barely spoken to people for the past fifteen years, much less spoken in front of a crowd of them. And yet he was doing it. Because he loved this country, because he cared for it.

      He was changing everything about his life, everything about himself, to become the leader that Tahar needed.

      Life was always a challenge, even when you were doing all that you had been created for. All that you had been made for.

      But how much more challenging must it be to perform tasks you had never imagined being asked to do?

      She watched his every dynamic action until he was finished, until thunderous applause filled the air around them. And then, only then, did she look at the faces of those in the crowd. And she saw their hope. Saw their admiration.

      Her heart fluttered against its cage.

      After that, she was caught up again in the rush of security detail, ushering them back to the limousine. When they were safely inside, Tarek let out a breath she imagined he had been holding for the past twenty minutes.

      “You did well,” she said, forgetting her annoyance for a moment.

      “Now we must go to a hotel a few blocks downtown. It has something to do with tradition. Some sort of honor for the owner. It is the oldest hotel of its kind in the city. Of course, it has been greatly modernized, I have been assured. Not that I much mind if something isn’t modern. I’m used to caves after all.”

      “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.” She looked down. “Did you secure us separate rooms? Or did you give consideration to the gossip that might stir up?” she asked, breaking their momentary truce.

      “We have been given the penthouse suite. I imagine that will give us adequate space.”

      “I don’t know. I hear you’re very resourceful. Or did you pack your sword?”

      “Do not test me, Olivia. I am aware that I have given you the impression that I’m some sort of house cat. Because you have caught me attempting to become domesticated. But I assure you, I am more tiger than tabby. Do not make me demonstrate it.”

      “You show rather more restraint than a tiger. You allowed me to spend two days ignoring you, and you never once challenged me.”

      She suddenly found herself pressed against the door, Tarek’s hands on either side of her, his body against hers. “Do not think you can manipulate me. You have seen me at a disadvantage, acclimating to a position that I was not created for. But I am not to be toyed with. I am not to be teased. I am not your aristocratic husband. Never forget you cannot play the same games with me.”

      “No worries. I am in no danger of forgetting that you aren’t Marcus.” She would let him believe whatever he wanted to about that statement.

      “See that you don’t,” he bit out.

      The limousine pulled up to the front of the grand stone building. It reminded her more of places she had seen in Europe than she had expected it to.

      “A holdover from our brush with colonialism, I believe,” he said.

      “I wondered,” she said, because she had. And architecture was a welcome subject change. Really, anything was a welcome subject change at this point. Her irritation with him was betraying too much, not only to him, but to herself. She didn’t want to analyze her feelings as deeply as her anger was commanding.

      Tarek didn’t wait for their driver. He opened the door to the vehicle, rounding the back of it and holding hers open, as well. She exited, and he looped his arm around hers, taking hold of her and leading her into the building.

      There was little evidence of modernization in the lobby. Golden revolving doors led into a grand marble showcase. Crystal chandeliers hung from the domed ceiling, curved staircases flanking either side of the room.

      Every member of staff in the room stood at attention, but none approached. It was the owner who made his way through the center of the room, approaching them with a wide smile on his face and his hand outstretched. Tarek shook it, and Olivia did the same.

      “Welcome, Sheikh Tarek. Sheikha.” He swept his hand wide, indicating their surroundings. “We are most pleased you have joined us. As you may know, this hotel has housed every member of the royal family since it was built. We have readied our finest room. This is doubly special, as we are not only celebrating a new leader, but a new marriage.”

      “Thank you,” Olivia said, certain she didn’t sound very convincing at all.

      “The suite is on the top floor,” the man continued, handing Tarek a key card. “Would you like us to show you there, or will you make your own way?”

      “I think we can make our own way,” Tarek said. She wondered if playing at civility was starting to chafe.

      She knew it was for her. She couldn’t stand there smiling at him as though their interaction in the car hadn’t happened. As though the past few days hadn’t happened.

      “We will have your luggage sent up directly, after you’ve had a moment to settle in.”

      “Appreciated,” Tarek said.

      He sounded less than appreciative. But at least he had tried. She was just standing beside him, silent, still. She may as well have been a pillar of salt. But she was a pillar of salt who could walk. She followed Tarek to the elevator bank and stepped into the lift with him, her breath freezing in her chest as the doors slid closed behind them. Here she was again, back in