Claiming His Replacement Queen. Amanda Cinelli

      Understanding dawned in the depths of her blue eyes. ‘You are concerned that I will act as my sister did.’

      ‘I am protecting my own interests, yes.’

      She nodded, biting her lower lip. ‘I don’t think that my sister intended to behave as she did. The Olivia that I know was always true to her word.’ She shook her head once, a frown marring her brow. ‘I understand that you have a vision for your future wife. That Olivia fitted a certain mould. I must warn you that I have not been a part of public life for many years—’

      ‘My team are aware of this and are prepared to help you in your new role.’ He watched as she moved back to sit delicately on the sofa once more. It seemed as if she were unable to be still. ‘You seem quite eager to perform your royal duties; it surprises me in someone who has not set foot in their kingdom for such a long time.’

      Her shoulders stiffened slightly at his words. ‘Of course I have personal reasons for agreeing to this marriage, Your Highness. They are my own, not ones forced upon me or held over me. All I can do is assure you wholeheartedly that I’m here because I choose to be.’

      ‘That’s more than enough for me,’ he said smoothly as he stood and took the few steps to close the space between them so that he stood over her. She inhaled sharply, freezing as he reached into the pocket of the coat he had draped across her shoulders earlier. He withdrew a small black box and sat on the seat alongside her.

      ‘I understand that this is the tradition in Monteverre?’ He opened the ring box, revealing a delicate vintage ruby ring set in the finest gold.

      ‘Oh...’ Her eyes widened. ‘There is really no need for...’

      He took her hand, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say as he slipped the ring onto the correct finger and surveyed his handiwork. ‘A perfect fit.’

      She cleared her throat, frowning slightly as she blinked down at the sparkling gem nestled against her pale skin. ‘Thank you.’

      Khal was suddenly very aware of the intimacy of their position. He stood, clasping both hands together. ‘We will stop first in Monteverre for a brief press conference, followed by an engagement party. The wedding will take place as quickly as possible, but likely will be in a few months’ time to allow for planning and invitations.’

      Cressida frowned. ‘Oh... I hadn’t realised the wedding would be a big event.’

      ‘There is usually some fanfare when a King takes a woman to be his Queen.’ Khal fought the urge to laugh.

      ‘I was under the impression from your secretary that we would be married quickly, that’s all. That time was important to you.’

      ‘You have an objection to the timing of the marriage?’

      ‘No, not at all. The sooner the better, really.’ She shrugged. ‘I just thought there would be some kind of spin put on it. A secret elopement or something.’

      ‘You do not want a big public wedding?’

      ‘Well, it’s just... No offence, but you are hardly the most public of figures and I clearly have not lived in the spotlight. It might seem odd if we suddenly announce a big wedding. I don’t even know who I would invite, other than my family.’

      Khal frowned, considering the logic in her words. The plan had originally been formed to account for his first bride—it was true that Princess Olivia was much more of a public figure in the media than her reclusive sister. Once again, it seemed his plans were being thrown to the winds. But perhaps, this time, a change in direction might benefit him and help him to make up for lost time.

      * * *

      Cressida noticed that the Sheikh seemed suddenly distracted as he called for one of his assistants to show her to her room. She barely had a moment to bid him goodnight before she was swept away and shown into a luxurious bedroom. A fresh silky towelling robe and slippers lay draped on the bed and she wasted no time in stripping out of her tight dress and heels before flopping onto the giant bed in the most un-princess-like manner possible.

      The events of the night seemed surreal in her exhausted state. Almost as if she was living in some alternate reality of her own life. She raised her hand into the air above her head, staring at the ruby glinting on her finger. He had slid the ring on her finger with such businesslike finality, and yet the touch of his skin on hers had set her pulse racing.

      She closed her eyes against the onslaught of memories from the hours before. The feel of his hands on her waist as they’d moved to the music, that first electric touch of his lips against hers. She would never let him know that he had been her first kiss; that would make it matter somehow.

      Which it didn’t. It had just been a kiss. She closed her eyes, repeating the words silently to herself and letting the tiredness take over.

      * * *

      She was awoken before dawn and told that they would be travelling to the airfield immediately. The sky was still jet-black and the air frosty as she ascended the steps to a luxury jet bearing the Royal insignia of Zayyar. The Sheikh was already on board and conversing with a team of men and women in traditional Zayyari attire. He had changed into white robes and the elaborate headdress she had seen in pictures.

      She was thankful that he’d had the foresight to have a small case of her belongings collected and delivered to her room during the night so that she didn’t have to wear the red dress again. She had not expected him to think of her comforts. Or, more realistically, it was his assistant who had thought of her. She took a seat near the front of the plane, swiping through the news on her phone as she waited for the meeting to end.

      ‘Cressida,’ a familiar deep voice called to her from within the cocoon of staff.

      She stood, making her way down the wide aisle to the long conference table in the middle of the aircraft. The men and women of his staff bowed their heads, moving away and revealing their King, seated at the top of the table surrounded by official documents and paraphernalia.

      ‘I had not realised you planned to fly to Monteverre at first light,’ she said breathlessly, fidgeting with the hem of her simple white blouse. She felt ridiculously underdressed in her blue jeans and worn sneakers. Her more expensive royal attire was sadly out of date, considering she had not attended anything as Princess Cressida in years.

      ‘Change of plan.’ He looked up for the first time, pausing to sweep his gaze over her briefly. ‘We fly directly to Zayyar.’

      ‘You are not taking me home first?’

      ‘I thought it best to take you home after we are married. Which will now be in two days’ time.’