Izzy nodded agreement and made herself munch through a piece of toast very slowly because she was feeling a little queasy and hoping that something a little more solid than fruit would settle it. Unhappily, the ruse didn’t work and a few minutes later, she found herself plunging out of her seat like a madwoman and racing up the stairs and back to the bedroom again to find the bathroom.
She was genuinely horrified to glance up when she had finished being sick and discover Rafiq in the doorway. ‘This is par for the course,’ she pointed out defensively as she rinsed her mouth at the sink and reached for her toothbrush.
‘The doctor will still visit. The palace has its own medical clinic. Now,’ Rafiq breathed, suddenly at her elbow and bending down to scoop her up like a doll. ‘You should rest until you feel a little better.’
He lowered her back down on the bed.
‘But we will have to get some food into you that stays down,’ he remarked worriedly. ‘I will consult the doctor.’
And with that, Rafiq was gone, leaving her to dizzily study the space where he had been.
CHAPTER SIX
THEY WERE GOING to marry and, by the sound of it, quickly, Izzy reflected in a daze.
It wouldn’t be a real marriage, of course, but it would enable her to build a proper foundation for her babies’ futures and she wouldn’t be fit to be a mother if she wasn’t willing to make some sort of a sacrifice, would she? After all, her own mother had given up a life of comfort and ease to live on a shoestring for the sake of the twins she’d carried and to be with the man she loved.
Rafiq was clever too because he had stripped the facts down to the basics and left her without a leg to stand on with regards to the suggestion that they marry. She rolled her eyes at recognising how he had won the concession he wanted from her.
When the maid knocked and entered with another, explaining that they had brought an outfit for her to wear to meet the Regent, she was even more impressed by Rafiq’s shrewd cover-up. Staging a secret wedding in a place stuffed with gossiping staff would have to be done with care but there could be no better excuse for her to get all dolled up than for the important occasion of meeting her husband’s uncle, the Regent and current ruler of Zenara.
Evidently, there was a need for them to marry at speed before anyone could suspect that they were actually not married. She could only assume that any kind of scandal was viewed as a major catastrophe in the Zenarian royal family and suppressed a sigh. Her mother would have understood that viewpoint better than Izzy would have, considering that becoming an unwed mother-to-be had led to her mother being thrown out of her family. That same attitude, however, struck Izzy, the child of a different generation, as prehistoric.
Even so, if that was the way it had to be in Zenara she would play along for her babies’ benefit, and in the bathroom she put on the long blue richly embroidered dress she had been brought. It was pretty but it looked like one of those national dress outfits people wore to dance in at country festivals and she smiled, returning to the bedroom to be draped in jewellery and have her hair fussed over. In the end she did her hair herself because her corkscrew curls had a mind of their own and putting them up in a more formal style took a familiar pair of hands. The jewels in the box opened for her perusal were utterly spectacular, she reflected, smoothing a reverential finger over the diamond and sapphire necklace at her collarbone, which was accompanied by matching earrings.
Rafiq strode into the bedroom and she froze because for the first time she was seeing him out of Western dress. He wore a long white tunic and cloak and a red-checked turban, the ends of which draped over his shoulder like a scarf. It was a mode of apparel that made him look very different, very…very fantasy sexy, she decided abstractedly, studying the clean sculpted lines of his devastatingly handsome features in awe. She stood up, her knees suddenly weak.
‘You look amazing,’ he told her.
Her eyes danced with amusement at his reaction to what felt like fancy dress to her but presumably seemed much more ordinary to him.
‘Why are you laughing?’ Rafiq demanded in bewilderment.
‘Back home, only a micro miniskirt and a very revealing top would get me that reaction from a man,’ she whispered.
Rafiq frowned. ‘Do you dress like that when you go out?’
‘No, never been a fan of putting it all out there,’ she told him as he grasped her hand in his and led her down the corridor. The first thing she noticed was all the guards lining that corridor and then they were walking into a big sunlit room and a little portly man with a huge smile was coming towards her with an extended hand of welcome. The door closed behind them. Rafiq translated his uncle’s warm greetings because the older man didn’t speak much English, but it didn’t matter because his smile and his twinkling dark eyes were wonderfully friendly and relaxed. Prince Jalil did not stand on ceremony.
A robed elderly man approached them and he spoke words to them both before directing them over to a table where Izzy and Rafiq were instructed to sign the marriage contract. Indeed, the wedding ceremony happened so fast and was completed so quickly that she almost asked Rafiq if that was really all there was to it. Happily, however, she was on her very best behaviour in such exalted company and engaged instead in replying to
