Desert Orchid: The Desert Princes: Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: CC MacKenzie
woman. Her biological clock was ticking. She was a conservative believer in tradition, seriously devoted to her people. She enjoyed reading and listening to music. And, he thought bitterly, sounded a right barrel of laughs.
Luckily for him he had Omar in his corner.
One of his bodyguard's many skills was that he kept his ear very close to the ground. Therefore he made sure Khalid was kept up to date with the comings and goings in the palace. It was Omar who'd informed him, with great reluctance, that the gossip in the palace was that his future wife was somewhat less than impressed with the choice of her husband-to-be. Apparently, she thought that Sarif would have been more acceptable to her as a husband.
The blow was brutal to his ego, but Khalid was honest enough with himself to admit that he understood where the woman was coming from.
He was also honest enough to admit that Charisse's rumoured low opinion of him, before she'd even met him, stung.
Which was a pity for the future success of their marriage, because Khalid was prone to dark moods.
Always had been.
He wasn't a man who was good with a lot of time on his hands. As the old saying goes, The Devil finds work for idle hands . And now he found himself brooding all day over a deepening sense of injustice. As time passed, the sting of that injustice burned too brightly in his belly.
Feeling very hard done by, he was sitting behind an antique desk in the dark cave of the library. His tired brain pondering on how much his life had changed in a matter of days.
He’d cleaned up his act. He even shaved every day. Although he’d drawn a line at cutting his hair. Much to Sarif's disgust, Khalid merely tied his hair back at the neck. What more did his brother want from him?
Glowering at the endless piles of papers on his desk, the brisk knock at the door was a welcome distraction.
Omar entered.
"Miss Arabella Faulkner requests a moment of your time, Highness."
Khalid's dark brows rose into his hairline.
Did this mean a sign of life from Charisse?
At last.
"Show her in."
Khalid knew Arabella was the queen’s bodyguard, companion and friend, and that she was British ex-special forces. He’d expected a woman built like a tank. So the tall, slim woman who entered caught him by surprise.
She bowed her head as Omar closed the door behind her.
Dressed in black military cargo pants, soft boots, black short sleeved T-shirt with a web belt and automatic pistol harness, she was an impressive sight. He gauged she was five foot nine, about one hundred and twenty pounds.
Expression carefully neutral, the bodyguard stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind her back.
Tough, was Khalid's first thought.
Closely followed by committed, professional, and not impressed.
Not that she showed it.
Most men might not have picked up on her attitude but Khalid was an expert on women, their body language, and he could almost taste her disdain.
Annoyance now joined the injustice burning in his belly.
He narrowed his eyes.
"What can I do for you, Ms. Faulkner?"
Dark brown eyes stayed level on his.
"Her Royal Highness would like to invite you to join her for afternoon tea."
So, the waiting was over.
Khalid couldn't say he was looking forward to meeting his future ball and chain. But he had a duty to his family and he'd promised his father faithfully that he wouldn't let him down.
Again.
The sense of relief that the wait was over lifted his spirits, not that he showed it to the woman watching him as if he was a smear on a Petri dish.
Khalid stood.
"I would be delighted. Please, lead the way."
Omar’s eyes never left Arabella as he opened the door. His bodyguard was hot on their heels. His towering presence followed them as they entered the reception hall and the main staircase and began to climb to the next level.
Arabella stopped on the wide first floor landing.
"We’ll use the elevator. It’s six floors to Her Highness's apartments. We’ll exit on the
Luckily for him he had Omar in his corner.
One of his bodyguard's many skills was that he kept his ear very close to the ground. Therefore he made sure Khalid was kept up to date with the comings and goings in the palace. It was Omar who'd informed him, with great reluctance, that the gossip in the palace was that his future wife was somewhat less than impressed with the choice of her husband-to-be. Apparently, she thought that Sarif would have been more acceptable to her as a husband.
The blow was brutal to his ego, but Khalid was honest enough with himself to admit that he understood where the woman was coming from.
He was also honest enough to admit that Charisse's rumoured low opinion of him, before she'd even met him, stung.
Which was a pity for the future success of their marriage, because Khalid was prone to dark moods.
Always had been.
He wasn't a man who was good with a lot of time on his hands. As the old saying goes, The Devil finds work for idle hands . And now he found himself brooding all day over a deepening sense of injustice. As time passed, the sting of that injustice burned too brightly in his belly.
Feeling very hard done by, he was sitting behind an antique desk in the dark cave of the library. His tired brain pondering on how much his life had changed in a matter of days.
He’d cleaned up his act. He even shaved every day. Although he’d drawn a line at cutting his hair. Much to Sarif's disgust, Khalid merely tied his hair back at the neck. What more did his brother want from him?
Glowering at the endless piles of papers on his desk, the brisk knock at the door was a welcome distraction.
Omar entered.
"Miss Arabella Faulkner requests a moment of your time, Highness."
Khalid's dark brows rose into his hairline.
Did this mean a sign of life from Charisse?
At last.
"Show her in."
Khalid knew Arabella was the queen’s bodyguard, companion and friend, and that she was British ex-special forces. He’d expected a woman built like a tank. So the tall, slim woman who entered caught him by surprise.
She bowed her head as Omar closed the door behind her.
Dressed in black military cargo pants, soft boots, black short sleeved T-shirt with a web belt and automatic pistol harness, she was an impressive sight. He gauged she was five foot nine, about one hundred and twenty pounds.
Expression carefully neutral, the bodyguard stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind her back.
Tough, was Khalid's first thought.
Closely followed by committed, professional, and not impressed.
Not that she showed it.
Most men might not have picked up on her attitude but Khalid was an expert on women, their body language, and he could almost taste her disdain.
Annoyance now joined the injustice burning in his belly.
He narrowed his eyes.
"What can I do for you, Ms. Faulkner?"
Dark brown eyes stayed level on his.
"Her Royal Highness would like to invite you to join her for afternoon tea."
So, the waiting was over.
Khalid couldn't say he was looking forward to meeting his future ball and chain. But he had a duty to his family and he'd promised his father faithfully that he wouldn't let him down.
Again.
The sense of relief that the wait was over lifted his spirits, not that he showed it to the woman watching him as if he was a smear on a Petri dish.
Khalid stood.
"I would be delighted. Please, lead the way."
Omar’s eyes never left Arabella as he opened the door. His bodyguard was hot on their heels. His towering presence followed them as they entered the reception hall and the main staircase and began to climb to the next level.
Arabella stopped on the wide first floor landing.
"We’ll use the elevator. It’s six floors to Her Highness's apartments. We’ll exit on the