Bound to the Warrior King
The warrior she tamed…Wild and untamed, Tarek al-Khalij was never meant to rule Tahar. More familiar with a sword than a crown, this lethal warrior must now heal the suffering his brother's rule inflicted. To do it, he needs his most precious–and dangerous–weapon yet…a royal bride!The widow he conqueredElegant and poised, Queen Olivia will educate Tarek in the civilized art of political warfare. But in exchange, Tarek unleashes an unrestrained, primal passion she could never have guessed at possessing. Soon Olivia realizes that she has become inescapably bound…to the warrior king!
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“Any woman can share her body with you,” Olivia said, her tone dismissive. “Very few have the benefit of royal training.”
Tarek’s expression barely changed. Just a flicker in his eyes that was nearly imperceptible. “You think I might find value in that?”
“Unless you want the country you’ve spent so much of your life protecting to burn, I think you will. There is an entirely different manner of strength that is coveted in politics.”
“I don’t have to marry you to receive the benefit of your training.”
“It’s true. You don’t. And perhaps that’s a good place for us to start.”
“I can promise you a marriage between the two of us would be nothing like the one you shared with your first husband.”
She didn’t doubt it.
“Give me one month. I will help you with the finer points, and we can engage in a kind of courtship. A bit of something for the media, something for your people. If it doesn’t work out there is no harm. But if it does…”
He stood abruptly, his movements fluid. It reminded her of the strike of a viper. So still in the moment just before the fatal hit was administered. Over before you ever knew it had occurred.
“Dowager Queen Olivia of Alansund, we have an accord. You have thirty days to convince me that you are indispensable. If you are successful, I will make you my wife.”
MAISEY YATES is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than thirty romance novels. She has a coffee habit she has no interest in kicking, and a slight Pinterest addiction. She lives with her husband and children in the Pacific Northwest. When Maisey isn’t writing she can be found singing in the grocery store, shopping for shoes online, and probably not doing dishes. Check out her website: maiseyyates.com.
Elyse and Elizabeth, I blame you for this book…
I mean, I thank you for this book. It was as fun as I thought it would be.
Contents
SHE WAS FRAIL. And pale. Her blond hair pulled back into a tight and elegant bun, the long sleeves of her dress and the hem that brushed the floor were likely an attempt at sparing her European skin from the full brunt of the Taharan sun.
It would not do. A few moments out in the environment he’d spent his past decade in and she would perish.
Nothing more than a white lily drying on the sand until she returned back to the dust, sent away on the next dry, hot breeze.
Whatever advisor had imagined she would make a suitable wife for the Sheikh of Tahar was clearly yet another man he needed to have removed from his position.
When it came to his staff, Tarek’s needs were not Malik’s. As was becoming clearer and clearer every day.
A political alliance. That was what this potential marriage had been called. As Tarek knew nothing of politics he’d been more than willing to investigate the possibilities of the union.
But no. Seeing her now... It would not stand.
“Take her away from my sight,” Tarek said.
She looked up, her expression smooth yet shot through with steel. “No.”
He arched a brow. “No?”
“I cannot leave here.”
“Certainly you can. The same way you came in.” It was he who could not leave. He who could not go back and seek the solace of the desert.
He, who had been kept in isolation for most of his life, who now had to find a way to rule a population of millions.
She tilted her chin upward and he could see her regal bearing, the aristocratic lines of her profile. And he realized he had not bothered to hold on to her name.
He was certain he had been told when, two weeks previously, he’d been informed a princess from a European kingdom would be coming to offer herself in marriage. And yet, his brain had sifted through and retained some things, but not others.
Her name was not essential, and therefore it had been dropped.
“You do not understand, my sheikh,” she continued, her voice steady, echoing in the vast throne room.
He rather liked this room. It was very like a cave.
“Do I not?” he asked, still unaccustomed to the title.
“No. I cannot return to Alansund without this union secured. In fact, it would be best if I did not return at all.”
“And why is that?”
“There is no place for me. I am not born of royalty. I am not even native to the country.”
“Are you not?”
“I’m American,” she said. “I met my husband...my late husband, the king, when he was at school. Now he is dead. His brother is in his place, and is set on taking a wife. One who isn’t me, thank God. But he has determined my value is in a dynastic marriage abroad. And so...here I am.”
“Your name,” he said, because he was tired of not knowing it.
She blinked. “You do not know my name?”
“I have no time for trivialities, and as I am not keeping you, your name did not seem important. However, now I will have it.”
She tilted her chin upward, her expression haughty. “Forgive me, your highness, but my name is not considered a triviality in most settings. I’m Dowager Queen Olivia of Alansund. And I had thought we were going to discuss the merits of marriage.”
