Free Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride by Marguerite Kaye Page A

between her own. He went quite still, allowing her to hold him for a few moments, before freeing himself. ‘Terrible for the people of Murimon. Butrus was a very popular prince. His betrothal was very favourably received by the people.’
    Constance frowned. ‘How long was your brother Prince of Murimon?’
    â€˜Seven years, why do you ask?’
    â€˜You say he was popular, and you say that your people expect a prince to be married, yet your brother waited seven years to take a bride.’
    Kadar seemed to—to freeze, there was no other word for it. What on earth had she said? When he spoke, his tone was icy enough to make Constance shiver. ‘Butrus was married on the day of his coronation. The Princess Tahira would have been his second wife.’
    â€˜Second!’ Was that it, was he affronted because she had mentioned the forbidden subject of polygamy?
    â€˜My brother was a widower,’ Kadar said, obviously still capable of reading her thoughts despite his frozen state. ‘His first wife died just over a year ago.’
    Mortified, Constance dug her toes deeper into the sand. ‘I’m so sorry. How dreadful. Was she very young? Were there no children?’
    â€˜She was three years younger than me. No, there were no children.’
    What was she missing? Constance wondered, for Kadar had curled his fists into the sand. Her brow cleared. It was obvious! ‘If there had been a child, you would not now be Prince,’ she said gently.
    His eyes were bleak. ‘She died trying to give him an heir. Who knows what difference it would have made if she had? But it was not to be.’
    Poor woman, Constance thought, her heart touched by this tragedy. And poor Kadar, the only one in this sad little story left alive, to bear the consequences. ‘Your brother left no heir, but he did bequeath you a bride. Is that why you feel obliged to honour the betrothal?’
    He did not answer for a long moment, but she was becoming more accustomed to his silences. ‘It has been made very clear to me that it is what the kingdom needs and wants, but I am taking a bride because I consider it the right thing to do for Murimon, not to court popularity by giving the people the spectacle of a royal wedding. I will not be the kind of ruler my brother was.’
    Had he answered her question? She couldn’t help but feel there was more to this story than Kadar had admitted, but it was a very sad story, and she was happy to move on from it. ‘What kind of ruler was he?’ Constance asked.
    She was pleased to see Kadar’s expression lightening a little. ‘Butrus was like your Prince Regent before he ate too much and spent too much,’ he replied with a trace of a smile. ‘You know, the epitome of what people expected of their Prince, charming and hospitable, ebullient, gregarious, and always more than happy to put on a display of pomp and ceremony.’
    â€˜And the other side of that coin?’
    Kadar’s smile broadened. ‘You’re quite right. He was thoughtless, quite selfish. It came of growing up knowing that the crown would be his. He had an air about him, of...’
    â€˜Entitlement! My father is just such a one, though he had but two subjects to command.’ Kadar raised his brows, but Constance shook her head impatiently. ‘We were talking of your brother.’
    â€˜I need not say any more. It sounds as if you have his measure perfectly.’
    â€˜Well, I hope you’ll make a very different prince.’
    Kadar laughed. ‘Then that makes two of us.’
    â€˜Only two?’
    His laughter died. Constance was treated to his Sphynx look. ‘People do not know me as they did Butrus, and my father before him.’
    â€˜But you said you had only been abroad for seven years, and you are—thirty?’
    â€˜I am twenty-nine. My inclinations have always been scholarly. Butrus and my father thought I preferred books to