THE UNSUITABLE BRIDE

CHAPTER ONE

"If we're going to be stuck sitting beside one another, we might as well have some pleasantries, don't you think?"

For the sake of the fragile peace accord after centuries of war, Sheika Lisa Katabi turned to the beautiful young woman with what Lisa hoped would pass for a polite smile. "What would you like to talk about?"

When she sighed, Roseanne El Silandar's pale blonde hair caught in the breeze of her exhalation, lifting from her face and trapping the early afternoon sunlight, making it shine like gold. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

Lisa raised a thick dark brow, her angular face a blank mask as Lisa waited for Roseanne to continue.

"Oh, it's okay, I'm used to that reaction, being the 'illegitimate princess' and all," Roseanne said with a small laugh, only the shaking of her fingers as she reached for her water glass revealing that Roseanne might not find the nickname as harmless as she was implying. "I don't know why I thought anyone here would be any different."

"Different to?"

Roseanne angled large brown eyes to Lisa's face, an assessing glint in their depths. "Everyone." Another sigh, this one shifting the soft turquoise fabric of the elaborate gown Roseanne wore – delicate silk embroidered with gold at the collar and on the cuffs of the sleeves. "The palace, the people..."

"Your brother?" Lisa prompted, scanning Roseanne's face with interest.

Roseanne's expression softened, her lips curling into a gentle smile. "I know you and he hate one another, but no, not Jackson. My brother is, perhaps, the one person on earth who doesn't see me as an inconvenience."

Lisa thought of the stories of the 'illegitimate princess', her mind running over the scant details she had. The fact Roseanne'd been raised by her Irish mother in London, an extremely generous lifestyle provided for her but no true legal acknowledgement as the daughter of the Sheikh of Mosar, and during her late teens, a penchant for parties and a wild lifestyle that had seen her – and by extension the royal family of Mosar – dragged through the mud in a way she, Lisa, would never personally tolerate from her own sister. Fortunately, Minnie had never shown any tendency to that kind of shameless attention-seeking.

And yet Sheikh Jackson had turned a blind eye to that and brought Roseanne to Salim once her mother had died. He'd insisted on the royal order of succession being altered to include Roseanne, her legitimacy formalised by royal decree, and yet even then, a royal decree couldn't alter the fact that everything about Roseanne set her apart, establishing her firmly as an outsider from this way of life.

"It doesn't matter, anyway. I'm used to not being liked." Roseanne turned away from Lisa, her neck swan-like as Roseanne sipped her water.

Lisa frowned, wondering at the spark of disapproval she felt. For Roseanne? Or at Roseanne's statement?

"I don't dislike you. I don't know you."

Roseanne turned to face Lisa once more, her features breathtaking in their beauty. Lisa could see why the British tabloids had delighted in splashing Roseanne's picture over their pages. Wide-set eyes, a petite nose with a little ski jump at its end, and pink cupid's bow lips, freckles here and there, high-set cheekbones and skin that was – in contrast to the other delegates in attendance – an almost translucent cream.

"I'll bet you know enough," Roseanne murmured with a quiet sense of pride, her eyes daring Lisa to dispute it.

Contrary to that expectation, Lisa dipped her head in silent agreement. "Your life is hardly a closed book. In fact, I doubt someone could be in the tabloids more frequently even if they made it the sole purpose to their existence."