On the one hand, she’d meant what she’d said about Cleo’s beauty keeping people distracted so they wouldn’t notice anything else. On the other hand, she felt like the country mouse come to town.
Cleo’s cobalt-blue dress clung to every luscious curve, no padding required. The shimmering fabric caught the light, reflecting and dazzling as Cleo’s breasts strained to the point of threatening to spill out. It wasn’t enough of a display to be in bad taste, but it was enough that men were going to be catching their breath in private expectation.
Eric had styled Cleo’s short hair into soft curls that framed her round face. Sapphire and diamond earrings decorated her ear lobes, while a matching bracelet glittered around her wrist.
Zara waited uncomfortably for Rafe to fall under her sister’s spell, but after a brief word of greeting, he turned away from Cleo and motioned for the door.
“If you ladies are ready?”
Could he really not be attracted to Cleo? Zara remembered his arousal and felt a thrill of excitement. Had she finally found a man who was interested in her for her? Then she reminded herself that Rafe wasn’t interested in her at all. He’d made it completely clear that he didn’t do relationships.
He held out an arm to each of them. Cleo instantly snuggled close, while Zara felt slightly awkward as he escorted them down the hall.
Her sister laughed. “Rafe, you’re armed.”
“I’m cautious.”
Cleo looked around him. “Zara, the man takes his job seriously. You might want to remind your watch-dog here that you wouldn’t object to a man asking you to dance. Or is that a security breach?”
“Zara is free to do as she wishes,” Rafe said calmly.
“Oh, I see. As long as she can do it with you watching.” Cleo raised her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t have taken you for that kind of guy. Somehow you strike me as someone who wants to be in the middle of the action, not standing on the sidelines observing.”
Zara knew that Cleo didn’t mean anything by her conversation. She didn’t know about the kiss so she couldn’t see how embarrassing her comments were. Still Zara wished there was some way to change the subject. But before she could try anything, they turned a corner and entered the anteroom.
Over a dozen people stood in small groups, chatting with the ease of those who know each other well. The moment the three of them entered the arched doorway, the room went completely silent. Zara found herself the uncomfortable center of attention.
She glanced around, taking in several tall, dark and handsome men who most probably were the princes and her half brothers. Sabrina was there, standing next to another tall, good-looking man. Her husband? There were official looking types wearing tuxedos and medals or ribbons, along with elegantly clad women. In the center stood Hassan.
The king smiled broadly when he saw her. After handing his drink to one of his sons, he walked over, both hands extended.
“Zara. You are perfectly lovely this evening. I see you allowed me the pleasure of seeing you in a tiara. It was made for my great-grandmother’s twenty-fifth birthday and has always been a favorite of mine.”
Still holding her hands, he leaned close and kissed her on her cheek. Then he turned his attention to Cleo and greeted her.
Zara noticed that everyone was still watching and that somehow Rafe had moved to the far side of the room where he spoke with Sabrina’s husband. Sabrina didn’t look very happy. Her gaze kept drifting to the tiara, and Zara wondered if her wearing it was significant in some way.
She found herself being introduced to the king’s four sons. They were polite enough, but obviously far more interested in Cleo. In a matter of minutes two of them had pulled her sister away and were arguing over who had the pleasure of dining with her.
Hassan moved closer. “You look nervous, my daughter. Do not be concerned. This is a small event.”
“I can’t help being concerned that your definition of small is different from mine.”
Hassan dismissed her concerns. “There are only a few hundred people here tonight.”
Zara thought she might faint. “A few hundred?” That was way too many. “You’re not going to say anything about me, are you? I mean about who I may be.”