Probably still grieving for Vanu. Again he felt that unfamiliar prick of jealousy. Which was ridiculous. How could he begrudge his brother anything now that he was dead? This whole crazy situation was messing with his mind.
“Maybe you should go somewhere and sit down.” He offered his arm, bracing himself against the powerful effect she had on him.
She didn’t move. Her dark lashes lowered, then she looked up at him with those haunting golden eyes. “I’m fine, really. I’ll make more of an effort from now on. Your mom needs me to. And we’ll be stuck sitting down for hours once the speeches start.”
“The speeches. That’s one part of Rahiian culture I really haven’t missed. Has anyone broken a new record for longest speech ever? “
“I think it’s still at five hours.” She smiled. “At least it’s very relaxing for the listeners. And you know you’ll have to make a speech.”
He grimaced. He would, too. What on earth would he say? Usually he was good at speaking off the cuff, but the stakes were a little higher here than at an investors’ meeting. “You’re lucky being a girl, so you’re off the hook. If I do become king I’m going to change that right away so all the ladies get to make speeches, too.”
Lani’s eyes widened, but they sparkled with humor. “Your mom would love that. She’d go on all night.”
“Wouldn’t she?” He laughed. They both knew he was joking about becoming king.
Wasn’t he?
Lani watched AJ melt back into the well-dressed throng amidst smiles and exclamations. He stood almost a full head above most people in the room, and moved like a king among them with his broad shoulders and easy, confident manner. Everyone in the region was happy to see him back. Pleased that the Rahiian succession would be a smooth and effortless affair following time-honored methods.
People kept a respectful distance from her. As a widow in mourning, she was not expected to eat and dance and chatter along with the guests.
But they all expected her to marry AJ. They just had no idea he didn’t want to.
She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or alarmed. He seemed to have every intention of going back to L.A. He’d said nothing to suggest otherwise and he hadn’t asked her opinion, either. If he had, of course she’d have said she wanted to marry him. What else could she say?
Her fingers had stung with anticipation just now when he reached out to give her his arm. All the tiny hairs on her arm had stood on end, craving his touch. Now she wondered if she’d done the wrong thing in refusing.
The whole situation was so confusing and disturbing. She was expected to entice him to marry her—immediately—but she didn’t want to trap him into a lifetime deception she’d be forced to maintain.
And she didn’t want to be married to a man—another man—who didn’t love her.
“Sweetheart, come sit down next to me. They’re starting the speeches.” Priia glowed with good cheer, as she always did at her festive gatherings. She bloomed and shone with the energy of other people. Naturally gregarious and effortlessly charming, she was born to be a queen. Lani envied her tireless energy and outgoing personality.
She led Lani to a cushioned chair at the high table. “Sit down.” She patted the cushions. “And have some coconut stars. You need to keep your strength up.”
“Thanks, you’re too good to me.” Lani took one of the coconut treats, then wondered what to do with it. Her stomach, hidden beneath the thick sash of her gold-embroidered dress, certainly wasn’t in any condition to handle food.
“Nonsense, dear. You’re the light of my old age.” She leaned in, conspiratorial, eyes shining. “And soon you’ll bring a new bright light to life among us.”
Lani blanched and tried not to glance around. What if someone overheard and guessed what she meant?
A dignified-looking elderly man wrapped in the distinctive clothing of a nearby island walked out into the center of the floor, where the speeches took place. At first Lani sat stiffly in her seat, wondering if her fate would be pronounced or speculated upon. Instead he launched into a semi-poetic history of the region, laden with myth and superstition, and she soon let her mind drift.
Another speaker followed, then another, chanting as much as speaking, celebrating the community of the islands and the long-held peace that united them in this beautiful place. Lulled by the warm atmosphere, Lani relaxed into her cushions and even managed to nibble on her coconut star.
She sat up abruptly when the master of ceremonies called AJ—or rather Arun Jahir—to the floor. She glanced over at him, and watched him rise, face expressionless, and walk out into the center of the room. His crisp black garb emphasized the strength and dignity of his movements. Head held high and back straight, he moved like a monarch, even if he didn’t want to be one.
A little flash of pride surprised Lani. She liked AJ and sympathized with the awkward situation he was in. She still didn’t really understand why he’d kissed her—twice—but under the circumstances it was excusable, even if her initial response wasn’t. He obviously wanted to do the right thing, but like her, he wasn’t sure what that was, and he wisely knew that the wrong choice would have lasting, painful consequences.
Lani shifted in her chair, remembering the tiny consequence she carried inside her. Her fear and anxiety about the situation she found herself in now warred with stray sparks of excitement and eager anticipation of her baby’s arrival. How could she not look forward to holding that tiny, warm body and feeling the grip of a plump hand on her finger?
AJ studied the crowd in silence for a few moments. When he began to speak, his voice was deeper than she remembered. Like the others, he spoke of the long history of the royal line, the legend of how their people had first arrived on long boats from a far-off land, how they’d fought and made peace.
Lani watched, heart pounding. How did AJ manage to sound so perfectly like one of the wise men of the region? You’d never guess he’d been gone for more than a decade. He seemed to carry the cadence and rhythm of the ancient stories in his blood—his royal blood—and why wouldn’t he, descended as he was from a long line of kings?
The fierce nut of pride inside her grew and she found herself pressing hot palms together in her lap. Any woman should be proud to have a man like AJ as her husband, even if he wasn’t royal. She could feel a hum of excitement, almost like a wave of heat, rising in the room. Everyone could feel it. She glanced around and saw eyes glowing, cheeks brightening, as AJ carried them all on a tide of emotion. His words echoed like drumbeats around the room, their meaning less important than the man who spoke them and the spell he wove with his powerful voice.
He paused, looked up at the high-beamed ceiling, then started to walk. At first Lani thought he was simply returning to his seat. Disappointment that his performance was over warred with relief that no permanent commitments had been made or broken.
But then he stopped. He turned to his mother—seated only about two feet from Lani—and bowed deeply. Feeling something about to happen, Lani stiffened.
“I am proud—” AJ’s voice boomed through the packed ballroom “—to take up the staff of tradition, and assume the role of king as my father and brother have done before me.”
Lani gasped. Everything dimmed a bit and she grasped the arm of her chair to keep a grip on reality.
“And I am pleased to take Lani Rahia as my wife, according to royal custom.” His eyes fixed on hers as the last breath fled her lungs. Unable to govern her features into anything but terror-stricken panic, she sat frozen as every eye in the room turned to her.
The faces blurred and she found herself gasping for breath. She felt Priia’s soft hand on her arm. “I’m so happy, my daughter.” Priia’s tear-filled voice penetrated her foggy consciousness. “What a great day this is for Rahiri and for all of us.”
Lani