‘A chat?’ asked Guy, now sounding even more amused. ‘Khalim exchanging small talk? Now, that’ll be a first!’

‘Wonderful wedding!’ said Rose valiantly, with an urgent need to change the subject. ‘Sabrina looks absolutely stunning.

At the mention of his new wife’s name, Guy’s face softened into a look of tenderness, the intentions of his schoolfriend instantly forgotten. ‘Doesn’t she?’ he asked indulgently, and then a slight note of impatience entered his voice. ‘Between you and me, I just wish we could forget the damned dancing and just leave!’

Rose smiled. ‘And deny your wife her wedding day! I think you can wait a little longer, don’t you, Guy? After all, you’ve been living together for well over a year now!’

‘Yeah,’ sighed Guy. ‘But this is the first time it will have been, well, legal…’ He looked down into Rose’s face. ‘Why, you’re blushing!’ he observed incredulously. ‘I’m sorry, Rose—I certainly didn’t mean to embarrass you—’

‘No, you weren’t. Honestly,’ Rose assured him hastily. She wasn’t going to point out that it was a pair of glittering jet eyes being lanced provocatively in her direction which had the heat singing remorselessly in her veins. In a way, she wished that maybe Guy and Sabrina would leave. And then she could leave, too. And she wouldn’t have to dance with Khalim and put herself in what was clearly becoming apparent would be a very vulnerable position indeed.

You don’t have to dance with him, she reminded herself sternly. It wasn’t a royal command. Well, of course it was, she realised with a slight edge of disbelief. But even if it was, she was not one of Khalim’s subjects and London was not part of his kingdom! She could just give him a small, tight smile and tell him that she wasn’t really in the mood for dancing.

Couldn’t she?

But in the event she didn’t have to. Because Khalim came nowhere near her. She found herself observing him obsessively, while doing her level best not to appear to be doing so.

He stood out from the crowd of fabulously dressed guests, and not by virtue of his own glorious and unconventional attire. No, it went much deeper than that. Rose had never met anyone of royal blood before, and of course she had heard the expression of regal bearing—but up until now she realised that she hadn’t really known what it had meant.

There was some innate grace about the way he carried himself. Some fundamental and rare elegance in the way he moved. She had never seen anything like it. People noiselessly slipped from his path. Women stared at him with looks of undisguised and rapacious hunger on their faces.

Did he notice? Rose wondered. His proud, handsome face did not seem to register any emotion at all. But maybe he was used to it. Why, he had only had to lay his hand autocratically on her wrist to have her virtually melting at his feet.

The meal was served and Rose found herself seated with a banker on one side of her, and an oceanographer on the other. Both men seemed amusing and intelligent and the oceanographer was handsome in the rugged kind of way which denoted a healthy, outdoor lifestyle. He flirted outrageously with Rose, and even an hour ago she might have been receptive enough to respond.

But the only man who burnt a searing image on her subconscious sat at the top table, picking at his food with the kind of indifference which suggested that conventional hunger was not uppermost in his mind.

At that moment, Khalim looked up and glittered a black look in her direction—a look which sent a shiver tiptoeing down her spine. Quickly, she put her fork down and pushed the plate away.

‘So what do you do, Rose?’ asked the oceanographer.

She turned to look at him with a smile. ‘I’m a head-hunter.’

‘Really?’ He grinned. ‘I guess you earn lots of money, then!’

Which was what people always said! ‘I wish I did!’

The waitress leaned over, a look of concern on her face. ‘Is everything all right with the salmon, miss?’

Rose nodded, looking guiltily at the untouched plate. ‘It’s fine! I’m just not very hungry, that’s all!’

The waitress had the kind of build which suggested that no plate of hers was ever returned unless completely clean. ‘Someone in the kitchen just said that we shouldn’t bother offering the top table any pudding—so much food has come back from there as well! Maybe you should be sitting with them!’ she joked.

‘Maybe!’ laughed Rose politely, half of her thankful that she was nowhere near Khalim, while the other part of her wished desperately to be within his exciting and yet dangerous proximity. She risked another look, seeing how the diamond lights of the chandeliers emphasised the creamy-gold silk of the robes he wore and the raven gleam of his black hair.

Valiantly she forced a few raspberries down her throat, but even the plump and succulent fruit failed to tempt her. And then at last it was time for the cutting of the cake, and the speeches.