His Inherited Princess
India Saene, Princess of Bagumi, must enter a marriage alliance to save her kingdom from an economic crisis. Tragedy strikes when her husband of a few hours is killed in an accident on the way to their honeymoon. She recovers from a coma two weeks later to discover she has been inherited by her husband's younger brother!
Sheikh Omar El Dansuri has never wanted to be king, nor does he desire a wife. However, when his older brother dies, he not only becomes the future king of Sudar, but he also inherits his brother’s bride through an age-old tradition. Falling for the headstrong India is out the question especially when evidence points to her as his brother’s killer.
Neither India nor Omar wanted this marriage, but the passion that burns between cannot be denied. When India’s secret is revealed, will either of them survive the consequences?
Series: Royal House of Saene, #2
She pushed aside the thoughts, focusing on her present need for answers. What was Omar doing here? Had Majid sent him?
“Is she in a lot of pain, Doctor?” Omar asked, his gaze directed at someone on the other side of the bed.
“She shouldn’t be in unbearable pain, Your Royal Highness. In fact, we’ve reduced the dosage of her pain medication.”
“Why are they calling you Your Royal Highness?”
As she’d been made to understand, there were three formal styles used in addressing members of the royal family in Sudar.
‘Majesty’ for the king, ‘Royal Highness’ for the Queen and the heir apparent, and ‘Highness’ for everyone else.
Her voice grated against her dry throat. Worry snaked up her spine. Something was wrong. She felt it in her bones.
Omar looked at her, and she found herself trapped in his gaze.
“How much do you remember?”
She frowned. “Remember?”
As if his rich voice had unlocked a door, it came to her all at once. She and Majid had been in the car, discussing the protocols to be observed for his coronation. Funny, since he’d apparently already broken one rule by travelling in the same car with her. She remembered the relief with which she’d latched on to the topic, glad to take her mind off how they’d approach their first night as husband and wife.
It sounded like a gunshot or maybe a canon. The car careened to the left. Everything happened so fast. The driver swore, maintaining an iron grip on the steering wheel, but the car kept speeding.
“Watch out!” Majid yelled.
Screeching tires, then another bang! Something had hit them. She only remembered seeing headlights at the window before they were airborne. The car may have flipped over before crashing to the ground. Then, everything went black.
She shut her eyes as if it would somehow turn off the faucet of memories. Warmth engulfed her, and she realised Omar had taken her hand as he sat on the bed.
“You and Majid had an accident,” he said softly.
Dread clutched her gut, telling her she knew the answer. Prince Majid didn’t make it.
“Majid fought bravely, but eventually succumbed to his injuries.”
“No,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.
For several seconds, she hoped this was a nightmare. She’d wake up and find Majid lying by her side, and they’d laugh about this weird dream. Because if this wasn’t happening in her head, then it meant Majid had died; she was a widow. What did it mean for the alliance between their two nations?
Her mind was in no position to process matters of such enormity. She refocused on what Omar had said.
One word stuck in her mind.
“Eventually? How long have I been here?”
“Two weeks,” he answered. “Since you’re awake now, you’ll be coming home soon.”
Coming home. Why did that sound off? She frowned as something else occurred.
“You called me your wife.”
He stared at her for a long moment as though trying to decide whether to answer.
“In accordance with our tradition, I inherited my brother’s widow.”