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“It should,” she muttered, “considering I’m wearing something worth millions.” The gown Harper wore was another creation by a Ramilian fashion designer: a shimmery long-sleeved gown with a full skirt sewn entirely with gold thread and a belt made of diamonds.

The sheikh only smiled. “You know I don’t mean it that way.” And this time, his hot dark gaze caressed her figure, making his meaning very clear.

Harper turned red. “All I know is that you look like you’re about to tear my gown off.”

“Because you were looking at me like that was what you wanted me to do,” the sheikh purred.

She started to retort, but then the sheikh had already twined his fingers with hers while his other hand clasped her by the waist.

And then they were dancing, and it was magical.

For just a few moments, she forgot about the world and everything else. For just a few moments, it did seem like there were only the two of them, and she could lose herself in the sweet tempting darkness of the sheikh’s gaze.

But then the music started to fade, and as the other couples started to join them, the sheikh slowed to a stop, and Harper knew it was time to part.

“I love dancing with you, wife.”

“I, umm, feel the same.” But Harper’s voice was gruff, and she could only make herself stare at his bowtie when uttering the words.

Only when they had already parted and the sheikh and Harper resumed their duties as hosts that the sheikh’s earlier words returned to her—-

Don’t do it for me.

Damn. She had forgotten to ask him about that, and after matching a local artist with a diplomat for a waltz, she moved to the sides, ostensibly to watch the guests dance but really she just wanted a moment or two to think about the sheikh’s words some more.

Her omnipresent AFK immediately closed ranks around her, and her lips twitched, thinking that they’ve certainly come far, considering how they used to disapprove of her unfeminine ways. Now, her guards were resigned to it, and their disapproval had evolved into protectiveness.

It is not the queen’s fault she was naturally unfeminine, was the AFK’s official stance.

Not exactly complimentary, she thought humorously, but it would do.

She was about to tell the AFK to take a break when the sound of laughter interrupted her, and Harper frowned.That was one snide laugh.She started to turn to see who it was when the woman who laughed went on to say, “Oh God, it’s the height of summer, and you’re really wearing that?”

Even with her back turned, Harper – thanks to the rigorous who’s who lessons she had received from her court tutor – immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Jennifer Patrick, a self-proclaimed feminist who made a living off TV guesting.

“I guess you don’t mind the heat since you live in the desert, but don’t you find it restricting for a dance? That – umm, what do you call it again?Abacus?” Jennifer immediately laughed at her joke, and so did several people.

Harper’s eyebrows shot up, and she stared at her guards incredulously.Seriously? Did these people seriously find that funny?

“Do not interfere,” Amir warned under his breath.

“Pick your battles,” Farid advised.

“Remember what you came here to do,” Kamil reminded her.

Harper took deep breaths. They were completely right, but—-

“I don’t feel restricted at all,” she heard a soft voice answer, and Harper scowled. She had no trouble recognizing this voice as well. It was none other than Kyria, the young, shy ward of Altair and Malik’s mother, and Harper’s dislike towards the so-called feminist increased. Was Jennifer Patrick actually trying to bully a teenage girl over anabaya?

“I knew you’d say that,” Jennifer was saying, the words followed with another snide laugh. “And it’s okay, really. I mean, compared to other Arab nations, Ramil’s pretty modern. But be honest – do you honestly believe wearing that will prevent things like rape? And I’m just asking here, I’m not being judgmental or anything, but don’t you think it’s stupid that a woman’s modesty is determined by her choice of clothing?”

“I don’t see anything wrong with a woman wearing what she deems proper to wear for herself,” Harper heard Kyria answer in her usual soft, melodic voice.

Bravo, Kyria,Harper thought and by way of the murmurs of assent she heard, the other guests appeared to agree with the young girl.

Unfortunately, it didn’t sit well with the older woman at all, causing Jennifer to sneer, “How very safe. Spoken like a pampered princess who doesn’t know how to think for herself.”

A hush fell over the small crowd at the cruel words, and Harper’s bodyguards shook their heads at her in unison.