Khalid was moving slowly across the pond. When he reached a shallower point, he eased her to standing. “Look at this.”
He cut through the water with his easy stroke, and paused near a patch of greenery. He reached into the bush and pulled a branch away completely. Slowly, he picked off three of the white flowers. He swam back to her, careful to keep them out of the water. As he came close, she could see that each flower had circular white petals and a yellow centre.
He lifted her hand above the surface and placed the blooms in her palm. His eyes on hers, he dipped his fingers into the water and gently shook droplets of water over the flowers. Beneath her curious gaze, the white seemed to disappear, leaving completely invisible petals with a tiny yellow dot at their heart.
“What are they?” She exhaled, amazed by their fantastical beauty.
“Skeleton flowers. When it rains, they become this.”
“They’re amazing.”
He closed her fingers over the flowers, then lifted her hand to his lips. He kissed each of her knuckles.
His voice was husky when he spoke. “There are some things that show hidden qualities when they are tested. A passer-by might step past this bush, seeing only small white flowers clinging to the vine. And what jewels they would miss. Just as the rain tests these flowers, this marriage arrangement has tested you. And what I have seen has made me think you too are full of secrets. And all the more beautiful when under pressure.”
His words were so heart-stoppingly right that she stopped trying to fight it.
Her love was not something to fear.
It was something to embrace.
When the sun rose the next day, it would be her wedding day. And she would be marrying a man she knew herself to love completely. Though she doubted he returned her feelings, she knew she had a lifetime to bring him around.
Chapter Nine
Khalid didn’t need to carry her, but he did. He held her against his chest as they moved through the sleeping palace. At the door to her room, he eased her to the floor, and stared at her as though he had never seen her before.
“Tomorrow,” he said from the depths of his soul.
She nodded. Her heart was pounding. Blood was rushing through her body. She linked her fingers with his, not wanting to let him go.
“It’s only a day away, but I don’t want you to leave.” She laughed to cover her embarrassment at the confession. It had just slipped out.
He understood how she felt, but they were beginning to move into dangerous territory. The evening had gone way past what he’d intended. A simple swim had turned into something else altogether. He needed to get his head back together, because one thing was certain: this woman was kryptonite to his usual super-hero self-control.
“But you, Emira, will need your beauty sleep. Tomorrow is your wedding, have you not heard?”
He was aiming for lightness, but he realised it had come close to rejection. He softened his words with a tight smile. Why was he analysing how she felt? Why was he spending so much of his energy trying to understand her? He had never cared what Hannah felt. Nor had he cared what Tashana had wanted.
And yet with Sally, he felt bound to her emotional state. Obliged to ensure her safety and happiness in a way that was way out of his realm of experience.
She stared up at him, her heart floating out of her body, as it had a habit of doing when he was around. Out of nowhere, she thought of Tashana. She hadn’t come to see her, though she’d missed her terribly. She hadn’t called her often enough, though she’d craved the sound of her voice.
She had been decorous and sensible. She had been boring and predictable. And she had lost her dear cousin not knowing anything about what was really going on in her life.
“Khalid,” she said, running her hands over his shirt. It was still a little damp from their swim. She smiled at the memories. Courage came to her despite her doubts as to the wisdom of what she was doing. “What would you say if I told you that I think I’m falling in love with you?”
His expression shuttered closed instantaneously, as though her words had flicked a switch. The soft smile that had been on his lips was instantly replaced by an implacable mask of … nothingness. He was empty of emotion; wiped clean of feeling altogether.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was so formal it was unfamiliar to her. “I would say you’re mistaking lust for love,” he intoned flatly.
Lust for love. His words zipped around her head, as if her skull was an echo chamber and he’d just shouted that statement into the nothingness.
Lust for Love.
A convenient replacement bride.
I have a healthy sexual appetite. I would prefer to marry someone who can match my needs.
Was it possible he had slept with her that night only to ascertain that they were, in fact, compatible? Before it was too late to back out? No. None of that made sense! She knew Khalid. He was honourable and good. He would never do something like that. But … what if she was wrong? Had this whole glorious day – a day she would forever remember as one of sensual awakening – been to test her?
It made her sick to her stomach. The idea that this might be the case filled her with deep regret. Because she had been falling in love with him since the first time she’d seen him. What they’d shared in the water had been the culmination of her dreams.
It had been perfect.
Her heart was no longer soaring above her body. It was weighted with gravel and cement, dredging to the floor, and falling faster every moment.
Her innocence had made the confusion predictable, and damn it, he had not guarded against it.
Her obvious anguish made him yearn to help her see the truth. He had to protect her from the worrying path she was beginning to seek. It was one he could not follow her down. One he would not entertain.
When he spoke, it was as he might address a servant; coldly decisive, he employed a tone that did not invite argument. He told himself he was being kind by being honest.
“It is dangerous to forget what this is, Saaliyah. First and foremost, this is a political marriage. Sexual chemistry is one thing. But it is not love. You will only become hurt if you fall in love with me.”
She swallowed but the pain in her throat would not go away. “But …”
“There is not ‘but’.” He truly was back to the man she’d first clapped eyes on in the staterooms. Untouchable, arrogant, supremely confident and stony. “I do not want the complication of having a wife who loves me. Put it out of your head.”
Oh, her heart. The wounds he was inflicting! Could he have any idea how deeply he was scoring her soul?
When she looked down at the floor, he felt the first stab of compunction. He was hurting her again, when he’d sworn he’d be gentle. But he would hurt her more if he allowed her to indulge a childish notion of romance in the midst of what was little more than a dynastic arrangement.
“Tomorrow,” he said, knowing that if he didn’t leave immediately, he’d do something truly regrettable, and pull her back into his arms. He turned and walked down the palatial corridor before she could say another word.
It was probably just as well. Her voice was not likely to be able to produce an actual sentence, anyway.
She stared after the man she was going to marry and wondered just how the heck she’d gone from such lofty pleasure to this degree of hurt in the space of an hour.
Until he turned the corner, she held onto a thin thread of hope. A hope that he might turn back to her. Run back and apologise for his insensitivity. But he didn’t. She nudged her door open, and sat down heavily on one of the cream and gold armchairs. Muscles that had only been used for the first time that night began to twinge painfully. She winced, and stood up again.
She would shower.
That might help.
Of course, it didn’t. Nothing really could. Despite a long, warm shower and reading the better part of a mystery book, the peaceful oblivion of sleep still eluded her. Instead, she lay stari
ng at the intricately detailed ceiling, with tiny little skeleton flowers dancing in her field of vision.
Chapter Ten
“You’re certain this is what you want?” Kaman ignored the platter of Danishes and sweet breads an attendant was offering him.
Khalid looked different to normal. Though he was wearing a majestic gold and burgundy robe, his eyes were darkened and his demeanour distracted. He made a grunting noise as he poured two measures of black coffee. It could have been agreement or dissent.
There was too much riding on that day to allow Khalid to make such a vital error. “Khal,” he said firmly, wresting his cousin’s focus to his face. “Talk to me.”
Khalid was resolute. “About what, cousin?”
“You do not have to marry her.”
Her. Sally. There was a swift kick in his gut as he thought of his bride. More specifically, of his bride as she’d been the night before. Her face, so gentle and hopeful, as she’d hesitantly suggested that she might have been falling in love with him.
It was ridiculous, of course. She didn’t love him. She was experiencing her first sexual awakening. It was natural to mistake the strength of those feelings with something else altogether.
And yet he’d handled it so badly.
She had deserved better than his swift denouncement of any possible relationship between them.
“Of course I do,” he responded, downing his coffee in one single motion. It was thick like tar, and slightly spiced, in the traditional way. He refilled the cup instantly.
“You are Sheikh Khalid ash-Hareth. You do not have to do anything you don’t wish.”
“I do wish it,” he spoke more sharply than he intended. “You know my reasons for marrying her. Nothing has changed in the past eighteen months. Since deciding to marry Tashana, to this day, nothing has altered.”
Kaman’s sadness was a physical wall in his chest. “You want peace for our country.”
“Yes.” He spread some quince jam onto a piece of toast and then cast it aside. His frustration was obvious.
“But is this really the only way?”
“Kaman, stop.” He held an imperious hand up to cease any further discussion. “My mind is made up. At sunset, I will marry Saaliyah Ibarra. She will become my wife. The die has been cast.”
The die had been cast, Khalid was right.
Those words were still echoing around Kaman’s brain when he left Khalid’s suite of rooms a little over an hour later. The task he’d been given was weighing on his shoulders. He had little choice but to carry it out.
He walked the familiar path to Sally’s rooms, telling himself the whole way that everything would work out. It was too well planned not to.
He knocked on the door, three times. Fadi answered. “I have a message from the Sheikh for Saaliyah,” Kaman said, looking beyond the servant.
“She is in the parlour,” Fadi murmured softly.
“Fine. Please have the servants leave. It is a private matter I am bidden to discuss.”
“Yes, sir,” Fadi said, only the slightest hint of hesitation in her voice.
He waited until the servants had departed, and then strode through her suite.
Sally had been pacing the carpeted floor, but had paused at Kaman’s arrival. She had hoped against hope that it was Khalid. Her disappointment was obvious, but she tried to cover it with a smile.
“Good morning, Emira,” Kaman’s nod was respectful.
“Hello.” She sounded terrible. A sleepless night could do that to a girl, she thought wryly.
“I’ve just come from The Sheikh.”
She spun around, her face expectant. “How is he?”
Was she worried he might cancel the wedding? Or hopeful?
“He’s fine. Happily anticipating this afternoon’s event.” He fished the small blue box from his pocket. “He asked me to convey this to you.”
Sally’s hands were shaking a little as she took it from him. She cracked the lid open, and stared at a single dark chocolate inside. “What is it?”
“A tradition,” he explained softly. “The centre is filled with caramel, though at one time, honey was used instead. It signifies a future with a golden core. The chocolate is for the sweetness you shall bring to his life.” His smile was rich with amusement. “It is something all Tari’ell brides have on their wedding morning.”
“I see.” She shut the lid and was about to put it down, when Kaman forestalled her.
“It is very bad luck not to eat it.”
Bad luck? It was the last thing she needed. She rolled her eyes dramatically and lifted the chocolate form the box. “I already told Khalid, I don’t have a sweet tooth.” She bit a small piece from the confectionary. “It’s very good, though,” she said, using her finger to chase a little strand of caramel that was escaping from the centre of the treat.
“Are you disappointed your parents and brother are not here?” He settled opposite her, propping his hip against the table.
“Yes and no.” She took another bite of the chocolate. “It’s going to be a very simple and quiet wedding, because of Tasha.” She breathed in quickly, to try to stem the flow of the tears that were threatening. “I think it’s better just to get it over with.”
Hardly the voice of a bride enthusiastically contemplating her marriage to the Sheikh. Why had she agreed to this? He didn’t believe it was just for the prestige that came with being Emira. Nor for the peace of two lands.
Sally finished the chocolate and placed the box on the table. “That was delicious. Please thank the Sheikh for me.”
She pressed her hand into the top of the table, as her legs felt a little wobbly beneath her. “Sorry. I hardly slept last night. It must be catching up with me.”
“Why don’t you sit down a moment,” he murmured.
She shook her head, but her eyes were hurting. She blinked to clear the fog in her vision. It didn’t work. “I feel like I’m going to pass out,” she said, sinking into one of the chairs as a precaution.
“What’s going on?” He asked, his worry perfectly natural. He crouched in front of her, his expression neutral.
Sally swallowed, but everything was requiring a monumental effort. “I’m just tired, I think.”
There were four Kamans in front of her. She reached for one of them, but her hand never connected with his flesh. She fainted before she could ask him to help her.
Bump.
Bump.
Silence.
“You put her in the trunk?” A voice, coming to her from a very long way away.
“What else was I meant to do? I could hardly get her out of the palace in the front seat of the car.”
Her head was so thick. Her eyes were stinging, and her throat was dryer than the desert.
There was the sound of footsteps. Were they coming towards her? Or moving away? She strained to hear, only the sound stopped too quickly.
Sally stretched her legs but they connected with something hard and firm. Her hands reached out, and met resistance on all sides.
She was in the trunk.
The knowledge of confinement made breathing impossible. It occurred to her briefly to stay still and quiet. But she discounted the notion almost immediately. After all, whoever had slugged her into the boot of a car knew she was there. They were standing over her, talking.
Memories cracked in her mind, like pieces of glass. Kaman.
What had happened?
Was that Kaman’s voice?
Was she dreaming?
She ground her teeth together and banged her palm against the roof above her. “Get me out of here,” she said, in her most regal tone. It was no mean feat, given the nature of her entrapment.
The boot clicked, and she tried not to let the fear take over.
The light was blinding. It was somewhere in the middle of the day and the sun was high overhead, set against a glistening blue sky. Kaman’s face was unreadable as he moved to block her eyes from the brightness.
She w
as obliged to take the hand he extended only to help her out of the tight boot space. But the moment her feet hit the ground, she lashed out, slapping him hard across the face. The effort cost her dearly, for she was still woozy. “What the hell is going on?” She demanded, bracing herself against the side of the black car.
“What does it look like?” It was Kaman. He sounded as he always had. And yet he wasn’t. There was more to him; a side she hadn’t understood before. He ran his fingers over the flesh she’d marked pink with her touch.
“You’ve kidnapped me. But why?” She swallowed. Her throat was lined with sharp blades. “And I need some water to drink.”
He nodded. “This way.”
She blinked, and focussed on her surroundings, and for the first time noticed a small dwelling. They were at the foothills of a mountain. The desert was their garden, and the house itself was small and old. It looked to be made of mud, with a thatched roof. There was an old hammock strung between two trees, and someone had planted edible vegetables in a box by the door.
Sally felt like she was about to pass out again, but she sought strength from an unknown inner-reserve. She stopped walking, besieged by sense. It was an odd situation she had found herself in, but she was not a fool. To go into this house with a man who had drugged her (for surely that was the only explanation?) and kidnapped her would be incredibly foolish. Wouldn’t it?
Then again, there was nothing and no one for miles. Whether she was in the house or the desert, no one would hear her scream
She took a step backwards, her mind gradually slugging into gear. “Why did you bring me here?” It hurt to speak, but not as much as the sense that was finally being made of her situation. Irrationally, an aching sense of sorrow for Kaman’s betrayal of Khalid was her strongest emotion.
Kaman’s expression was gentle, his manner appeasing. “Come inside and I will explain it to you.”
“No.” Her hands were shaking. She held them behind her back. Ice cold fear began to trickle down her spine. What had Khalid said, the night before? It was a conversation she should have been able to recall, but it had been swamped by the overwhelming feelings she’d experienced beneath the star-lit sky. Kaman had been very unhappy for a time. Khalid had gone out of his way to emphasise that his cousin had never resented him, and yet now Sally found that difficult to believe. “I want to go back to the palace.”
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