The Sultan's Reluctant Princess

by Clare Connelly

  When she emerged, warm and clean, and smelling like lavender, she wrapped herself in a towel and walked into their bedroom. Tamir was already in bed, sitting propped against the bedhead with a newspaper in hand. The gold and cream bedspread covered to his hips, but his chest was exposed, and bare. She gulped at the sight of his firm wall of muscles and looked away quickly.

  “Are there pyjamas in that wardrobe?”

  He didn’t look away from the paper. “Yes. Though don’t anticipate needing them too often, will you?”

  She sent him a withering look and waded into the wardrobe. It was enormous, and completely stocked. As she went through the clothes, she realised they were all in her size.

  “Tamir?” She asked, poking her head around the wall. “Who organised this?”

  “One of my assistants,” he said disinterestedly. “Why?”

  “It’s just… it’s a lot of clothes. And they’re all in my size. It seems like a lot of work to have done very quickly.”

  “Not so quickly. It took us several hours to fly here.”

  She nodded. “Still…”

  Tamir put aside the newspaper he’d been reading with a sigh. “Though I would enjoy seeing you walk around naked all day, it didn’t feel entirely appropriate.”

  Olivia ground her teeth together. “And tricking me into marrying you is?”

  Tamir pushed the quilt aside. He was wearing white cotton boxer shorts, which showed off the deep caramel colour of his tan. He walked across to the wardrobe and stepped inside, immediately dwarfing it with his size. “Listen, Olivia. My security chief was braying for blood. He does not tolerate foreigners. And he has a particular dislike for foreign women. Though you don’t see it now, I have saved you and Jack from a world of hurt.”

  She shook her head. “Isn’t this your country?”

  “Yes. But the public reaction to the attempted theft would have been intense. The only way to ensure the news wouldn’t leak was by making you my wife. My people will now love and value you as they do me.”

  “So you really think you did me a favour?”

  He looked at her crestfallen face and mentally shook his head. Carefully, he responded, “I think I guaranteed your safety, yes.”

  She nodded, her heart squeezing in the hope that his motives hadn’t been so purely selfish after all. “Pyjamas?” She prompted throatily.

  He reached past her, for a drawer, and pulled a white cotton nightgown out.

  “See? How did you know that?”

  He laughed. “You’re so suspicious, aren’t you?”

  “Do you blame me?”

  He shook his head. “No. As for the pyjamas, they are in the same drawer in my wardrobe. It was a lucky guess.”

  “Oh.”

  “Put your arms up,” he said quietly, holding the neck hole above her head.

  Wordlessly, Olivia did as he said, and he slid the simple material down over her body.

  “I would have thought you’d choose some kind of satin negligee or something,” she murmured.

  He shook his head. “I wanted you to be comfortable for the desert nights.”

  Her stomach felt like she’d taken a dive on the rollercoaster. “I thought I wouldn’t need pyjamas.”

  He shrugged. “When you do, I want you to be comfortable.”

  Olivia frowned. Her gilded cage was seeming rather feathered with comforts. She reached down to pick up her towel and walked back to the bathroom, hooking it over the towel rack.

  “Someone will do that for you, you know,” Tamir smiled at her, when she returned to the bedroom.

  Olivia didn’t even want to start that conversation with him. She couldn’t imagine ever being comfortable leaving things lying around just because servants were able to pick them up.

  “Do you need to dry your hair?”

  She lifted a hand to her still-damp mop of blonde and shook her head. “It’s not too wet. Just damp, really.” She smothered a yawn. “I’m too tired tonight.”

  He frowned. It was late, and she needed to sleep. He had married her, meaning she was now his responsibility. He had to take better care of her. He reached over and lifted the quilt, so she could slip into the crisp white sheet.

  “Thank you,” she murmured tiredly, placing her head on the pillow.

  She would never have thought that she’d be able to sleep next to Tamir. He was too damned sexy to really make unconsciousness appealing. There were many things she’d prefer to be doing. Yet, within seconds of her head hitting the pillow, her eyes had drifted shut, and she was so asleep that she wasn’t even in a dream world.

  It happened so quickly. Tamir had just lifted his paper to return to the story he’d been attempting to read all evening, when Olivia’s breathing became rhythmic and regular.

  Asleep, she was even more beautiful than awake, for she was completely relaxed and contented. He stared down at her, with her fair skin and shining blonde hair, and he made a small sound of annoyance.

  He’d been acting on instinct all day, but now that she was asleep, he was alone with his thoughts. And one sentence kept banging accusingly around his brain.

  What the hell had he just done?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tamir rolled over, surprised at first to find a warm body beside him.

  Olivia.

  Guilt washed over him, as he blinked and fixed her still-sleeping face with a gaze of curious fascination.

  Her blonde hair had been one of the first things he’d noticed about her. The night at the theatre, it had been a long mane of honey and sunshine. Now, it was a riot of corkscrew curls around her face. He reached out, unable to help himself, and lifted one, running his hands over it with a small frown of interest.

  Though his touch was gentle, it was sufficient to disturb his bride. “Tamir,” she said on a sigh, her eyes wide as she gazed up at his face. She smiled, slowly, invitingly, and then grimaced. He recognised the minute she remembered where she was, and why, and he regretted instantly the pain he’d brought her.

  However, it was done, and he could not simply ‘undo’ it.

  “Good morning,” he said quietly.

  She swallowed, and flicked her eyes away. “I slept so deeply,” she murmured. It had surprised her. She hadn’t stirred all night.

  “Your hair is different,” he pointed out quietly.

  “Curly.” She nodded, and lifted her eyes back to his face. She was self-conscious beneath his scrutiny.

  “It is lovely.”

  “Really?” She asked, pulling a face. “I always hated it.”

  “Please wear it like this from now on.”

  She pushed up onto her elbow, supporting her head with her palm. “Is that an order?”

  He smiled at her, and shook his head. “Did it sound like one?”

  “No,” she admitted begrudgingly. She ran her fingers through the curls. “They’re impossible to keep tidy.”

  “Then don’t be tidy.” He had decided, somewhere before the sun had risen over Liya and painted the city with its orange glow, that he would give her time to adapt to her new situation. That he would give them both time to accept their new situation.

  But her lips were so sweet and soft looking, and her hair so wonderfully distracting, that he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. Slowly and wonderingly, tasting her in the morning, and reminding her that whatever else lay between them, their bond was undeniable.

  Olivia was surprised.

  She didn’t feel sexy. First thing in the morning, she felt like she had messy hair and sleep in her eyes and furry teeth. But the moment Tamir’s mouth connected with hers, her body seemed to spark with a current of electrical energy that demanded indulging.

  He had married her without her permission, and in his stupid country, that was apparently legal. She should hate him, but she didn’t. Oh, she didn’t. Her eyes shuttered closed, and her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down on top of her. She sighed as his chest pressed to hers
, his weight a pleasing reminder of how his body felt.

  “You’re beautiful,” he groaned, running his hands over her skin, lifting the nightgown so that he could connect with her naked warmth. He pushed aside the quilt and came to straddle her, unwilling to remove his lips from hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, warring with hers, promising pleasure that only they could generate.

  She ran her fingers down his naked back, delighting in the smoothness of his skin. She shifted her head away, breaking their kiss, only so that she could lift her mouth to his shoulder and taste his flesh. So warm and clean. She sighed, breathing in his intoxicating scent. His erection pressed into her waist, and she wanted nothing more than to be with him.

  For though their predicament was something she would have to address at some point, then, in that moment, she wanted to obliterate rational thought with sweet, intense sex.

  “I want you,” she whispered into his ear, sneaking her fingers into the waistband of his shorts and touching the curved muscle of his buttocks.

  He pulled away, looking at her with a warning glance. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this, you know.”

  She bit down on her lower lip, and pushed his shorts lower, until he was able to kick them away.

  “Why?” She whispered, tracing one of his nipples with her finger.

  He groaned. “Is it not obvious?”

  “Nope,” she said huskily. “You have me here. And we both want this. So why fight it?”

  Because he’d taken away her liberty and forced her into his bed.

  “You’re not making me do this, Tamir,” she said sharply, as though she’d read his thoughts. “I want you just as much now as I did in London.”

  “I have your body, but never your mind? I have your body, but I’ll never have you?” He repeated her words back to her. It surprised Olivia that they made her feel hollow in her gut.

  “Yes,” she said with a confidence she was far from feeling. “Exactly. And you know what else?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I have your body, and I don’t think anyone will ever have your mind. So we’re even.”

  He shook his head slowly, but she was right. Their sexual connection was too strong to ignore, even though it was all they’d ever share.

  Besides, he didn’t want more from Olivia than sex… and apparently marriage. He’d had many lovers in the past, and it had never occurred to him to mind if there were limitations on the relationship. So why did he care now?

  He intentionally entered her swiftly, removing any tenderness from their coming together. At least, that was his intention. But the way she arched her back with a swan like grace, and a lioness like growl, made him stare at her in total appreciation. He pressed a kiss to her décolletage and traced a line along the protruding bone with his tongue. His hands on her arms were gentle, whispering with his fingertips promises of desire.

  He moved inside of her, already so familiar with what made her cry out in a complete haze of enjoyment. She crinkled her nose as he exhaled a long, slow breath against the sensitive flesh at the base of her neck, and her body sprouted a delicate lace of goosebumps.

  He tangled his fingers with hers, pulling her arms gently to her sides, as he lifted her body onto a wave of pleasure. They rolled as one, so that she was on top of him, riding him with her eyes closed and her soul commanding his. As her body crested to a height of desire, she lifted his arms, high to his side, and he swore in his native tongue as the needs of his body lusted out of his command. He orgasmed, pushing himself up, so that he could wrap his arms behind her back to form a single, pulsing being.

  It was incredible, and incredibly wrong.

  Olivia’s breathing slowly returned to normal and her eyes pinched open. The Sultan of Talidar stared back at her, impossible to comprehend and terrifying to behold.

  She moved away from him, her heart racing, and her heart closing forever more.

  She lay beside him, on her back, staring at the ceiling without seeing it. This was her new reality. A world she had no control over. Where only her body existed in any kind of meaningful truth.

  How could she be so pathetic?

  She flipped away from Tamir, turning her back to him in every sense. She stared at the embossed wallpaper opposite, her breathing still drawn from her in harsh bursts.

  She hated him but in some ways, she’d become insanely dependent upon him.

  It was just sex, she reassured herself.

  Only it wasn’t. There was something incredibly compelling about the man. Something she could not easily put into words, but that her mind rushed to acknowledge.

  And yet he had used her. He’d believed the worst in her, and instead of giving her any credit, instead of allowing her the briefest moment to explain, he’d forced her into a scenario that was both terrifying and terrifyingly permanent. A single tear escaped her eyes, but she dashed it away.

  She could not cry.

  She would not.

  Not in front of Tamir.

  Despite her brave determination, he heard her intake of breath and saw the way her back shuddered. She was crying. For the first time in his adult life, Tamir had no idea what to say.

  Olivia pushed up from the enormous bed and moved towards her bathroom. She was sore. Muscles that had not been tested for many years were groaning after a day’s systematic exhaustion. She moved gingerly and shut the door behind herself gratefully. The shower was enormous, but the bath tub was beckoning. She began the water running, and placed the plug in. As she sank into the half-filled bath a few moments later, she made a low sound of relief.

  “Are you in pain?”

  Tamir. Just outside the door stood the man who had done this to her.

  Her breath hitched in her throat as she shook her head from side to side. Then, she realised he could not see, and tried to find her voice. “I’m fine.”

  “May I … May I come in?”

  Olivia reached for the taps and switched off the water. It was fast flowing and had almost filled the bath to the top. The water was topped with fragrant bubbles.

  “I thought you weren’t allowed.”

  Somehow, though she knew it to be impossible, she heard his smile through the timber doorway. “It will be our secret.”

  Olivia reached for the bar of soap. “Fine.”

  The door pushed inwards, allowing Tamir to step into her bathroom. He’d pulled on a pair of boxers – this time black – and he looked dangerously attractive. He sat on the edge of the bath, staring down at her.

  “I married you thinking that I hated you. I married you wanting your body, even though I judged you harshly for your crime. I thought the worst of you. Yet I worry I have hurt you, and it makes me feel… guilt.” He shook his head. “I do not want to hurt you, Olivia.”

  The water lapped against her breasts, and she sank lower into it. “I hardly know you, but I find that hard to believe.”

  He sighed. “Why?”

  “When I was in Liya before – years ago, admittedly – I thought this was an incredibly beautiful country. Traditional and enlightened at the same time.” She bit down on her lip. “You scare me, Tamir.”

  “Scare you? Why?”

  She laughed, for it was such an absurd question. “Since the moment you saw me, you have bullied me and berated me. You have pursued me in a way that bore no opposition. And here I am. Your wife, though I did not know it until well after the fact.” She shook her head. “You have treated me like little more than an object, and yet still I don’t seem able to resist you.” She ran the bar of soap over her shoulders in an effort to distract herself. “Ours is not a marriage, and I am not your wife. And I wish, with all my heart, that you’d never married me.” Her voice cracked as the sob she’d been fighting found its way into her mouth. “I could have handled being your mistress. What we share, undeniably, is a mutual sexual interest. So we could have indulged it. I would have. Happily. And though I know it would have hurt, when you decided to end it, I would have walked away with my head held h
igh.” She sobbed again. “But what now? What do I have?”

  He refused to let her see that she was eating into his confidence. “What do you mean?’

  She reached down and pulled the plug out. The water began to gurgle rapidly down the drain and Olivia stood, reaching for a towel in one smooth movement. She wrapped it around herself, then turned to face him. “I have nothing. I have no say over what we are. I have no ability to walk away from you. You own me, and always will.” She was shaking, so great was her rage. “I will always hate you for this.” Her eyes sheened with tears. “You have robbed me of so much. The ability to marry for love. The proposal I was due. The ability to look down at my wedding ring and sigh with happiness, for the moment of perfection that donning it had given me. I just don’t understand why you did this to me, Tamir.”

  Nor, frankly, did he. But he’d never admit that to his wife. He couldn’t. On some instinctive level, he knew that showing her weakness would be the beginning of the end for them. “You are my wife. It is done.” He reached over and touched her curled hair, compelled to feel the soft blondness between his fingers. “Do not think about why. Or what if. Simply understand that this is now fact. Wishing it were different will change nothing, Azeezi.”

  Her throat was raw from the pain of unshed tears, but she somehow kept a grip on her emotions. “Fine.”

  He nodded, strangely proud of her. “You have much to do today. You will have your own assistants arrive shortly to prepare you.”

  Olivia was stricken. “Tamir,” she murmured, reaching out for his hand. It surprised him, and he paused, looking down at her small, pale fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Are you going somewhere?”

  A frown flicked across his face. “I have a meeting with the King of Janina.”

  “Oh.” She looked away. “I see.”

  He sighed wearily. Why had he married her? What had he been thinking? Love and affection had never entered his mind, and yet the thought of leaving her like this was a physical pain. “I must go, Olivia. It is an important discussion, and this meeting has taken months to convene.”