She felt colour bloom in her cheeks. “I wasn’t. I was just …” Consternation made her silent.
He sent her a look she couldn’t interpret and moved towards Adin, who was observing their interaction with undisguised curiosity. “Father,” he said with obvious respect and affection. “You have met my bride?”
“Just now,” Adin spoke, his eyes warm as they travelled to Violet.
Seeing them side by side, the similarities were far more apparent. Though Adin was an old man – he must have been in his fifties when Zahir was born – he had aged well, on the whole. There was still a strength to him, and a fire in his spirit that she admired.
“When is the wedding?” Adin murmured.
“This afternoon.”
Violet froze, her mauve eyes locked to the back of Zahir’s head, willing him to turn around. Whether he felt her gaze or not, he stayed resolutely focussed on his father. “It will be a simple signing of documents, then a short ceremony officiated by a lawyer, witnessed by Syed and Ash.”
“So small?” Adin asked, his frown a deep line scored in his face.
“I thought it would please you to know us married at last.”
Adin expelled an angry breath and focussed his grey eyes on Violet’s face. “Would you excuse us?”
She nodded hastily. “Of course.” In truth, she’d been feeling like an outsider from the moment Zahir had arrived. The comfortable air of companionship that seemed to have settled around her and Adin had escaped out the door the moment Zahir had opened it.
She moved with an unconscious, innate grace from the apartment.
But she hadn’t gone more than two steps before Zahir caught up with her. “I will not be long. Wait here for me.”
She couldn’t help the flicker of disapproval that showed on her face. “Yes, sir,” she muttered.
His smile was her undoing though. It was slow to spread, but it left her breathless. “Good. A moment.”
He disappeared through the doors. She waited for several moments just where he’d left her, but before long, curiosity had overridden his instructions. The corridor they were in was wide and long with incredibly high ceilings. There were tapestries hung down both sides, and at various intervals there were column tables that had sculptures on them. She moved from one to the other, admiring some, disliking others, until she’d reached a small window. It was carved into the side of the corridor, so that she had to step into a small void to see through it.
The view was similar to that which she’d admired from Adin’s room, except at this height, she could see more of the palace grounds. Particularly, row after row of palm trees that formed a maze of sorts. It wasn’t the palm trees though – they gave it a frame, but there were low, spiky bushes that made up the walls and corners. What a curio to have in the palace gardens! A folly that wouldn’t be out of place in any grand Violetn estate in England.
Footsteps heralded his arrival and she stepped out of the concealed area just as he was passing so that he walked straight into her. He was quick though, and he snaked an arm around her waist before she could fall, steadying her by bringing her sharply against his chest.
A soft groan escaped her lips as his very proximity set alarm bells blazing inside of her. Desiring him was disastrous. So why wasn’t she pushing away? Why didn’t she step backwards and put vital space between them? And why didn’t he?
His eyes held hers and the arm around her back was vice-like. His chest moved in time with his rapid breath – it echoed her own. She opened her mouth to say something but she couldn’t find words. She wanted him to kiss her. There was no point pretending otherwise. She wanted him to drag his hands through her hair and lift her face to his; to plunder her mouth with his tongue.
He lifted his spare hand and dragged a thumb over her lower lip. Her body pressed forward, bringing her closer towards him so that she could feel the harsh planes of his body through the robe he wore.
“Why do I think you are going to be trouble, qalil?”
She fluttered her eyes closed, silently begging him to kiss her. She needed that contact. “I don’t know.” Her feet lifted a little, and she opened her eyes. He was so close. Would his lips be hard? Soft? Demanding?
His laugh was throaty. “Are you asking me to kiss you?”
Colour spread over her face. She shook her head, but her feet pushed her higher.
“You are so innocent,” he said gently, and to her utter despair, he eased himself away from her, gently pushing her hands to her side and holding them there for a moment before stepping away. He seemed shrouded in businesslike efficiency once more.
“My father seems to like you.”
Her head was spinning. The intimacy she’d imagined was a flame she couldn’t extinguish. Her embarrassment that he obviously didn’t feel the same for her was a pain in her breast. “It’s mutual,” she responded, a tight smile on her face despite the pervasive numbness in her body.
“I feel that you probably like most people. It is exceedingly rare for him to speak glowingly of anyone he doesn’t know well.”
Had he been tempted to kiss her at least? Was he attracted to her? Or was this completely one-sided? Uncertainty perforated her gut.
Her voice was a little high-pitched when she spoke. “You’re wrong. I’m not quick to praise, either. I wait until it’s really deserved. As for your father, I suppose he feels he knows me because of his relationship with Efani.”
Zahir nodded then placed a hand in the small of her back. Goosebumps radiated across her skin.
“What is that place?” She asked, to detract from the way she was trembling.
“The maze?” He followed the direction she’d pointed in.
“I thought it must be. When was it built?”
“My father built it for my mother as a wedding present.” He turned at the end of the corridor and then stopped walking. “I have to meet with Syed and Ash now.”
“Ash?”
“My cousin.”
“Right. The other piece of the succession puzzle,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry there won’t be any fanfare this afternoon,” he said, scanning her face for signs of disappointment.
“What does that matter?” She was numb. It was like she was in a dream from which there was no awakening. Jetlag, exhaustion, and shock were starting to settle around her shoulders. Was she really here in Kalastan preparing to marry this man? “It’s not a real wedding.”
“No. But you deserve at least the pretence of one.”
She pulled a face. “I despise pretence.”
He laughed. Her stomach lurched. “And yet you agreed to marry me? To pretend to my father and your sister that this is what you truly want in life?”
She expelled a sigh and shrugged her shoulders. Her smile was over-bright. “It’s not hard to pretend I want this when I don’t have anything else I want more.”
The sun lifted behind a tree and cast a gold ray through one of the windows. It fell across her face, spreading gold in her hair. He reached up, as if he could tangle his fingers with it and she watched, mesmerised, as he studied the visage of the sun on first his fingers and then her hair. Finally, he brought his hand to touch the fine, golden strands, and then to rest on her shoulder.
“You should not invite me to kiss you,” he said finally, his voice roughened by intensity.
Confusion swirled through her. She thought about denying it, but he’d see through that. “Why not?”
A muscle jerked in the side of his jaw. “Because you are so innocent. So inexperienced. So fragile. You are like a perfect flower bud that I dare not touch.”
She caught her breath and shook her head, dislodging the sun for a moment before it nestled right back against her. “Why do you say that?”
He lifted a finger to the base of her throat and felt her wildly hammering pulse. “I touch you and you fall apart. That kind of … responsiveness … is very desirable.”
She groaned. “Yeah, right.”
&nbs
p; “I would not lie to you.” He stepped backwards, rubbing his hands together. “If I kissed you, and it felt as I imagine it would, I think our marriage would be in danger. It is better for us both to remember that this is something we have done for appearances only.”
Flames were being extinguished with vile, ice-cold water. “And if I don’t want that?” She said with determination, her chin jutting forward.
“You don’t know what you want,” he explained gently. “You are still a child.”
“Don’t do that.” She moved away from him in the hopes it would return some clarity of thought.
He compressed his lips and true anger seemed to shimmer just beneath his surface. “My child bride.”
“Don’t,” she repeated, her own temper flaring. “I am twenty three years old.”
“I look at you and remember …”
“What? That I was a teenager ten years ago?” She compressed her lips. “But you brought me here. You’re the one who approached me. I was happy to let sleeping dogs lie.”
“Yet you agreed to marry me within minutes.”
She pressed her lips together and turned away, her arms crossed over her chest. “It seemed like the right decision. Efani would have wanted it.”
Silence prickled darkly around them. His eyes tunnelled through hers, deep into her being. There seemed to be a hundred things he wanted to say, yet he spoke none.
“Your father seems better than I’d imagined,” she said after several moments, changing the conversation and hoping her heart would slow down.
“He’s thrilled our wedding is finally to take place.” His smile was grim and Violet’s heart turned over painfully in her chest.
“This marriage is abhorrent to you,” she said finally, forcing herself to confront the truth even though it mortified her.
He pushed out a dark, hot breath and his nostrils flared, reminding her a little of a dragon from a childhood story. He was like a fantasy figure – all beast and beauty wrapped into one tall, enigmatic, darkly handsome package. “It is necessary.”
“But you don’t want to do it?” She pushed, needing as many harsh reminders as she could collect – truth would be the breadcrumbs to her salvation, for if she knew how desperately he wished she weren’t in his life, she would be able to remain cold-hearted and independent.
“I imagine you understand my feelings on this matter. Perhaps because they mirror your own. Being a pawn to anyone is not especially appealing.”
Her stomach lurched. She nodded and angled her face away, looking down the corridor. Her neck was straight and swan-like, her blonde hair wispy around her cheeks. The problem was that she didn’t feel especially like a pawn. She’d spent her whole life believing she would marry him, and despite the fact he’d married Anna and set that aside for a time, it had always seemed a realistic and likely part of Violet’s future.
She shelved those thoughts for now. Being distracted by their past would lead to trouble. She honed her mind back to the present. When she spoke, her voice was cold.
“You wanted to talk to me about something?”
Consternation was an unwelcome sensation. He was used to being in charge and command and yet she unsettled him so easily. “The wedding,” he said quietly. “It will take place in my office.”
She nodded, imagining a small room with a desk piled high with papers.
“Your sister should join us.”
Violet’s lip lifted in a wistful smile. “Sure.” If she could convince her to. If she could ensure she’d come without making a scene!
“It will be a quick and painless ceremony, as I said to my father. No fuss. But there will be a photographer. Afterwards, you and I will pose for some pictures. A couturier will bring a selection of gowns to your suite in an hour or so. Your attendants will help you prepare.”
Reality was a sharp, penetrating knife. “Fine.”
“Your ring is not yet ready. You will need to wear the Fiyalshar diamond for the ceremony today.”
Her eyes jerked to his face. She was tempted to argue. It was the ring Anna had worn and a dangerous maelstrom of emotions clouded her mind. Her betrothal to Zahir had not been a love-match, yet a teenaged Violet had come to despise and loathe the beautiful woman who’d stolen her fiancé. The marriage between Anna and Zahir had been a love-match. How would Anna feel knowing that her usurper was to wear her ring?
Was there a choice though? And was it churlish to make a fuss over something so inconsequential?
“Temporarily,” she said through tight lips.
He nodded. “Good. I will have it sent to your room with the gowns.”
Her lip lifted in a mocking smile. He wasn’t even going to slip it onto her finger. Could anything more plainly spell out the clinical nature of their union?
“Thank you.”
“Come. I’ll walk you to your suite.”
She shook her head. Out of nowhere, tears threatened and she would never let him see how emotionally unsettled she’d been by all of this. “That’s okay,” she said in a voice that was pleasingly distant. “I couldn’t have you thinking it was an invitation to kiss me. Or more.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Wake up, Lil.” Violet crossed the bedroom and pulled on the thick chord that separated the curtains, forcing sunlight into the previously dark space. It already had Eau de Lilly – a sense of despondence mingled with teenage sulks.
An indecipherable mumble issued from the heap of bed clothes. Violet moved closer. “It’s my wedding day.” A joke, really, but she couldn’t pull it off. The words fell flat.
With a louder grumble, the duvet was tossed aside, revealing a small rounded face marked with scowling eyes. “You’re crazy.”
Violet nodded. “Perhaps.”
“Seriously. Why the hell are you marrying this guy?”
Violet sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “You know it’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“Errrr,” Lilly made the sound a ‘no’ buzzer might on a television games show. “No. You used to want it. But now you’ve got a job you love and Whitney and me and I have school and you’ve ruined all of that.” She drew her eyes together. “I could hate you for this.”
Violet was thankful for the smallest mercy of ‘could’. An admission that things were not yet that dire. She tilted her head to one side, her eyes thoughtful. “I think you need a fresh start.”
Lilly rolled her huge dark eyes in that inimitable way she had. “Here in Boring-astan?”
Violet ran a finger along a white swirl in the fabric of the duvet. “That’s not fair. You’ve hardly seen anything. Why don’t we go exploring tomorrow?”
“Bor-ing.”
“Lilly, stop.” Violet reached forward and grabbed her sister’s wrist in hers. “You’re being silly.”
“I want to go home.”
“This is home now,” Violet responded calmly.
“But my friends … my school.”
“You were expelled because of that stupid text message,” Violet pointed out, her cheeks flushing as she remembered the naked photograph Lilly had virtually broadcast around the student body.
“An overreaction.”
“You’re lucky criminal charges weren’t filed. It’s child pornography. You’re not even sixteen,” Violet murmured, keeping a hold on her temper with effort. “I know you think you love him…”
“I do love him.” Lilly narrowed her eyes. “And he loves me.”
“If he loved you, why did the photo end up doing the rounds of your school?” Violet queried.
“Someone took his phone.”
“So he says,” Violet found it impossible to believe that theory, herself.
“You’re such a bitch.”
Violet winced. Despair was a dark cloud, moving over her. For five years she had navigated the turbulence of teenager angst and there were times it wore a little thin. “If wanting what’s best for you makes me a bitch, then fine.” She stood, disapproval radiating from every pore of h
er body. “Are you going to come to the wedding or not? It’s your choice.”
“Gee, I have such a thing as free choice?”
After a deep breath, Violet smiled. “Of course.”
“Good. Great. Let me go back to London.”
“And do what? Live in our home? Invite him to sleep over?”
“Oooh, and actually have sex, do you mean? Newsflash, sister. We can’t all be sweet little virgins saving ourselves for our wedding night.”
Violet’s mouth dropped. Her eyes filled with tears at the bitter retort. It was unkind, even for Lilly, who had been little more than a bundle of insults for months.
“That you are sexually active is something we need to discuss more fully at a later date. But, in case you’re wondering, I’m thrilled that we’re far, far away from your friends and him.”
“Simon! His name is Simon!”
She was angry. The whip of emotions that had been at her back from the moment Zahir had driven into her life and turned it on her head was cracking sharply now. She spoke without thinking. “Yes, well, now he has no name. He is no one to you. Understand?”
“I hate you!” Lilly shouted. “I hate you! I’m glad you’re marrying Mr No Personality because he is just what you deserve! I hope he’s terrible in bed! I hope he’s horrible to you! I hope you’re miserable.”
Violet clenched her teeth together and nodded. “Fine.” She began to walk out of the bedroom but at the door, she paused. “I will speak to your valet to be sure you have what you need. And Lilly? In light of your … behaviour … I think we should consider you having a private tutor at the palace until you remember you are a sensible, intelligent, kind young woman.”
“You’re so old-fashioned! Do you hear the way you talk? This is all because I had sex with Si? Most of the girls in my grade are doing it.”
“I don’t care that you’re sleeping with your boyfriend,” Violet corrected quietly. “So long as you’re being safe, and he is respectful of you, that’s your business.” She narrowed her eyes. “What I care about is that you behave like a spoiled, selfish, horrible brat. You might not like it, Lilly, but I am your legal guardian, and it’s my job to make sure you turn into the kind of adult that mum and dad would have been proud of. The way you carry on makes me feel like I’ve utterly failed.”
The Sheikh's Contract Bride: Theirs was an ancient debt, and the time had come to settle it... (The Sheikhs' Brides Book 1) Page 5
