Chapter Five
It wasn’t wildly known that King Amir had an American wife, or an heir apparent, for that matter. So, when I went to the university, covered in my black garb that I still hated, nobody knew who I was. They did all know I had a fair complexion and blue eyes—and that I was always accompanied by two burly-looking guards. Said men would stand like sentries on either side of the classroom door out in the hall, during class, but would then stalk just a few feet behind me and to either side as I wove my way to the next class. Initially, this odd gathering garnered many stares, but now that it had been a few weeks, not so much.
I was also getting more comfortable at the university and was getting to know my teachers and a few fellow students. Most of the women did wear clothing that covered all their skin, but not necessarily their faces, and rarely did they wear black. I went home after my second day and accused Amir of playing a joke on me. He of course snickered and confessed. “Ahhh, but now it won’t seem so bad just to cover your entire body? No?”
He did have a point, but I was still chagrin to give him any concessions on the matter. The following week I wore nice clothes—a long skirt and a long sleeve blouse. I even put a scarf over my hair, but I didn’t cover my face. I had one teacher, a handsome man in his early thirties, who seemed to always speak directly to me—as if he couldn’t take his eyes off of me. It made me a bit uncomfortable, but like everything else, I got used to it. The Arab men were bold if nothing else and rarely did they hide how they felt.
“Miss Swanson, please stay after class,” Mr. Abdullah requested just moments before the bell rang.
I did as requested, but never looked him in the eye. I was uncomfortable to say the least. Not only was I still on uneven ground with the whole language barrier thing, but I kinda knew what he was going to ask me. It wasn’t his fault, he had no idea who I belonged to. Amir and I had even decided I would use my maiden name until we were officially married and the public knew I was their queen.
As soon as the classroom was empty, he straight-forwardly asked me. “I’d like to court you, Julie. I find you breathtakingly beautiful. My day is better for the gift of looking upon you.”
I let my surprise show on my face, and one of my men popped in his head with a questioning glance. I lifted a finger to indicate a second longer and then refocused on my professor. My cheeks burned, and I hoped he didn’t think it was my response to his words—it was more the embarrassment I knew he was just about to feel. “Mr. Abdullah, you are much too kind. May I speak in English?”
He made a motion with his hand indicating that was fine, so I switched to the language I was most comfortable with. “I realize you are unaware of who I am—I mean, who I am attached to. So, please do not feel chagrin when you hear my answer—you are in no way responsible for knowing this. But, well, um, I’m kind of married to Amir Rashid.” I drew my lips out in a tight line and winced for him.
His expression remained indifferent for the span of a few moments, and then he lowered his eyes and coughed. “Our King?”
“Yes, afraid so,” I replied.
He then looked upon me with a kind of sorrow I wished I could comfort. “I will beg your forgiveness…” He paused and then slowly bowed and said, “Your Highness, my sincerest apologies.”
Then it was my turn to choke and sputter, “I’m not really your highness yet. I mean, well, it is official, just not public.” He nodded knowingly, and I added, “I’d appreciate it if you kept this a secret until we have the ceremony next month?”
He bowed again and when he rose up, his eyes locked on mine and I felt his anguish, “Of course.” I thought that was all he was going to say, but as I turned to go, he quietly said, “You are an angel. Our King is a lucky man to have garnered such a gift from the heavens.”
I didn’t know what to say so I gave him a quick nod and I left. The next day, Mr. Abdullah didn’t take his eyes off of me the entire class.
***
I was beginning to understand that my common looks in America were anything but in a country of dark-skinned desert dwellers. They knew nothing about me apart from my light hair and blue eyes, and well, my height didn’t hurt since I was taller than three quarters of the male population, but just from that, they kinda worshiped me. It wasn’t something I was at all comfortable with, and even having the guards bothered me because it brought undue attention to me all the time. I had the sneaking suspicion I was never again going to be anonymous, and for that I kinda ached. I knew I would grow accustomed to the adoration and attention, but I doubted I would ever learn to love it like some did. I didn’t need fame and had never sought it out. Now that it had found me, I missed my old life with a new intensity.
Of course, I tempered all this homesickness with the knowledge that I loved Amir and our baby beyond all else, and I would never choose to change what had happened in my life. I often told myself, accept the things you cannot change. I often included, or would not change.
I didn’t tell Amir about Mr. Abdullah. There was no need, and I figured it would only cause him undo anxiety about me being out in the world on my own. I did tell him all about what I was learning and how happy I was that the law codes were similar and not nearly as complex as back home in the States. The system was archaic to say the least, but easy enough to understand. They were all still living in the eye for an eye, hand for a hand system of government. There was little room for negotiating anything. I was especially curious about the rights for the women, and I took two extra classes just so I could fully understand their code of ethics when it came to their females. I had a plan hatching in my mind, one where I would slowly start changing some of the antiquated laws and help women find some equal footing—or at the very least, some footing!
Chapter Six
Our wedding was quickly approaching, and the gown was being delivered, along with a professional seamstress, for a final fitting. After days of perusing the catalogs and binders of dress styles, we both decided the diamond encrusted strapless number I’d first drooled over was the winner. Amir insisted he be present for the fitting and scoffed when I told him it was bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.
“This is foolish tradition! You’ve had my child, my wife. I shall see you in the dress that cost more than a Ferrari!” He even stamped his foot as if that were the gavel hit of finality.
“Yes, my love. However you wish. You are the king, after all.” He loved it when I acted like a subservient, fawning female and now was no exception.
He gathered me in his arms and kissed me until my knees went rubbery. His eyes danced in anticipation. “I will want to take you in your dress. You are aware of this fact, I hope.”
I rolled my eyes and acted bored, “I figured as much.”
He kissed me again and held my butt so he could grind against me, which made him thicken and fill almost instantly. “Perhaps I will take you before the seamstress arrives?” he growled as he bit my nick.
I pushed on him, weakly pretending to fend him off, “No, Amir, why so soon?” This was hilarious to the man with a desire for lovemaking that I could hardly keep up with. He was darn near insatiable, and I wasn’t complaining. He was a stud in all respects and always delivered on his promise to satisfy me first, himself second. As a result, I was wearing a perpetual lazy grin and sighing at regular intervals. Yes, my man was something else.
A servant made themselves known and announced the seamstress had arrived and was waiting in the upstairs room set aside just for wedding clothes. There were mirrors on all the walls and even a platform for me to stand on while the little sewing fairies did their thing with pins sticking out of mouths and tape measures draped over necks.
Amir heaved a disappointed exhale and then ducked in for another kiss, telling my lips before parting, “When they are finished with you, we shall make love up there.”
I blinked furiously and pushed him away with a giggle, “Oh dear, now you’ve gone and done it.”
Chapter Se
ven
We flew into Dubai ten days before the wedding. I was happy to be back with Anna, and Amsi and Bob seemed to recognize the other. Their squeals of delight were a bit much, but oh well, they were both smiling and giggling and doing the strange baby talk thing. They flapped their little fat rolled arms and wobbled on their butts, often falling over and laughing hilariously at the other. Anna and I watched them and couldn’t help ourselves—joining in the mysterious merriment.
Amir and Omar caught up on personal and government matters, and we lazed around for most of the day. The next morning, the four of us took a quick helicopter flight out to see the Atlantis Palm resort. We left the boys at home with their nannies and we girls enjoyed some time off, although often one or the other of us would make a pouty face and say we were missing them.
“I don’t know how you leave every day and go to school,” Anna mentioned as we cruised near the horizon.
“I focus on the work and it distracts me. But when I get home I nearly devour him with kisses.”
Amir sarcastically agreed, “I am witness—she speaks the truth. One would think she was going to eat her young.”
The chopper neared the expansive set of islands, and my breath caught. It really was one of the most impressive things I’d ever seen. The shape of a palm tree was symmetrical and appeared as just that from the sky. As we neared, I oooed and awed over the manmade marvel of the entire place.
Once we landed, Anna dragged me to each thing she wanted me to notice. Omar had brought her here a few times for short escapes, and she was giddy that our wedding and reception would include a weekend stay in the penthouse suites. Amir and Omar had in fact rented out the top five floors of the massive retreat hotel for us and our guests. It was all beyond belief in scope and grandeur.
The fountains in particular were some of Anna’s favorite things, and we stood and stared at one after another. Then we were taken on a tour of The Beach venue for the ceremony and then into the ballroom and grand terrace—which was exactly as described. In my head, I thought it all seemed like too much, but I knew there was some required pomp and circumstance for this kind of thing. And, if I thought about it, this was nothing like the royal weddings in Britain I’d seen on TV.
Amir and I looked at a few mock ups and fabric swatches for the tables, banners, and drapes. The theme was going to be my favorite color of royal purple mixed with golds, silvers, and whites. Lilacs were being flown in from South American greenhouses just for the occasion, too—it was going to make the room smell heavenly! There were also a thousand balloons in the three colors set to drop when we had our couples dance.
We were escorted up to the penthouse suite that Amir and I would have on our honeymoon night, and Amir led me to the massive picture window overlooking the beach and resort. “I plan on fucking you against this window,” he gutturally said against the skin of my neck.
Gooseflesh rippled over my arms and I quivered. “Okay,” I said dryly, affecting a disinterested lazy shrug.
He chuckled and bit my neck. “Shall I dismiss the concierge and remind you this very second?”
“Remind me of what?” Brat-girl tone was now in full effect.
He chuckled and bit me again, squeezing my bottom through the thin silk of my sheath dress. He fondled my bare butt, noticing the lack of panties, and he growled at my ear, “You are such a tease, my lady!” He was standing next to my side as we pretended to be enjoying the view. He pulled my hand to his groin to show me what was now hard. I gripped it and then rubbed my hand down his fly. He growled again. Through gritted teeth he whispered, “I want you this second.”
I turned and winked at him, “Not this second, darling, lets save something for our wedding night.” And I quickly walked to the open door and waiting concierge in the hall.
Amir took his time joining us. With a muttered, “Female,” he picked up my hand and we left the penthouse floor. The attendee didn’t say a word, but his cheeks were tinted so I knew he’d picked up on our sexual tension.
***
The days sped by, and each one was filled with more preparation for the big day. We hosted five large dinners for attending dignitaries on the five nights just before the big day. I met more influential and powerful people than I even knew existed on the planet. Royal couples from all corners of the globe were there to rejoice in our wedding. I remained wide eyed and overwhelmed, but I put forth a brave veneer and did my best to act the part of future queen.
Amsi was surprisingly social and loved meeting and then wooing every straight-laced dignitary that came through our doors. Even the apparent child haters would crack a smile and either tickle his double chin or comment on his strong grip as he clung to their finger with his chubby fist. He was a born statesman, and I had this odd sense he would know all of these world leaders, and their children, in the years to come. I found it strange he seemed to be cultivating memorable relationships even before he could talk.
While in bed I commented on it to Amir, “Your son seems comfortable with his celebrity status.”
Amir bumped his chest, “Yes indeed, he was born to the station. This pleases me immensely.” He stroked my cheek and tenderly kissed me. “How is the mother doing? I see the strain in your eyes—the set of your jaw—are you okay?”
I shrugged. “As good as can be expected. I wasn’t born for this—steep learning curve.”
“You are doing splendidly, my love. Some of them are commoners thrust into this world through marriage—they understand.”
I snorted and to my own ears I sounded indignant. “You’re so fucking arrogant sometimes!”
He looked confused, “I was only speaking the truth. What would you have me call you?”
I waved him on and muttered, “Whatever.”
He grabbed my wrist, “Julie, no! Don’t shut me out. Tell me what to call you? Soon I shall simply refer to you as my wife and the mother to my children. You of all people prefer truth. You are a commoner. Not born into high society.”
“Alright, you’re right. Sorry. I’m just overly sensitive about all my lack. I don’t know what to call me. I just think of the term commoner with a negative connotation—I guess it’s apt enough. Sorry.” My tone was still abrupt and dismissive, and he only shook his head in dismay.
“All that matters is I adore you beyond all comprehension. This is a joining of love! Who cannot comprehend this joy?” He made me look at him with a finger under my chin. “Perhaps I should punish you again?” Now he was trying to alleviate the tension between us, and I knew it. I lifted one eyebrow and gave him a stern look.
He lifted and bobbed both his eyebrows and tucked my hand into his, “I so enjoyed punishing you.”
I mumbled and then couldn’t help giggling, “It really wasn’t a punishment.”
“Indeed, princess.”
We both made snickering sounds at knowing what punishment really meant.
Chapter Eight
Our wedding day finally arrived, and I spent literally all day in preparations. There was a team to beautify me and do my hair. Another team to fit me into the dress which needed to be sewn onto my body. And yet another team helping Anna prepare along with getting both the boys dressed in the tiniest little tuxedos I’d ever seen. They were going to be pushed down the aisle by Omar, and Amsi was going to have the ring on his wrist, secured by a ribbon. We were hopeful that if we kept them together in the double stroller, neither would make much of a fuss.
Amsi was the cutest little doll I could have ever imagined, and my heart swelled. He was decked out in the finest Armani tux and even had teeny back patent leather shoes. Bob was dressed the same, but was considerably bigger than my still developing preemie, so he wasn’t quite as adorable as the little mini-me decked out just like his daddy.
I’d not seen Amir for two days. He had to fly home and attend to some matters, and we’d decided to make our wedding night something special. Needless to say, over forty eight hours without his hands on me was more than enough, and I c
ouldn’t wait to see him again. I figured our hotel suite was going to get quite a workout, as well, since he never went two whole days without sex. Just at the thought of our evening, my cheeks tinted.
I was tired from all the prepping, however, and ordered a mocha triple expresso shot which would hopefully wake me up. Anna joined me, but asked for a decaf version. I gave her a questioning glance. She grinned and patted her tummy. “I hope this one is a girl, but I want a few more, so another boy would make Omar happier. What is it with the men and their boy children?”
“I dunno—Amir is the same way,” I said with a slight eye roll. “Not that I would know what to do with a girl. I’ll have to send her to you to learn all the feminine stuff. I’d give her a blank stare if she asked me for her first doll.”
“Oh, I love dolls! It’s the outfits!” Anna squealed.
“Yeah, well I was a reader from as soon as I could—either that or sports. I was such a tomboy growing up. I was probably headed toward being a lesbian. At least, thinking back.”
Anna snickered, “Yeah, but you like the pole too much.” I snorted so hard I almost got coffee on the dress. It was so funny for Anna the forever a virgin to talk that way.
The best I could do was grin and respond, “Truth sista!”
As we sipped our hot beverages, Anna asked, “Isn’t this a fairy tale?”
“It kinda is. Nothing like how I’d envisioned my life going, though.”
“No kidding! Like totally opposite.”
I nodded and sipped. “It’s good. I really love him. Not sure how I’m going to catch up to this lifestyle, though.”
Anna always knew what to say to ease my mind, and now was no exception. “You already have, silly. You’ve been living it, breathing it—being it now for months. You already carry yourself differently. I think you need to stop worrying about catching up and learn to dwell in the now—you’re already here.”
The Sheikh's Surprise Mistress 3 (Jatar Sheikh Series Book 7) Page 3
