A Christmas Bride for the King

by Abby Green

  Kat grimaced and stepped into the garden. Charlotte followed.

  ‘It wasn’t always like this. It was an abandoned ruin for many years...’

  ‘Why?’

  But before Kat could respond another voice, unmistakably male and familiar, cut in harshly.

  ‘Because it shouldn’t have been touched, that’s why. Who the hell is responsible for this?’

  Charlotte whirled around at the sudden arrival of Salim. ‘Where did you come from?’

  He flicked a glance at Charlotte, and she was shocked at the depth of cold anger in his eyes.

  ‘I was looking for you.’

  Queen Kat was contrite. ‘Salim, I thought I was doing a good thing. I know this is where—’

  He cut her off. ‘You know nothing. You shouldn’t have done this. You had no right.’

  He’d turned and strode out of the garden again before Charlotte could take in what had just happened, his long robe billowing after him. She looked at Kat, who was obviously upset, and anger swelled at his unforgivable treatment of his sister-in-law.

  Charlotte said, ‘I’m so sorry, Kat, you didn’t deserve that at all. I’ll go after him.’

  The other woman caught her hand and said, ‘Please tell him I’m sorry. I thought I was doing a good thing in her memory...’

  * * *

  Salim knew that he had just behaved unforgivably. Charlotte’s look of shock was etched into his brain. As was Kat’s contrite response. His sister-in-law didn’t deserve his opprobrium—but seeing what she’d done to that place had cracked something open inside him. Something raw.

  Being back here was fraught enough with painful memories and reminders of how he’d turned his back on so much...on his brother—

  ‘Salim!’

  Charlotte.

  Her voice stopped his self-recrimination and was like balm to a wound. As that registered fully Salim suddenly resented the fact that she’d slid so far under his skin. That she’d witnessed that moment.

  He stopped and whirled around on the path to see Charlotte hurrying towards him. She stopped, her chest moving up and down enticingly under that silk blouse. She was angry.

  ‘What on earth is wrong with you, speaking to Kat like that?’

  Salim lashed out. ‘I’m sorry—was that not very diplomatic? Is Queen Kat your new best friend? Perhaps you like what you see and you’re fancying your chances of becoming a queen, too?’

  Charlotte’s face leached of colour and her green eyes stood out starkly against her pale skin. Salim felt immediate remorse.

  Before she could respond he said roughly, ‘I’m sorry. That was unforgivable. You didn’t deserve that, and Kat didn’t deserve it either.’

  Still looking a little shaken, Charlotte said, ‘Then why? What is that place?’

  Salim looked up into the sky for a moment, drawing in a long breath, and then looked back down. ‘It’s where Sara died. She was on the high wall and she fell. She had a massive head injury...she died in my arms.’

  Charlotte started towards him. ‘Oh, Salim...’

  But he held out his hand, stopping her. If she touched him he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t shatter completely.

  She shook her head, eyes bright with an emotion that caught at Salim’s chest, making it tight.

  ‘What a tragic accident.’

  Salim steeled himself. He didn’t have to tell her. He didn’t have to say a word. But he couldn’t stop it spilling out, as if some force was compelling him.

  ‘That’s just it—it wasn’t an accident. She fell off that wall deliberately. She didn’t want to die but she did.’ His voice had turned unbearably harsh.

  Charlotte frowned, clearly not understanding. She looked so pale that Salim went over to her, taking her arm and making her sit down on a nearby stone bench.

  She looked up at him. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Salim paced back and forth, cursing himself for having given in to the impulse to unburden himself while at the same time feeling a sense of compulsion to keep going. As if he knew this was the only way the heavy weight he bore might ever be lightened.

  He stopped in front of Charlotte.

  ‘Sara and I were always joined at the hip. We were so close we even had our own language. One week, not long after our eleventh birthday, our father was hosting an economic forum. Ambassadors from neighbouring countries were here, as well as representatives from all over the world. It was a big, prestigious event. Sara had been tasked to do some things with our mother, to help out, so we were separated during the week. I didn’t notice until almost the end of the week that something was wrong. Sara was avoiding me...not talking.’

  Charlotte asked quietly, ‘What happened?’

  ‘I was in the walled garden—it was our favourite place to hide and play. She came in and I knew something was wrong. I’d never seen her so subdued... Eventually she told me—’ He stopped.

  Charlotte stood up. ‘Go on.’

  Salim’s jaw was tight, constricting his voice. ‘It was the Italian ambassador. An oily, sleazy man. He’d taken a liking to Sara and had persuaded my mother to let her attend to him especially.’

  Charlotte put a hand to her mouth, clearly jumping to a dark conclusion.

  Salim continued. ‘Up to that point he hadn’t actually touched her, but he’d said something to scare her enough to take her clothes off, telling her he just wanted to look at her. When she told me this she couldn’t even look at me. She was so ashamed. She told me how he’d kept telling her she was perfect, and that before he left he would show her how a man kissed a woman...how they touched each other...’

  ‘Oh, Salim...’

  But Salim didn’t hear Charlotte’s voice. He was back in that garden, his insides turning to jelly as he watched his sister—his life—transform into someone he didn’t know. Someone haunted and terrified. Someone who had lost her innocence.

  She’d climbed up onto the high wall in spite of his pleas and said through her tears.

  ‘I don’t want him to look at me again, and if I’m not perfect, he won’t like me anymore...’

  Salim’s voice was toneless. ‘She jumped off the wall deliberately, to try and injure herself enough so that she would no longer draw the eye of a debased man. She believed this because when our older brother broke his arm once, our parents kept him out of sight until he was healed, telling us that no-one wanted to see a prince who wasn’t perfect. But she didn’t just injure herself. She hit her head and died almost instantly.’

  Charlotte couldn’t help the tears filling her eyes. She went to Salim and took his hands. They were cold.

  Her voice was thick. ‘You know it wasn’t your fault...’

  Salim let out a curt sound and took his hands out of hers. ‘Wasn’t it?’

  ‘You were her brother—not her parent.’

  Salim shook his head, as if determined not to let her absolve him. ‘We were twins...we had a natural affinity... But somehow I didn’t pick up on what was happening.’

  ‘You didn’t tell your parents? Your brother?’

  A muscle in Salim’s jaw ticked. ‘I couldn’t speak to Zafir. Sara and I...we’d all but blocked him out as soon as we could communicate with each other. We didn’t need him. We didn’t need anyone. Zafir seemed very remote to us. He was older. Serious. I did try to tell my father, but he just slapped me across the face and told me never to repeat such lies again. He said that Sara was dead and nothing could be done.’

  ‘So you’ve kept that awful knowledge inside you for all these years...?’

  He looked at her, and she shivered at the bleakness in his eyes.

  ‘I made it my life’s mission to get away from this place that never valued Sara and go after her abuser. I did. And now he’s dead.’

  Charlotte said faintly, ‘He’s the man you mentioned before?’

  Salim nodded.

  She sat down again, her legs feeling weak. ‘Why didn’t you bring him up on child abuse charges?’

&nbs
p; ‘Because too much time had passed. There was no evidence. He actually laughed in my face when I mentioned my sister. So I got him the only way I could—by ruining him. Ruining him to the point where he took his own life.’

  Charlotte’s heart ached. ‘He took his life, Salim. Not you—no matter what you did.’

  He looked at her, and opened his mouth as if he was going to argue with her, but at that moment there was a sound of movement nearby.

  Salim tensed. ‘Who’s there?’

  Zafir, his brother, stepped onto the path from around the corner. He looked as if he’d just been punched in the gut. Evidently he’d heard everything.

  He looked at Salim—haunted, stricken. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Salim? I would have done anything for you... She was my sister too...’

  Emotion thickened between the two men, who stood facing each other, and Charlotte discreetly stepped back and away, sensing that this was a conversation that had been a long time coming and that they didn’t require an audience.

  * * *

  Charlotte stole back along the path, her throat tight with emotion at the thought of Salim carrying the burden of his sister’s trauma on his shoulders for all this time.

  She found Kat pacing a little further along the path, clearly anxious.

  When she saw Charlotte she hurried to meet her. ‘What’s happening? Zafir went storming after Salim, even though I told him I wasn’t upset. I never should have meddled in Sara’s garden...’

  Charlotte took her hands. ‘I think you did a beautiful thing, and I think Salim will recognise that when he’s calmed down. He’s talking to Zafir now... Your husband should be the one to explain things to you.’

  Kat looked torn, but eventually she sighed and said, ‘Fine. I should go and see how preparations are going for the banquet anyway. I just hope they’re not tearing lumps out of each other.’

  ‘I don’t think they are,’ Charlotte said weakly, mentally crossing her fingers and already feeling for Kat when she would learn the full story later.

  When they reached the palace entrance Charlotte offered to help Kat, but the woman said an emphatic no and got a staff member to show Charlotte to her room, so she could rest before the banquet.

  When Charlotte got to her room, Assa was laying out something gold and shimmery on the bed.

  Charlotte went over and touched it reverently. ‘What is this?’

  Assa’s voice was awed. ‘It’s a traditional Jandori kaftan, supplied by the queen as a gift to you. It was designed by one of their most famous designers. She has left a note saying that you don’t have to feel obliged to wear it tonight, but that it’s yours in any case.’

  It looked too beautiful to be worn...the fabric as delicate as a butterfly’s wing. The queen’s generosity was humbling.

  Charlotte looked at Assa. ‘What do you think I should do?’

  Assa was incredulous. ‘You have to wear it, Miss McQuillan, you can’t insult the queen.’

  Charlotte smiled, glad to feel some lightness again.

  Assa was backing away. ‘I’ve unpacked all your things, and you should rest now. I’ll be back to help you dress in a couple of hours.’

  Charlotte was about to protest that she didn’t need help, but she didn’t have the heart to curtail Assa’s obvious excitement. ‘Thank you, Assa.’

  Alone again, Charlotte took in the luxurious yet understated surroundings of her room. This was how Tabat palace could be some day, with some loving care.

  And then Salim’s sneering words came back to her, when he’d accused her of wanting to be a queen. Humiliation flooded her again at the thought that he might have seen something of her feelings on her face, like Kat had, and had seen all the way into her deepest secret yearnings for unconditional love and a family.

  But did she secretly fantasise about being a queen?

  Charlotte walked to the window and looked out over Jahor. The thought made her feel panicky, and yet she appreciated what Kat had said about feeling capable of anything with Zafir by her side.

  Charlotte didn’t want to be a queen, but to be Salim’s queen... That was a different and far more dangerous dream.

  She turned from the window in disgust at her mind’s wanderings. Salim wasn’t even going to be king for long...and she could appreciate fully now just why he’d resisted so forcibly. Even if she still didn’t agree with him.

  Charlotte had to remind herself that she was a temporary lover. Someone who had piqued his interest for a while because she was nothing like his usual women.

  He was so proud. She knew he wouldn’t relish having spilled his guts to her just now. But no doubt he felt that it was excusable, because soon she would be relegated to his past while he got on with his future. With or without Tabat.

  And if he did decide to stay on as king then he would have to choose a suitable queen. Maybe someone from one of the tribes—a high-born tribal leader’s daughter. Like the young woman who’d married that man. With her gorgeous kohled eyes and elaborate headdress. They would say I marry you three times to each other and then they would be married...

  Charlotte cursed herself when she realised where her mind was going. She decided to take a refreshing shower and stripped off, pulling on a silk robe that was hanging behind the bathroom door.

  She heard a noise in the bedroom and, thinking it would be Assa, went back out, stumbling to a halt when she saw that a door she hadn’t even noticed was open between her room and another. And it was dominated by the man standing there, looking a little wild and feral.

  Salim.

  ‘You left.’

  Charlotte was glad to see there were no obvious signs of a fight on his face. She wondered how the exchange had gone with his brother.

  ‘I didn’t want to intrude.’

  He made a sound at that—something between a laugh and a growl. He held out a hand. ‘Come here. I need you.’

  His voice resonated like a sensual command, deep inside her. She walked forward, very aware of the flimsiness of the silk robe against her naked body and of Salim’s blue gaze on her.

  She stopped in front of him. The air crackled between them, alive and electric.

  ‘What do you need?’ she asked, slightly breathlessly.

  He looked even wilder up close, and it sent a shiver of awareness over Charlotte’s skin. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her right into him. She gasped when she felt the thrust of his arousal against her belly.

  ‘I need you,’ he said thickly, ‘and this.’

  And then his mouth slammed down on hers and she was sucked into an immediate vortex of white heat and lust, making her legs turn to jelly.

  Any of the remaining ice around her heart, that had protected her for years, was well and truly burnt away in this conflagration. How could she deny this man the release he sought in her arms when every bit of her ached to give him that release and then selfishly take her own...?

  The surge of emotion Salim had felt when he’d seen Charlotte standing there in the silky robe was too much for him to take in. The need he’d felt for her was instantaneous and urgent. The need to lose himself in her until the pain went away.

  She was arching her body into his and her mouth was so soft and sweet... He couldn’t hold back even if he wanted to now. It was fast and furious, but somehow he managed to navigate them so that her back was against a wall.

  They didn’t even make it to the bed.

  Salim lifted Charlotte so that her legs were wrapped around his waist, then pulled at her robe like an animal until she was bared and he could feast on her breasts, tugging first one and then the other nipple into his mouth, their pointed tips sending his arousal levels into orbit.

  He somehow managed to pull up his own robe and she reached down between feverish kisses, finding his rock-hard erection and freeing him from the confines of his trousers.

  For a second, while she held his body in her hand, he pulled back and looked at her. Her eyes were wide and glazed, her cheeks flushed. Hair to
usled. His chest grew tight.

  He removed her hand from his shaft and with less finesse than he’d ever shown in his life he found the heart of her body, where she was slick, tight and hot, and thrust up so deep that they both stopped breathing for a long moment.

  When her hips moved against his he withdrew, before slamming back in. Her muscles clenched around him and he let loose the beast inside him until their skin glistened with sweat and he had nowhere else to go but to pull out before he lost all control, to spill his seed across her belly.

  He’d never done that before, because he’d never not used protection, but right now he couldn’t even drum up shock or recrimination.

  Charlotte was looking at him wild-eyed, her hips still moving against him, and to his shame and mortification he realised that she hadn’t climaxed.

  She was biting her lip as Salim lowered her to the floor, instructing roughly as he knelt before her, ‘Put your leg over my shoulder.’

  She did, and Salim pushed apart the robe even more, so that her body was bare apart from the flimsy belt dissecting her belly where he’d branded her. He spread apart her thighs and laved her body, hearing her sighs and moans, feeling her fist in his hair as he plunged two fingers inside her and found the sensitive nub of her pleasure, suckling on it remorselessly until she too fell apart, screaming her release.

  When she was spent, Salim rested his head against her hips and for the first time in his life felt a sense of peace so profound that it silenced all the voices in his head.

  * * *

  Later, at the glittering banquet, Charlotte still felt flayed. They’d made love like two animals. Except she couldn’t drum up any sense of shame or humiliation. It had felt wild and strangely cathartic. As if something had been burnt clean.

  Incinerated, more like.

  She caught Salim’s eye now, across the table, and her inner muscles clenched. His mouth tipped up slightly on one side, as if he knew exactly what she was going through. She scowled at him and looked away, trying not to think about how he’d carried her into the shower afterwards and soaped her thoroughly—so thoroughly that she’d splintered to pieces again while he’d watched her with an intensity that she hadn’t been able to escape.