The Sheikh's Bride of Convenience (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 15)

by Cara Albany

  But, he'd see her soon enough. Once the heat of the day had passed, he and Grace would spend some time alone.

  In his own private suite.

  It would be the first time they'd shared private time in the suite since the day she'd moved into the palace. That in itself seemed amazing enough to Qazim. But, Grace was nothing if not determined to have her way. And Qazim had respected her wishes. The boundaries she'd drawn had held firm for a year.

  But, as Qazim turned his attention back to his guests, he told himself one thing.

  Tonight, those boundaries would be crossed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  In the early part of the evening, Grace left her suite, but not until she was sure that Zarif and Anya would be settled and okay. Zarif was sleeping, with Anya watching over him as Grace closed the door quietly behind her.

  Outside, in the corridor, it was quiet. Too quiet. She could feel her heart pounding. She glanced down at her plain outfit, a simple white dress and flat shoes. She knew Qazim liked the way she looked in this dress. He'd said that to her more than once, recently.

  It was only a short walk down the corridor to Qazim's private suite. He'd offered to come to her room and accompany her, but she'd declined the offer.

  The sound of her shoes on the marble floors echoed as she walked along the corridor. Thoughts tumbled in her mind. Questions flashed into awareness with every step she took. But the most important one of all was particularly insistent.

  What was going to happen tonight?

  Grace swallowed nervously as she thought about the upcoming meal with Qazim. Of course, it was their anniversary. He'd suggested this date with her, and she'd agreed, probably too quickly, she'd realized afterwards.

  And it was a date, wasn't it? She hadn't felt nerves like this since she'd been on her first date with Qazim over a year ago.

  Before all of this. Before her life had been utterly transformed. Butterflies danced in her stomach and she wondered if, this evening, she was going to have any appetite at all.

  But, again, she asked herself a question.

  Why had she agreed to this, at all?

  It was simple, really. Tonight was the night she'd promised to give him her decision.

  The decision about whether she was willing to carry on with their sham marriage. Or whether she was willing to accept the truth.

  And what was that?

  Grace smiled as she thought of the answer to that question.

  The truth was that she'd seen how Qazim had changed. She'd witnessed his transformation as a man, these past twelve months. How he'd accepted his responsibilities as a father. How he'd swallowed every bit of his pride and worked hard to be the best husband he could be to Grace.

  And, he'd done all of that under very difficult circumstances. It couldn't have been easy keeping his distance from Grace. She certainly hadn't found it easy staying away from Qazim.

  Living in this sumptuous palace with a drop-dead gorgeous sheikh for a husband had been exquisite torture, Grace admitted to herself.

  No.

  Grace had come to realize that the man she had walked out on over a year before had been cast back into history.

  And what did that mean for Grace?

  It meant one thing. She didn't have to doubt Qazim, anymore. Not like she'd done before.

  And, more important, she didn't have to fear being smothered by his demands. She didn't have to worry about losing herself in someone else's life. Those were the thoughts that had sent her running out of his apartment a year ago.

  A long time ago.

  She hadn't lost herself by staying with Qazim. On the contrary, she'd found something precious. Something she couldn't possibly throw away.

  Grace reached the door to Qazim's suite, and paused, straightening her dress, tugging at the her collar. She took a deep breath and knocked the door.

  After a moment, she heard footsteps from inside and then the door swung open.

  Qazim stood there, holding the door handle. He was dressed in a white, open-necked shirt, dark pants and casual black shoes. His skin looked clear and freshly washed.

  On seeing Grace, his eyes brightened and he smiled right at her. "Grace," he exclaimed. "Welcome."

  Grace nodded and stepped inside his suite. As she walked past him, she glanced up at him. "Qazim," she said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  She inhaled his mixture of cologne and his own manly scent as he leaned closer and gave her a brief kiss on the side of her cheek. It was a polite gesture, but one that immediately triggered a delicious tingle through her body.

  Up close, she felt a sudden awkwardness. His sheer physical presence was intense, here, in the confines of the narrow hallway. In the low light of the hallway, his features, normally harsh and hard-edged, seemed calm and softer.

  The layout of his suite was different from hers. Where they stood was a long corridor, at the end of which she could see a closed door. One door to the side was open, and she blushed slightly as she saw that one.

  His bedroom.

  She could see his bed from where she stood. Wide and very large.

  Inviting.

  Thinking that word almost made her blush.

  She wondered if he'd left that door open deliberately. She glanced at him and noted that he'd obviously seen the way she'd looked into his bedroom.

  He led her through another open double door and into his sitting room. She'd been in here briefly on some occasions, with Zarif and Anya.

  But, never alone. And not for over a week or so.

  That had been part of their agreement. The one part she'd been determined to keep.

  It was a luxurious room, elegantly furnished. Soft edges and muted colors predominated. On the walls there were prints, or possibly original paintings, showing desert scenes. The air in the room was cooled by two large overhead fans.

  Momentarily, she was surprised. She looked at Qazim. "Did you change something in here?" she asked.

  He smiled and nodded. "I made some changes to the furnishings. Got rid of some of that awful modern stuff you kept complaining about."

  She walked into the middle of the room. The sofas, chairs and cabinets all had a traditional look about them. Gone were the austere, minimalist pieces of furniture he'd had here before. Now, the place had almost an old-fashioned feel to it.

  Traditional, was the word which came to Grace's mind. Had he made this change to somehow get in touch with his ancestral past? Maybe Qazim had been talking with Riaz. Perhaps even taking some advice.

  She nodded approvingly. "Nice," she said. She smiled at him. "It's an improvement, Qazim."

  He lifted a brow. "I'm glad you approve," he said. "Speaking of approving, can I say you look absolutely beautiful in that dress," he added.

  He ran his gaze down the length of her body. The way he looked at her made something shift in her middle. If she wasn't mistaken, he'd just mentally undressed her. She felt her face flush with color and she tugged self-consciously at her long, blonde hair.

  "Thanks," she breathed awkwardly.

  "How is Zarif?" Qazim asked.

  "Sleeping," she informed him. "We put him down a half hour ago. He should sleep for at least a few hours. Anya will look after him well."

  Qazim nodded. He'd had only limited experience of dealing with Zarif's sleeping pattern. He seemed momentarily lost for words.

  "You know he doesn't usually sleep the whole night, anyway," she explained.

  She almost laughed when she saw his face pale slightly at that thought.

  "I've heard him at night," he replied hesitantly.

  Grace knew that was right. Qazim would have heard Zarif crying for attention during the night, but she'd always insisted on dealing with that herself and Anya who was always on call.

  She wondered how Qazim would cope with being woken in the night and having to help look after Zarif. Somehow, she couldn't quite imagine it. But, maybe, he would get used to it, she told herself.

  If she gave him the chance.


  Grace looked out through the open double doors, to the terrace. She could see an oval table with facing chairs out there.

  Qazim led her outside. It was a warm night and the sun was just beginning to sink beneath the distant horizon. The sound of insects drifted up from the garden. There was a cool breeze which contained just a hint of the scent of the desert.

  There was a balmy feeling to the air. She felt her dress cling to her body. She glanced at Qazim and saw that he was watching her again. He seemed to be just enjoying the fact that she was here, she told herself.

  Needing to distract herself and him, Grace looked at the table.

  "This is lovely," she announced, touching the tablecloth with her fingertips.

  The table was small enough so that she and Qazim would be within touching distance. Neither of them would have to stretch to touch the others hand. If that was what either of them wanted to do.

  It was intimate.

  Had he chosen the table for just that reason? Was he trying to manoeuvre her so that she would be as close to him as possible for the entire evening?

  There was a small, silver candlestick with one already lit candle which glowed brightly. Next to it, there was a long-stemmed red flower inside an elegant, narrow glass.

  There were two glasses of what looked like champagne on the table. In an ice-filled bucket by the side of the table there were two open bottles, each wrapped in white cloth.

  He'd thought of everything, she told herself.

  She looked at him. "Nice," she said to him.

  He smiled, looking pleased that she appreciated how he'd arranged things.

  He lifted both already filled glasses and held one out to her. "I hope you're hungry," he said.

  She took the glass and sighed, placing her other hand across her belly. "We'll see," she said.

  She squinted at the glass, seeing the bubbles rising inside it. "Champagne?" she asked, lifting a querying brow.

  Qazim shrugged. "Maybe," he replied.

  He clinked his glass against hers. "To us," he said in an even voice, suddenly serious.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and smiled. She didn't say anything in reply to that. His words had sounded almost like a test and she wasn't sure just how she should respond.

  She sipped the liquid and watched him as he gazed at her over the rim of his own glass. She coughed slightly and felt the bubbles rush up into her nose.

  Qazim laughed. "Surprised?" he asked after taking a sip of his own champagne.

  "Water?" she gasped, looking at the glass.

  He smiled. "I thought you'd prefer mineral water, seeing as how Zarif might be needing you, later."

  She wasn't sure whether to laugh or be annoyed. "You think of everything, don't you," she stated.

  He tilted his head. "I try."

  "Always thinking ahead," she said. "Some things never change."

  "Why would I stop doing what works?" he asked with a broad grin.

  Grace shook her head at him and turned away, moving to the marble balustrade. She rested her hand against the cool marble and gazed out across the garden, taking in the sight of the bright colors, inhaling the wonderful mixture of scents. This truly was a magical place, she told herself.

  She felt Qazim ease alongside her.

  "It's going to be a beautiful night," he said quietly.

  Now what had he meant by that? She quickly lifted her head up and looked at the shimmering stars which were just beginning to emerge against the darkening sky.

  She sighed. "It sure is," she agreed, keeping her gaze upwards. "You can see so many stars out here in the desert," she said, eager to change the direction of the conversation. Anything to stop it becoming too personal so soon.

  "I didn't know you were into astronomy," he said. There was a teasing tone in his voice.

  She looked at him. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Qazim."

  One corner of his mouth creased into a mischievous smile. "Really?" he said in a flat voice.

  She smiled and cocked her head to one side. "Yeah. Really," she replied defensively, but still playing along with him.

  He turned and leaned his side against the balustrade. He gazed at her as he took another sip of champagne. He looked like he was already enjoying himself, she observed.

  Qazim grinned at her. "So, what exactly don't I know about my wife, that I should?"

  That one word caught her off balance.

  Wife.

  The way he'd said it, made it sound so certain, almost indisputable. She felt something inside her pull back, as if he'd moved closer to her, too quickly, and she'd instinctively reacted with an impulse to restore distance between them.

  She rolled her eyes at him. "You have no idea. I guess I'm just full of surprises."

  "Okay," he said. "Maybe I've got some things to look forward to."

  She smiled at him. "We've only been married a year and you already think you know everything about me? Don't you know it usually takes longer than that?"

  Qazim ignored that last remark, and she was pleased that he did. She didn't know why she had teased him like that. "I would have thought I've done pretty well, all things considered," he replied.

  Grace peered at him. Had there been just a hint of criticism in that last remark. She wasn't sure.

  Grace sipped her mineral water. Suddenly she was glad it was just water. It was going to difficult keeping a clear head this evening. She'd need all the help she could get.

  "When's the food coming?" she asked abruptly.

  His eyes narrowed. She was sure he'd sensed her pulling away from him. He paused and then looked back toward the inside of the sitting room. "They're waiting for my call."

  "Who?"

  "The staff. The chef has cooked your favorite."

  Grace squinted at Qazim. "And that is?"

  Qazim lifted a brow. "Is this some kind of test?" he asked with a smile.

  "No."

  Qazim put his glass down and started toward the open french doors. "I don't want to spoil the surprise."

  Grace felt her stomach rumble. He heard the noise and grinned at her. "Looks like you are hungry, after all."

  He went inside and she heard him speaking on the internal phone.

  Grace turned back and faced the garden. She felt her heart beating faster. She hadn't realized how much that simple conversation had affected her. This evening was going to be more awkward than she could ever have imagined.

  It was obvious he was trying to be charming, trying to keep her in a good mood. She wouldn't have expected anything else from Qazim. The whole time she'd known him, he'd always had impeccable social skills.

  He came back out onto the terrace. "Dinner will be here in a few minutes," he announced. He smiled at her. "You sure you can wait that long?"

  Grace shook her head and grinned. "Of course. I just haven't eaten much today. Not after that reception downstairs."

  Qazim's gaze softened. "It was wonderful," he said quietly. "I don't think I've ever been so proud."

  "Zarif was on his best behavior."

  Qazim shook his head. "I wasn't talking about Zarif. Of course I'm proud of Zarif. He's amazing. But, I was talking about you, Grace."

  "Me?"

  Qazim nodded. "The way you handled it all. So many people there, you didn't even know that well. In a foreign land. A language you barely understand. You just took it all in your stride."

  Grace felt her face redden. He was trying to compliment her, but all he was really succeeding in doing was embarrassing her.

  "Every one of my family members told me the same."

  "What was that?" she asked.

  She wasn't sure wanted to hear what he was going to say next.

  Qazim smiled softly and gazed at Grace. He leaned closer. "That I'm the luckiest man alive to have you as my wife," he stated firmly. There was a finality in his voice that stopped her in her tracks.

  Qazim held her gaze, almost like it was a challenge. He looked like h
e was waiting for her to say something.

  She waved a dismissive hand at him. "Stop it," she gasped.

  "What?" he replied, moving even closer to her. He was mere inches away from her now. She could see the emotion in his eyes. Those dark pools which always threatened to suck her all the way into his desire.

  His need.

  Draw her into his world again. Forever.

  She snapped herself out of the momentary dream he'd caught her in. "You're making me blush," she complained.

  His brows narrowed and his gaze drifted across her features. "It looks good on you," he murmured.

  Grace waved a hand in front of her face, feeling the air cool slightly.

  "Warm?" he asked.

  Grace turned away from him and placed her glass down onto the table. "I think I'll sit down."

  She flopped down onto the chair, stretching her legs out by the side of the table. He sat down across from her, resting his hands easily on the table. Grace tucked her hands into her lap, resisting the impulse to place her hands on the table. Within touching distance of his outstretched fingers.

  For a few moments, she didn't know where to look. She peered studiously out in the direction of the garden, trying to appear calm, saying nothing, intensely aware that Qazim was watching her. She knew that if she turned her head and looked at him, his gaze would be as intense as always.

  Impossible to ignore.

  She heard noise from inside the sitting room. A door opened and two palace staff came out onto the terrace. They pushed a low trolley. On it, she saw familiar looking food that was still hot, giving off a small cloud of steam.

  Grace inhaled the scent of the chicken dish. He was right. It was her favorite, a delicately flavored chicken recipe she'd grown to love soon after she'd arrived a year ago.

  She recalled its sweet taste. It was unique to Qazhar. She remembered the first time she'd eaten it, when she'd been out on one of her first dates with Qazim.

  She smiled at him. "You remembered," she declared.

  He simply nodded and said nothing else. They both watched as the servants dished out the food. Other plates had been brought, laden with varieties of tasty looking vegetables.

  "Did you tell me you weren't hungry?" he asked her in teasing voice.