by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
There was no way. He could not do that. No way in hell.
Because if there was anything he'd learned as a kid growing up in Texas, it was to stand up and take the consequences for his actions like a man.
Consequences.... Elena had said something like that, hadn't she? They'd had only a few minutes together, while Hassan was speaking to the foreman at one of the refineries they'd visited this afternoon about some sort of minor problem or complaint. Even now, remembering the disappointment in her eyes made Cade squirm. "Cade, I warned you...."
"You did," he'd acknowledged, and added, grimly joking, "Don't worry, I take full responsibility for my own stupidity."
But Elena hadn't smiled, and with a sad little shake of her head had murmured, "This isn't what I wanted for you, Cade." Her eyes had gone to where her husband stood with his back to them, deep in conversation with the refinery foreman. "I'd hoped.. .someday.. .you'd find someone you could love the way I love Hassan." Her voice had broken then, and Cade had snorted to cover the shaft of pain that unexpectedly pierced his heart.
Why he'd felt such a sense of loss, he didn't know. He'd never expected to experience that kind of love, anyway. The kind of love that lasts a lifetime. From his own personal experience he thought it doubtful love like that even existed.
As for his own feelings about Leila, since they were so confusing to him, most of the time he tried not to dwell on them at all. If he had to define them, he'd have said they pretty much consisted of a mix of anger and remorse. Yeah, she'd behaved like a moonstruck girl, but he was old enough, experienced enough, and he should have known better. He was responsible and it was up to him to make it right. But there was something else in the stew of his emotions that wasn't as easily defined, possibly because it was a whole lot less unfamiliar. The closest he would allow himself to come to defining it was protectiveness. With his own carelessness he'd hurt this child-woman immeasurably, and he never wanted to do so again.
Understandable enough. But even that didn't account for the strange ache of tenderness that filled his throat sometimes when he looked at her—like now, as she murmured affirmative responses to her father's questions.
Do you agree to this marriage, Leila, and enter into it of your own free will?
Yes, Father....
But still, not once did she look at Cade. And he felt a strange, unfamiliar emptiness inside.
Alima rose then, and came to her daughter's side. She placed the leather-bound book on the shiny desktop. Sheik Ahmed picked it up and handed it to Cade, explaining that it was an English translation of the Quran, which he might wish to study in his own time. Cade nodded, accepted the book and murmured his thanks. The sheik then repeated, in Arabic, the words of the eshedu, which Cade would be required to recite later that evening, before the marriage ceremony itself. Cade nodded again. Then Alima touched Leila on the shoulder. Without a word, she rose and followed her mother from the room.
"Now, then," purred the sheik when the women had gone, leaning back and lacing beringed fingers across his ample middle, "let us discuss the Mahr... It is our custom that a husband bestow upon his wife a gift. This may be money or jewels, of course—" the sheik waved a hand in a casually dismissive way "—or something of even greater, if less concrete value. That is up to you. You will no doubt wish to give the matter some thought...."
Once again, Cade could only nod. His heart was beating hard, gathering speed like a runner hurtling downhill.
This is real, he thought. It's actually happening. I'm marrying a princess of Tamir. And a virgin princess, at that.
* * *
Leila gazed at her reflection in the mirror, eyes dark and solemn in her waxy pale face. She saw her mother's hands, graceful and white as lily petals as they plucked and tweaked at the veils that covered her long black hair, veils that soon would be arranged to cover her face as well, until the final moments of the nikah ceremony later that morning when her husband would lift them to gaze at last upon the face of his wife.
At least, she thought, there would not be many people present to witness that moment. Only her parents and her sisters, Nadia and Sammi, of course, and Salma, and perhaps a few of the other servants who had known her since she was a baby. She was glad she would not have to face Elena, and especially Hassan. Salma had told her that they had left last evening for their honeymoon trip, right after returning from their tour of the oil refineries with Cade. Most of the guests who had attended Hassan and Elena's wedding had left yesterday, as well, and probably would not even know yet of Leila's humiliation.
Sadly, she thought of the wedding she had always imagined for herself, the most wonderful, beautiful occasion.. .even more glorious than Hassan's. Instead, it must be only a brief and private, almost secretive affair, with only her closest family attending. Papa would preside over the ceremony, of course. She would not even have a Walima, since she and Cade would have to leave for his home in Texas immediately after the nikah ceremony, and so how could there be a joyous celebration of its consummation?
Her stomach lurched and she swallowed hard. I wish I had some makeup, she thought. Lipstick, at least. What will Cade think, when he sees me looking so pale?
Does he think I am pretty at all?
Will he want to kiss me again, the way he did that night?
Her stomach gave another of those dreadful lurches. Oh, she thought, I do hope I'm not going to throw up.
Another time... another place...
She took a deep breath, and then another. After tonight I will be his wife. Will he want we then?
"Are you all right?" her mother asked, holding her hands away from the veils and looking concerned. "Do you need to sit down for a moment?"
"I am fine, mother," Leila said, trying a light laugh. "I was just thinking about Sammi and Nadia. Are they very angry with me?" Not Nadia, of course—she was the one who had convinced Leila to go through with this. But Leila had not told her mother that.
Her mother gave a rather unladylike snort. "Of course they are not angry with you." She paused to consider the effect she had just created with the drape of the veils, then threw Leila a quick, bright glance by way of the mirror. "They have been no more happy than you have, you know, with some of our more... restrictive ways. To have one such restriction done away with they see as a victory for themselves as well as for you."
Leila could only stare back at her, openmouthed with surprise. She had never heard her mother speak so freely. It occurred to her then, perhaps for the first time, that her mother was a person in her own right, a woman of intelligence, with her own thoughts, opinions, hopes and dreams. And she suddenly wished with all her heart, now that it was too late, that she could have talked with her about those things.
This time, the lurch was not in her stomach, but in her heart. She made an impulsive movement, a jerky half turn. "Mother—" she began, then paused, because Alima's eyes had darkened with worry...and something else. Embarrassment?
Her mother took a small step back and clasped her hands together in front of her ample chest. "Leila.. .my dear, you are the first of my daughters to marry. I am sorry—I do not know.. .exactly how..." She closed her eyes for a moment and bent her head over her clasped hands, as if in prayer, then drew a resolute breath. "What is it you would like to know? There must be questions you wish to ask. Please do not be afraid. I will try-"
A strange little bubble rose into Leila's throat—part nervousness, part excitement, a little guilt—but she bit it back before it could erupt in laughter. A wave of unheralded tenderness swept over her; she suddenly felt quite amazingly mature and wise. "Mother," she said gently, "I know about sex. Really. You do not have to worry."
"Oh dear." Alima closed her eyes and let out an exasperated breath. "I was afraid of that."
"From school." Leila was softly laughing. "It is all right. Really." She did not think it necessary to mention to her mother that most of her "education" on the subject of sex had not come from classrooms and textbooks, but from the l
urid novels and how-to books smuggled in from time to time by Leila's classmates and examined late at night, by flashlight, under the covers, to the accompaniment of giggles, gasps of amazement and sometimes, outright horror.
Her mother sighed, reached for her and drew her close, in a way she had not done since Leila was a little girl. "Then...you are truly all right? You are not afraid?"
As she fought back tears, Leila briefly considered lying. Then, trembling, she whispered, "Mummy, I am terrified."
"Oh, my dear one—"
"He is a stranger to me! Who is he? What is he like, this... Cade Gallagher? Mummy, I do not know him at all!"
"Then you will learn," said her mother in an unexpectedly firm voice, putting Leila away from her and making little brushing adjustments to her veils. "And he will learn about you. And, God willing, you will continue doing so all the days of your lives. As your father and I have."
"Mother?" Leila brushed a tear. "Did you know Father well before you married? Did you.. .love him?"
Alima considered that for a moment, and there was a faraway look in her dark eyes. Then she smiled. "I knew that he was a good man...." Then she added more firmly, "And I believe Cade Gallagher to be a good man, as well."
She paused as Leila turned from her in frustration. Catching hold of her arm, she gave it a tug and said with exasperation, "Leila, you went to his room. Have you forgotten? There must have been a reason. Perhaps you should try to remember what it was about Mr. Gallagher that made you do such an incredibly foolish thing! What made you decide, of all the men in the world, to pursue him?'
In the silence that followed, Leila heard her mother's words like an echo inside her head. What was it about Mr. Gallagher? What was it... what was it?
Once again she faced her own reflection in the mirror, but now her eyes saw another scene.. .a sunlit garden, bright with flowers and people and noisy with chatter and the shush of fountains.. .and a tall man in a pale gray suit and a western cowboy hat with his face lifted to follow the flight of a bird, smiling.. .eyes alight with wonder, like a child's. And she drew a long, unsteady breath.
Yes. That was it. The moment when I knew. Everything else came after....
For a long moment her own dark eyes gazed back at her. Then, carefully, she lifted the veils and pulled them forward so that they completely covered her face. They would not be lifted again until her husband drew them aside to look for the first time upon the face of his wife.
She turned to her mother and said in a voice without tremors, "I am ready."
It is true, she thought. It is really happening. I am marrying Cade Gallagher from Texas. I am going to America.
♥Scanned by Coral♥
Chapter 6
"So this is Texas." Leila tried to keep any hint of disappointment out of her voice as she peered through the windows of the big American car at the jumble of tall buildings and looping ribbons of freeways filled with cars—so many cars, all moving slowly along like rivers of multicolored lava. "It's Houston," her husband replied in that drawling way he spoke sometimes.
Glancing over at him, Leila saw that the corner of his mouth had lifted in a smile—a smile nothing at all like the one that had lit his face like sunshine when he turned in the palace garden to watch the flight of the bird. The one she held tightly in her memory as if to a sacred talisman. Nevertheless, she felt encouraged by it. She had seen him smile seldom enough in the twenty or so hours that she had been his wife.
His wife... I am a wife. He is my husband.... How many times had she repeated those words to herself, sitting beside him in airplanes and cars and airport lounges, standing with him in queues, facing him across restaurant tables? And still the words seemed unreal to her.. .totally without meaning.
Sitting beside him in the airplanes—that had been the worst part. Sitting so close to him, for hours and hours and hours on end! So close, even in the roomy first-class seats, that she could feel the heat of his body.. .smell his unfamiliar scent.. .and, if she was not very careful, sometimes her arm would brush against the sleeve of his jacket. When that happened, prickles would go through her body as if she had received an electric shock. Once.. .she must have fallen asleep, because she had awakened to discover that her head had been resting on his shoulder. Mortified, she had quickly made her apology, to which he had grunted a gruff reply. Then, looking uncomfortable and shifting restlessly about, he had offered her a pillow.
She had tried very hard to stay awake after that, and as a result now felt fuzzy-headed and queasy with exhaustion. But, she thought, mentally squaring her shoulders, I will not complain. She was a princess of Tamir, after all, and a married woman, not a child. And even as a child had been much too proud to show weakness or fear.
"It is not quite what I expected," she said lightly, letting her dimples show.
He threw her a glance, a very quick one since he was driving. "In what way?"
"I thought it would be more open—you know, like in the movies. Fewer people, fewer buildings... And," she added, gazing once more out of the windows, "not so many trees." In fact, she had never seen so many trees in all her life, not even in England. In some places they made solid curtains, like tapestries woven of green threads, on both sides of the highway.
Her husband laughed softly, deep down in his chest. She had never heard him make that sound before, and she decided she liked it, very much. It made her feel warm, with quivers of laughter in her own insides.
"Like I said, this is Houston—that's east Texas. The kind of wide open spaces you're talking about, that's west Texas. Out in the hill country and beyond. I have a place—guess you could call it a ranch—out there." He threw her another of those tight, half-smiling glances. "Which I guess you'll probably see... eventually."
She caught her lip between her teeth to contain her excitement. "Are we going there now?"
He answered her again with laughter—indulgent this time. "Not hardly. It'd take the rest of today and most of tomorrow to drive out there. Texas is a bi-ig place."
"Yes," Leila said with a little shiver of suppressed delight, "I know." She felt her husband's eyes touch her, but did not turn to see what was in his glance.
Instead, looking through the window at the unending wall of trees, she asked, "You live here, then? In Houston?" And her momentary happiness evaporated with the realization that she knew so little about the man she had married—not even where he lived.
"Near there. We've got a ways to go, though, so if you want to, you can just put your head back and sleep."
"Oh, no," she said on a determined exhalation, "I don't want to miss anything."
* * *
"Wake up, Princess," said a deep and gentle voice, very near. "We're home."
Home. Leila's eyes opened wide and she jerked herself upright. Her heart was pumping very fast and she felt jangly from waking up too suddenly. She must have been disoriented, too, because the view through the car's windshield seemed oddly familiar to her, like something she had seen in a movie. Not a western movie. Maybe one about the American Civil War.
They were driving slowly down a long, straight avenue with trees on both sides—not a solid wall, but huge trees with great spreading branches that met overhead like a lacy green canopy. Sunlight dappled the grassy drive with splotches of gold, and somewhere in all those branches she could hear birds singing— familiar music, but different songs sung in different voices. Eager to hear them better, she rolled down the car window, then gasped as what felt like a hot, damp towel slapped her face.
Cade looked over at her and drawled, "Might want to keep that window closed," though she was already hurrying to do just that. "You're probably not used to the humidity."
A squirrel scampered across the road in front of them, and Leila gave another gasp, this one of delight. Again Cade glanced at her, but this time he didn't speak.
Now, far down at the end of the shaded avenue, the trees were opening into a pool of sunlight. The driveway made a circle around an expanse of
bright green lawn bordered by low-growing shrubs and flowers. On the other side of the lawn, twin pillars made of brick with lanterns on top flanked a shrub-and flower-bordered walkway. The walkway led to brick steps and a wide brick porch with tall white columns, and tall double doors painted a dark green that almost matched the trees. On either side of the porch and above it as well, large windows with many small panes and white-painted shutters gave the red brick house a sparkly-eyed, welcoming look.
Again, Leila drew breath and said, "Oh..." but this time it was a long, murmuring sigh. She thought it a lovely house—small compared to the royal palace of Tamir, but plenty large enough for one family to live in.
Family. Are we, Cade and I... will we ever be... a family?
She felt a peculiar squeezing sensation around her heart.
Two people—a man and a woman—had come out of the tall green doors and were waiting for them, standing side by side on the porch between two of the white columns. Neither was tall, but the woman's head barely topped the man's shoulder.
He was thin and bony, with legs that bowed out, then came together again at his western-style boots, as if they had been specially made to fit around the girth of a horse. His white hair was slicked back and looked damp, and he had a thick gray moustache that almost covered his mouth, a stark contrast to skin as brown and wrinkled as the shell of a walnut. He wore blue jeans and in spite of the heat, a long-sleeved blue shirt. One gnarled hand, dangling at his side, held a sweat-stained cowboy hat.
The woman seemed almost as wide as she was tall, with a face as round and smooth as a coin. She had shiny blackcurrant eyes and skin the exact color of the gingerbread cookie people Leila had learned to love as a schoolgirl in Switzerland and England. Her hair, mostly black with only a few streaks of gray, was cut short and tightly curled all over her head, and she wore a loose cotton dress that was bright with flowers.
