More Precious than a Crown

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘I have not chosen my bride yet,’ Zahid said, and he took her champagne glass and placed it on a window ledge, then pulled her back to where she had been just a second or two ago. ‘If I had I would not be about to kiss you.’

  ‘Oh …’

  Well, that settled that, then, Trinity thought. There was nothing to stop them other than her fear and the fact that she could not stand being held by a man. Except she was being held now and there was no urge to run—there was no urge to do anything other than receive the lips softly descending on hers.

  Would he be able to tell her terror from her kiss? Trinity wondered.

  No, she quickly realised, because there was no terror—just the melting of fear and the bliss of his lips and the stroke of his tongue.

  She sank into his embrace without thought, and the press of his body against hers felt like a reward.

  His mouth did make the pain disappear, his kiss did allow her to forget, and Trinity found out something new—it was very hard to kiss and smile at the same time, but she was trying.

  carol marinelli recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation and, after chewing her pen for a moment, Carol put down the truth: ‘writing’. The third question asked, ‘What are your hobbies?’ Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered ‘swimming and tennis’. But, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest she’s got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

  More Precious than a Crown

  Carol Marinelli

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  To my lovely Facebook friends,

  who cheer me on when my heroes misbehave <3

  Contents

  Cover

  Introduction

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Dedication

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Extract

  Copyright

  PROLOGUE

  ‘HAS ANYONE SEEN TRINITY?’

  Dianne’s voice carried through the still night. It had become a familiar cry this past year or so, and one that Sheikh Prince Zahid of Ishla had grown more than a little used to whenever he spent time at the Fosters’ residence.

  Zahid had been a regular guest to the household since he had been sixteen but now, about to turn twenty-two, he had made the decision that this would be his last time he would stay here. The next time he was invited he would politely decline.

  Zahid walked through the woods at the edge of the Foster property. He could hear the sounds of laughter carry across the lake on this clear summer night. Zahid was flying back to Ishla soon and he hoped that his driver would arrive early rather than promptly, for he really would rather not be here. The Fosters were throwing a party to celebrate their son Donald’s graduation and, given that they had added the fact that Zahid too was graduating, it would have been rude to decline.

  Next time he would.

  Zahid did not enjoy their company, he never really had. Gus Foster was a politician and it seemed to Zahid that he never switched off. His wife Dianne’s sole purpose in life seemed to be to stand by her man whatever Gus did. Since Zahid had known the family, there had been the humiliation of two very public affairs as well as the scandalous revelations of sleazier encounters and not once had Dianne’s plastic smile wavered.

  After tonight he would not have to see it again, Zahid thought. Neither would he have to make polite small talk with the obnoxious Gus. He only did it because he was a friend of their son Donald.

  Well, as much as Zahid had friends.

  Zahid was a lone wolf and very independent. He preferred the company of a beautiful woman on a Saturday night rather than this type of thing, but obligation had brought him here.

  When he had been sixteen and a boarder at a top school there had been a random locker inspection and a wad of cash and drugs had been found in Zahid’s locker. They had not been Zahid’s. It hadn’t been the mandatory suspension that had been the problem, though. It had been the deep shame that such a scandal would cause his family.

  On hearing the news, Zahid’s father, King Fahid, had immediately boarded his jet to fly from Ishla to speak with the headmaster, not to cover things up, for that was not how things worked in Ishla. Instead, Zahid had explained to Donald, the king was on his way to England to apologise and take his disgraced son home. Once in Ishla, Zahid would have to publicly apologise to the people of Ishla.

  ‘Even if you didn’t do it?’ Donald had asked.

  Zahid had nodded.

  ‘It is up to the people if they forgive me.’

  Zahid had stepped into the headmaster’s office with his back straight and his head held high, ready to meet his fate, only to find out that there had been a misunderstanding.

  Donald, the headmaster had informed the prince and king, on hearing about the locker inspection, had panicked and placed the money and drugs in Zahid’s. It was Donald who would now be suspended and the school offered its sincere apologies for the disruption the incident had caused the king.

  As the king and young prince had stepped out of the headmaster’s office, there had stood Donald with his father, Gus.

  ‘Thank you,’ King Fahid had said to Donald, ‘for being man enough to admit the error of your ways.’

  ‘You miss the point,’ Gus had said to the king. ‘My son would never do drugs, he did this to help a friend.’

  The Fosters had taken it on the chin.

  Gus had even given a speech in Parliament, stating that even the most loving, functional families were not exempt from the perils of teenage years.

  Functional?

  Zahid had frowned at the choice of word then and was frowning now as he walked, recalling that time all those years ago.

  The Fosters had appeared on the front pages on the Sunday newspapers. Dianne, smiling her plastic smile for the cameras, Gus with his arm around his suitably sheepish-looking son. The only one who had spoiled the picture-perfect image had been Trinity—she had been dressed in her Sunday best but, rather than smiling, she had scowled at the cameras.

  Zahid actually smiled as he recalled the photo from yesteryear but he wasn’t smiling a few seconds later when a streak of blonde caught his eye.

  There was Trinity.

  She was hiding a bag of clothes beneath a tree and wiping lipstick off, and jumped when she heard Zahid call out and start walking towards her.

  ‘Trinity!’ Zahid said. ‘Your mother has been calling for you. Where have you been?’

  She swung around to face him. ‘Please, Zahid, can I say that I’ve been with you?’

  ‘You know I don’t lie.’

  ‘Please,’ Trinity said, and then sighed. Zahid was so austere, so formal and so rigid that it was pointless even trying to get him on side. Yet, just as she went to walk off and face the music, he halted her.

  ‘If I am going to cover for you, first I need to know what you have been up to.’

  Trinity slowly turned. Even when she had asked Zahid to cover for her, s
he’d never really expected him to agree, yet it sounded now like he might. ‘I was at my friend Suzanne’s,’ came her cautious reply.

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Just...’ Trinity shrugged.

  ‘Just what?’

  ‘Dancing.’

  ‘You have been to a party?’

  ‘No! We were just listening to music in her room and dancing.’ Trinity almost rolled her eyes as she attempted to explain to his nonplussed expression, because clearly that wasn’t the type of behaviour Zahid would understand. ‘We were trying on make-up, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Why are you hiding clothes?’ Zahid looked at what she was wearing—a long-sleeved top and a pair of jeans—and then he watched as Trinity screwed her blue eyes closed, no doubt to come up with a suitable lie.

  Trinity was, Zahid knew, a skilled liar, only what he didn’t know was that she wasn’t trying to lie now. She simply didn’t know, in this, how she could tell the truth, when it was just a feeling she had.

  How could she explain that Suzanne had suggested she borrow some clothes because Trinity hadn’t liked the way her aunt’s new husband had been looking at her in the dress her mother had bought for her? Trinity didn’t understand enough herself, let alone know how to explain it to Zahid, just how awkward Clive made her feel.

  She refused to call him Uncle.

  He was the reason that she’d run off.

  It was the reason that Trinity was always running off at family things and, given that Zahid was only ever there on family occasions, he saw this behaviour all too often.

  ‘Last time I was here, I caught you climbing out of your bedroom window,’ Zahid said, and watched as Trinity did her very best to keep her face straight. ‘It is not a laughing matter.’

  No, it wasn’t a laughing matter, Trinity thought, but the memory of it made her smile. Zahid had refused to believe she had simply been hungry and, rather than facing all the guests, had simply been trying to sneak into the kitchen. He’d brought her out a plate of food and then watched as she’d climbed back up to her room, using a tree and the trellis. Given her practised movements, it had been a presumably well-worn path for Trinity.

  ‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ Trinity said.

  ‘Perhaps not, but on family occasions you should be here.’ It was black and white to Zahid yet sometimes with Trinity it blurred to grey. She was so spirited and wilful and just so visibly unimpressed with her family that at times she made Zahid silently cheer, not that he would let her know that. ‘You don’t just disappear.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Trinity started, but then a mischievous smile prettied her sulky face. ‘So, what’s your excuse, then?’

  ‘Excuse?’

  ‘What are you doing in the woods?’ And then, as realisation hit, she started to laugh. ‘Sorry, that was a stupid question.’ Zahid’s frown only deepened the more she tried to explain. ‘Well, I guess you needed to...’ Trinity stopped then. There was not a single vulgar thing about Zahid and, no, now that she came to think of it, Trinity could not imagine Zahid popping into the woods to answer the call of nature! ‘My mistake.’

  ‘I went for a walk so that I could think.’ Zahid looked down at her. Of all the Fosters, Trinity was the only one he would miss. Yes, she made him smile at times, but he wasn’t smiling as he saw that since her last escapade Trinity had changed. She had, in fact, grown into a very beautiful young woman. Her hair was blonde and had been cut in a jagged style, her eyes were huge in a too-thin face and they sparkled as she waited for him to speak. ‘If you were in Ishla you would be expected to support your parents and mix with the guests...’

  ‘I’m not in Ishla, though.’

  As they started to walk back towards the party, Trinity tripped a little.

  ‘Have you been drinking?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I think I’d remember if I had.’

  He turned her to him and took her cheeks in his hands. He saw her dilated pupils and neither quite recognised the lust between them yet. ‘Blow.’

  ‘You’re breath-testing me?’

  ‘Blow,’ Zahid said, and she did, but he could smell no alcohol.

  ‘What are you up to, Trinity?’ Zahid asked, except his hands did not leave her face and neither did Trinity want them to. Yes, he was boring, yes, he was yawn-yawn dignified, but sometimes when he smiled, sometimes when his subtle humour went completely over her parents’ heads, he made her laugh. She had never understood what women saw in him. Donald was bitterly jealous and complained often to his family that women only went after Zahid for his title.

  Tonight Trinity would beg to differ.

  Now she understood his attraction, for those black eyes made the skin on her cheeks flare with heat and the height of him, instead of intimidating her, had her wanting to stand on tiptoe and lift her face to his like a flower to the sun.

  Now they recognised the lust.

  Zahid looked down at her. She was like a little wild kitten that any minute might scratch but right now was temporarily tame, and Zahid was knocked sideways by her appeal.

  ‘Am I to breathe out again...?’ Trinity said, and as he went to open his mouth to tell her they should get back, Trinity blew into his open mouth. He captured her breath and then swallowed, and for the first time Zahid wrestled with self-control.

  ‘You need to be more careful,’ Zahid warned. ‘You should not be walking alone in the woods at night.’

  ‘In case a handsome prince happens to be walking by?’

  ‘I could be anyone,’ Zahid pointed out, but his hands were still on her cheeks.

  Their lips were almost touching.

  ‘You’re you,’ Trinity said, ‘and I want you to give me my first kiss.’

  Her mouth was, to Zahid, perfect and he was, rarely for him, tentative as his lips grazed hers for he was wrestling for control, forcing himself to hold back not just want, for the pulse of her flesh on his lips gave him more than the usual want, it filled him with need, and a man of Zahid’s standing must never feel need that wasn’t met.

  For Trinity to feel him kiss her so tenderly, to feel that sulky mouth now soft against hers, was sublime.

  A late developer, for six months now, or perhaps a little more, Trinity had loathed her body. The feel of another’s eyes on her had made her feel ill. Family functions had been spent fighting hands that wandered, yet she was not fighting hands now. She loved the feel of Zahid’s hands moving from her cheeks and down to her waist, and when her lips parted the slip of tongues was so mutual, so natural that Trinity let out a moan.

  Zahid would have loved to linger, she tasted of cinnamon and was so sweet and warm, but the purr of her too-thin body beneath his hands, the sudden tip into sexual hunger from Trinity, the raw need in himself were enough for Zahid to attempt to halt things.

  ‘That was not your first kiss.’ His voice was not accusing, he was merely stating a fact, for never had a mouth had such an effect on him before and surely it had been a practised kiss.

  ‘Okay, it was my second,’ Trinity admitted. ‘Suzanne and I practised a while back so that we’d know what we were doing, but this doesn’t feel like practice, though,’ she breathed, her mouth searching for his again.

  ‘You need to get back,’ Zahid said. His voice was just a touch stern, for he was cross at his own lack of control. His life was ordered, the women he dated were generally a few years older than him, not the other way around, and with reason, for emotion he kept at a distance and love was something to actively avoid.

  Sex was the name of the game but it felt like more than that now.

  Trinity’s hands met at the back of his neck and she looked up at him. His hands were just above her hips and she knew that at any moment they would disengage, that he would take her back, but Trinity didn’t want that. She wanted her first proper kiss to go on for longer, she did not want to return to her family and the house, but more than that, she wanted more time with Zahid.

>   He was far too tall for her mouth to reach his without Zahid lowering his head, so when still he did not, her mouth moved to his neck, and worked upwards, inhaling his lovely scent and feeling his hands digging deeper into her hips.

  There was a strange push-pull, for he should push her off, take her hand and walk back, yet Zahid was resisting the urge to pull her into his groin. Trinity’s tongue licked up his neck and then one hand did move. Zahid took her chin in his fingers and Trinity blinked up at him. She thought for a moment that she was about to be told off, but instead his mouth came down on hers and she found out that the first kiss had been but a precursor to bliss.

  Trinity’s eyes snapped open at the passion behind his kiss. She was a little shocked, a little heady and then, when she saw the usually remote Zahid so consumed, Trinity’s eyes closed again and just revelled in the bliss of being so thoroughly kissed. One of his hands was stroking her hip and his tongue was sliding around hers and there was nothing but pleasure to be had. His other hand was on her shoulder but almost pushing her back in an attempt to resist pulling her in, yet it was Trinity who ignored the pressure and moved a delicious bit closer and discovered her home.

  In the circle of his arms, pressed against him, she found herself.

  Trinity loved the feel of his sex against her stomach and finally the bliss of the pressure of his hand pulling her in as his tongue duelled with hers. Now she moved up on tiptoe, wanting to feel that delicious hard length lower yet. Still fighting himself, Zahid pushed her down. It was like a match to gasoline for Trinity and she rose to her toes again and then it was she who pushed down and Zahid wrenched his face back, ending the kiss but not the contact of their groins, his dark eyes assessing her but with a smile on that stern mouth, which was shiny from hers.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ Trinity urged, pressing herself to him, She was building towards something that felt like a faint wail of sirens in the vague distance. Her body was on delicious alert, seeking their direction, as Zahid did his best to contain her.