The Sheikh's Million Dollar Bride

by Clare Connelly

  “This is my wife,” Syed said through bared teeth. “Her Royal Highness Sarah Al’Eba.”

  Adin’s smile was stretched across his face. “The American you could not forget. Come closer, child. Let me see you.”

  Butterflies rampaged Sarah’s stomach but she did as the old man had commanded, her chin tilted at a defiant angle, her eyes sparking flame and confidence to anyone who dared challenge her.

  “I did not realise everyone would be here,” Syed said, right beside Sarah.

  Stand by my side, when I need you most. And he was doing just that.

  “Well,” the woman to the left spoke. Her voice was clipped, her accent British, and obviously extremely upper-class. “Of course we’re here. How many times do we get to meet a new member of the family?”

  She broke formation first, moving towards Sarah and extending her arms. Her hug was kindness itself; she kissed each of Sarah’s cheeks and then stepped back, making way for Charlotte to welcome Sarah.

  “So,” Charlotte said, her smile genuine. “You’re the woman who stole my fiancé.” She winked over Sarah’s shoulder at Syed and then laughed. “I would say that worked out very well for both of us, no?”

  Sarah couldn’t help but return the woman’s smile. “I didn’t know about you.”

  “I know.” Charlotte squeezed her hand. “I am pleased to meet you.”

  Behind her, she heard Syed’s exhalation of breath.

  “My son has only ever disregarded my wishes once,” Adin said into the room, his eyes pinned to Sarah’s face. “He tells me he loves you.”

  Sarah arched a brow and nodded. “He tells me the same thing.”

  Beside her, she heard Violet’s quiet laugh.

  “And you love him?”

  Sarah thought about a sarcastic rejoinder. But instead, she spoke with complete seriousness. “Why else would I marry him?”

  She saw Zahir stiffen and she knew that he was yet to be convinced. But his wife was obviously supportive of their marriage, and that was something. “I would have married him five years ago, and I had no idea who he was or what fortune he had. To me, he is just Syed.”

  Adin nodded. “And to us.” He turned his face towards the windows and frowned. “It is a nice afternoon. Have the table set for lunch. We should eat together – as a family.”

  *

  “You are stunning.”

  Sarah threw him a look of concern but then, she nodded.

  “It’s definitely this dress.”

  She ran her hands down the exquisite gown that had been pain-stakingly stitched for her. A cream colour it fell in swathes and swathes of floating fabric with gold beads and diamonds stitched over the arms and bodice. “And this crown.” She lifted her fingers, slightly shaking, to the elaborate, heavy piece of jewellery that adorned her head. “And the makeup.”

  “It’s everything about you,” Syed assured his wife.

  Her eyes met his in the mirror and she turned slowly, conducting her own inspection of his appearance. The traditional robes always looked amazing on him, but today, knowing the significance of what they were doing, it felt different somehow.

  The coronation ceremony had been in the works for the month they’d been in Kalastan.

  “Right back at you,” she murmured, biting down on her lower lip before realising that she might eat off her lipstick.

  “You know,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing him closer. His body was hard, and she felt her own body soften against it, her gut churn in pleasurable anticipation. She blinked up at him, waiting, expectantly. “If we had ten minutes more…”

  “Yes?” She murmured.

  He dropped his lips to her throat, breathing a kiss against her sensitive flesh there. “I’d help you to forget all this. To remember that you’re here because I love you, and I’m a man, and you’re a woman, and all this is just meaningless froth.”

  His hands grazed the dress, finding her breasts and she moaned, arching her back.

  “I remember that anyway,” she said throatily.

  “Still,” he laughed, “a little reminder wouldn’t hurt.”

  He pushed her back against the wall, his strong legs on either side of her, straddling her so that she could feel the hint of his erection. He pushed it against her, grinding it to her core and making her knees feel like they were about to fall out.

  “I think I can get out of this dress pretty quickly,” she lied, thinking guiltily of the four attendants it had taken to button her up.

  “Look! Look! I’m a princess!”

  Sarah made a choking noise as Lexi burst into the room, twirling in the centre. Syed recovered impressively quickly, straightening from the wall and turning his back on Sarah to allow her a moment unseen to recover her wits.

  Lexi was wearing a miniature version of Sarah’s dress, right down to the diamonds and gold – something Sarah had expressed ambivalence about. A four year old could hardly be trusted to care for something so valuable. But Sasha had promised she’d take care of both Lexi and the dress.

  Sarah’s breath fired in her lungs and disappointed curdled her soul. God, she wanted to make love to her husband. It was ridiculous; only hours earlier they’d done just that, but her need was rampant.

  “Yes you are,” Syed crouched down, straightening Lexi’s crown and smiling at her face. “And today all of my people will know it.”

  “Will they clap at me?”

  “Clap for you? Yes.”

  “Will it be like in Cinderella? Will they bow to me? Will there be a ball?”

  He laughed and nodded. “But you’ll turn into a pumpkin if you stay too long, so Sasha will take you to bed after the first dance.”

  “Ohhhh,” Lexi nodded, her eyes huge. “Really? An actual pumpkin?”

  Sarah watched the interaction with warmth bursting through her. “No, darling,” she soothed, sending Syed a droll look as she crossed towards them and reached down for her daughter. She lifted Lexi easily and propped her on her hip.

  “You look like a princess,” Lexi complimented Sarah with the biggest kindness in her arsenal. “So pretty.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh!” Sasha burst through the door, her face pale. “Lexi!” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, your highnesses. She told me she was going to the bathroom.”

  Sarah laughed. “Cheeky monkey.” She kissed Lexi’s cheek and placed her down on the floor and Sasha took her hand.

  “I’m sorry we interrupted.”

  Sarah’s cheeks flamed pink, hoping Sasha didn’t know exactly what she’d interrupted.

  “I suppose we’ll have to get used to that,” he said with a smile.

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah shook her head, her eyes crinkled at the corners. “She’s used to having me all to herself…”

  “I know.” He kissed the tip of Sarah’s nose. “And please, your highness, don’t apologise. I hope to have many, many little Lexis in our life, you know.”

  “Many, many?” Sarah stared up at her husband, her mouth open in surprise.

  “Well, at least three. Maybe four? Five?”

  “Ummm…” She laughed.

  “What?” He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer. Her body leaned in instinctively, moulding to his shape. “You don’t like that idea?”

  Sarah nodded. “I love the idea.” And she did. “I suppose I’d never run out of photographic subjects,” she pointed out.

  “Ah, yes. About that.” He detached himself from her and her body groaned with disappointment, a disappointment that grew as he moved towards the door and left the room. She stood there, a quizzical expression on her face, for several moments.

  Then, he reappeared, a black case in his hand. “For you.”

  She knew instantly what it was, of course. The camera brand was emblazoned over the case.

  “You got me that?” She asked, blinking her eyes.

  “Not me, no.”

  He put it on the dressing table and,
her curiosity increasing, Sarah moved towards it and clicked the latches, lifting the lid. A note lay on top of the camera. She lifted it up, unfurling it.

  The initials DB were marked in the top.

  Dear Sarah,

  I understand you have a talent for photography. I will visit Kalastan in a month and would enjoy spending time with you, travelling and taking some shots. Please accept this as a gift from me on the occasion of your wedding.

  Dieter Blackmann.

  She dropped the paper and spun around, her eyes huge as she stared at her husband.

  “THE Dieter Blackmann?”

  “Yes,” he nodded. “He’s taken several royal portraits.”

  “Oh,” she nodded, but her head was spinning. Dieter Blackmann was regarded to be the world’s top photographer. He was highly-sought for portraits but it was his landscapes that had always captivated Sarah. “Wow.”

  “My beautiful wife, I want you to pursue your dreams – it seems only fair, given that you’ve made all mine come true.”

  Her heart twisted and tears sprung to her eyes. “I … thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me,” he said quietly. “This is nothing more than you deserve.” He kissed her forehead softly. “Now. Shall we?”

  *

  A new Sheikha had arrived in Kalastan, and despite the worries of Adin and Zahir, Sarah Al’Eba caused a swelling of interest and admiration. Her grace, beauty and the obvious acceptance from the royal family all added to her natural appeal. In the month they’d spent in Kalastan, Sarah had been frequently photographed with Charlotte or Violet, and their friendships had established quickly, yet deeply. Sarah was, universally, adored.

  But it was, perhaps, Lexi who stole the show when, halfway through the official ceremony, she fell asleep. Syed simply lifted her into his arms and cradled her against his chest as the event continued.

  The photo was everywhere the next day; the Sehikh had found his family and the Kingdom had fallen in love right alongside him.

  THE END

  Book Two in THE SHEIKHS’ BRIDES series is THE SHEIKH’S STOLEN BRIDE – Ashad’s story. Following is an excerpt.

  And don’t forget, reviews make the world go ‘round for Independent Writers so please take a moment to rate or review THE SHEIKH’S MILLION DOLLAR BRIDE. Thanks! CC.x

  THE SHEIKH’S STOLEN BRIDE

  Clare Connelly

  All the characters in this book are fictitious and have no existence outside the author’s imagination. They have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names and are pure invention.

  All rights reserved. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reprinted by any means without permission of the Author.

  The illustration on the cover of this book features model/s and bears no relation to the characters described within.

  First published 2017

  (c) Clare Connelly

  Photo Credit: dollarphotoclub.com/

  Contact Clare:

  http://www.clareconnelly.co.uk

  Blog: http://clarewriteslove.wordpress.com/

  Email: Clareconnelly@outlook.com

  Follow Clare Connelly on facebook for all the latest.

  Join Clare’s Newsletter to stay up to date on all the latest CC news. http://www.clareconnelly.co.uk/subscribe.html

  PROLOGUE

  “I have no intention of marrying her.”

  Ash stared at his cousin Syed long and hard. Only four months separated them in age – they were more like twins than cousins. But in some ways they were at odds.

  “Your father wishes it,” Ash pointed out, sipping his coffee and taking in the view of the Old City. It spread in all directions; beautiful, ancient, glorious. Beyond it were the desert plains that surrounded Kalastan, and in the far distance, the ocean. Across that sea was the Kingdom of Falina and Syed’s intended bride.

  “My father wishes peace with Falina. Falina wishes peace with us. The marriage is unnecessary where both rulers are minded for harmony.”

  Ash placed his cup down slowly. “How long have you been preparing that little speech?”

  Syed made a sound. “Come on! You know I’m right.”

  Ash grinned. “What I know is that I have the betrothal papers here. I’m expected in Falina tonight. Do you want me to cancel? To avoid going?”

  “No, that won’t work,” Syed shook his head. “I am sick of delays. I want this matter settled once and for all.”

  “So? What do you suggest?”

  Syed’s smile showed that he’d given the matter a lot of thought. “I don’t know much of Charlotte. I’ve met her only once.”

  “And you didn’t like her?” Ash prompted curiously.

  “Whether I liked her or not is besides the point. I do not want to enter into a marriage just because my father would like the question of Falina and Kalastan nicely stitched up.” Before he dies.

  The end of the sentence hung in the air between them, like a heavy foreshadowing of a grief neither knew how to process.

  “There’s someone else?” Ash prompted.

  “No.” Syed compressed his lips. Images of Sarah came to him out of nowhere. He would not let himself think of her. She was a distraction he didn’t need.

  “So? Why not marry Charlotte? I have seen photographs of her. She’s stunning.”

  “Is she?”

  Ash nodded, remembering the dark hair, red lips, brown eyes, pale skin. “I don’t think her beauty subjective.”

  “We are talking about marriage! A woman I tie myself to for life. Bring to my bed! I would like some damned say in the matter.”

  Ash laughed. “You are a Sheikh, as am I. There is a long precedent of our marriages being organised for political gain. Why do you not go to Falina yourself? Meet with Charlotte, see if you can imagine her as your wife?”

  “And if I don’t? Rejecting her having spent time courting her is an insult that could lead to war. No, Ash. There is only one way to put this marriage off. And I need your help.”

  “You know I would do anything for you,” Ash said, though he was dubious that Syed’s scheme would have any merit. “What do you suggest?”

  “Go to Falina, as planned. But stay. Stay long enough to learn something of Charlotte that would make her unsuitable as my bride.”

  Ash felt a rumbling of discontent roll through his gut. “And if there is nothing?”

  Syed shook his head, a smile on his lips. “There will be. No one can be as perfect as she’s purported to be. Find some dirt, and I will use it to put an end to this betrothal.”

  “But if there’s really nothing?” Ash insisted, nowhere nearly as confident as Syed.

  “Then I will marry her.” Syed squared his shoulders and stared out at the Old City, thinking of the thousands of lives that had been lived within its walls. “Please, Ash. Do your best. I’m counting on you.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Your highness?”

  Ash lifted his head from the laptop, ignoring for a moment the emails he was wading through.

  “Yes?” It was a curt abrasion for the intrusion. He had left strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed. In the two days since arriving in Falina, he’d achieved precisely nothing on Operation Betrothal Break. A few emails with the Falina palace, but other matters had more urgently commanded his attention.

  Or was it that he was wasting time, dreading the very idea of looking to discredit an innocent woman just to save his cousin from a marriage he found unpalatable?

  “There is a visitor for you, from the palace.”

  He put his pen down and stood. He had been dreaming to imagine he could put this off indefinitely. “Who is it?”

  “Her Royal Highness Charlotte Shareef.”

  Ash paused, midway through straightening his robes. “Is it?” He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, curiosity overriding any other emotion.

  “May I allow her to enter?”

  “Of course. She is the Heir to the throne of Falina and you have left
her waiting in the hallway?”

  The servant, fearing he’d erred in some crucial way, bowed extra low as he backed out of the room. Ash had only a moment to organise his thoughts before the door was pushed inwards.

  The woman who entered was almost exactly like the photographs Ash had seen. Her silky, dark hair had been plaited and wound around her head, and a jewelled ribbon was weaved through the plait, created a shimmering effect. She wore a dark ruby red dress that covered her body from neck to the floor, and all the way down to the wrists, and yet somehow it was floaty and gauzey enough to hint at the curves it concealed in a way that Ash hadn’t expected. Her eyes were brown, yes, but there were flecks of honey and caramel in them, and they were enormous and round, with curling black lashes. Her skin was a pale golden, like melted butter, and there were several dark freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her lips were cherry red, almost the exact same tone as the dress.

  She was just like the picture, but so much more beautiful. A picture couldn’t convey the depth of her features, the fragrance of citrus and lavender that seemed to accompany her, and it certainly couldn’t convey her emotions, which Ash could clearly see were sparking in that moment.

  “Your Highness,” he murmured, bowing his head forward before moving towards her. His curiosity increased as he wondered at this unexpected, unaccompanied visit, and the sense he had that she was annoyed.

  She compressed those full red lips and her eyes sparked with his, as though she was running through a thousand things she wanted to say and trying to select the one that was suitable.

  “You are Sheikh Ashad Al’Eba?”

  “Guilty,” he murmured. Ordinarily, he would have shaken her hand, but the princess was obviously riled about something and he wasn’t sure she wouldn’t reject the gesture. “Please, have a seat.”

  She sent him a barbed look, and he knew, somehow, that she was contemplating saying ‘no’, but apparently she thought better of it and crossed to the set of armchairs to the side of the desk.