Bride Behind The Desert Veil (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Marchetti Dynasty, Book 3)

by Abby Green

Another muttered curse came from behind her and then, before she could react, Sharif was in front of her and bending down. She only knew what he was doing when the world was upended and she realised he’d flung her over his shoulder.

  His hand was on her bottom. She was so astounded and indignant that she could hardly breathe, let alone speak.

  He opened the back door of his vehicle and put her on the seat. Liyah sprawled inelegantly, looking at him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  His jaw clenched. ‘We need to talk.’

  He closed the door before she could respond and strode around to the front. Liyah leapt for the door handle but it was locked. Both sides. And then the car was moving.

  For a long moment she fumed in the back seat. Sharif was silent. Navigating his way out of the city and into the surrounding desert. Past the oasis. On into the desert. And on. And on. Further and further away. Towards Al-Murja.

  Eventually she couldn’t stay silent. She leant forward, doing her best to avoid looking at Sharif directly. ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘It’s at least another half an hour. Make yourself comfortable. We’ll talk when we get there.’

  Liyah sat back and folded her arms over her chest. She caught Sharif’s eye in the rearview mirror and pointedly looked away. But she couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted if he really did now know she hadn’t been the source of the leak.

  Roughly half an hour later a structure appeared on the horizon. Despite herself, Liyah leaned forward to look. Gradually it was revealed as a modest fortress-type building, with turrets. Greenery dotted the ground outside. It must have been built on an oasis.

  Liyah recognised the skyline of Al-Murja’s capital city in the distance. She recognised where they were: the border between Taraq and Al-Murja.

  Sharif drove straight up to the building, and to her surprise she saw the gates open to admit them. Her jaw dropped as they drove in. Inside the walls was a lush oasis. Flowers bloomed on almost every wall. Vines twined and tangled around columns. There were ponds and fountains. Palm trees.

  The building itself was simple. Two-storey. She could see through it to corridors and columns, to inner courtyards around which she knew would be arranged rooms and quarters.

  She wanted to ask What is this place? But she didn’t want to give Sharif the satisfaction.

  He came to a stop in the main courtyard, ringed with vibrant bushes and flowers. It was like an exotic outdoor hothouse. Liyah had never seen so many examples of desert plants in one place. It was magical.

  He got out and came around and opened her door. She was tempted to stay put, but the thought of Sharif putting her over his shoulder again made her scramble out.

  She looked behind her to see the main gates closing again. A man in a white thobe appeared and Sharif gave him the keys to the four-by-four. Then he kept on walking into the building.

  With the utmost reluctance, Liyah followed.

  Sharif knew she was behind him. He felt her presence in every cell of his body. Regret and self-recrimination burned in his gut. He didn’t blame her for being angry. He had betrayed her in the worst way.

  The moment he’d seen her trademark unruly hair, barely contained by the shawl, he’d known immediately it was her—as if he wouldn’t have guessed from the way she moved. Or her green eyes when she’d looked at him.

  He led her into a shaded courtyard, where a table was laid out with refreshments. He turned to face her. She was looking around her. Her body was tense.

  ‘Please, help yourself.’

  She looked at the table. And then at him. Folded her arms. ‘I don’t need anything. Can you just tell me whatever it is that can’t be expressed through our legal teams?’

  ‘Did you hear what I said back at the palace? I know you didn’t do it.’

  ‘I told you I didn’t do it a month ago. You had a choice at the time to believe me or not. It’s too late now, Sharif.’

  She turned away, but Sharif caught her hand. That physical contact of skin on skin made his body tighten all over.

  ‘Liyah, will you please let me explain...?’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE HURT THREATENED to overwhelm her, but Liyah pushed it down, not wanting him to see it.

  As if she wasn’t that bothered, she turned back, taking her hand from his. ‘Fine—knock yourself out.’

  She sat down on one of the chairs at the table, crossed her legs. She heard Sharif sigh and sneaked a glance. He was running a hand through his hair. She noticed belatedly that it was longer. And his jaw was stubbled enough to be halfway to a beard. She’d been too angry to notice before now. Too upset. She felt a dart of concern. Then quashed it.

  ‘The truth is that as soon as I was informed of the leak I wanted to believe that you were responsible. I pushed aside any other possibility because I’d trusted you with information that I hadn’t shared with anyone else. Not even my brothers, for fear my plans wouldn’t proceed as I’d wanted.’

  ‘How did you find out?’

  Sharif sighed again. ‘I think I always knew in my heart. But it was Callaghan who told me that it was one of my own aides. The man hacked into my safe and copied the documents. News of what I planned was too incendiary to make him resist leaking. He went to Callaghan, my brothers, the board, hoping that by doing so he’d stop the company from breaking up and save his own job in the process, or get promoted to a better position by one of my brothers, in return for the information.’

  ‘How did your brothers react?’

  Sharif emitted a caustic laugh. ‘How do you think? They were livid. Exactly as you said. But, worse than that, they were hurt. I betrayed their trust badly. And yours. But now we’ve reached an agreement, and hopefully a solution. We’re not dismantling the Marchetti Group. It’s going to be rebranded The House of Noor—named after my mother. Dismantling everything my father had built up was always the focus of my revenge. I never really considered the legacy we’d built—me and my brothers—since he died. I was too blinkered. But you helped me start to see things differently. I had to acknowledge that my relationship with my brothers had changed. I didn’t want to admit that, though, because I didn’t want to admit that I cared about them as much as I did. I’m taking my mother’s name too—officially. I’ll be known by my Al-Murja title from now on. I’ve left it up to my brothers to decide if they want to hang on to the Marchetti name or not. Maks doesn’t care too much. But I know Nikos will probably change his name too.’

  A lump formed in Liyah’s throat. She hated it that she cared about the fact that he’d managed to fix things with his family. And that he’d managed to honour his mother in such a profound way, by taking her name for himself and the company.

  She finally looked at him. ‘Why did you blame me if you had a shred of doubt?’

  Sharif came and sat down on the other chair. He leant forward, hands linked loosely between his thighs. Liyah averted her gaze, but that was just as bad because she couldn’t look away from his eyes.

  ‘Because I realised how close you’d got. How much I’d instinctively trusted you. When I never trusted anyone in my whole life before. Yet within a month of meeting you I’m telling you my innermost secrets and sharing my life with you in a way that crept up on me.’

  ‘I am your wife,’ Liyah pointed out with an astringent tone. ‘There’s a certain amount of trust and cohabitation expected.’

  Sharif stood up. Paced back and forth. When he spoke he sounded frustrated. ‘I know that. But in my arrogance I believed I could marry someone—anyone—and not have them impact my life in any meaningful way except for the way I dictated.’ He faced her. ‘But then you came along and blew it all up. From that night at the oasis, nothing was the same again.’

  And clearly, Liyah thought, not much had changed. He might have realised she was innocent of his accusations, but he still blamed her f
or upsetting his life.

  Liyah stood up too. ‘Look...thank you for your apology. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I know that it’s still over.’

  Sharif looked at her. ‘Over?’

  ‘The marriage.’

  Sharif shook his head. ‘That’s not why I brought you all the way here.’

  Liyah’s silly heart skipped a beat. ‘Then...why?’

  He took her hand. ‘I want to show you something.’

  He tugged her after him and, feeling bemused, she followed. He led her back out to the main courtyard and then around to the side, to the back of the complex. It was huge. With lush greenery blooming from every point. Liyah itched to explore, even amidst the turmoil in her gut.

  ‘What do you think of this place?’ Sharif asked.

  ‘It’s beautiful. Stunning.’ It was like the dream she’d always had of a desert home. Not that she was going to admit that to Sharif...

  She could see now that he was leading her to an area of stables and courtyards. More staff milled around. They addressed Sharif as Sheikh—Liyah had almost forgotten he was royalty too.

  She heard a familiar whinny and stopped. It came again. Half to herself, she said, ‘It can’t be...’

  She let go of Sharif’s hand and followed the sound to see her beloved stallion’s head poking out over a half-door. She went over, disbelieving until the moment she smelled him, and then she put her hand on his face and felt him nuzzle into her palm, looking for the apple she always brought.

  She’d ridden him out from the Taraq palace only two days ago. She saw another stallion poke his head out from a neighbouring stable. Sharif’s?

  She looked at Sharif, who was standing a few feet away, watching her carefully. ‘But...how is Aztec even here?’

  ‘I had him transported yesterday.’

  ‘You...? But why?’

  Sharif didn’t answer that. He said, ‘Sheba is here too.’ He pointed to the other side of the yard.

  Reluctantly leaving Aztec, Liyah went over to a spacious shed where Sheba was in an enclosed structure far more luxurious and spacious than her home at the Taraq palace.

  Liyah was too stunned for a moment to do much but stroke her soft feathers.

  Sharif was in the doorway, blocking the light. Liyah turned to face him. ‘But...why are they here?’

  ‘Because this is yours, Liyah. I bought this fortress for you, so you’ll always have your own home in the desert.’

  She was stunned into speechlessness. The emotions his gesture evoked within her were too huge and confusing. Eventually she said, ‘But I can’t accept. It’s too much.’

  He was firm. ‘It’s yours. In your name. To do with what you will. A place where you can come and be free. Independent. Beholden to none.’

  Liyah couldn’t believe what Sharif was saying. He was literally offering her everything she’d ever thought she wanted and needed to be happy.

  But that had been before. Before Sharif had come along and blown it all up. Exactly as he’d accused her. Except, for him, it was just a superficial wound.

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t want it, Sharif. It’s too much.’

  ‘It’s too late.’

  Frustration, anger, love and pain all mixed together and threatened to overflow. She pushed past Sharif, moved back into the courtyard, needing air. Space.

  ‘You don’t get to do this,’ Liyah said through her breaking heart. ‘You don’t get to buy me a dream castle in the middle of the desert just to salve your conscience so I can be here on my—’

  She stopped and turned around, overcome. She felt Sharif close behind her.

  ‘On your what?’

  Something gave way inside her. A last defence. She was undone. Reduced to nothing. She had nothing left to lose.

  She turned around again, let him see the emotion she was feeling, that was leaking out of her eyes. He went pale. ‘On my own, Sharif. I’ve been on my own my whole life. Until I met you. You made me want more. You made me want things I’d never dared dream I could have. Like a relationship. Even after I’d vowed I would never let myself be so vulnerable. You made me fall in love with you and I’ll never forgive you for that. I gave you the power to hurt me—and you did.’

  The words hung in the air between them. Sharif didn’t move. He didn’t turn and get back into the car and disappear as fast as the wind could carry him. He stood there, looking at her with those dark unfathomable eyes.

  Liyah couldn’t take it any more. She moved to turn away, find somewhere in this vast place where she could lick her wounds, but Sharif said, ‘Wait.’

  She stopped, but didn’t turn around.

  He said from behind her, ‘Would you forgive me if I said that all those things you mentioned... I want them too? With you. And,’ he continued, ‘if it’s any consolation, I gave you the power to hurt me too. By accusing you of something you didn’t do, I pushed you away before you could hurt me. Except it didn’t work. Because I hurt myself. And you. And I will never forgive myself for that.’

  She turned around. His face was starker than she’d ever seen it.

  He said, ‘I love you, Liyah. I fell for you as soon as I laid eyes on you that night at the oasis, and I thank whatever serendipitous forces aligned to make you my mystery lover and my bride—because I know that if I had never met you again my life wouldn’t have been worth living. I’ve had nightmares for the past month, and in each one it’s our wedding day, and when your face is revealed it’s not you. It’s a stranger.’

  Liyah looked at Sharif. She saw the truth written on his face and in his eyes. Saw the ravages of the past month. She saw them because she felt them too.

  She took a step towards him, feeling the fragile, tentative beginnings of something like joy unfurling inside her. ‘You really love me?’

  He lifted a hand towards her. She saw that it was trembling. But he let it drop, as if he was still afraid to touch her.

  ‘More than you could ever know,’ he said. ‘And now I know why I avoided it for so long. It’s terrifying.’

  Liyah took another step closer. Reached for his hand. Intertwined her fingers with his. For the first time in weeks she felt a sense of peace move through her, and also something much more profound. A sense of homecoming.

  ‘I love you, Sharif. And I love this place. But I’ll only agree to accept it on one condition.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘That you share it with me.’

  He reached out, touched her hair reverently. ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t want that.’

  ‘I do,’ Liyah said fervently, moving closer until their bodies touched. ‘But I have a question.’

  ‘Anything,’ Sharif said again, and smiled.

  ‘If you’re no longer Sharif Marchetti, then what does that make me?’

  ‘If you consent to stay my wife then you will revert to your family name—Sheikha Aaliyah Binte Rashad Mansour.’

  Liyah bit her lip, feeling emotional. ‘Of course I consent. But I think I’d like to take my mother’s name and yours—Aaliyah Binte Yasmeena al Nazar.’

  Sharif’s eyes looked suspiciously shiny. ‘I think that is a very fine name.’

  Liyah twined her arms around his neck. Desire rose, thick and urgent. ‘I have one more very important question...’

  Sharif framed her face with his hands. ‘Anything,’ he said, for a third time.

  ‘Where are the bedrooms?’

  ‘There are about twelve.’

  ‘We only need one.’

  He said, ‘We should probably check them all, then, to make sure we pick the best one.’

  Joy bubbled up and spilled out of Liyah’s mouth in a spontaneous laugh as Sharif led her into the building. He turned to her and she could see the fragility of this moment written on his face.

  He stopped and cuppe
d her face. ‘Is this real? Are you real? Or have I dreamt you up since that night at the oasis?’

  If Liyah had had any lingering doubt it was eradicated in that instant. And, just as Sharif had put her hand over his heart that night, to prove he was real, she took his hand now and put it over her heart. ‘I’m real. This is real. I love you, Sharif.’

  He lowered his head and kissed her with a tenderness and a passion that left her trembling.

  When he broke away, Liyah said breathlessly, ‘I don’t know if I can wait until the first bedroom.’

  Sharif smiled and it was full of wickedness, his trademark arrogance returning. ‘We’re in no rush, are we?’

  Liyah smiled. ‘No rush at all.’

  It was a month before they left the fortress...except for a couple of visits to a very special oasis.

  EPILOGUE

  Seven years later

  Sharif and Liyah’s desert fortress on the borders of Taraq and Al-Murja

  ‘DANIEL, PLEASE DON’T do rabbit ears behind Luna’s head this time. Can we just get one photo where we all look relatively normal, please?’ Zoe made final adjustments to the camera, which was on a tripod. She pressed a button. ‘Okay, everyone—ten seconds. Assume your positions and smile!’

  She darted out from behind the camera and went over to where everyone was dutifully gathered in front of a wall of flowers. Maks tucked her into his chest. He stood beside Maggie and Nikos, who were beside Sharif and Liyah.

  Nikos was holding a sleepy three-year-old Tessy in his arms—the latest addition to their family—and in front of them were Daniel and Luna, first cousins and as thick as thieves. Then there was Olympia, Daniel’s sister, who was holding her four-year-old cousin Ben, Luna’s brother, with one hand and four-year-old Stella, Sharif and Liyah’s daughter, with the other hand.

  Serenity reigned for about seven seconds—until the shutter clicked and children scattered with shrieks and yells, resuming whatever game they’d been playing before Zoe had gathered them all together.

  Zoe went over and looked at the camera. She rolled her eyes to heaven even as she couldn’t help but smile. ‘That’s it—I give up. You lot are impossible!’