“Of course,” Elena nodded sympathetically. “We will do what we can to make it easier for you. Anassi has arranged good care?”
Cassie laughed. “I think he’s about to build a hospital at the palace unless we stop him.”
“Good, yes, a wise idea. We shall speak to him and make it easier.”
“No, no,” Cassie laughed. “Please. I don’t want all the fuss.”
“You will have it, nonetheless,” Adin winked at her.
After several more fruitless requests by Cassie to keep things calm and low-key, and several more increasingly excited pronouncements from Elena, Layth was finally able to whisk his bride away from the palace and into one of his fleet of Range Rovers.
“I didn’t even know you could drive,” she said with a droll tone, earning a laugh from her newly-minted husband.
“It is a relief to know I can continue surprising you even now.”
Cassie’s smile was comfortable. She was comfortable. Layth regarded her thoughtfully, wondering if the time was right to bring up the matter that had been worrying him lately. “Cass, I must ask you about your mother.”
A frisson of emotion flared dangerously in her system. She was instantly alert. “What about her?”
He hated having to unsettle his bride. “She has been attempting to contact you through official channels.”
“What do you mean?” She couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t even thought of her mother since marrying Layth.
“Iskander has been passing her messages to me.” He flicked her a gaze. “I am sorry to have kept this from you, but I did not want to trouble you while you were so unwell.”
“I see. And why are you telling me now?” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’m not angry with you, Layth. I know you were protecting me.”
He cast her a look of admiration. His wife was kind and she was empathetic, and he loved her with every fibre in his being. “Your mother would like to come here to see you. To see your palace.”
Cassie sat up straighter. “She does?”
“Yes.” Layth measured his words carefully. “How do you feel about this?”
Cassie shook her head. “I lost my mother ten years ago. I’m no longer upset with her. The past is in the past. But I don’t know if I want to see her again.”
She was silent for a long while. “Is she suggesting that he would come too?”
“Yes.”
Cassie shivered. “I think it’s best if you put a stop to it, Layth.”
He nodded. “I agree.”
“You do?”
“Cassie, if your stepfather ever sets one foot on Takisabad land, I will have him thrown in prison for the rest of his life.” He gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white. “I have wondered if I should encourage the visit simply so that I might do so. When I think of this man living out his life without any consequences, I am apoplectic.”
“Layth,” despite the seriousness of his words, Cassie couldn’t help but smile. “He’s not worth your time. Trust me.” Cassie leaned back in her seat and yawned. “But I’d prefer not to see them again. You’re my family now. You and Jude and Melinda and Renee, and your parents who are lovely, and your uncle who is brave.”
Layth’s heart swelled. “You should sleep, my dear one. It is a long drive.”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes and sighed. She hardly needed prompting these days. She felt as though she was exhausted just about all the time.
The day was hot too, as most days in Takisabad were proving to be. But Layth had been right, when he had described the Kingdom as uniquely beautiful. Cassie wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a country so diverse and stunning.
Her eyes drifted shut somewhere north of the City, and it wasn’t until the sound of the ocean reached her ears that she stirred. The sun was dropping down in the sky, casting an orange glow over the sea. Waves were rolling gently to the shore, and stars were beginning to twinkle overhead.
She smiled contentedly, unaware of the way Layth was staring at her. “Where is this?”
“Our beach.”
“Our beach?” She looked at him curiously, and the intensity of his gaze sent little arrows of pleasure darting along her spine.
“Yes. It is – and has been for two hundred years – a private beach for the Emir’s family. Here we may be completely free, and undisturbed.”
“It’s beautiful.” The cove stretched for miles in each direction, with a natural border provided by two distinct headlands – one on each side. A large white tent had been erected on the sands. “What’s that?”
“Come and explore it.”
She smiled and nodded.
They walked hand in hand over the bright white sand, with the gently rolling waves for company. The tent was not far, but they moved slowly, simply enjoying the moment.
He lifted one side, so she could step in ahead of him.
“Oh!” She gasped, admiring the interior with wonderment. “It’s a lovely little home.”
Her joy in simple things always, without fail, pleased him. Seeing the world through her eyes had become an addiction. “Look at it, Layth. There’s a proper bed, and a sofa.” She spun around to him, her smile enormous. “But you already knew this.”
He nodded slowly. “I had it set up to meet your needs. If this is to be our honeymoon, I wanted it to be perfect.”
“We flew here via a week in Paris,” she reminded him jokingly.
He shrugged. “Can we not have two honeymoons then?”
“Two? I want a lifetime.”
He grinned. “Consider it done, your highness.”
Much later that night, when the heat of the day turned to a cold that was as startling as it was sudden, Layth and Cassie sat side by side on the sand, a bright blanket wrapped around their shoulders. The flames of the fire were licking rapidly, sending warmth towards them.
Overhead, the stars were pristine glitter against a blanket of black, and the waves continued to roll. Cassie pressed her head against her husband’s shoulder, her contentment a feeling she would never tire of. “Layth?” Her voice was dreamy. “What did your mother mean when she said that thing about your name?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“She said something about it being lucky they named you as they did. Why?”
“Oh.” He smiled, and ran his hand down her back. “My name… It means Lion – a name given to those with great courage.”
Cassie straightened, and her heart was beating fast in her chest.
“That’s strange.”
“Is it? You do not find me courageous?”
She shook her head. “No, do you remember my dream? When I was … younger? I used to dream that I was rescued by a lion. And here you are, my Lion, and you have rescued me.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I did think of it, when you told me of this dream.” He stroked her back. “Would you like to hear something even more interesting?”
She nodded.
“Your name, Cassandra, means one who prophesises. I looked it up after you told me of your dream.”
“Layth!” She was aghast. “That seems far too superstitious for a man like you.”
He exhaled slowly and wrapped her against him. His heart was beating heavily in his chest. “Look at the heaven, Cassie, and tell me it is not possible that there was a plan for us amongst those stars. You who was named for a future-seer, and me for a Lion. You do not think there was a hand of something inexplicable in how we met and came together?” He pressed his lips against her hair. “From the first moment I met you, I felt I knew you.”
“Me too,” her voice was just a husk. Something else occurred to her. “What were you doing in the bar that night?”
“I told you, my friend was looking to buy it.”
“Yes, I mean who were you writing to? You were so angry.”
“Yes.” His smile was wry. “I was drafting a letter to my parents and my uncle informing them that I would be marrying under extreme duress.�
��
Cassie laughed. “I can’t believe it. You’re so driven by duty and honour.”
“I did not intend to send it.” He could have laughed as he recalled the impertinent tone of the note. “It simply felt better to put the words down. And then I saw you.”
“And then I saw you.”
“And the rest is history.”
“The rest,” he corrected, lifting her hand and kissing it with all the love and respect in his heart, “is the future. Our future.”
“And I think it will be blessed.”
And throughout the Kingdom, and for all time, it was.
Clare Connelly Pairs
Warming the Sheikh’s Bed & Love in the Fast Lane
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 2015
(c) Clare Connelly
Photo Credit: dollarphotoclub.com/mrcats
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1
It had been three years since she’d seen him, but one thing hadn’t changed.
A single sighting of Leonardo Fontana could still turn her insides to mush. He’d changed so much since the last time she’d seen him. Three year ago, he’d been in a hospital bed, possibly crippled for life, his strong, handsome face bruised, his head bandaged, and his body kept still with casts to allow his bones to heal.
Now? There was no sign that the twenty eight year old had so much as suffered a scratch, let alone been at the centre of a crash that was generally believed to be the worst in professional racing in a decade.
It was as though Aurora was slipping through the silvery threads of time, staring across at the man she’d once loved with all her heart. Though they’d kept their relationship a carefully guarded secret, nothing had been understated about how much they’d loved one another.
She studied him openly through the crowd of the bar. Dressed in a slate grey suit that barely concealed his raw, muscular strength, with his dark hair brushed back from his face, he was the picture of Italian virility. His eyes were wide-set and calculating, rimmed in thick dark lashes and splattered with flecks of grey and green. His nose was aquiline; she had joked, in the past, that he was the ultimate patrician. His lips, oh his lips. Her stomach turned as she remembered the power his lips had to reduce her to a quivering mess.
“Aurora? Are you listening?” Beatrice leaned towards her best friend, waving a perfectly manicured hand in her face. Aurora blinked and forced her gaze away from her former lover.
She smiled apologetically, encompassing her three companions. “Let me guess. We were talking about the wedding.”
Beatrice, Aurora’s closest friend since the first day of high school, was nestled into the crook of her fiancé Peter’s arm. They were a strikingly handsome pair. Beatrice had her mother’s complexion – fair skin, auburn hair, and green eyes; while Peter was fair and swarthy, like a true Viking. Every minute or so, Beatrice’s gaze was drawn to the sparkling emerald and diamond ring she wore on her ring finger.
Beside the beamingly, loved-up couple was the man Aurora knew they were hoping might finally tempt her into the blissful world of coupledom. And he was nice. Alec Shaw was a mid-level financier like Peter; wealthy and successful, though not boring or staid. He was handsome, in a conservative, Ralph Lauren wearing way, with his blue eyes and neatly cut walnut brown hair. His shoes were handmade, his watch expensive, and his manners practiced yet perfect. He was destined to be Peter’s best man at the upcoming wedding, and Aurora to be Beatrice’s Maid of Honor. Therefore, by some kind of unwritten yet all-known wedding law, being both single, they were also destined to get together.
“We can have the wedding at Farnley,” Beatrice referred, with a shrug, to her family’s ancient country estate. A grand hall with expansive gardens and a duck pond that Aurora had once fallen into, Aurora could perfectly picture the splendid event. “But then, there’s the fact that most of Peter’s family and friends are based here, in the City. The travel would be an inconvenience.”
Aurora lifted her champagne to her lips and sipped it thoughtfully. “Farnley is not exactly the end of the earth. It’s only two hours out of London.” The first time she’d seen the grand mansion, she’d thought it the most beautiful palace on earth. Of course, she’d grown up on the eighth floor of an unspectacular council flat in East London. A full scholarship to a prestigious public school had thrown her into an entirely different orbit; her friends came from families that had private jets, royal godparents and claims to ancient thrones. Beatrice had been no different. A mother descended from the Hanovers; a father who was a different kind of royalty – the son of a famous Hollywood director – and a half-brother who had become a legend in the world of Formula One racing. A man who had broken Aurora’s heart into a dustbowl of pieces and feelings. She tried to concentrate on the question at hand.
“But when you think about the oldies and the babies, that seems like a lot to ask of people.”
Aurora slid a side-long glance of amusement in Alec’s direction. Behind him, in the distance of the crowded bar, she was aware of Leo, but she forced herself not to look again. Staring at him as she had done was a sign of weakness that she didn’t intend to repeat. “People travel further than that for weddings all the time. Have the thing where you want it to be. What do you think, Pete?”
He lifted his eyes heavenward in his very diffident way and squeezed his fiance’s shoulders. “I think we should elope in Ibiza.”
Beatrice laughed. “Peter Donald Andre Beaumont, there is no way we’re going to elope.”
“Worth a try, eh?” He winked at Aurora.
“I think the idea of an island wedding has merit.” His voice, deep and gravelly, was intoned with the hint of an accent that came from having spent the first five years of his life in Italy. Aurora didn’t have to look up to know that Leonardo had joined them. She gripped the champagne flute tightly, to hide the way her fingers were shaking, and lifted it to her lips.
“You came!” Beatrice jumped up from the table, her tall, slender length unfurling elegantly to wrap around her older brother. “You really came!”
“It is not every day that your little sister becomes engaged,” he responded with a casual flicker of his brows.
“But still! You’re always so busy travelling around being a Formula One hot shot. I wasn’t even sure I could count on you for the wedding.”
Still, Aurora couldn’t look at him. Her eyes were glued somewhere past them, the lump in her throat making speech impossible.
“It turned out I was in London.”
Beatrice pulled away with a laugh. “I see. So you’re here because it just happened to fit in with your frenetic lifestyle.”
“Does it matter? I’m here.” His grin was lopsided and sexy as sin. “Congratulations, baby sister. I’m pleased for you.” He extended a hand to Peter. “You do know you’re getting more than you bargained for, right?”
“I’m counting on it,” Peter responded with a confident nod of his head.
To Aurora’s absolute chagrin, Leo pulled a chair out and sat wedged between Peter and Alec. “Leo, this is my best man and occasional thorn in my side, Alec Shaw.”
“Leo Fontana? In the flesh?” Alec asked, his eyes as wide as wheels.
“Guilty as charged,” he said with a small nod.
“Alec’s a racing enthusiast,” Peter explained unnecessarily. “And of course you must know Aurora?”
Aurora couldn’t have been sure she was still breathing.
Her lungs were burning as though flame had torn through them. Her mouth was dry and claggy, her tongue thick in her throat, and perspiration was beading at the very top of her forehead. Three years and now, in a glamorous bar in the East End, the moment of truth had finally arrived.
Be brave. She forced herself to lift her pale blue eyes to his face, carefully keeping her expression neutral.
“I have had the pleasure,” he responded drily, leaving Aurora in very little doubt that he considered their acquaintance to have been anything but pleasurable.
Even Beatrice had not known about their relationship. “Did you used to have a crush on Leo, Aurora? Or was it the other way around?” She giggled, obviously not realising she was driving a stake of mortification into her best friend’s heart. For it had been so, so much more than that.
Be brave. “A million years ago,” Aurora said with an attempt at a smile. “That’s ancient history, isn’t it, Leonardo?”
“Haven’t thought of you in years.”
Her heart turned over in her chest, for she had no doubt it was true. She had dreamed of him every night, and imagined she’d seen him everywhere she went. She’d studiously avoided any television sets when he was racing. And, if the gossip magazines that delighted in covering his string of glamorous relationships were to believed, he had long ago forgotten her existence.
It should have given her relief. After all, the ease with which he’d moved on underscored how right she’d been to end things. But relief was a long way off from how she felt.
Whether she sensed the undercurrent of tension between them or just had a one-track mind, Beatrice reached out and put a hand over Leo’s. “Seriously, what do you think? Farnley? Or the City?”
Clare Connelly Pairs: Warming the Sheikh’s Bed & Love in the Fast Lane Page 16
