The Defiant Princess

by Alyssa J. Montgomery

  Farrah set down the ornately gilded hairbrush and said, “I am nearly finished, Your Highness.”

  “Two hours of primping and preening by stylists is more than enough. If I’m not presentable enough now, I never will be,” Sabrina insisted.

  “There.” Farrah settled a diamond encrusted tiara and short veil on Sabrina’s head. “You are truly beautiful, Princess.”

  Sabrina had studiously ignored the mirror opposite her while she’d been fussed over. Now she braced herself to look.

  Her heart hitched in her chest and her mouth formed a small O-shape as she absorbed her appearance. Happiness bubbled up inside her. The maids had worked magic. The length of her blonde hair shone like spun gold as it fell to her shoulders. Somehow her cheekbones looked higher, her mouth fuller, her eyes larger and her skin almost luminescent. Every feature was shown to its best advantage and the effect was so incredible she hardly recognised herself.

  Gowned in an exquisite white satin, off-the-shoulder creation for the ceremony, Sabrina stood carefully. The dress nipped in to show off her slender waist and mould to her hips. The bodice pushed upward to give the impression of a cleavage she’d never realised she possessed. The tiara sparkled, setting off the effect of a fairy-tale princess bride.

  A fairy-tale bride, but hardly a fairy-tale wedding.

  The bubble of happiness burst. Disappointment overwhelmed her when she remembered that today was an illusion of her own creation—a marriage she’d forced upon Khalid and one that would be over before it ever truly began. Tears threatened. She needed to collect herself before the entire effect created in the last couple of hours was ruined.

  “Thank you, you have worked wonders.”

  Farrah bowed low. “Your Highness, I will go now and return with your guest.”

  “Please be quick. It’s nearly time for the ceremony to begin.”

  As soon as Farrah left, Sabrina sank back into the chair. With a heavy heart, she stared again at her reflection. How many times had she envisaged her wedding day? There would be a Christian service in the chapel of the palace attended mainly by international politicians and diplomats, followed by the traditional Bedouin ceremony for the Arab community. The latter would be under a thousand twinkling stars in an oasis encampment where afterwards, her groom would await her at a separate camp for their wedding night.

  Hazim.

  Hazim should have been her husband. Yet somehow, since she’d been a teenager, read about Khalid and seen photos of him in glossy magazines, Hazim’s features had always morphed into Khalid’s in her mind’s eye when she’d pictured her groom.

  Be careful what you wish for, it might come true.

  The old adage taunted her.

  She’d got part of what she’d wished for. Her groom would be Khalid. But rather than the fairy-tale wedding she’d hoped for, it was a farcical marriage of convenience.

  After their divorce, Khalid would win Inaya back, rule wisely and play an important role on the political stage. Inaya would take her place as Queen of Rhajia. And Khalid and Inaya would have beautiful, tawny-eyed children …

  Deep, lacerating pain lanced through her heart and made her stomach cramp. The thought of Khalid as a father with Inaya as the mother of his children had her swallowing back on the cry of sorrow that threatened to emerge.

  “Sabrina!” Helen’s anguished tone announced her arrival. Sabrina jumped up from her chair and ran into her former nanny’s embrace despite the frown from Farrah.

  “You’re here at last! I’ve missed you so much.” Sabrina had been surrounded by women all morning, as they flitted about the opulent room with its silk woven carpets and rich tapestries. Yet she’d felt terribly alone. It was a relief to have Helen with her. She was the one person who’d been a constant in her life. “It seems like so much longer than a couple of days since I left Australia.”

  “What on earth are you doing?” Helen asked quietly near Sabrina’s ear so Farrah wouldn’t hear. “You can’t possibly marry Prince Khalid.”

  Sabrina let out a long breath and shook her head hopelessly. Leading Helen away from the maid and out onto the balcony, she whispered, “It’s the only solution.”

  “No! One thousand times, no!”

  Helen’s denial only magnified Sabrina’s inner turmoil. “I have to do this. It’s the only way to help Rhajia and guarantee our safety.”

  “Oh, dear girl. I’ve kept you safe all these years. I’ve loved you as my own daughter.”

  Guilt tore at her, sharp as razor blades as she saw Helen’s distress. The older woman looked as though she’d aged ten years and worry was furrowed into every line of her forehead. Sabrina owed her life to her former nanny yet she just couldn’t turn her back on her father’s people.

  “I love you, Helen, and I wish I could spare you this anguish you’re feeling. You’ll always be like a mother to me.”

  “Excuse me, Your Royal Highness.” Farrah had followed them onto the balcony. “You need to make your way down to the ceremony now.”

  “Please, wait outside for me in the corridor. I’ll be there shortly.” The words were uttered a little more sharply than Sabrina had intended.

  Farrah curtsied and left but her hesitation in leaving the two women together was evident. Sabrina wondered whether the maid was merely conscious of the time or whether she was afraid Helen would talk Sabrina out of the marriage. The entire world would hear the explosion from Khalid if he was jilted at the altar.

  Sabrina tried to calm Helen’s distress. “This marriage is important. Our lives are at risk and King Hassan and Khalid will protect us.”

  “We have to get you out of here. We’ve disappeared before without them finding us. We can do it again.”

  “No. No more running.” Sabrina placed her hands on Helen’s shoulders. “When we ran before, Mustaf thought I was dead. Now he knows about us and he would move heaven and earth to find us and kill me.”

  “That man had your parents killed. I’m sure of it. Your mother never trusted him and it was the whole reason your parents faked your death.”

  “And now Mustaf is the reason so many other people are suffering. With Khalid and King Hassan’s help I can put an end to that. This marriage is important to unite Turastan and Rhajia the way my father wanted. We have the protection of the Turastani royal family.”

  “But marriage?”

  “My marriage into the Ul-Haq family was always my parents’ intention.”

  “To Hazim. Not to this playboy prince,” came the strong objection.

  “I’m doing this for Rhajia. I think my parents would’ve approved, and Khalid and I have reached a practical agreement about our marriage that suits us both.”

  “You’ve had no time to think this through. It’s all too rushed.” There was no mistaking the agitation in Helen’s voice.

  A knock on the door reminded Sabrina it was time to go, but she ignored it.

  “It’s happening faster than I’d like, but it’s necessary.”

  “What have you agreed to, Sabrina?”

  “I don’t have time to go into it now. Please trust me in this. I’ll explain everything to you later.” She gave Helen a quick, reassuring hug even though she felt far from reassured herself. All through her life, Helen had been strong for her. Now, the former nanny needed Sabrina’s strength.

  “We have to go.” Sabrina forced a quick pirouette, trying to lighten the mood and erase the impression that she was about to go off to the guillotine. “Do I look okay?”

  “Oh, Sabrina.” The older woman began to cry in earnest. “You’re stunning. Your parents would be so proud of you. I just wish …” Her voice broke, heavy with sadness, “I wish this wedding was for all the right reasons.”

  Emotion welled up, thickening Sabrina’s throat as she gave Helen’s hand a squeeze. “Come on, you can’t be late for my wedding and neither can I.”

  They made their way out the door. A servant urged Helen to go with her to the chapel, leaving Sabrina to follow Far
rah once the maid had made one more adjustment to her tiara.

  A million fragmented thoughts flitted through Sabrina’s mind. Nerves threatened to turn into full-blown panic at the charade of her wedding. Sabrina swallowed hard on all the anguish that threatened to overwhelm her. One day she’d find someone who truly loved her. She vowed the next time she wore a bridal gown, her heart would be filled with love, hope and promise. She deserved her own fairy-tale groom who would cherish her. Such a man must exist somewhere.

  The chapel doors swung open. King Hassan stood dignified and proud, and offered Sabrina his arm for the walk down the aisle to her temporary husband.

  For now, duty must be done. There was no time to be caught up in romantic dreams.

  ***

  Khalid inhaled a sharp breath. His first thought when he saw Sabihah appear on the arm of King Hassan was that no man could wish for a more beautiful bride.

  Sabihah was simply stunning.

  There was a collective gasp of admiration from the entire congregation as she began walking down the aisle.

  Khalid felt himself stand even taller as he waited for his bride. He’d been captured by her beauty the minute he’d seen her, tousled and dusty from her work in the garden. Today, her beauty surpassed every other female of his acquaintance.

  Sabihah carried herself with the poise and grace of one destined for the throne. She smiled confidently at their official guests, looking like a bride who was excited to be marrying the man of her dreams.

  Except the man of her dreams—the man she’d saved herself for—was dead.

  Khalid tensed. Had her parents and his brother lived, Sabihah would not have proposed a paper-marriage to his brother.

  A stab of pain shot through Khalid’s chest. He missed his brother beyond words, but the thought of Hazim making this woman his wife caused Khalid’s lungs to constrict.

  Hazim would’ve ruled their country well but Khalid doubted his brother would’ve been able to handle the spirited Sabihah. She needed someone strong and experienced. Khalid was that man. Sabihah was to be his wife. She would cry out his name on their wedding night and every other night in their marriage bed. She would not think of Hazim or any other man.

  The need to possess and claim her as his own gripped him ferociously.

  Guilt also sliced through him as he realised that as much as he’d loved his brother, he was relieved Hazim wasn’t here to claim this woman. Khalid wasn’t sure how he would’ve fared had he been forced to watch Sabihah make her way down the aisle to marry his brother. Sabihah was destined to be Khalid’s wife.

  This was fate.

  Besides, Hazim and Barika had been happy together … until the plane crash. Khalid felt sick with remorse and the familiar acidity of guilt ate deep knowing he should’ve been on that plane. Determinedly, he forced the memory away. Sabihah had reached him and was regarding him closely.

  Despite the regal way she carried herself and the proud tilt of her chin, he saw a flash of sheer panic in her eyes. He reached out and took her hands in his. Hers were trembling badly, making a mockery of the outward confidence she projected.

  His heart fisted with the same unknown emotion he was growing used to experiencing when he was around her. Although he couldn’t put a name to it, the savage need to pull her into his arms and mould her to him, to reassure her that she was his and he would protect her with his life, hit him hard. The strength and urgency of his protectiveness toward this woman continued to shock him. His impatience to have this ceremony over—to take his virgin bride to his bed and claim her as his own—made every muscle taut. The primitive feelings she stirred in him both appalled and excited him beyond belief.

  The ceremony proceeded in a haze. Somehow he managed to make all the responses to the priest clearly and correctly and when Khalid uttered the words I will and I do, it was with absolute, honest conviction. Far from being a feckless, irresponsible playboy, he was a man who honoured his commitments. To his father, his country and now to his wife.

  You may kiss the bride.

  Surprisingly, his hands shook as he reached for her face—such was the power of the passion he had for her. Her eyes flew to his and he watched her nervous swallow. There was a brief, almost sad yearning in her expression.

  Had she played this scene out in her mind’s eye a hundred times and seen his brother’s features descending to claim the bridal kiss? An alien sensation streaked through him, making his breathing quicken. He recognised it as jealousy but discarded it as a ridiculous notion. He would not be jealous of his deceased brother.

  “Khalid,” she said softly as he hesitated.

  He closed his eyes briefly and sent up a silent prayer that she knew which brother she’d married. Then he lowered his head and claimed her lips in a tender, explorative kiss that invited her response. He wanted to communicate his intent to work at this marriage, to bring her happiness and to support her in all that lay ahead of them. In return, he expected her fidelity and loyalty. Although he could not claim to love her, his protectiveness was real and his lust for her was undeniable. He couldn’t help respecting her after he’d witnessed her deal with diplomats and children with regal attention. There were enough positives present to make this political marriage work.

  Sabihah moaned so softly he was sure only he heard her. It was a sweet, contented sound that was both satisfying to him yet frustrating—he wanted to claim her completely and give her the physical satisfaction she craved.

  Her lips were soft against his. They parted and opened up to him, yielded to his strength and inflamed him with her own answering desire as she pressed her body closer into his and lifted her arms to curve her hands over his shoulders.

  “You embody all that is beautiful, Sabihah,” he whispered against her mouth. “I promise you we’ll be happy together.”

  He’d succeeded in banishing the sadness from her eyes, but there was still uncertainty. They needed to become husband and wife now in the true sense of the words, to fan the fire that burnt between them and know fulfilment in each other’s passion. Anticipation pulsed through him.

  The congregation of international politicians, Khalid’s family and a few of his close friends clapped and cheered. There was no time for any further private words between him and his bride. There was a luncheon to attend, preparation for the traditional Bedouin ceremony … then finally they’d be left alone to enjoy their wedding night together.

  ***

  Oriido an akoona ma’aki ila al-abad.

  I want to be with you forever.

  The vow spoken earlier by Khalid at the Bedouin ceremony haunted Sabrina. They were sacred words which had been uttered by lovers for centuries and were meant to be honest. They were words intended to confirm the depth of love a couple had for each other. Instead they mocked her.

  As the Bedouin elder had bound them together as husband and wife, Sabrina couldn’t help thinking that he’d known the words they’d both spoken were false. The recognition of their deception had been there in the wisdom of his craggy, weathered face and in the shadow of disappointment and challenge in his eyes. Feeling more of a fraud than ever, she’d wanted to pull him to one side and tell him that even though Hazim had been her intended, Khalid had once been the man of her dreams, the one she’d thought she wanted to be with forever until she’d found out about his jet-setting, womanising ways. Even then, she may have hoped that in marriage she could eventually claim his fidelity, but she knew now she could never claim his heart. The heart that belonged to Inaya.

  A sense of unfairness burned through her that made her want to scream, “If only my parents were alive, I’d be prepared for this moment. If only Khalid loved me, I’d want to be with him forever.”

  Even though she’d known Khalid’s motivations all along, the truth had hit her when she’d reached him at the altar. She’d finally had the courage to look at him and his handsome appearance in his formal Turastani military commander uniform left her breathless. But she would swear she saw guilt
and regret reflected in his eyes. Then his jaw had firmed and he’d faced her with a look of sheer determination.

  The guilt and regret could only have been because he’d been marrying her and not Inaya. The determination, she reasoned, must be to get the ceremony over with, get on with the job of restoring Rhajia, so he could win his love back as quickly as possible.

  A loud drumbeat drew her attention to the Bedouin dancing taking place in front of her. The celebrations and feasting would go on for five days, but soon she’d depart to share the wedding tent with Khalid. As was the Rhajian and Turastani custom, he’d left half an hour ago and it was almost time for her to travel across the dunes by camel to another, more secluded oasis to join him and supposedly consummate their marriage.

  She bit down on her lip and wished their marriage was real. Whenever she was in his presence, her eyes simply wouldn’t stop straying to him. She had imprinted each of his handsome features on the memory card of her mind and she shivered with longing. Khalid was too handsome for his own good. More to the point—he was too good-looking for her peace of mind.

  Helen approached Sabrina with a resigned expression. “I wish you hadn’t gone through with it, but now that it’s done, I pray he’ll be a good husband to you. A faithful husband. I pray he’ll keep you safe and happy.”

  Sabrina leaned close and squeezed Helen’s shoulder. A huge part of Sabrina wished they were two ordinary people and the marriage was real.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” she confided quietly. “I didn’t have time to explain it all before, but this is just a temporary arrangement. As soon as we can, I’ll hand over the rule of Rhajia to him and you and I will be able to go home.”

  Helen backed away abruptly and her eyes widened. “What are you talking about, child?”

  “We’re going to divorce as quickly as possible.”

  The expression on her former nanny’s face changed. Now, she stared at Sabrina as though she was insane. “That’s impossible!”