“No, but you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to guess, do you? It must be the prince from Kalastan. Ashad Al’Eba. What do you think? Would he be good for Yelana?”
Charlotte shook her head on autopilot. “I think he’s already met someone,” she mumbled.
“Well, not according to your mother. Eloise made a point of telling me that she’d spoken to Ashad about Yelana and he’d been very interested.” Mika looped the last button through its hole then stood backwards to admire the overall effect. Strangely, the sight of Charlotte in a gown such as this did odd things to Mika’s own heart.
“Oh, Charlotte. My darling. I can see you as you will be on your wedding day. I cannot believe the time has almost come for you to leave Falina, and me. How I will miss you!”
Tears clogged Charlotte’s throat but they were tears that sprung from many different wells. “You will come to Kalastan to visit me,” Charlotte murmured.
“Of course. But no more of this. The ease with which we’ve been able to spend time together…”
“Stop,” Charlotte demanded imperiously. “You are going to make me cry.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Mika laughed. “You have a mask?”
Charlotte nodded. The Tiffany box was on the foot of her bed. She moved to it, lifting it carefully, peeling the lid off and staring down at the artwork. And it was artwork. Each gem meticulously placed to maximise the effect. She couldn’t even imagine what the mask and lingerie must have cost. Tens of millions of American dollars, easily. She lifted the mask onto her face, tucking it over her ears and beneath her hair. She had styled her hair loose, with large, rolling curves that fell over her shoulders.
She turned to study the impact and even she could see what Mika had meant. The gown was unbelievably beautiful. The mask was a show stopper. And when she placed her feet into a pair of slippers that had been embellished with crystals, she looked just as Cinderella might have.
“You are ready for the ball, your highness,” Mika smiled.
Charlotte imitated her tone. “As are you, your excellence.”
Mika put her gloved hand into the crook of Charlotte’s arm. “Let’s go then.”
Though they were dressed for a royal ball, as they emerged from Charlotte’s bedroom, they were just two friends, chatting as normal. They discussed the weather, which had been unseasonably cool that day, and floated down the stairs without realising that a crowd was looking up at them. Until they were at the bottom, and their conversation was halted by the click click click approach of Eloise.
“Ah! You girls look beautiful.” She encompassed Mika in the praise, and kissed both on the cheeks. “Come, join me, as we greet your guests, Charlotte.”
Charlotte sent Mika a look that only her friend would understand and then nodded dutifully at her mother.
“They’re not my guests,” she pointed out as they walked together towards the entrance of the ballroom. A pair of gold doors marked the space, and inside, Charlotte knew the room would be decorated as a masterpiece. The ceilings were vaulted and high, at least four stories high, with chandeliers glistening from the ceiling. Gold framed balconies jutted out from half way up the walls, providing private galleries for older guests who flagged through the night. Hundreds of years ago, when this part of the palace had been constructed, the balconies served for officials and modesty regulators to observe court balls. Any behaviour that was inappropriate was witnessed and documented, for the King to hear about and decide on a suitable punishment.
Charlotte stood beside Eloise, smiling and making polite conversation with each guest as they arrived. Her father would be inside, performing the same function. Her parents were excellent hosts – there was every reason for their festivities to have become legendary.
“Ah, your highness,” Eloise’s voice caught Charlotte’s attention, not because it was particularly loud or resonant, but because Charlotte was attuned to any and all mentions of Ashad. She turned as if in slow motion, and when she saw him, she was in free-fall off the very edge of the world.
He was dressed in a tuxedo. A crisp white shirt, a pitch black suit, and a black bow tie. He wore no mask, though he carried one – a black shape that would cover one half of his face, split down the middle. She stared at him, her heart racing, her mind numb.
He was perfect. He was hers. He would be, soon. Her fingers were tingling. She wanted to reach out and touch him.
“Your highness.” He bowed low and kissed Eloise’s hand.
“We are honoured by your presence,” Eloise said. Was Charlotte imagining the reserve in her mother’s tone? The hesitation and coldness? “I have arranged that special treat we discussed,” Eloise smiled, and Charlotte’s breath snagged in her throat. Yelana.
Ashad didn’t reply in words, he simply nodded and moved along to Charlotte.
Eloise may have liked to observe their interaction but another high-profile guest arrived and was calling her attention.
Ashad took Charlotte’s hand in his own and lifted it to his lips.
“You are beautiful,” he said. He leaned closer, so that only she could hear. “Tonight?”
She nodded, her heart racing.
“Good.” He went to move past her but then he paused, leaning down once more and whispering in her ear. “How do you like your gifts.” His eyes dropped to her cleavage so she could have no doubt as to his meaning.
“Stimulating,” she drawled, winking at him before turning to address the next guest.
It took over an hour to speak to each of the arrivals but finally, Eloise turned to Charlotte and smiled tightly. “Darling,” she said, looking down at her daughter’s hands. “You’re not wearing your ring.”
Charlotte frowned. “I never wear it.”
Eloise tsked. “But at a ball honouring the cousin of the man you are to marry? You do not think he will take offense to see that you shun the gift Syed sent you?”
“It’s not a gift, but a mark of ownership.”
Eloise nodded. “And do not forget it, darling.”
The warning was odd. It bounced onto Charlotte and she felt a strange lurch of panic. Did her mother suspect that she had agreed to sleep with Ashad?
How absurd.
That wasn’t possible.
Was it?
“Don’t you worry,” Eloise patted Charlotte’s bare hand. “I’ll send Mika to retrieve it. You go and enjoy yourself.”
Charlotte wanted to rail against her mother, but nothing would be served by that except an increase in whatever suspicions Eloise held. “Fine.” A tight smile.
“And don’t monopolise Ashad Al’Eba,” Charlotte added. “He is the guest of honour. The room will be eager to speak to him.”
And Yelana, Charlotte thought with a suppressed annoyance.
Jazz music swirled through the room, fairy lights sparkled along the ceiling and enormous floral arrangements decorated every space. Guests were milling with glasses of ice-cold champagne or tumblers of spirits. She stood just inside the door and got her bearings. She knew many of the guests assembled. Friends of her parents, politicians, friends of hers, or at least contemporaries she’d spent time with growing up. She skirted the edge, and was called to by a group of just such contemporaries.
She smiled and moved towards them, chatting and pretending interest all the while her eyes skimmed the room, searching for Ashad.
He was not hard to identify, but when she saw him he was already in conversation with Eloise and Yelana. Where Charlotte’s dress was modest, Yelana’s was anything but. Low cut, sleeveless, bright crimson, her blonde hair curled tightly around her face, she was a picture in seduction. A lump formed in Charlotte’s throat, making it difficult to swallow.
Ashad’s eyes met hers, as though he too had been looking for her. She looked away instantly, not wanting him to see that she was jealous. It was a petty emotion, hardly worthy of her. Certainly not something she had a right to feel, given that she was marrying someone else.
As if to remind her more
forcibly of that commitment, Mika appeared.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she lifted her hand and Charlotte blinked as the enormous rock glistened at her.
“I wish you’d keep it on,” she said under her breath.
Mika studied her friend with undisguised interest. “What has got into you? You seem miserable?”
“I’m not,” she promised, watching as Mika dislodged the ring and slid it from her finger. She moved it over to Charlotte’s hand, and Charlotte stared down at it. She couldn’t help it. She looked towards Ashad and saw thunder on his face. He was watching; he’d seen. And though he knew that she would marry Syed, seeing her wearing his ring infuriated him.
She smiled at him and he slid his eyes away, turning back to Eloise and nodded at a comment she’d made.
Charlotte sighed.
What a mess.
The party continued and somehow, she managed to go through the motions. There were a great many people for her to speak to. But all the while her mind kept track of Ashad.
He spent most of his time being flanked by Yelana, and that couldn’t help but inspire envy in Charlotte.
Not because she doubted his desire for her, but because Yelana was free to talk and laugh with him as Charlotte wasn’t. Finally though, as the dancing began, he moved towards her.
“Your highness,” he asked with a crisp formality that would have fooled anyone. “May I have this dance?”
She nodded, trying to hide her enthusiasm. “I’d be honoured,” she responded in kind, as though they were barely acquainted. He held her left hand and his fingers moved to the diamond. He spun it on her finger, so the diamond faced downwards.
Once on the dance floor, he put a hand on her waist and held her other. His eyes met hers and there was so much need in them that Charlotte’s breath began to burn in her mouth.
“Are you having a good night?” She asked quietly, keeping a polite smile pinned on her face. How could they not be observed, in this environment? Sure enough, she saw Eloise and Rama watching from the edge. For his part, the King was smiling, relaxed. If Eloise suspected something, she hadn’t yet communicated it to her husband.
“No,” he responded. “But that is because I’m impatient for the night to be over.”
Anticipation hammered through her. “Yelana seems to be doing a good job of entertaining you,” she pointed out.
“You know I am thinking only of you,” he answered. And though she hadn’t been jealous, the assurance spread warmth through her.
“And I of you.”
The song stopped, and she went to drop her hand but he held it tight, waiting out the pause until a new song began. It did, soon enough, and he began to move once more. “You will come to my embassy,” he said darkly. “As soon as you can get away.”
“Sure, that’s going to be easy,” she joked sarcastically. “I’ll just slip out. No one will notice.”
His eyes bore into hers. “I can send a car,” he said.
“No, it’s fine.”
“Or you can come with me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Again, something that might arouse suspicion.”
“So?”
She laughed, but it wasn’t from amusement. “I’ll try,” she promised. “I can tell my mother I am going to spend the night at my place.”
His eyes narrowed. “I will wait for you.”
Anticipation thundered inside of her. “I’ll try not to be too late.”
At the conclusion of the song, he released her. She was lost, for a moment, unable to believe she had to wait hours yet before being able to touch him again.
“Thank you for the dance,” she responded formally, moving away from him for fear that she might indulge her inner urges and launch herself at his chest instead.
It was only a matter of time, she told herself. She simply had to be patient.
CHAPTER TEN
In the end, she was kept busy until the early hours of the morning. By the time most of the important guests had left, and Charlotte was able to absent herself, she had a slightly tipsy Mika to assist into bed.
Finally, though, the corridors of the palace were quiet. Charlotte, changed into a pair of black pants and a floating tunic, slipped through them without detection. All the worries she’d been grappling with – how to leave the palace without being noticed, what to say to her mother – resolved themselves easily. She left via a side entrance, a far enough distance from her parents and their friends. Palace vehicles had been ferrying guests to and from the city all evening. Charlotte simply wrapped a scarf around her head and kept her face averted, and switched to Kalastani as she instructed the driver to take her to the embassy.
As he slowed the car to a stop, she slipped out, reasonably confident that he hadn’t recognised her. She hovered on the doorstep, hesitating before lifting her finger to the door. As it happened, she didn’t need to press it.
Ashad, on the other side, pulled the door inward. His eyes met hers, his chest heaved with the force of his breath and he stepped backwards. There was urgency in his every movement.
“Come,” he said, the shortness of words a sign of how desperate he was to have her in his private apartment.
He led her up the stairs to the same suite of rooms they’d been in the second day they’d met. She remembered the balcony they’d sat at, and the way that even then she’d been fighting a losing battle.
Once inside, he watched her step deeper into the apartment and, as with the boat, he latched the door shut behind her.
“Well, Charlotte. Are you sure about this?”
She smiled at him; a smile that showed everything in her heart. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” she said honestly. “Make love to me, Ashad.”
His laugh was a soft caress. “This reminds me of the first time I met you. You flew into the embassy so sure of what you wanted; so certain that you wouldn’t let anyone organise your life for you.”
He reached for her hands, and frowned when he saw the engagement ring was still there. His eyes held hers as he slid it from her finger and placed it carelessly on the side table.
“I forgot I was wearing it,” she said truthfully.
He nodded, brushing away her explanation.
“It’s a beautiful ring.”
He nodded. “It’s an heirloom.”
“I gathered.” She smiled again. “I don’t really want to talk about my engagement ring.”
Syed doesn’t want to marry you. I do. Marry me. The words he should have said were alive in his mind but something held him back. Was he waiting for her to reach that conclusion on her own?
No, because sleeping with him would effectively shut down any chance of a marriage to Syed. He would not let it happen once they’d made love. Surely she understood that?
He walked with intent towards her. They were in the lobby of his apartment; he didn’t care. His hands sought her shirt and he lifted it, glad to see that she wore the bra, still.
He knelt before her, pulling at her pants, and then, when she was naked but for the jewelled lingerie he’d given her, he stood back to stare at her.
She was just as he’d fantasised; better, perhaps.
“Perfection,” he muttered. Except for the whole being engaged to another man thing.
She met his eyes, but she was self-conscious. “Did you know that this bra is … um …”
“That it’s designed to bring you to the point of arousal? Yes.”
She gasped. “Ashad,” but she laughed then. “Did you think a bra was needed for that? Looking at you all night and not being able to touch has been all the foreplay I’ve needed.”
His eyes flared at her frank admission. He’d felt the same.
“You know,” he closed the distance, and looped his fingers into the diamond string that wrapped around her waist. “There was a thong that accompanied the bra. A string of pearls went from here,” he pressed a finger to the heart of her femininity, then dragged used his other hand to caress th
e curve of her arse. “To here. Every step is supposed to bring a woman almost agonising pleasure.”
Her mouth dropped. “I think that sounds … weird.”
He laughed. “I did too. But perhaps I will buy it for you to … confirm this.”
Her cheeks flushed. She didn’t want to point out to him that it was difficult to imagine them having time to play with kinky lingerie.
He lifted his hand to the bra and ran his thumbs over her nipples. They were more sensitised than she’d known they could be, and the simplest touch made her gasp. Sensations were overpowering her. “Make love to me.”
He nodded. “I intend to.”
“No. I mean, now.”
His laugh was soft. “Oh, Charlotte. You have spent a decade fearing sex. I am going to make sure you enjoy yourself again, and again, and again.” He unhooked the bra and dropped it to the ground, apparently uncaring that it was an incredibly extravagant item of clothing. He lifted her easily, cradling her to his chest and carrying her through his home. His bedroom was on the other side of the house to the living area she’d been shown to before. She saw doors and artwork pass in a blur as he strode to the room and tossed her down onto the bed.
She laughed as her hair fell over her face.
A cool breeze ran over her body and she moaned. It was heaven. She looked around and saw curtains billowing. As they lifted, she saw a balcony, and beyond it the lights of the city.
That was the last impression she had; her mind became incapable of observation from the minute he came to lie on top of her. “Did you know, your highness, that I intend to make you orgasm just by doing this?” And he reached down and drew one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking it until she moaned and cried out. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, but she couldn’t imagine him stopping. He brushed his palm over her other breast and the nipple, already so raw from the fabric, answering immediately. She felt a swirl of desire and then, he brought his mouth to hers. He straddled her, so that his arousal was between her legs.
His tongue probed her mouth, fierce and hard, punishing her with its intensity and his fingers rolled both nipples.
The Sheikh's Stolen Bride: The only way to make her happy was to make her his... (The Sheikhs' Brides Book 2) Page 11
