Clare Connelly Pairs II

by Connelly, Clare

  Her responsiveness was of interest to him.

  Laurie kept her cheek against his shoulder. Her breathing was bursting from her and her chest was heaving. But bit by bit, reality began to shift back into place. “I …” she shook her head, and put her hands on his chest, splaying her fingers wide. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  “Shouldn’t it?” He wondered, his eyes laced with mockery when they found hers. “I found it a most enjoyable introduction into what we will share.”

  “I’ve just met you,” she groaned, her face bright pink from pleasure and shame.

  “And yet you are to be my wife within days.”

  She groaned, panic making her body ache. Feelings of lust that were new and unfamiliar began to creep through her. “It’s madness.”

  He was very, very still. “It is now unavoidable. I have just come from a meeting with your father. He has finally agreed to my help.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut in pain. It should have been relief. She should have been glad that her father was being spared the stress and heart ache he had been dealing with. “Thank you,” she said finally, her tone subdued.

  “I do not want your thanks.”

  She nodded thickly. “Fine.” Her throat was burning with a yearning to cry.

  “Zivzel,” his words were dark and they pulled her eyes to his. “I have decided I do want you, though. And soon.”

  Her eyes flared wide and she shook her head. “It wasn’t part of our agreement,” she said with a deep sense of anxiety pounding her chest.

  “Of course it was. I asked you to become my wife. Surely you presumed …”

  “I heard you on the balcony with Elon,” she blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut so that she didn’t see his reaction. If she had, though, she would have seen an obvious draining of colour from his face.

  “What did you hear?”

  She groaned, and pressed harder against the palace wall. It was cold and hard.

  When she didn’t answer, he lifted her chin with his fingers, tilting her up to face him.

  “I heard you the night before last. You made it quite obvious that you were loathe to treat me as a proper wife. You sounded very convincing. What’s changed?”

  He recovered his equilibrium swiftly. “Those words were not intended to reach you.”

  She blinked her clear green eyes, and though tears sparkled in them, she spoke firmly. “But they did. We share a balcony, remember? And I prefer honesty to anything else.”

  “Do you?” He lifted a finger back to her breasts and traced one of the nipples as though he had every right to touch her. She didn’t object though. She sucked in a shaky breath and enjoyed the sensations he was creating in her. “Then tell me, honestly, why you have not been helping your father? Where have you been sending your money?”

  “My mother …” she said quickly, her heart hurting at the mention of the woman she had adored.

  “Your mother passed away, I know. And this sparked your father’s decline, but it is no excuse for your lack of kindness and compassion. I cannot believe you would be so selfish in the face of his obvious suffering.”

  “If you value honesty then you should allow me to express it,” she responded breathlessly. His words had been so rich with condemnation that her cheeks flushed guiltily.

  “No.” He straightened, stepping away from her with apparent ease. “It does not matter. I have transferred the money to your father. So far as I am concerned, you are bought and paid for. This deal is final, and there is no longer any backing out.”

  A frisson of fear tingled down her spine. “Bought and paid for?”

  His nod hurt more than even his words had.

  “I see.” She hadn’t really thought of it in such a crude way, but surprisingly it helped. “Very well. Let me know when you expect me to join you in bed and I’ll make sure I’m punctual.”

  He ignored the swell of panic. He had said nothing to her that she didn’t deserve.

  “Fine.” His walk was unconcerned, and at the door he paused just long enough to turn back to her and say coldly, “You should cover yourself before returning to your room. Servants are waiting.”

  Mortification accompanied Laurie for the remainder of the afternoon. She tried on five gowns, each exquisite, but couldn’t settle on any of them. In the end, she chose the last, simply because the main attendant was waiting on an answer. The team then set to work, tucking it in and pinning it to her height. Laurie stood there like a silent doll, her mind numb, her heart hurting.

  What had she got herself into?

  All evening, she pondered that same question, until she could think no longer. She lifted the gold and cream phone from her bedside table and, when it connected with someone downstairs, politely asked for some books to be sent up. A selection arrived in under ten minutes, and she chose an historical text about Aktaria that was written in English.

  She didn’t have dinner; she wasn’t remotely hungry. Instead, she curled up on the bed and slipped into tales of the ancient desert people with a true fascination for what life had been like.

  Only a few walls away, Afida eyed Elon with impatience. “You disapprove.”

  Elon paused, halfway through lifting a piece of pastry to his lips. “Of what?”

  Afida shrugged with unconcern. “My marriage or my bride. I cannot decide which.”

  “Neither, I assure you.”

  “Then what?” Afida snapped, pushing his plate away and pressing his elbows into the table.

  “If you must know, I think you are being unnecessarily hard on her.”

  “You do, do you?” Afida eyed his friend speculatively.

  “She is marrying you to save her father. Do you not think this is worthy of your compassion, at least?”

  “She more than likely ruined him.”

  “Come, Fida. Angove’s debts were far greater than anything she could have contributed to paying down. You know this. Why are you so intent on blaming her?”

  “Because.” He slammed a palm against the table-top. “She did not even try. She had no interest in his plight. While she might not have been able to help his financial worries, his alcoholism could have been addressed.”

  “Have you talked to her about it?”

  “Yes.” He frowned. “More or less.”

  “Would you like my advice?”

  “No.” Afida snapped, his bad humour a wall of anger in his chest.

  “Well, fortunately for you, I am perhaps the only person who is not cowered by you. So here it is. If you are going to marry her, do not do it with the idea of punishing her for past sins. You do not know her. And she has done you no wrong. Carrying this level of antipathy into your marriage will hurt you both. It is a fruitless exercise.”

  It was excellent advice, and a time would come in the future when Afida would bitterly wish he had heeded it. But in that moment, he was blinded by too many conflicting emotions.

  “He deserved better.”

  “Angove?”

  Afida made a sound of assent. “Yes. A wife who died. A daughter who didn’t warrant the efforts he’d made on her behalf.”

  Elon breathed out with angry impatience. “Talk to her. She is just next door. Why not invite her to take coffee with you?”

  Afida expelled a slow breath. “This will make you happy?”

  Elon laughed, for the question was definitely opening a can of worms better kept contained. “It will make you happy in the long run.”

  Afida made a sound of frustration and scraped back his chair. Under Elon’s watchful gaze, he stormed across the palatial room and pulled open their interconnecting door. Her room was several down the corridor, and it took him almost a minute to reach her.

  When he pressed the door inwards, he was completely unprepared for the sight that would greet him.

  She was asleep.

  Back in the robe that she seemed to favour, only it gaped at the neck revealing the sweet swell of breasts he now knew intimately. Her hair was fann
ed behind her on the pillow, and a book was resting in one hand. He lifted it gently from her grip and laid it down silently on the side table. His eyes caught the title and he smiled. So she was brushing up on her Aktarian history, was she?

  Her face, when she slept, was angelic. Her lips were pouted, and slightly apart, her cheeks were a creamy pink, and her long silky lashes fanned perfectly against the gentle swell of her cheek.

  He stood there for a full minute, powerless to leave her.

  But she wasn’t perfect.

  He didn’t want to think like that. She was a bride of convenience, and nothing more. What had he said to Elon on the balcony that night? He’d referred to her as a means to an end. He winced inwardly to realise that she had heard that too.

  Well, at least she was under no illusions as to how he felt about her.

  He strode back into his dining room and pulled the door shut.

  “No Laurie?”

  “No. She sleeps.” He didn’t stop at the table though. He paused just long enough to neaten his shirt and then moved confidently to the door which lead to the outside.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Elon was reclining thoughtfully, a smile quirking on his lips.

  “Yes. I’m going to May. Good night, friend.”

  He left without a backwards glance, and so missed the searing look of fury on Elon’s features.

  5

  True to his word, in the presence of their closest family and friends, he played the part perfectly. An hour into the intimate family breakfast and even Laurie could have sworn that the all-powerful Sheikh Afida Masou-Al cared for her.

  “You will enjoy it,” he said with a grin that suggested she probably wouldn’t.

  But Laurie had never been squeamish with food. She looked at the jellyish consistency and shrugged, then poked her fork into it. It quivered all the way to her lips, but she didn’t falter. Even when it got close enough to see the intricate pattern of veins and what looked suspiciously like an eye, she didn’t show an inch of hesitation.

  It tasted like smoked chicken, with the consistency of escargot. She swallowed and then rested her fork back on her plate. “You’re right. Delicious.”

  His eyes met hers with silent challenge, and something that she might have thought was admiration, were it not for the fact that she knew they were both playing parts. Even the way his arm was resting casually along the back of her chair was make-believe. A fact she had to remind herself of repeatedly so that she didn’t begin to believe the fiction.

  Engulfed in his frame, breathing in his mysterious, masculine scent, her body was tingling and her pulse was firing furiously. He was so good at this! At the charming, charismatic, powerful, confident leader thing. He breathed power effortlessly. His magnetic personality was unmistakable.

  With her husband to one side of her, and her father to the other, Laurie was bookended by the only two men she’d ever really admired.

  The thought struck her out of nowhere and she was still.

  Admired?

  Her heart raced.

  Did she truly admire Afida? It was such a bland word. Such a respectable term. And yet … here he was. Her father’s knight in shining armour.

  Did that make her obliged to think well of him? Despite the fact he clearly despised her?

  She forked another of the jellyish creatures into her mouth without thinking. She was so distracted that she missed the amused look that passed from David to Afida.

  “That’s always been Laurie’s away,” David said, pride rich in his tone as he leaned forward to address Afida. “She’s never shied away from a challenge.”

  There were seven people at the breakfast. Three of Afida’s cousins, Elon, David, and the supposedly happy couple. All were quiet, while David spoke.

  “No,” Afida murmured with apparent appreciation. “I can see that.”

  Laurie’s cheeks flushed as she thought of the moment they’d shared near the pool. He had challenged her, and she had certainly accepted it. Or had she simply forgotten that she had the ability to control her destiny? Her smile was weak in her face.

  “Even moving here will be a challenge for her. My little girl’s as English as they come.”

  Laurie frowned. Was she? Distractedly, she lifted a hand and examined her pale skin. There was a hint of caramel from the warmth of Aktaria, but on the whole, she was still fair. It was strange, then, that she felt so at home in the palace.

  “Where in England are you from?” Afida’s cousin with an unpronounceable name called David’s attention, leaving Laurie alone to Afida. Or so it felt.

  “You are doing well,” he said without hesitation. It was true. She was effortlessly making conversation with his family, and even attempting to enjoy the particularly challenging delicacies that had been prepared in honour of the occasion. “Then again, I suppose you have practice making people you don’t know like you,” he couldn’t resist adding.

  Her eyes clouded with a hint of frustration, but she didn’t snap as he’d hoped she would. Why? Why was he inspired to drive her into a temper? Was it because he liked the way her eyes glowed and her cheeks shone when she was driven by fury?

  The breakfast continued and Afida’s begrudging respect for his wife-to-be increased with every moment. Her social skills were exceptional. In this, he had been wrong, for initially he had assumed her to be quite frustratingly dull. After all, the first time they’d met, she’d barely been able to keep up with his line of thinking.

  Then again, he smiled at the memory, he had surprised her at the end of an enormous run and all but insisted they marry. Yes, her lack of comprehension had been utterly reasonable.

  Now? She was in her element, across the room from him, talking with good humour to his cousins and friend. That dark pang of emotion burst through him, though, as he again observed the ease with which she interacted with Elon. Here, there was no tension; no second-guessing herself.

  He half-listened to the conversation David was waging, and with the rest of his mind, he tried to catch snatches of the story Laurie was relaying.

  “They were enormous,” she laughed, her husky voice carrying across the room to him. “At least, in my mind they were. Enormous pixies that nestled into the branches and blew snow at the house on truly cold days. I left bread and butter pudding on the footstep for them every Halloween, because my mother told me it would keep away evil spirits.” Another laugh. “That was my mother, through and through. She turned even the simplest chore into a magical adventure.”

  Elena, Afida’s youngest cousin, wore a sympathetic expression. “I was saddened to hear about your mother’s passing. One of my oldest friend’s recently lost her brother to leukaemia.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Laurie murmured, instantly sinking back into the well of feelings that had swallowed her at the darkest point of her life. “Was it sudden?”

  “Mercifcully, yes. Long enough to farewell him properly, but he had no hope.”

  “No hope?” Laurie’s lips twisted in a sad smile. “It was the same for my mother.”

  Afida was no longer able to catch even a sentence, and David showed no sign of relenting. Out of respect for the older man, Afida held his position, though he was filled with impatient curiosity.

  “Aktaria is a wonderful country,” Elena’s eyes darted over Laurie, to the Sheikh. “For the most part, we are prosperous and our healthcare is excellent. Unfortunately, there are still some parts of the capital that are prone to overcrowding, and underfunding. Suburbs where crime is more rife than it should be, and where hospitals can barely make ends meet. My friends were not wealthy, and would not accept help. He died, I believe, because the oncologist did not have the facilities that would have made a difference.”

  Again, Laurie’s heart dropped. When she spoke, it was the sincerity brought by experience. “Fighting cancer is expensive.”

  “Yes. Out of reach for many, sadly.”

  Laurie nodded. She thought of all the money it had taken to buy her moth
er a little more time and a greater degree of comfort and shook her head with compassion. Money had been so tight for so long that she had believed she would never again feel free. Only now? Money was not her problem. She had bags of it. More than she’d ever need.

  “Which hospital was your friend at?”

  “Mashana State, in the old city. It is big, and in some ways excellent.” Her smile was distant. “I used to volunteer there. My uncle – Afida’s father – was an excellent man, who drummed into us repeatedly that it was our duty, as royalty, to lead by example. Our time, he said, was best spent helping those less fortunate.”

  Like Afida was helping her father, Laurie couldn’t help wondering. There was a definite altruism for his actions, even though he’d caught her in the dragnet of kindness.

  In hindsight, Laurie would realise that the beginning of an idea began to crystallise at that moment, but it would not form fully for days to come. So she spoke without any idea that her questions were leading her to a self-serving end. “What sort of work did you do there?”

  “Mainly speak to patients. The royal family of Aktaria is highly regarded by its people. At the risk of sounding arrogant, a visit from me was considered an honour.” She winced at the words and laughed. “I had a supervisor, though she was more like a security guard.” Another laugh and Afida compressed his lips, wondering what his bride-to-be and cousin were discussing that was so mirthful. “She wouldn’t let me out of her sight. Did she think I was to be abducted? I don’t know why she was so watchful, truthfully, but I grew used to her presence.”

  “She was from the hospital?” Laurie asked, enjoying this insight into Elena.

  “Yes. President of the fundraising committee. She was a volunteer like me, married to a top advisor. Her story is a sad one. She lost her son when he was two years old. An infection that passed to his blood; yes, I felt the same,” she murmured, observing the compassionate set of Laurie’s pretty features. “Such a tragedy to lose one so little. Fatima – or Mrs Katabi, as I called her, for she is ancient now – never really leaves the hospital. It’s as though she thinks she might find his ghost in the hallways.”