Clare Connelly Pairs II

by Connelly, Clare

“She died when I was a baby. An aeroplane crash.”

  “Terrible.” Laurie shook her head sadly. Her stomach was in knots. “It’s not too late to back out of this.”

  He scanned her face. “Is that what you want?”

  She pulled her lip between her teeth. “It’s not up to me.”

  His eyes flashed with something she didn’t understand and then he shook his head. “Why would you ask then?”

  “You don’t want to marry me. You wanted a way to help my father. You’ve done that.”

  “It can be undone,” he said seriously.

  “Are you threatening to…”

  “No.” His smile was thin. “But I believe your father would insist on returning the money if we cancelled the wedding now.”

  “So do I.” She swallowed. “But I wanted to offer anyway.”

  His hand was stroking her arm slowly, gently. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” She exhaled softly. “I had no idea I’d feel like this.”

  Strangely, though, their brief exchange brought a sense of calm to Laurie that she hadn’t expected to feel on her wedding day. The ceremony itself was short and simple. A repetition of vows in both English and Aktarian, followed by a ceremonial ring exchange. Unlike western weddings, though, her left hand was bound to his right with a thin gold thread. Attendants weaved it between their fingers until it formed an unbreakable bond.

  “It signifies a lasting union,” he murmured, as they were stitched together.

  “I had presumed as much,” she responded with a droll flicker of her eyes in his direction. His smile knocked her sideways. He was so disastrously attractive. She felt a shift of desire deep in her abdomen and quickly looked away. “How long do we have to be like this?” She blinked down at their hands.

  “For the rest of our lives.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I mean tied up with string.”

  “It doesn’t appeal to you?” He dragged his gaze from her innocent green eyes down lower, to the swell of cleavage that was completely concealed by the wedding gown she wore.

  “Being tied up? Or spending the rest of my life with you?”

  “Both.”

  She looked away because she had no idea how to answer.

  “Silence will not quieten me,” he murmured in her ear.

  Her heart notched up a gear and she managed to fire him a warning glance, but it only brought a smile to his lips. Somewhere behind him, she was conscious of a dark shape moving and her eyes tugged to it purely for the welcome distraction.

  “Elon didn’t stand beside you.” It had only just occurred to her. She’d been so caught up in the magical allure of her husband that very little else had managed to punctuate her fogged brain.

  “No.” His mouth was a grim slash in his face. He followed her gaze. “But he is here.”

  She nodded, not quite sure why there was suddenly an undercurrent of tension.

  His voice was gruff. “Shall we?”

  “Shall we what?”

  “Begin our married lives.”

  “Yes.” She scanned the crowd and picked out her father. He was laughing, his eyes shining, and his cheeks red. For the first time in years, he looked happy. “My dad is smiling,” she said, tears obvious in her voice.

  “Let us never give him a reason not to,” he muttered thickly. “Come. The fun begins now.”

  The fun was, of course, a celebration of their union. Only it was crowded and loud, despite the formality of the event.

  “Do you realise that I only met you three weeks ago?” Laurie said, when both her groom and she were left alone for a moment.

  “Is that all?” And because their hands were still stitched together by the shining gold thread, it seemed only natural that he would fold his arm around her shoulder and pull her against his chest. “Dance with me?”

  She nodded wordlessly.

  The song was fast-paced and yet they moved slowly. Her hips moved in time with his, and their eyes clung together as though no one else in the room existed.

  And yet, despite the perfection of the moment, her memory was long.

  Never, no matter how I might act in the presence of others, allow yourself to believe my attitude towards you has changed. To the day I die, I will think of you as the worst example of humanity. A daughter who has betrayed her father is not worth the air she breathes.

  He had said that to her.

  And now? Though he was dancing with her as though she were the only woman in the world, his words reverberated around her brain. He was acting as the room expected him to. Doting, adoring, loving. And her? What was her excuse? Was she simply playing a part? Or was she allowing herself to get confused by the spectacular uniqueness of the moment?

  “You’re not dancing.” He was still smiling.

  Was she imagining the strain in his eyes? The stillness there?

  She shook her head and tried to pull her hand away, but the thread held firm.

  “I …” her heart was sinking. “I need a moment.”

  “Of course. Come with me.”

  “No,” she shook her head, and lifted her free hand to enclose their co-joined one. “I need a moment on my own.”

  The worry was there, but he banked down on it quickly. “Fine.” He joined his hand to hers, and removed it. “Let me show you something.” There were two filaments of string, and he indicated that she should hold one. “When we pull at the same time, the string unwinds easily. It is supposed to be a reminder: that two people can easily unwind a marriage by both pulling on it at the same time. When one person pulls, it remains intact. See?” She watched as the string looped free and formed a pool in his palm.

  He tipped it into hers and she went to discard it on a nearby table.

  “No.” He shook his head slowly. “You keep it until the birth of your first child. It then forms the embroidery on their clothing.” Your first child. Not ours. It was a small point, but one she heeded nonetheless.

  And despite the fact it was a sham marriage and he had sworn he would despise her for the rest of his life, she felt a rush of overpowering emotions. “I really need a moment,” she explained apologetically, her eyes lifting past him and scanning the crowd.

  He nodded. “Of course. Would you like me to …”

  She nodded, bumbling the string back into his grip. Whatever part he thought it ought to play in their future, she knew it would never come to pass. There was no way she could hold onto something with such heavy symbolism. “Thank you. You keep it. I won’t ever need it, will I? Excuse me.”

  She ducked away from him, aware all the while that a trail of three attendants followed her. She was no longer simply engaged to the Sheikh. She was his partner, a ruler of Aktaria, and she would forever after be accompanied by security and oppression.

  Elon watched her go, from the corner of the room. His mood was sour, and yet he was ashamed of that. He had no claim on Laurie, and from everything he knew of her, she would have refused to marry Afida unless she wanted to. Or unless, he qualified, she felt the marriage significantly outweighed her doubts. Still, he watched her leave, and wondered … where was she going?

  She ploughed out of the staterooms and down the corridor; her white dress plumed behind her like a spectacular swan cloud. The louder she heard the click clacking of her attendants, the faster she walked, click, clack, click, clack; her skirts swished behind her. She walked until she found a doorway and she pushed through it, not caring what was on the other side.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t the woman of the hour.”

  7

  “I’m sorry.” In desperate need of solitude and peace, Laurie had happened upon a room that was not at all private.

  A woman stood at the centre of it, her gown a piercing shade of green, her fair hair pinned into a chignon with a pure diamond headpiece. Her eyes were green, but not like Laurie’s. This woman’s were emerald green, shining and moist looking. Her lips were scarlet, painted bright red and perfectly shaped, and h
er skin was honey coloured.

  Laurie paused just inside the door and then turned to leave.

  “Don’t go.” The voice was smooth and accented.

  Laurie tossed a tight smile over her shoulder. She had the beginnings of a headache, and she suspected that another banal conversation about her good fortune in finding a husband such as Afida would quickly wear her down to migraine status.

  “I was looking for a quiet room,” she said with more honesty than she had employed while addressing strangers. “It’s been a hectic day.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  Was Laurie imagining the tone of bitterness in the other woman’s words? She couldn’t be certain, but something about her voice had the bride shifting back to face her.

  “Do you know me?” The blonde haired woman asked, moving slowly closer. She was even more beautiful at that proximity.

  “I’m sorry,” Laurie said again, shaking her head.

  “Stop apologising,” the woman responded, her smile completely belying the harshness of her words. “Not for not knowing me, nor for coming into this room. It is your palace.”

  And now, the way she spat the words, showed vehemence where Laurie had become used to adoration. That alone captured her attention.

  “Is it?”

  “Yes. You have just accepted it as yours in front of almost a thousand people.”

  Laurie’s stomach felt like she’d crested over the highest point of a roller coaster. Had it been so many? Strangely, she’d been aware of only one.

  “But he will never belong to you.” The woman taunted silkily, her beautiful face tormented by the depth of her emotion.

  “I’m … sorry…” Laurie repeated with a murmur, for lack of a more suitable rejoinder. “I’ve no idea who you are, nor what you want.”

  “I am May.” The woman’s green eyes flared in her stunning face. “And I can see by your expression that you have heard of my role in your husband’s life.”

  Laurie’s face paled, but she held herself steady. “Yes.” Why deny it?

  “Good.” The word was a purr of venom. “And do you also know that your husband,” another spit, this time with actual bubbles of lava detonating from her lips, “has spent every night with me since you arrived? Did you know he spent last night in my bed? Making love to me? His body moved within mine, his hands roamed my flesh, he took of me as he has done for two years. Do you know this?”

  Laurie felt an odd sense of eclipsing ache. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or awake, but the words were coming to her from far away, and with the accompaniment of a shrill whistle. She stared at May’s face, waiting for things to return to normal.

  But they didn’t.

  Finally, she shook her head from side to side, her expression haunted despite her best efforts. “I’m sorry for you, if this is true,” Laurie whispered compassionately, in the end. “I had thought Afida and I were the only casualties in this union.” Why deny, to this woman, what they truly were?

  May was visibly startled. Of all the reactions she had expected, sympathy had not ranked a glance. “You do not care?” She was finally able to demand, with a residual fierceness.

  Laurie’s smile was contemplative. “If Afida and I loved one another, if we had the kind of relationship you presume, then of course I would care. As it is, I know what I mean to him. I’m a means to an end. He’s said as much to me, and Elon, and undoubtedly to you.” She crossed to May, her desire to ease the other woman’s pain strangely at odds with her own throbbing ache. “I agreed to this marriage to save everything my father has worked for in his life. Everything he values. Afida approached me, yes, but I accepted. I did not know about you then.”

  “And if you had?”

  “I don’t know,” she murmured truthfully. “Impossible to say.” She recalled the conversation she’d overheard, and it dragged across her throat like barbed wire. “I do know that Afida has no intention of ending things with you because of me.” She spun away from May, no longer able to mask her sadness. “I’m his wife in name only, May. You’re welcome to him.”

  Elon had stormed the hallway, but as he approached the doorways, he paused. A small circle of servants stood just outside, clearly indicating the new Sheikha was in the room. The doors were sound proof, though, and he could not have known what was being discussed within.

  “I’ve hated you since I heard of you.”

  “Understandably,” Laurie’s smile was gentle. She felt a great sympathy for the stunning mistress, but pain was beginning to eclipse that. “I have given you my word that I will not interfere with your relationship. It is between you and my husband. But now I must beg leave to be left in peace.”

  May was beautiful, wealthy, powerful, and had been known as the Sheikh’s consort for two years. To be dismissed in such a fashion was unusual, and a novelty, yet she found her legs carrying her unsteadily across the floor.

  “I am … grateful … that you are so reasonable.”

  “Of course,” Laurie nodded, holding May’s eyes with true effort. “Good evening.”

  She waited until May had stepped out of the room and then paced to the far side, so that she could stare at the dark desert beyond.

  She was not given the sanctity of privacy for long. Elon’s voice was swift on May’s departure. “Laurie,” he came to stand behind her, his body emanating waves of concern. “What just happened?”

  Laurie continued to stare at the night sky. Far off in the distance, fireworks were blossoming from the capital city, like luminescent sea creatures dancing joyously against the blackened ocean. “What does zivzel mean?”

  “Disturbance,” he responded immediately. “Why? Is that what May called you?”

  Laurie’s laugh was almost deranged sounding. “No.”

  “Laurie, what’s happened?”

  She squared her shoulders. “Nothing.” Her smile was ghost-like when she faced him. “I should get back to the party. It’s just a hunch but I think my absence might get noticed.”

  Elon did not wish to argue with her, but at the same time, the highly unorthodox sight of his friend’s mistress walking serenely away from a conversation with his new bride deserved more thorough examination. “Laurie …”

  “Elon,” she reached out and put a slightly trembling hand on his. “Leave it now. The die is cast. We all have our parts to play, so let’s just … play them.”

  “Laurie …”

  She squeezed his hand. “Will you dance with me?”

  He thought of Afida, and the condemnation his friend would feel, and knew the wisest move would be to decline. But one look at Laurie’s terrified face and he found himself smiling encouragingly. “All night, if you’ll take me.”

  Her laugh was relieved. “Now that would draw the wrong kind of comment.”

  They walked together towards the party. As they entered, Elon tilted his head to her thoughtfully. “You aren’t going to tell me what transpired between you and May?”

  Her smile was filled with dark emotion. “No.”

  “She upset you.”

  Laurie’s eyes flew to Elon’s. “No.” She bit down on her lip. Dancing and laughter swirled around them, but Laurie was too confused to notice anyone and anything. She certainly didn’t notice the way her husband, in the midst of conversation with her father, had stopped talking, so that he could observe the intimate conversation his closest advisor and wife were sharing.

  Unpleasantness cursed through him. David followed his gaze. “She looks beautiful,” he smiled, thinking how very like her mother Laurie looked.

  “Yes.” Afida pushed down on jealousy. He had no reason to suspect Elon would ever betray him; and surely Laurie wouldn’t do something so stupid. A muscle jerked in his jaw. He smiled distractedly in Angove’s direction. “Excuse me, sir, I’ve missed my bride.”

  “Of course.” David was beaming. After a month of worry, finally he could see for himself how happy his daughter and son-in-law were; they loved one another. He just
knew it. He settled back into a comfortable chair against the wall and smiled. If only his wife had lived to see this day!

  He was only steps from Laurie when May came into his line of vision. Her beautiful smile stretched wide over her face and her eyes shimmered with what he knew to be mischief. He paused, consternation briefly reflected in his expression before he fixed a polite smile to it. “May,” he nodded towards her but didn’t stop.

  She caught his arm, wrapping her fingers possessively around his flesh. That caught his attention. It was too bold. Too obvious. He stopped walking, a glance confirming that Laurie was too wrapped up in whatever she was saying to Elon to care about him.

  However, other people were watching, and May’s role in his life was no secret. He gently detached himself from her touch. “How are you?”

  “Since this morning?” She queried silkily, her eyes heavy on his face.

  Afida nodded curtly.

  “My spirits are good. Significantly improved. I’ve realised I can do this.”

  “Do what?” His eyes drifted towards his bride and now, she was looking. Her expression was impossible to interpret. Outwardly she appeared calm, but Afida had the sense that a flame was burning deep inside of her.

  She slipped her glance away from him as though whom he was speaking to hadn’t registered, and then smiled up at Elon. She put her hands out and Elon gripped them, leading her towards the dance floor. Afida scowled as Elon put one hand in Laurie’s back and another curled comfortably around her hand. There was nothing untoward in their posture. They were dancing as any other couple. And yet a fierce rage of possessiveness burst through him. Slowly, the heaving mass of revellers moved around the floor.

  “I can tolerate your marriage.” May’s smile was joyous.

  “Good.” He nodded, and as Elon and Laurie were brought closer towards him, he was no longer able to resist the opportunity to pull his wife from his friend. “Excuse me.”

  “Fida,” she spoke with a soft sultriness but it was enough to draw the angled gaze of his face. Then, a little louder, in a way that he suspected was for Laurie’s benefit alone, “Come to me tonight?”