Clare Connelly Pairs II

by Connelly, Clare

  He shuttered his expression. “Excuse me.” They were right beside him, still dancing, Elon talking quickly, undoubtedly in an unsuccessful attempt to shield Laurie from May’s possessive assertions. “May I cut in?”

  Elon stepped back out of habit. It was not his place to put himself in the middle of Laurie and Afida, no matter how sorely he was tempted.

  “I think I’m done with dancing for tonight,” Laurie’s apology lacked sincerity. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes sparkled.

  Afida compressed his lips and sighed softly. “One dance with my bride. Is this too much?”

  Her delicate throat moved as she swallowed back her objection. “Of course not.”

  Afida put his hands around her waist, noting the way she tensed up in his arms where she had seemed totally at ease with Elon.

  “You are beautiful.”

  Her heart turned over at the compliment. She forced herself to remember the words he’d said. That it didn’t matter how he behaved when others were present; his heart would be forever unchanged. She smiled up at him, but it was for the benefit of the assembled guests. “So do you.”

  His laugh was rich; it was a sound she knew she could get addicted to.

  “Is this what you expected?”

  She pulled a face of disbelief. “How could I expect anything? Until a month ago, I’d never even heard your name.”

  “But since then?” He pushed, running his hands gently over her back. There were hundreds of buttons holding the gown in place and he was increasingly desperate to remove them. He forced himself to find some patience.

  “I don’t know. I’m surprised by how I’ve been able to get used to the servants.” She shrugged her slender shoulders. “I have always disapproved of that kind of social structure.”

  “You consider yourself egalitarian?”

  “Yes.”

  “And yet you’re British, the founders of the class system as we know it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, not everyone ascribes to that kind of nonsense.”

  “You grew up with very wealthy parents. You must have had domestic help…”

  “Maybe.” Her eyes were far away; she was dipping into the past. Good. If she was distracted from the present, at least she would be speaking from her soul, not from her wounded pride at having been forced into a marriage she would not have chosen.

  “I would almost have waged money on it,” he teased lightly, wondering how she always managed to smell so good.

  “I guess I just didn’t take the time to notice.” She bit down on her lip and Afida bent his head forward, kissing her lips quickly. She stopped dancing and stared up at him.

  “Dance, Sheikha,” he said huskily.

  She blinked and began to move again.

  “So when you were not noticing your servants, what were you doing?”

  Her mouth was tingling from the brief contact, and her stomach had contracted painfully. Was this desire? Was this lust? Her hormones were rioting out of control, and the certainty that she physically wanted her husband was chewing through her body.

  “The usual child stuff.”

  His laugh was deep. “I don’t know if either of us had usual childhoods.”

  Curious, she blinked her eyes up at him. Her lashes were so long, he stared at them mesmerised. “What was yours like?”

  “No, I asked first.”

  Her smile was tense. “We grew up a little way out of Calmington. Our house was an incredible Tudor building with a priest’s cubby and underground tunnel that led to what had been the church. Now, it’s just a pile of stone ruins surrounded by woodland.” Without realising what she was doing, the hands that were curled behind his neck twisted into his dark hair. “I was an only child, but I was never saddened by that. I used to spend all day – even the cold, dark ones, scampering through the tunnel and into the gardens. I believed then in pixies and elves and I was certain that the woods around the manor were the perfect place for them. In summer, mum would camp out with me until late in the night. We used to thread marshmallows on string and hang them through the trees. They were offerings to the elves. In the morning, they’d always be gone, and it wasn’t until mum was sick and weakened by her medication that she confessed she and dad would sneak back once I was asleep and roast them all over a fire.” Her smile now was relaxed. “They were excellent parents.”

  “Yes.”

  “I know you think I don’t love my father well enough. But you’re wrong. He is very important to me.”

  Afida’s expression was dark. He had thrown that charge at her many times in the brief period of their acquaintance. It somehow felt wrong now. He didn’t know what she’d been squirrelling her money away for, but he found it hard to believe that Laurie wouldn’t have helped her father if she could have.

  “I am pleased he seems in better spirits. The last time I met him, I was convinced he was on the brink of something terrible.”

  He felt the way she shivered at the idea. “He does seem happy, doesn’t he?” She turned her head, intending to find her father, but her eyes were met by May’s bright green gaze instead. Laurie jerked her eyes away, her expression tense.

  Afida felt the shift in her, and looked in the same direction.

  May. Her invitation to attend the wedding had been automatic, but now Afida greatly wished she wasn’t there to witness this.

  “I’m grateful for how you’ve helped my dad,” she said huskily, after a moment heavy with contemplation had passed. “And I’m sorry that our marriage has made your life more complicated.”

  The look he gave her was rich in surprise. “Doesn’t marriage make every life more complicated?”

  She shook her head, ignoring the attempt at humour. “I won’t get in the way of you and May.” She ignored the painful thumping in her chest. “You should talk to her. She’s very upset.”

  Now it was Afida’s turn to stop dancing. His eyes bore down into Laurie’s with the intensity of a comet descending to earth. He put a hand in the small of her back and began to propel her through the crowds, towards the large doors of the stateroom. He was walking fast; it was difficult for Laurie to keep up in her heels and with all the layers of tulle.

  “Afida,” she called after him, when they had rounded the corner and were heading back towards the eastern wing of the palace. “Afida!” She repeated when he didn’t stop. She refused to move another inch, crossing her arms across her chest.

  Afida’s amber eyes glowed with frustration as he doubled back and scooped her up, lifting his bride against his chest. He carried her the entire way to his room and then finally placed her back down, once inside his room.

  “Leave.” His tone was a heavy command.

  “Excuse me?” Laurie frowned, her pulse was firing fast through her body.

  “Not you.” He waited until the small army of attendants had made a swift departure and then turned his attention back to Laurie. The sight of her tired, pale face should have paused him in his tracks, but it didn’t.

  “Do not speak to me about May ever again.” He saw her recoil and the regret was instantaneous. He tried to soften his tone but he was too furious. “She is not your business.”

  “No,” Laurie nodded. “And I’m not her problem. That’s what I told her.”

  He made a noise of frustration. “When did you and my lover have this affectionate little tete a tete?” My lover. No attempt to deny it – and why should he?

  “Tonight.” She shook her head.

  “And what exactly was said?”

  “I thought you didn’t want me to talk to you about May ever again?” She murmured churlishly, lifting her hands to her hair so that she could disentangle some of the pins that had locked it into place.

  “Do not carry on as a child would. It does not suit you.” He made a visible effort to bring his temper under control. “What did you and May discuss?”

  Laurie tossed the pins onto a chair, uncaring for the mess. “The weather. The food. What do yo
u think we discussed?” Bitterness rang out in her tone. “I don’t care that you’re sleeping with her. I don’t care if you’re sleeping with an entire harem. But I don’t want to be put in the middle.”

  “You are not in the middle. You are nothing to do with May.”

  “And that’s what I told her. She needn’t feel threatened by me. I might be your wife, but that’s just a stupid title. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  He closed his eyes briefly. “You told her this?”

  “I … can’t remember. Something like that. So you don’t need to worry. I’m not going to cause you any hassles. I never expected that you and I would share more than a pretence of a marriage.”

  “Didn’t you?” His eyes were glinting dangerously, but she was far too emotional to notice.

  “No. You know I didn’t. I came into this wanting to help my father. That’s all. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for helping him.”

  He stepped more closely towards her, and his tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you. For your gratitude.”

  His closeness was distracting, but she didn’t back away. “Are you going?”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “To May I mean.”

  “No.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. They were warm and fine-boned. She shivered beneath his touch. “Turn around, zivzel.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped, her teeth chattering now, despite the warmth of the evening.

  “Turn around.”

  “Why?” She whispered, focussing on a point of his robe.

  He made a noise of impatience and then stepped behind her. There were countless buttons, but one by one, he unhooked them. Laurie wondered if she should ask him to stop, but the truth was, she was in a state of such shock that she couldn’t think straight.

  He was her husband, and it was their wedding night. Did he expect her to have sex with him?

  “I can’t do this,” she turned in the circle of his arms, her face pale.

  “Do what?” He held the dress down so that she could step out of it. Laurie did so, conscious that beneath it she wore only a flimsy scrap of underwear. Her breasts he was already familiar with. “This dress weighs as much as a car,” he commented, draping it over a chair.

  “Yes. It’s all the beading.” She ran her fingers over it and drew in a deep, shaking breath.

  “What can’t you do?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to be my wife.”

  “And May?”

  He groaned. “Why is everyone so obsessed with that woman?”

  Laurie’s eyes were large, her gaze clear. “I’m not obsessed with her. I hadn’t met her until tonight. But when I did meet her, I saw what any idiot would. Her heart is breaking. She loves you, and you’ve married me.”

  “I never intended to marry her.”

  Another deep breath, hoping for courage. “You were with her last night.” Her cheeks flushed at the descriptions May had given Laurie, of how he’d spent the night before their wedding. “You stayed with May last night and now you expect me to treat this like a real marriage?”

  A muscle in his jaw was flexing frantically. “I expect you to stop thinking about my mistress.”

  “I can’t.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Maybe if I hadn’t met her. But I can’t do this to her.”

  “To her?” He was incredulous.

  “Yes, to her. Not after I’ve promised her.”

  “What have you promised May?” He demanded, stepping closer to her and running a finger along her back. Despite the heat of her moods, her skin developed goosebumps at his touch.

  “That I don’t want you.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “That I don’t want our marriage to be physical in nature.”

  His laugh was a husky sound. “You lied to her?”

  “No.” She shook her head angrily. “I meant it.”

  “Are you brave enough to prove that to me?”

  Her mouth was dry, her eyes enormous. She looked up at him helplessly. And though she shook her head, her fingers were lifting to his chest and curling in the fabric of his robe. It was starched and cool beneath her touch, but his body was warm. She could feel the heat emanating from him.

  “How would I do that?”

  “I’m going to kiss you.” He dropped his mouth to her neck, teasing her with his breath and his tongue. “I’m going to make love to you.” Lower still, he dragged his lips to her breast, reminding her of the intense pleasure she’d felt only days earlier. “I’m going to make you forget those other men who paid for the pleasure of your company and your body. I’m going to make you feel like I am the only man who has ever been with you.” He transferred his lips to her other breast, and his hands crept into her silk underwear. Slowly, he pushed them down, and she stepped out of them without thinking. “And if you want to keep your promise to May, you need only tell me to stop. Just once. Simply say no and I will not touch you again. Are you brave enough for this, zivzel?”

  Her head was swimming. Her body was already in a state of total weakness, driven there by his expert touch.

  “Say yes.”

  “I …” She tilted her head back as his fingers brushed against her feminine core. “Yes.”

  “Good,” he drawled slowly, lifting her against him and carrying her through his suite, to his bedroom.

  “I can walk, you know,” she whispered huskily. But he lay her on his bed and immediately brought his mouth to hers, plundering her lips, stroking her arousal with his touch and his kiss. He moved his body over hers, strong, warm, heavy and powerful, and she felt his erection pressed against her belly.

  She needed to tell him the truth. But the words were clogged in her brain, and her mouth could do nothing but moan. She tilted her arms above her head and cried out as he kissed every single inch of her. She arched her back and writhed beneath him, desperate for the fulfilment that she knew he would bring. “You are beautiful,” he said thickly.

  She is the last woman I would choose for myself. In no way is she an equal for me. Intellectually, physically, nor socially. The idea of making love to her … The words came to Laurie out of nowhere. She pushed them away. In that moment, they didn’t belong. Afterwards, there would be a time to face the consequences of her body’s betrayal. But in that moment, she needed only to feel. “Please,” she was murmuring, not even certain what she was asking him for. She knew only that she needed something, and that he alone could give it to her.

  “Yes,” he ran his hands along her body, fully aware that the action was enough to send her into a tailspin. “I have known you for a matter of weeks, and yet I feel I have waited a lifetime for this.”

  He stepped out of his wedding outfit with ease. “Then again, I suppose some men have known you only two hours before enjoying the pleasure of your … beauty.”

  Her cheeks flushed at the completely errant idea he had.

  “Afida,” she lifted a hand to his chest, her eyes wide.

  “Are you wishing me to stop?” His words were a deep, raw question.

  She shook her head from side to side. She wasn’t.

  Oh, she hated herself for her weakness. But even though what they were doing was so very wrong for so many reasons, she wanted him immediately.

  He was shocked by how desperate he felt to possess her. It was a raging torrent of need that made it impossible for him to be slow or gentle. He pushed into her quickly, stretching her around his length, crying out with hoarse pleasure.

  Until he reached an unmistakable barrier that stilled them both.

  She was in pain. He froze, his body poised over her in total concentration.

  “Laurie,” he groaned, his eyes searching her face. “What the hell?”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I … you …”

  His mind was spinning; his body was shaking. How was it possible? She had worked as an escort! True, he hadn’t looked into the firm more fully than that. But she had
been an escort. And she’d confirmed it for him! She’d told him how many men she’d been with.

  He shook his head and brought his focus back to his wife, and back to that moment. “Hush, hush,” he murmured quietly, kissing her gently while he moved slowly inside of her. He felt her relax, and her body began to move again with pleasurable waves of intensity. He held her tight as he gently tipped her towards her first sexual orgasm.

  She was terrified, and he was furious. With her? With himself? He couldn’t have said. He only knew that she deserved a hell of a lot better than this as her first time.

  He waited until her waves of pleasure had subsided, her moans quietened, and silence throbbed heavily in the room, and then he pulled away from her. Unsatisfied and unable to care.

  He pushed up on one elbow so that he could study her carefully. “Laurie,” he was still. Watchful. Her eyes were shut. “You have worked as an escort.”

  She kept her gaze drawn. “I told you. I served as a translator. That was all.”

  He shook his head in bemused disbelief. “You are so … beautiful. Too stunning. It doesn’t add up.”

  A single tear rolled out of her cheek. “I’m sorry you still feel that way. I had no interest in sleeping with any of my clients.”

  “And yet you slept with me.”

  “You’re my husband,” she whispered.

  “Yes, but this is not a real marriage. We are not a real couple. I am not a husband that you would have chosen.”

  “And I’m not a wife you would have chosen,” she said sadly, her words weak. “And yet here we are.”

  She opened her eyes, but closed them again as soon as they landed on his arousal.

  “You should have made me understand. I would not have taken this from you if I’d known.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” She queried.

  “Of course not. For whatever reason you’ve remained … innocent … your first time should have been with a man who both loves and respects you.”

  Her heart was in agony. He lifted a hand and gently wiped away the tear on her cheek.

  He stood uneasily. It was rare for Sheikh Afida Masou-Al to apologise, for the simple reason that he rarely felt his behaviour warranted it. But now?

  “I regret this,” he said seriously, sombrely. “I am sorry.”