The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride (11 page)

Just because he was tall, dark and handsome, she told herself. And because he saved your life, she rationalized.

But would gratitude explain the melting sensation deep inside her?

As if something vital had liquefied, turned into a hot, sweet ache that swirled and pooled lower and lower. It took all her will power to stand her ground as he approached.

Belle snagged a breath and stared straight into his sea-green eyes.

He really was extraordinarily handsome. And the way he looked at her, as if he saw no one but her, sent delicious anticipation skittering through her.

She broke eye contact and looked at the women, summoning up a smile of thanks.

This wouldn’t do. She’d agreed to go through with this masquerade.

But it would be a disaster if she kept reading things into his expression. Things that weren’t there. To Rafiq she was the solution to a problem. That was all. Despite the warmth of his hand holding hers last night, and the deep honeyed tones that had sent an illicit shiver of excitement through her, she meant nothing to him.

She was simply reacting on the most basic level to an ultra sexy man. A man, moreover, who had the sort of integrity and honesty she’d always admired.

Belle pushed back her shoulders and lifted her chin. The only way to get through this with her dignity and self-respect intact was to ignore the undercurrents and pretend he didn’t affect her.

Rafiq said something in Arabic and the women curtsied again, then left with a few speculative glances over their shoulders. He turned and smiled at her, and she felt her heart turn over in her breast.

Hell! What hope did she have?

`You look exquisite, Belle.’ He paced closer.

Heat bloomed beneath her skin at the compliment, and at the look on his face. She had to remember she was fooling herself when she saw hot possessiveness glitter in his eyes, sensual promise in the curve of his lips. She was doing it again imagining what she wanted to see.

That knowledge gave her the strength to stand her ground: But when he took her hand in his, raised it to his mouth and kissed it, she couldn’t prevent the tremor of desire that coursed through her.

Or the jittering pulse that leapt to life in her throat.

Had Rafiq noticed? He stood so long, holding her hand to his mouth. His breath was a warm haze on her skin, his gaze searing as he watched her with those exotic green eyes. Belle’s whole body heated in response, willing him to press his lips to her hand again.

Praying he wouldn’t.

`Thank you. And you look magnificent, Rafiq,’ she managed at last. Her voice had a hoarse edge and she swallowed. `Like a prince out of the Arabian Nights.’

He laughed. `You are a romantic, Belle. I knew it.’ He drew her close and tucked her arm through his. So close that the memories flooded back. Of his big body so hard and impressive, lying intimately over hers. Of the long hours spent cradling his head, his breath feathering against her neck. Of the way he made her feel: vulnerable, aware, needy. The sea salt and musk scent of his skin tantalized her, awoke responses she’d rather ignore.

He led her to the door and Belle concentrated on maintaining some minuscule distance between them. But in these clothes, these sensuous, butterfly sheer silks, she felt the whisper of temptation with every step she took.

`You are excellent for my ego,’ he said. Èvery man likes to hear how wonderful he is. I see that in marrying you I have much to look forward to.’

Belle stumbled and his hand tightened on her arm. He stopped, the laughter fading from his face. She looked up to see his expression grow serious.

Ìt will be all right. I promise, Belle, you will have nothing to regret in this marriage. I will look after you.’

She nodded, snared by the strength of emotion she read in his face.

The only problem was she knew he was wrong. Already she had nothing but regrets.

Ì understand how difficult this is. And how much I’m asking of you.’ His lips curved up in a tender smile that melted at least one of her vital organs. Maybe it was her lungs she had to fight for breath just watching him.

`You will carry this off with dignity and grace. I will support you, and you will be a wonderful success.’ His voice dropped to a low murmur that weakened her knees.

He leaned close as he spoke, his words caressing her face, and Belle bit down hard on her lip, fighting the compulsion to tilt her head up just a fraction more to close the distance between them. To press her lips against his and assuage the aching need that consumed her.

His eyes gleamed with an inner fire. His hands clamped tighter on hers. Drawing her closer or holding her away?

Ì will not forget what you have done for my country.’

For his country. Right. A cold, solid lump of common sense thudded down inside her, smashing the shimmering tension, dousing the bright expectation that had swelled as she waited for his lips to take her.

They were going through with this charade to save his country.

And don’t you forget it, Belle. This is all for show.

Apparently she managed to look the part of radiant bride to be, even though her stomach was a roiling mass of nervous tension and her smile a taut stretch of stiff muscles. When she emerged into the huge throne room on Rafiq’s arm and took her place beside him, on a smaller ornate, glittering chair, there was no outcry, no protest from the audience that this was a sham.

The massive space was crammed to standing room only, and she could see the throng spilling out into a huge antechamber. It was like watching a wave as the crowd bowed low before their prince.

And she felt the speculation in their eyes as they stared at her, whispering amongst themselves.

`Don’t worry, Belle. All you need to do is follow my lead.’ Rafiq sent her a smile that tripped her pulse. And then, suddenly, the chamberlain was in front of them, ushering forward the first of the people to be presented.

There were wealthy nobles in traditional clothes almost as gorgeous as her own gold embroidered azure silk. There were men in suits and women in elegant Western style dresses. And there were many more in less sumptuous clothes, obviously of more humble origins. All were welcome and all were treated attentively.

She didn’t have to do anything except smile and nod. When the well wishers spoke English, Rafiq encouraged her to speak for herself. But otherwise she was free to watch the interplay between the Sheikh and his people, and what she saw reassured her. There was genuine friendliness and respect on both sides. And no trace of anger or doubt in the faces of the people who came to see his promised bride.

She even became accustomed to receiving fulsome compliments, though she suspected Rafiq secretly enjoyed translating the more flamboyant ones for her. There was a glimmer of something that must be humour in his eyes as he watched her try not to blush.

Eventually he called a halt, telling the servants to direct the newcomers to the feast that had been prepared.

`Come,’ he said, standing up and taking her hand. `You need a break.’

Belle nodded, concentrating on appearing immune to his touch as he led her through an arched doorway and into a small sitting room that shimmered with gold and amber silks. A low table was set with platters of honey cakes and nuts, and dark purple grapes with the bloom of the vineyard still on them. Even better, the scent of fresh coffee wafted to her nostrils.

She breathed deep, suddenly realizing how stiff she felt. They’d been in the audience chamber for hours. She rolled her shoulders and sank onto a plumply cushioned couch.

`How much longer will people keep coming?’

Rafiq settled himself on a divan opposite her and reached for the elegant coffee pot. He poured the steaming liquid into a tiny cup.

`Today is just the beginning. They’ll keep arriving all week’

Àll week?’ She was exhausted after just a couple of hours.

He looked up, snaring her with his sea deep gaze that held so many secrets. Ùntil the day we are wed.’

ÒNE week till the wedding?’ The bright honey gold of her hair caught the light as she shook her head emphatically. `That’s impossible.’

Rafiq watched the hectic color flare in Belle’s cheeks, then fade.

She’d said the same when he’d informed her of his decision to marry. Impossible. Perversely, her disbelief had spurred his determination to proceed.

Didn’t she see there was no turning back now, whatever her doubts? There was too much at risk.

Ìt’s the tradition, Belle. We don’t believe in long betrothals here.’

And for the first time he could appreciate the reasons for that custom. Now he’d decided to take Belle as his wife, the anticipation, the knowledge that she’d soon be his, threatened to overcome his scruples. It was increasingly difficult to keep his distance, knowing that he’d soon have exclusive rights of possession. The need to observe public protocols, such as the open audiences with his people, was a blessing in disguise. It kept him from acting precipitately when he knew she needed time to adjust to so many changes.

`Well, it’s not tradition where I come from.’ Her lips thinned into a mulish line and her chin jutted.

How could a woman’s temper, her obstinacy, be so arousing?

He felt the heat build in his body as desire sparked. He wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her till she didn’t have the energy left to argue.

Ì realize this is unfamiliar to you. That it’s not as you would have planned your wedding.’ A sharp pang of sensation stabbed deep in his chest at the idea of her back home in Australia, planning to marry some other man. Some man she’d convinced herself she loved. He thrust the idea away. `But it’s necessary that we preserve tradition. There should be no doubts that this wedding is genuine and in keeping with custom.’

Ànd I don’t have any say in it at all?’ Fire blazed from her azure eyes and Rafiq repressed a smile. Arguing with Belle was fast becoming one of his favorite pastimes. He looked forward to next week, when he could enjoy making up properly after a disagreement.

It was a relief to see her animated. She’d been as dazzlingly beautiful as ever this morning, elegant and graceful in her finery.

But he’d had the unsettling notion that something vital was missing. That somehow she wasn’t fully participating. He’d wondered if she was suffering delayed shock when he’d seen her so pale and tense, surrounded by a flock of women in her room. Her gaze had been almost vacant, and she’d moved like an automaton.

He’d sought to reassure her, but he wasn’t sure he’d succeeded.

Òf course you’ll contribute to the arrangements. There will be much to decide.’

Ànd if I decide that I’d prefer a longer engagement?’

He shook his head. Òn that I can’t negotiate. The very purpose of this marriage is to ensure continued stability. If we delay it will be assumed there’s a problem. That the wedding is only a smokescreen.’

`Which it is.’ She clasped her hands tight in her lap and tension radiated from every line of her body.

He remembered the coffee he’d poured and offered it to her. `Here, you’ll feel better when you’ve had something to eat and drink.’

She leaned forward and took the cup, averting her gaze from his.

Ìt will take a lot more than a meal to make me feel comfortable about this.’

`You’ve consented to marry me.’ His voice dropped to a deep rumble. Àre you saying you’re going back on your word?’ He frowned, surprised to discover how anxious he was to hear her confirm her promise.

`No, I’m not backing out,’ she said at last, and then bit her lip. `But surely we can delay a little?’

Rafiq leaned back, watching her intently, ignoring the rush of relief he felt at her words. `The sooner we’re wed the sooner the situation will calm. And the better for all concerned.’

Her eyes met his, and once again he felt a frisson of shock at their impact. It was like seeing a glimpse of paradise.

`We can discuss the details later, with my staff. In the meantime you need to think about who you’d like to invite to the celebrations.

First we’ll arrange to fly your family here. They’ll stay in the palace, of course.’

She would enjoy planning that, having her family about her at such a time.

But the frown pleating her brow told another story. `That won’t be necessary,’ she said, after a long pause. `You don’t want them here?’

Òf course I want them here.’ Her eyes flashed fire at him before she looked down at her coffee and took a quick sip. ‘But the timing is wrong. They can’t attend.’

It sounded like an excuse. Who would not want to come to their daughter’s wedding?

`My jet can be available to bring them at any time-‘

`But they won’t be able to attend.’ She put her cup down on the table with a click. `My sister is expecting a baby.’

`My felicitations. It must be a happy and exciting time for her.’

Belle raised her eyes to his and for a moment he read anguish in her expression. Then she blinked and her expression went blank.

What was going on here?

`Thank you. But there are complications. Rosalie’s condition isn’t as good as it should be, and she’s not allowed to travel, especially with the birth so soon. She’s under doctor’s orders for strict bed rest.’

Ah, now he understood. Obviously the sisters were close, and Belle was distressed that Rosalie couldn’t attend. `We’ll arrange for her to visit as soon as she’s able,’ he assured her. ‘For as long as you wish. But in the meantime your parents will want to be here for the wedding.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. There’s only my mother now, and she’s caring for Rosalie.’

Silently Rafiq cursed himself for blundering into her grief. The last thing he wanted was to cause her pain.

Ì‘m sorry, Belle. I hadn’t realized your father was dead. You were very close?’ He still remembered the utter shock of losing his own parents in an air crash when he was little more than a child.

She shrugged, and he saw the jerky stiffness of taut muscles in the movement. There was a twist to her beautiful mouth. Ì thought we were. Until he walked out and left us without a word.’