The Sheik's Angry Bride (4 page)

Garon threw back his head and laughed, pulling her close and kissing her forehead.  And again, the crowd roared their delight in their teasing even though they couldn’t hear what was being said between the two of them. 

“Let’s watch the competition, shall we?” he suggested, taking her hand and leading her back to the pavilion. 

Layla watched with trepidation as she walked beside this man who intimidated her in some ways, excited her in others and angered her almost constantly.  But none of those emotions could stop her feet from hesitating when she caught sight of her mother’s stern, obviously disapproving expression.

“What’s wrong?” Garon asked, feeling the change in her pace before she forced herself to keep moving alongside him.

“Nothing,” she whispered, bowing her head.

Garon followed where she’d been looking and caught sight of her mother’s glare only moments before the stern woman smoothed her elegant features into a placid expression.  “So your mother disapproves, eh?” he commented, low enough so only she could hear. 

Layla smothered her sigh of acceptance at her mother’s censure.  “My mother has never approved of my actions, Your Highness.  But she’s very proud that I am your final choice for your future.”

Garon chuckled.  “I’m sensing a great deal of antipathy over that statement.  Am I wrong?”

Layla shuttered her eyes.  “I’m sure you’re smart enough to deduce the truth in most situations, Your Highness.”

Garon wanted to do something, anything, to get that teasing smile back onto her beautiful features.  She’d been so proud of herself trying to compete with him during the rifle portion of the competitions but now she was tense and back to her previous polite demeanor.  And he suspected it was mostly due to the strict eyes of their overly deferential chaperone.  He shuddered to think of what had gone on during Layla’s youth, but he was proud of the woman she was now.  He couldn’t think of why she’d turned out so beautifully with such rigid disapproval for most of her life, but he was thankful. 

Layla sat on the pavilion as the sun really started to beat down on the events.  She focused all of her attention on the competitors but she was grateful when Garon waved over a servant and, a moment later, ice water was delivered to her as well as the other guests sitting in the stand.  She thirstily drank down the water, feeling somewhat refreshed afterwards. 

When the winner of the shooting competition was announced, Garon handed the medal to her and she stepped down, pinning the medal to the man’s shirt.  “Congratulations!” she enthused.  “Great work.”

The man blushed as he bowed down in front of her.  “It will be a prodigious honor when you marry our great leader, my lady,” he said, then scurried off as if he were embarrassed to have made such an effusive comment.

She turned back to Garon, not sure how he would feel about someone complimenting her.  Was he the jealous type?  But the look on his face wasn’t jealousy.  Was that…pride? 

He took her hand and led her over to the archery area.  There were more people ready to watch this competition and Garon walked up to the range, picked up a bow and arrow, then turned to her.  “Are you as good at archery as you are at shooting?” he asked.

Layla considered telling him that she didn’t know how to shoot a bow and arrow but with the devilish look in his eyes, she knew that he would simply show her how.  Which meant he would wrap his body around hers just as he had done with the rifle “lesson”.  She couldn’t take that.  Her nerves were already raw from the day’s events and she was painfully aware of the man standing here. 

“I can shoot,” she told him.  Taking the bow from his hands, she also accepted an arm and finger guard, strapping them on before accepting the arrow. 

She notched the arrow and ignored the tingling feeling on the back of her neck.  She knew Garon was watching her but she focused all of her attention on the target.  When she released the arrow, she instantly knew that it hadn’t gone into the bull’s eye. 

“Need some pointers?” Garon asked, as both of them looked at her arrow pointing out of the second circle. 

Layla turned to glare at him.  “Another arrow, please,” she said. 

Someone handed her another arrow and she slotted it onto the bow.  She was taking aim when she stopped, lowered the bow and shook her head.  Slipping her shoes off, she repositioned herself, aimed and fired.  The arrow went right to the center of the bull’s eye.  With that, she nodded her head in satisfaction, then very daintily slipped her shoes back on and smiled gracefully as she handed the bow back to Garon. 

The man just chuckled, clapping right along with the roaring crowd.  “Very entertaining, my lady,” he told her. 

She was proud of herself.  “Going to make a smiley face with the next ten arrows?” she asked. 

He shook his head.  “No.  But do you think you can do it again?” he asked, taking a bow, aiming and firing.  Dead center, of course.  He turned back to Layla, his black eyebrow raised in challenge. 

“Are you daring me to compete with you?” she asked, her heart accelerating at the enticing prospect. 

He shrugged one of his massive shoulders, trying to appear casual but she could see the dare in his eyes.  “Unless you’re afraid to test your skills against mine,” he retorted, adding fuel to the challenge.

Layla gasped!  “I’m not afraid of you,” she came right back.

He moved closer and she knew from the look in his eyes that the subject had changed.  “Yes you are, but we’re talking about archery right now.  Not the way I make you feel when I touch you.”

Layla leaned back, her blue eyes clashing with his dark ones.  “I won’t let you terrify me,” she told him, frowning and trying to pretend like her words were true. 

He lifted his hand, his index finger running down her cheek.  “Unfortunately, and for some strange reason, I do.  But I’m going to change that.”

She didn’t know what to say in response but somehow, his words eased something inside of her she hadn’t known was tense.  “Archery is going to do that?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled at her blatant misunderstanding of the conversation.  “It will help.  Especially since I’ll get to show you some tips.  Which means I’ll get to touch this incredibly soft skin of yours.”

And her body tensed right back up with those words.  “That comment is not conducive to helping me trust you.”

He chuckled as he stepped back.  “Ah, but it throws off your focus, giving me the advantage.”

Her eyes narrowed in his direction because he was right.  “You’re a really horrible man.  But if you need that kind of an advantage to beat me,” she said, leaving the rest unsaid as she shrugged and walked over to the next target.  She turned back to him, unaware of the saucy expression on her face.  “You may start first, Your Highness.” 

He bowed and shook his head.  “I would never be so rude.  Ladies first,” he told her.

She shrugged and lifted the bow, setting the arrow and lifting to aim.  She was just about to release the arrow when she stopped and took off her shoes again.  Competing in heels was not the best choice.  And she was playing to win now.

The score was even, with him having a slightly stronger aim until she saw her mother’s glare out of the corner of her eye.  She accepted what she needed to do.  With an accuracy born out of hours of practicing, she shot her arrow slightly to the left of the bull’s eye. 

After that, she missed each of her shots just slightly. 

In the end, he won the competition and her heart pounded with resentment that she had to throw the competition.  It was probably for the best though.  Garon’s people needed to know that he was the best.  It gave them confidence in his leadership and she honestly didn’t want to undermine that in any way.  She might not like the arranged marriage, but Garon was leading his people out of a decade of war and bringing the economy back with strength and determination.  His people needed that belief more than she needed to win and prove something to Garon. 

Garon accepted the win, but his eyes told her that he knew something was wrong.  “What happened?” he muttered into her ear as he led her up onto the archery pavilion where they would watch the professionals start their competition. 

She smiled and waved to the crowd, all of which were noisily cheering on her efforts and their ruler’s skill.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He looked down at her curiously and shook his head.  “Yes you do.  But we’ll discuss that later.”  He turned around and sat down next to her as the archery competition commenced. 

The competitions finished and she was amazed by how proud all of the competitors were to receive their medals from Garon.  She stood to the side and applauded all of them but as the festivities started to draw to a close, her nervousness increased.  Tonight was the big ball!  She would have to dance in his arms and smile as if everything were okay.  She wasn’t sure she could do that.  Not after everything that had happened today.  How was she supposed to smile and greet other people while standing beside Garon?

It was just as bad as she’d anticipated!

He didn’t overtly touch her.  But every gentle caress distracted her concentration.  He sent a message to her while dressing that he didn’t want her to wear gloves tonight.  She’d just been about to pull them on, hoping for as little touching as possible.

She stared at the gold satin gloves, considering her options.  Should she obey him?  All of her teachings told her that she should lay those silk gloves down onto her dressing table and walk out gloveless.  It was a specific request and she should, if she were a very good person, follow that command.

But in the end, she lifted those gloves and pulled them on.  Smiling as she did so. 

Was it an act of rebellion?  Absolutely, she thought with relish.  Garon was doing things to her that she didn’t like.  Not one little bit.  He didn’t respect her space, he didn’t even bother to ask her if he could kiss her or touch her.  It was infuriating, the liberties that man took. 

She ignored the almost intimate connection she’d felt earlier in the day with Garon while they were shooting.  For a few moments, it had felt as if they were together, facing the world as a team.  She’d enjoyed teasing him about her skill at shooting a rifle and she’d been excited to shoot the bow and arrow right alongside him. 

But that was when they’d been surrounded by the crowds.  It had felt safer when they were in front of crowds, where he couldn’t….okay, so he’d ignored the crowds and fed her baklava.  That was different.  She still couldn’t believe how her body had reacted when he’d done that! 

There would be only two hundred people at the gala tonight.  Normally, that would be an overwhelming crowd for her but facing Garon, she needed a larger gathering.  She wanted so many people crowding into the palace ballroom that the two of them would be forced to separate, maybe mingle on opposite sides of the event just so they could meet more people.

Actually, that might not be such a bad idea.  The more she thought about it, the more she liked it! 

“You’re all ready,” the stylist said, stepping back to survey her work.  “And you look beautiful!”

Layla looked at her image in the mirror and cringed inwardly.  She had so much makeup on and, with the stiff hair, she barely recognized herself.  What would Garon do when she woke up in the morning after their wedding? She stifled a chuckle at the idea of him not even recognizing her when there wasn’t a stylist and makeup artist getting her ready for each event.  Oh, that would be hilarious, she thought as she stood up and smoothed her gloves high up on her arms.  She could just imagine walking down the palace hallway and right out the front door, with no one being the wiser that it was their ruler’s wife that was escaping because she would look so different without all of this heavy makeup and her hair not so tightly caught up in an elaborate style.

And Garon wouldn’t even blink in her direction. 

She wondered what she might look like after…well, their wedding night.  With all of this makeup still on and her hair no longer stiff, how would she look without her usual shower and scrubbing at night? 

Or maybe they would sleep in separate quarters?  Her parents did. 

She breathed a sigh of relief at that possibility.  Separate bedrooms made sense.  At least in her mind.  Although, the way he kept touching her, she wasn’t sure if he was thinking in the same direction. 

Layla sighed.  This whole mess was such a confusing problem.  If only he would act appropriately, she wouldn’t feel so unbalanced when they were together! 

If she could figure out how to keep her distance, she was fairly sure that she could form her own life, get her own priorities established and…

They were walking down the hallway, her in the front and her parents directly behind her with their bodyguards flanking the group when she spotted him.  He literally took her breath away, just as he had two nights ago.  He looked magnificent, she thought, not even aware that she’d stopped in the middle of the hallway. 

Garon watched her and she could almost feel those eyes traveling up and down her body.  That annoying trembling started up once again.  He had that look in his eyes that told her he was once again in predator mode, stalking his prey.  And she was the prey he was after. 

Taking her gloved hand, he lifted it higher.  His hand touching the gloves while his eyes looked down into hers.  “Obviously, you did not receive my message,” he said so softly that only she could hear his words.  His nimble fingers were already working the gloves off of her hands and Layla wanted so badly to curl her fingers into a fist so that he couldn’t finish removing that barrier. 

“I got your message,” she replied defiantly. 

His answering smile made the muscles in her stomach clench in an odd way.  “That makes it so much better then.”  The laughter in his eyes caused her teeth to clench furiously. 

“I want my gloves on,” she almost snapped but hid enough of her anger at the last moment so the words came out more politely.

“And I want them off,” he came right back.  He moved closer.  “Who do you think is going to win?”

Of course he won and he handed the gloves to the man standing behind him, not even bothering to look.  His dark eyes held her blue ones captive, just as he was doing to her body.  Did he even know the sensations that were zinging through her?  Could he tell what she was feeling? 

She certainly hoped not.  Layla took a step back, dropping her eyes.  She’d lost both the battle for her gloves as well as the silent contest and she hated herself for backing down.  But there was just something about the man that made her react in strange ways.  And she hated him for it! 

“Now we’ll start this greeting over again, properly.”  Garon lifted her hand to his mouth in what others would perceive as a gallant gesture. 

But did he give her just a simple kiss as a gentleman would do?  Absolutely not!  His lips kissed her fingers and then his teeth nibbled her fingertips.  Goodness, shock and sensation spiked down her body, pooling in that embarrassing place that she’d never realized existed! 

She tried to pull her hand away but he wouldn’t allow it. 

“No gloves.”  His eyes fired up.

She lowered her lashes, wishing she could hide herself as easily as she could hide her eyes.  “I didn’t realize that your message was an order,” she replied back.

He chuckled.  “It wasn’t an order, so much as a desire to hold your hand without gloves to hinder my touch of your soft skin.”  He tucked her hand onto his arm and they started walking towards the gala. 

Layla looked over at the closed doorway just as the guards were about to open them.  “I will have to remember that your commands are actually optional,” she commented.

The doors opened and that’s when he let the bomb drop.  “Oh, they’re not optional, my beauty,” he said as they stepped up to the landing.  They stood still for several moments, letting the press take pictures before they started to descend the stairs to join the guests when he continued, “I thoroughly enjoy the consequences when you don’t follow them.” 

Layla almost stumbled with those words.  Thankfully, he was anticipating just such a reaction and held her steady.  She looked at the crowd, praying that the two of them were the only ones that had noticed the slip. 

“I can’t believe you just said that,” she replied when they were halfway down the staircase and she had some of her composure back.  They were practically alone on the stairs, the press still clicking away, the lights flashing madly while they descended.  “Of all the rude and inappropriate comments you’ve conveyed to me, that has to be the worst.”  And she said all of it with a smile, refusing to let the rest of the world know that her intended husband was now on her black list.  Well, he’d actually been on that list the whole time, but at the moment, he was the only person there.  She was furious with him.  But not really sure if he was teasing her or not. 

“Believe it,” he responded and pulled her closer.  “We will dance now.” 

And with that, he pulled her onto the dance floor.  Nodding curtly to the orchestra, he took her hand in his and laid her other hand on his shoulder, knowing she was too shocked to do it for herself.  Or angry.  Either way, he wasn’t giving up this moment with her.  He wanted to dance, to hold her close, to feel that energy surging through her.  When the music started, he pulled her into the dance.

Layla hadn’t anticipated any of this.  Not his comments or the dance.  Of course, she’d known she would dance with him.  But this wasn’t dancing.  Not really, she thought as she stared at the middle of his chest, surprised by how easily he moved across the parquet floor.  It was almost as if they were floating.  Her full skirt swirled like a soft, silken cloud around his legs and he guided her around effortlessly.

“Look at me,” Garon told her softly, but with a tone that conveyed he would not be disobeyed.

Layla stiffened even more in his arms. “I don’t think I will, Your Highness,” she said with a smile as she glanced out at the crowd.  She was silently telling him that she would look at everyone but him. 

“Layla, you really don’t want to challenge me here, my love.”  He pulled her closer, so close that her breasts were almost touching his chest.  “There are so many things I could do right now that would…” He chuckled as her pretty eyes snapped up to him.  “That’s better.”  He pulled her closer anyway. 

She gasped when his hand moved lower on her back.  “You said if I looked at you…”

“Yes, but you still tested my authority.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.  “And you have absolute authority over me, don’t you?”

His black eyebrows went up with those words.  “Is that what is bothering you, love?” he asked gently.  “Are you feeling powerless?”

Layla looked away, refusing to give him even more power.  “I’m perfectly fine,” she told him. 

But that was a complete lie.  And he knew it.  Layla shivered in his arms and he bent his head closer to her.  She could feel his breath on her shoulder, on her ear and…No!  She didn’t like that feeling!  Not one little bit. 

So why did she sigh when he pulled her even closer?  This was all so confusing, she thought and closed her eyes as he twirled her around the dance floor.  For such a large man, he could move wonderfully.  She couldn’t help herself when she relaxed ever so slightly in his arms.  It just felt too nice.  She’d never partnered with a man who could move with such effortless grace and still look masculine. 

All of her expectations about this man, her marriage and her future were tumbling down around her feet in chaos.  Layla had been told from an early age what to expect, how to act, how to react…but the past few days have blown away all of those lessons.  She couldn’t figure out what was expected of her, how to react.  She’d been told all her life that she should anticipate problems so embarrassment could be avoided.  But how does one anticipate the strange and unpredictable feelings that Garon stirred within her?

She almost sagged with relief when the others started moving onto the dance floor.  And for several moments, she relaxed in Garon’s arms.  He pulled her closer now that they were no longer on display and she sighed, wishing she could lay her head down against his chest.  It had been such a long, stressful day, much of it brought on by this man.  But there was just something about his arms around her right now that….well, she liked it.  And it felt…safe?  Ever since meeting this man, she’d felt decidedly not-safe.  So all the more reason to take this moment and relish this non-threatening instant. 

Garon held this slender woman in his arms and, for the first time since meeting her, he felt her relax ever so slightly.  She was always so stiff and formal, so nervous.  But never timid!  No, he smiled as he pulled her slightly closer, his fiancée was never timid.  A fact which he liked. 

He almost laughed at the way she’d shown up tonight wearing those golden gloves.  He’d loved pulling them off of her hands.  Just as he was thoroughly anticipating sliding her wedding dress from her body, revealing every inch of her soft, beautiful skin to his hungry eyes.

Garon pulled back from that image because his body simply couldn’t take any more stimulation.  Besides, Layla was in his arms and he could feel her soft breath against his neck, feel her full breasts pressing against his chest and she wasn’t trying to get away from him.  It was a novel experience and he wasn’t going to do anything to change this moment.  He even ignored his aide when the man gestured for him.  Garon knew that he should take Layla’s hand and start introducing her around to the various dignitaries.  For the first time in his adult life, he was ignoring his responsibilities in favor of simply enjoying the moment. 

There would be enough time after this dance to introduce her around.  This was their moment, he told himself.  And he wasn’t stopping it for anything.