by Jane Porter
He nodded. “Each suite has a pleasure attached, and it varies from a form of sex, to a particular position.”
Jemma blushed, suddenly very warm. “You’re making this up.”
“Not at all. Each night for eight consecutive nights, the groom takes his bride to a new room, initiating her into new carnal delights, teaching her, pleasuring her, as well as ensuring she knows how to pleasure him.”
Her face burned, hot. It was almost as if a fire had been lit inside of her and she didn’t know if it was the things he was saying, or his tone, but his words created erotic pictures in her head, pictures that were so intimate and real that she could scarcely breathe.
He led her around to each of the eight suites, and she marveled at each. The Bridal Palace was beyond fantasy. It was magical. Jemma felt as if she’d entered another world. A world she couldn’t have imagined existed anywhere. And yet it did. Here.
The exotic perfection was almost too much to take in, each suite more spectacular than the last, the rooms splashed with jeweled color—violet, sapphire, gold, ruby, turquoise, emerald, and silver. The chambers were connected by tall columned corridors, the white and gold tiles shimmering at all hours of the day, while in the very center was a luxurious walled garden featuring pools, fountains, and exotic red, gold and ivory mosaic tiled pavilions.
She’d thought her courtyard was lovely, but the Bridal Palace’s secret courtyard was so lavish and sensual it stole her breath, and made her heart hurt.
She didn’t know why the Bridal Palace’s sensual beauty created pain. She was certain it’d been designed to delight.
“You’re very quiet,” the sheikh said, turning to look at her.
She passed a small waterfall that tumbled and splashed into a deep bathing pool. “I’m in awe,” she said, thinking this was the kind of place you wanted to be on your honeymoon. The low beds covered with the softest cotton and banked with silk cushions. The fragrant garden both hid and revealed the various gleaming pools.
This was a place for passion. Pleasure. Here anything seemed possible...
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she added, voice unsteady. “It takes my breath away. These rooms, the gardens, they’re pure fantasy. I feel like I’m in a dream.”
“I think that’s the point,” he said, leading her from the central courtyard, through a room shimmering with silver, to the outside hall. “The fantasy element is to help both bride and groom overcome their inhibitions. Here, everything is possible.”
The door shut behind them and they were suddenly back in an ordinary hall, in an ordinary world.
She looked at the closed door, amazed by what they’d just left behind. “The rooms...your story...it’s a fairy tale for adults.”
“But it’s not a fairy tale, or a story. It’s real. Part of Saidia’s culture and tradition. This is where every Saidia king has brought his bride for eight hundred years.”
“Your parents came here?”
He nodded. “My father brought my mother here. And now I’ve brought you.”
Jemma’s mouth opened, closed. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. It was all too incredible...the exotic beauty, as well as the seductive nature of the Kasbah. Everything in this palace was hedonistic. Indulgent. And he was using the promise of pleasure to cast a spell over her.
“Tonight is the first of our sixteen nights here. For the next eight nights, I shall pick the pleasure, and then on the ninth night, it becomes your choice.”
He was walking her back to her suite now, and Jemma was glad he was leading. She felt dazed. Lost. Caught up in the most impossible dream.
“Not tonight,” she said as they reached her door. “I’m not ready.”
“A kidnapped bride is never ready,” he said, and yet he was smiling to soften his words. “I also am not insensitive to the strangeness of our situation. I understand you have fears, and misgivings, but I believe it is better to begin sooner than later. You will be less anxious once we know each other.”
“But shouldn’t that happen before physical intimacy?”
“The physical intimacy will bind us together. It is the act of physical love that distinguishes the relationship, separating us from others.”
Jemma pressed her hands together, fingers locking. “One more day. Please.”
“But you had one day already. We had today.”
“I slept most of it away!”
“Which should mean you are rested and refreshed for tonight.” They’d reached the entrance to her suite of rooms. He gestured to her door. “Inside your room you will find several presents from me. You will receive more later. For the next eight days and nights I will shower you with gifts, jewels, and my undivided attention. I think you shall soon discover that these eight days and nights will be everything you ever dreamed...and more.”
His gaze met hers and held, even as his words echoed in her head, making her nerves dance.
Everything you ever dreamed...and more.
Just like that the night crackled, the air hot and heavy, sultry in the exotic pavilion.
Mikael was so close that he made the hair on her nape rise and her skin prickle. All she could think about was the sheikh stretching his big powerful body out over hers. Blood rushed to her cheeks and she fought to control her breathing.
“You are awfully confident, Your Highness.”
“We are married. Don’t you think it’s time you used my given name?”
“I do not feel married.”
“That will change soon.”
* * *
Jemma disappeared into her room, pulse racing. She turned from the door and nearly tripped over the mountain of trunks stacked just inside the entrance to her sitting room.
The young maid was standing next to the trunks, smiling. “For you,” she said. “From His Highness.”
Jemma backed away from the trunks, panicked by the tower of gifts.
She didn’t want presents. Didn’t want to be showered with expensive gifts and jewels.
She wanted the life she had in London. She wanted her friends. Wanted her work. She wanted her own identity and freedom.
The maid watched Jemma, her dark eyes bright, expression cheerful and excited. “Shall I start your bath, Your Highness? We have much to do to prepare.”
Jemma shook her head, feeling anything but excited. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t go through with this. She wasn’t the kind of woman who just gave up, who just gave in. She was not meant to be Mikael’s queen. Her future was not here in Saidia, nor did she have any desire to bear the children that would heal the rift between families and countries.
“It is a very big day,” the maid added carefully, her confident expression slipping, revealing the first hint of concern. “Much to do. Much tradition.”
Jemma sat down on the edge of one of her low white sofas, her hands folding in her lap. “These are not my traditions.”
The maid knelt next to Jemma. “Your Highness, do not be frightened. His Highness, Sheikh Karim, is a very good and powerful man. He is very fair. A man of his word. If he tells you something, it is so.”
“I think you would say that about all Saidia kings.”
“No. I would not say that about the last king, Sheikh Karim’s father. The old king was not a good man. He made his first wife very sad. I think His Highness, Sheikh Karim, saw much as a boy. I think he saw things a child should not see. This is why he is different from his father. He has worked very hard to be a good king. The people love him. He honors and respects Saidia people, and Saidia tradition.” The maid smiled. “The king will be good to you. You will be happy. I am already happy for you.” Her hand indicated the trunks. “Already he has sent many gifts. He tries to show you already he is pleased with you. That you bring him honor.”
Jem
ma shook her head. “He’s trying to buy me.”
The maid frowned. “Buy you? Like a camel?”
“Yes. But I’m not a thing to be bought.”
“His Highness does not buy you. His Highness honors you. Gifts show respect. In Saidia, gifts are good things.” She smiled more brightly. “Maybe now you look at your gifts, and then we get ready for tonight.”
Jemma struggled to smile. “You open the trunks for me. Show me what is inside.”
For the next several minutes, all the maid did was unpack the trunks, starting with the largest leather trunk on the bottom of the stack.
The biggest trunk was filled with clothes. Kaftans, skirts, sarongs, tunics, slinky evening gowns. The medium trunk contained shoes and heels and elegant jeweled sandals. The small trunk held jewelry and accessories.
There was one last trunk, but this one wasn’t leather, but silver. The silver box’s gleaming surface was embossed with elegant scrollwork and a jeweled handle. Jemma carefully unfastened the latches. Inside the silver box was a white garment bag, white shoes and a small, delicate white silk pouch.
“This is for tonight,” the maid said, unzipping the garment bag to remove a long white satin gown that looked like something from a Hollywood movie. “Your bridal gown.”
“My wedding gown?” Jemma corrected, thinking maybe she’d misunderstood the girl’s English.
“No. The honeymoon gown. For pleasure.” The maid smiled, her cheeks pink. “Tonight is the first night. You go to him in white. You meet him in the Chamber of Innocence.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I come from the same tribe as Sheikh Karim. My mother and grandmother served the new Karim brides. And now I serve you. It is my job to prepare you for the king’s pleasure.”
Jemma was neither a virgin nor an innocent and yet she blushed, furiously, feeling ridiculously embarrassed, and shy. “I’m not sure about this.”
“You don’t need to worry. His Highness will know everything. He will teach you.”
Jemma flushed again, her cheeks burning, trying not to feel mortified. The maid must think she was a timid virgin.
“Do you want to try it on?” the maid asking, admiring the long white satin gown.
“No.” Jemma turned away from the gown, the fabric soft and begging to be touched, focusing instead on the remaining wedding night gifts and accessories. White satin shoes. Delicate white satin undergarments. And of course, the white silk pouch.
Curious, Jemma loosened the silver strings and emptied the pouch into her hand. Glittering diamond and pearl earrings spilled into her palm. A small card slid out last, landing on top of the stunning diamond drop earrings.
My first gift to you. Please wear them tonight. I think they will look magnificent on you.
Jemma read the card twice, and then slowly exhaled, her heart hammering.
Was this really happening? Would she really go to him tonight, dressed like a virgin sacrifice, dazzling in diamonds and white?
Jemma slipped the earrings back into the silk pouch, and then placed the pouch and shoes inside the silver trunk before closing the lid and fastening it shut.
Yesterday afternoon she’d been in the middle of a photo shoot when Mikael arrived. She’d known nothing about him, and very little about Saidia, and yet now she was his wife, and being prepared for his bed.
She still couldn’t wrap her head around it.
Jemma sat back on her heels and looked at the young maid. “Have you ever heard of a royal groom not satisfying his bride? Have you ever heard your mother or grandmother mention a kidnapped bride returning to her family? Has it happened in Saidia history before?”
The maid nodded. “Yes.”
“A long, long time ago, or more recently?”
“During my great-great-grandmother’s time, I think. Many, many years ago. And...” The maid chewed her lip, looking unsure of herself. “Maybe my mother’s time.”
Jemma frowned. “Your mother served my husband’s mother.”
“Yes.”
“Mikael’s mother was unhappy?”
“Not at first. Not during the honeymoon, but later.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I do not know. My mother would never say.”
The maid left to start Jemma’s bath, and rather than argue with the maid about privacy, Jemma stripped her clothes off and spent the next half hour soaking in the deep marble tub, lost in thought.
The Kasbah was a palace within a palace, and Mikael descended from a line of royal men who’d been taught that it was necessary to know how to please a woman in bed, and even his duty to give his woman pleasure. But not just pleasure. He was expected to make her fall in love with him. She needed to want to stay in Saidia. She needed to be happy. And if, during the honeymoon, the Saidia groom couldn’t make his bride happy, she could leave him after sixteen days.
The history fascinated Jemma. But it wasn’t just history. They were facts. And the facts gave her pause.
If a Saidia man couldn’t please his wife, he had to let her go.
Did that mean Mikael would let her go if he couldn’t please her?
Out of the bath, the maid set to work rubbing exotic fragrant oils into Jemma’s skin, and Jemma provided no resistance, lost in thought.
She’d been brought here as Mikael’s first wife. But perhaps now she could force him to free her following their honeymoon. If she wasn’t happy after eight days, she’d refuse him the next eight and demand to be allowed to return to her tribe.
While the oil dried, Jemma walked around the courtyard in her cotton kimono, letting the sun’s warmth help her skin absorb the oil.
She knelt by the pool in the courtyard, and gazed down into the clear blue water, the bottom of the pool covered in cobalt blue tiles. Her face reflected back at her, her dark hair pulled back from her face, her expression appeared surprisingly serene in the water. Her calmness belied her resolve.
She would leave here.
She would not be charmed.
She would not fall in love.
She would not give him children.
What she’d give him were eight days and nights, and during those days and nights he’d have access to her body. But he’d never have her heart.
The maid fetched Jemma from the courtyard to do her hair.
Jemma’s stomach churned as she sat at the silver dressing table, while the maid combed and twisted her hair into place, roping in strands of pearls and clusters of diamonds until Jemma’s long dark hair was a glittering, jeweled work of art.
Was Mikael aware that he’d given her a way out? Did he know that she understood her freedom could be won?
But first she’d have to surrender to Mikael for eight days, and eight nights.
Could she do it?
Could she give herself to him totally? Handing over her body, her will, her need for control?
“Shall I help you with your dress now?” the maid asked, Jemma’s hairstyle complete.
“No,” Jemma said suddenly. She couldn’t finish dressing, couldn’t slip into the white satin gown, not until she’d seen Mikael. She needed to speak to him. She needed his promise that he’d honor Saidia tradition. “I need to go see His Highness, now. Will you please take me to him?”
The maid opened her mouth as if to protest and then nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. Please, follow me.”
* * *
The maid knew the palace corridors and they walked swiftly from her wing to his.
The maid knocked on the outer door of Mikael’s suite and then stepped back, discretely disappearing into the shadows.
Jemma drew a deep breath as she waited for the outer door to open. It did, and Mikael’s valet gestured for Jemma to enter the king’s suite.
Jemma glanced up into Mikael’s central hall with the soaring ceiling topped by a skylight. She remembered the skylight and the second floor lined with balconies, reminding her of the New Orleans French Quarter.
“Looking for me?” Mikael’s deep voice sounded behind her.
Jemma turned, blushing as she spotted Mikael in nothing but a snug white towel wrapped securely around his waist, revealing broad shoulders and muscular torso.
“Yes,” she said, forcing her gaze from his impressive body up to his face. His black hair was damp, and glossy, his jaw freshly shaven. His gaze met hers and held.
Handsome, she thought, dazzled by the play of golden light over his bronze features. He was too handsome for his own good. No wonder he was arrogant.
“What can I do for you?” Mikael asked as his valet disappeared.
“We need to talk.”
“And I thought you’d come to thank me for my gifts,” he answered, smiling faintly.
“They are...lovely,” she said hesitantly. “So yes, thank you. But—”
“But you want something else?” he interrupted.
She flushed. “Yes. You could say that.”
His eyes, fringed by those endless lashes, narrowed. His gaze swept over her and even from across the courtyard she felt the heat in his eyes, felt the possession.
“What is it?” he asked.
Jemma grew hot. Her pulse quickened. She’d walked quickly the entire way from her room but it didn’t explain this new heat in her veins. This was his fault. When he looked at her, he made her head light, made her feel ridiculously dizzy and weak. “I want something that isn’t a physical gift.”
“You don’t care for jewels and clothes?”
“They’re fine, but not my favorite gifts.”
“I thought every woman loved jewelry and exquisite clothes.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you.”
He circled her slowly. “You don’t disappoint me. You intrigue me. I’m intrigued right now. What it is that you want so badly you’d race to my room just an hour before we are to disappear into the Chamber of Innocence?”
Mikael watched color sweep Jemma’s cheeks. She was beautiful in the pink kimono robe, and she sounded breathless and all he could think of was peeling the thin fabric from her shoulders and kissing the pale skin at her collarbone.