by Trish Morey
“Of course you didn’t!” The smile had vanished, and she gave a little sigh. “I’m just tired.”
Instantly he was contrite. “It was a long day… yesterday. I will take you back to bed.”
“No, wait.” Her words stayed him. “It’s so beautiful here tonight. The moon—” she gestured “—the water. Let’s stay a little while.”
Rakin realized what must be troubling her. “It’s our last night. We go back to Rashad tomorrow.” It filled him with regret, too. The board meeting he’d been pushing for, for so long, now didn’t necessarily seem so important. Giving in to the kind of impulse he seldom acted on, he said, “We could stay longer, if you wish.”
She shook her head. “No, you’d miss your meeting—and your family is expecting you for dinner. We must go back.”
“We will return here soon. Have no fear.”
Yet even as his mouth swooped to claim hers, Rakin realized that in the shadows of her eyes there was something akin to fear.
CHAPTER TEN
LAUREL had imagined that it would be a small, intimate dinner. But at least twenty places were set on the long table in a reception room with rich hand-painted friezes on the ceiling. Platters spread with kofta, parcels of rice and nuts wrapped in vine leaves, and mechwya—grilled vegetables dusted with paprika and ginger and speared on iron skewers—as well as an array of morsels with which Laurel was still unfamiliar had arrived on the large table. The dinner guests were beginning to gather around, with the exception of the men of the family, who were currently closeted in the royal salon discussing the future of Gifts of Gold.
Laurel’s nerves were frayed with waiting to learn the outcome.
Had marrying her gotten Rakin the control of the Gifts of Gold as he’d wished? Would Prince Ahmeer permit Rakin to remain as CEO and pass the controlling stocks to him as promised? Or would the prince renege by giving Zafar control of the company—or even changing his will and making Zafar heir to those all-important stocks? Laurel didn’t want to even contemplate what that would do to Rakin.
Her gaze kept straying anxiously to the huge double doors leading into the dining hall.
When the doors finally opened and a phalanx of men entered, her eyes went straight to Rakin. He carried himself with such authority it was easy to distinguish him from the crowd, but no sign of what had transpired showed in his inscrutable expression. Laurel knew she should not have been surprised.
Then his gaze found hers, and his expression softened.
He broke away from the others and came toward her. Conscious that they were not alone, she offered him a tentative smile. He settled down beside her.
Leaning toward her, her murmured in her ear, “Success. I am now the major stockholder in Gifts of Gold—the contract has just been signed. Now all that remains is for the shares to be physically transferred, which should happen in the next two days.”
She couldn’t restrain her joy. “That’s wonderful.”
He came closer. “Thank you.”
This close he smelled of peppermint and aftershave, fresh and heady.
Then the significance of what he was telling her hit. Rakin no longer had any need to remain married. Had his grandfather only changed his will, he could’ve changed it back at any time. But a contract for the transfer of stocks provided far more certainty—no doubt that was why Rakin had pushed for a resolution.
It meant they could part ways sooner.
No need to wait. A couple of days and the transfer would be registered. Divorce proceedings would begin soon.
The joy that had filled her only moments earlier drained away, leaving her with an acute sense of loss.
It was a task to eat the beautifully prepared meal. Roast lamb accompanied by root vegetables fragrant with cumin and coriander. No doubt the tastes and textures were exotic and delicious—but it might as well have been straw. Laurel found herself wishing she and Rakin were still at Dahab, eating simple dishes out on one of the balconies overlooking the desert.
She loved her husband; she was not ready for this divorce.
Glancing at Rakin, she took in the dark business suit he wore with a tie; his only concession to traditional dress was the headdress he wore. He caught her staring and gave her a warm smile that lit up his face.
Caught by that warmth, she began furiously to hope.
Surely Rakin felt it too? They had so much in common. They liked each other, they laughed together—and she knew that he desired her. It was more than many couples had going for them. There was no reason to get divorced—instead of a temporary proposition their marriage could become real.
She touched his arm. “Rakin—”
An aide appeared on his other side. Murmuring an apology, Rakin turned his attention to the aide who said something in Arabic. Rakin’s reply was brief. Pushing back his chair, he said to Laurel, “I won’t be long.”
A hand touched her shoulder. Laurel pasted on a smile and readied herself for the next round of civilities. She turned, and found Rakin’s grandmother beside her.
“You have eaten enough?” Tula slid into Rakin’s chair and rearranged her black flowing robe around her.
Laurel bowed her head. “Thank you. Everything was delicious.”
The sheikha gave her a bright smile. “That is good. You must look after yourself—we anxiously await your news.”
Blinking at Tula, Laurel said, “News?”
The older woman leaned across and patted her stomach. “Of a baby.”
“A baby?”
Laurel knew she must sound ridiculously like a parrot. Yet she couldn’t help herself. It was strange to be holding such an intimate discussion with Rakin’s grandmother—especially given that she and Rakin had barely had time to get to know each other, much less plan a baby. Yet she couldn’t help remembering that she and Rakin had not practiced much caution… a baby was not out of the question.
A shiver slid down her spine.
Unaware of the unease spreading through Laurel, the sheikha made a sweeping gesture.. “You and my grandson will have beautiful babies.”
How to respond to that?
Laurel laughed awkwardly.
“It is important for you to get pregnant.”
Of course. This was about succession rather than beautiful babies. Feeling the heat rising in her cheeks at the deception she was about to weave, Laurel said, “We’re taking a little time to get to know each other first.”
The older woman shrugged. “You are married. Becoming acquainted with each other will come with time—you will have many years to do so. I, too, was once a new bride. I’d never met his grandfather before the ceremony. My husband always says he fell in love with me the day I delivered my first baby—Rakin’s father.” Tula beamed at the memory. “Rakin is very wealthy and now he has the responsibility of running Gifts of Gold. He will need a son to follow in his footsteps.”
Staring at Rakin’s grandmother in shock, Laurel knew there was no way she could expect the sheikha to understand that the marriage between her and Rakin was not about progeny.
Unless, of course, she could convince Rakin to make this marriage permanent.
Once again hoped surged. Rakin would want children, and why should she not be the woman to bear them? She loved him, they were married.?…
Laurel was starting to feel a whole lot better about persuading Rakin that it made no sense to get a divorce.
If only he loved her…
That would make it all perfect.
She could be patient. And there was the chance that perhaps he was already falling in love with her. The warmth in his eyes when he’d walked into the great reception room was a good start.
“It is not good to wait—you are not getting any younger,” Tula was saying. “If you leave it too long you may become unable to bear children.”
That was a reminder Laurel did not care to dwell on, and it could ruin everything if, as she expected, Rakin wanted children.
In some secret compartment of her b
rain she’d been unconsciously clocking the march of time. It was one of the reasons why, when a procession of her school friends had trooped down the aisle, she’d been so eager to settle down with Eli. But it wasn’t the reason she’d married Rakin.
A stab of regret pierced her.
The irony. Since her discovery that she loved him, she could envisage having children with no one but Rakin. He was the man she wanted to share her life with. He was the man she loved. He was the man she wanted to father her child—her children. He was the man she wanted beside her to watch them grow up.
She wanted more than a temporary arrangement driven by business and pleasure.
Even adventure was no longer enough. It tasted like ashes in her mouth. She wanted so much more.
“This subject is too difficult for you to address with your new groom? You are… shy?” The sheikha looked satisfied with what she clearly viewed as Laurel’s modesty. “Then I will speak to Rakin’s grandfather and he must tell Rakin he must do his duty.”
“No!” Laurel couldn’t bear the idea that the one area of their life where they shared intimacy might become riddled with conflict, or wrecked by expectations outlined by his grandparents. “That will not be necessary. I’ve taken note of your concerns and will discuss them with Rakin.”
“My grandson has chosen well.” The other woman’s face was wreathed in smiles. “You are a sensible woman who understands what is important—your cooperation does not go unnoticed. You have brought great happiness to our family.”
Little did Rakin’s grandmother know that it had nothing to do with being sensible or cooperative and everything to do with her own eternal happiness.
“Rakin, your grandmother cornered me last night.”
“Hmm?” They’d made love last night in their boudoir, after the interminable evening finally drew to a close. Freshly showered, with the sun already rising for a new day, Rakin was ready to make love to his wife again, already eagerly admiring her scantily clad form.
He paused beside the bed where she lay and stroked her hip with meandering fingers, admiring the feminine curve, while trying to recall whether he’d already kissed the spot. What did it matter? He’d kiss it again before the sun was high to be certain—he’d intended to leave no part of her uncherished.
“Rakin? Did you hear what I said?”
“My grandmother wanted to talk to you.” He lifted his head and gave Laurel a slow, satisfied smile, already planning out how every bliss-filled minute of the next hour would be spent. He tugged the damp towel off and threw it onto the ground, leaving him naked. Then he sank down onto the bed, and reached for his wife. “Was she trying to persuade you to help organize her French film festival? It is her passion.”
Laurel’s eyes held a strange expression. Then she moved and the illusion vanished, forcing Rakin to decide he’d imagined it. “No, no—nothing like that. She only thought I should know that it was important for me to get pregnant as soon as possible. Apparently you are in dire need of an heir.”
Had she expected him to laugh? If she had, she’d miscalculated. Rakin rolled away from Laurel and sat up, raking his fingers through his hair before pulling the covers over his nudity.
A moment’s silence followed in which he could hear his heart thudding in his chest. From behind him Laurel said tentatively, “Rakin?”
He turned his head.
“Is something wrong?” She’d come up on her knees in the bed. Her hair lay in long flags down her shoulders. Desire stirred. He suppressed it ruthlessly.
“I’ve never wanted children.”
“You haven’t?”
He shook his head.
“Then that’s the one thing on which we differ. I’ve always known that one day I would have children. A family.” She spread her hands. “Your grandmother spoke the truth—I am getting older. From her perspective, if we’re going to have children we can’t afford to delay too long. The sands of time will soon start to run out.”
She offered him a pensive smile.
Her intransigence caused him to say more harshly than he intended, “I don’t want a child—I never wanted a wife either. But I was given no choice. The charade of a temporary wife was my best solution.”
A deep emotion flickered in her eyes; it was gone too fast for him to identify it.
Already she was turning away, reaching for the white silk peignoir at the foot of the bed and donning it. Rakin felt a piercing stab of regret. He let it pass. He’d never deceived her. Theirs had always been a marriage of convenience—and a temporary one at that. Laurel knew that. He’d never promised more than fun and adventure—and the added bonus of exposure to his business network There was no need to feel as though he’d let her down in some inexplicable way.
“Ours was never a union intended to produce children.” He made his position clear with repetition.
Her shoulders straightened. “I know that.”
She tossed her head and the dark auburn hair rippled like tongues of flame in the golden morning light.
But he couldn’t let it go. There was a deep need to assuage the roar of guilt. “I promised you the adventure of a lifetime—not family bliss.”
Her head twisted. “I’m well aware of that, and you’ve delivered on your promise. I’m not arguing that you didn’t satisfy my need for every kind of adventure.”
Surely, she couldn’t mean what he thought she was implying?
Her gaze dropped down to where he’d drawn the sheet over his nakedness. Arousal blasted him. Heat rose in his face. “I am not a gigolo.”
Her gaze touched the flat planes of his stomach, drifted over his bare chest, lingered on his lips. Finally she met his gaze and gave him a slow smile. “You could be. My own personal love slave. I rather like the idea.”
“I was talking of other adventures,” he bit out.
“Like bathing in the pool under the starlight?” There was a gleam in her eyes that he did not like. “Or sex in Las Vegas?”
He didn’t like the bald way she referred to what had been a shattering experience simply as sex.
“Like bringing you to Diyafa, opening my home to you, showing you the desert, the ways of my forefathers,” he bit out. “Like exploring places where few people have trodden. Like venturing forth on the horses… and bargaining with Bedouin. Adventures that few will ever experience.”
He’d shared his soul with her.
“Ah, those adventures.”
“Yes!” But he couldn’t stop imagining the more erotic visions her wicked words had evoked. Rakin fought to keep his head cool and his voice level. “And I kept my part of the bargain about setting up business opportunities for The Kincaid Group. Already Ben Al-Sahr has been in touch with your brother Matt to find a cotton supplier in Charleston.”
“Yes, I told Matt about that.”
“Your brother has been in touch?”
She shook her head. “I called him. We’ve spoken several times.”
“I knew you’d let your family know of our wedding. You did not tell me you were discussing business with your brother.”
She gave a light laugh. “As you have made clear, this is very much a marriage of convenience only. We are hardly joined at the hip, Rakin.”
She was smiling, but Rakin suspected underneath there lurked something else. Hurt?
“You are upset.”
She tossed her head. “Why should I be upset because you choose not to have children? It’s your decision, not mine.”
That made him certain. She was most definitely upset. When a woman said things like that it left the matter in no doubt.
She had been such a fool!
Rakin had warned her from the start that theirs was nothing more than a temporary marriage of convenience. She’d known that. It had never been about love. It had never even been about sex—that had been an adventure he’d provided in addition to the rest.
Today Rakin had gotten what he wanted out of the deal—he still controlled the board of Gifts of Gol
d and soon his grandfather’s majority stockholding would be signed into his name. He no longer needed her.
Scratch that. He’d never needed her.
He no longer needed a wife.
Any wife.
As far as her husband was concerned, the need for their temporary marriage was over. Yet, with her discovery that she loved him, from her point of view, their marriage had only just begun.
“You’re heartless.” The words burst from her before she could stop them. Instantly a sense of release swept her. It was true—he was heartless.
The skin had drawn tight across his cheeks.
“Not heartless—simply a realist.”
Simply? Nothing about this relationship was simple anymore. Laurel couldn’t believe she’d ever convinced herself that marriage to this man could be a lighthearted adventure. Fun. A carefree romp to break free from the drudgery that her life had become and help her complete her Get a Life List. It had all turned complicated—and come back to bite her in the ass. “I don’t want to live my life in your reality.”
He shrugged. “You don’t need to. That’s the advantage of our temporary marriage.”
His attitude brought home how little he cared. About their marriage. About her. Rakin had what he wanted, and now he expected her to walk away from their marriage unscathed. Unchanged.
But she couldn’t—because for her everything had changed.
The aftershock of the pain was devastating.
She loved Rakin.
He didn’t love her. She had to face that, accept it and move on. This marriage was over. He’d just made it heart-wrenchingly clear he didn’t even want to be married to her. Laurel couldn’t fool herself that he was ever going to love her in the way she wanted—needed—to be loved.
“So what happens now? You clap three times, and our marriage is formally dissolved?”
“Do not be sarcastic,” he said coldly. “It does not become you.”
She drew herself away. “I need some fresh air—it’s gotten a little claustrophobic in here.”
He rolled away from her on the bed and closed his eyes. “I’m weary—I didn’t get much sleep last night. We will finalize the matter later.”