The Reluctant Princess

by Carly Roberts

  Anyway, the thought of belonging to man like the Prince made panic rise within me. These women knew what to do to please him—they had each given him a child. I had never fallen pregnant in all the years I had been married, and I had no idea how to relax enough with a man to enjoy the sexual act.

  Fear and nervousness circled around in my head, until eventually I could stay awake no longer, and sleep took me.

  * * *

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Nedira woke me with a gentle shake to the shoulder.

  “Eleanor,” she said. “It is time to rise.”

  I opened my eyes, groggy and disoriented, then sat up hurriedly as I remembered where I was.

  My cheeks flushed as Nedira met my gaze. I felt ashamed that I had watched as she and the Prince made love, and yet if I had my time again I could not say I would have done any different.

  “What is happening?” I whispered.

  “We are to help you wash and dress, and then you will break your fast with the Prince. Today he would like to start travelling back to Samarkand.”

  Immediately my throat tightened and my stomach knotted, and I knew I would not be able to eat a thing.

  Nedira studied me, obviously seeing my distress, but said nothing, merely beckoning me forward to a bowl of steaming water on a table.

  Deciding I would at least meet the day clean and dressed, I washed, then stared at the beautiful tunic and trousers Nedira had laid out for me.

  “Where are my clothes?” I asked.

  “Your trunk is here. But your dresses looked thick and uncomfortable. It will be hot in the desert today, and I thought you might like to borrow one of mine.”

  I fingered the silk, fascinated by the embroidery, the beads, and the gemstones that were sewn into intricate patterns. A stunning deep blue color, it complemented my complexion perfectly.

  If I accepted it, though, I would be admitting that I had agreed to stay with the Prince, and I had not yet mind up my mind.

  “I cannot,” I stated. “Can I please have one from my trunk?”

  Nedira just nodded and stepped through the partition to instruct one of the slaves to fetch it. The man called Malik brought it through within minutes, giving me a bow and a smile before he withdrew.

  “I note that you do not wear your veils around the slaves,” I said as I pulled on a clean chemise and a pale yellow gown. Nedira was right—the fabric was thick and would be uncomfortable on a long journey in hot weather, but I was not about to admit that.

  “Only the ones who serve the Prince personally,” she said. “We are all very… familiar with each other.”

  I studied her, sensing she was trying not to laugh. What was so amusing?

  She gave no clues, however, but turned away and picked up a hairbrush. She bade me sit while she brushed and braided my hair.

  “Even though you will not wear one of my dresses, please accept one of my veils,” she pleaded. “Yours are too thin and will not keep out the sand.”

  I accepted it gratefully, tired of weeks of tasting grit from noon until night, and let her help me cover my hair and fasten it on either side of my head.

  She took my hand and led me toward the partition. “Come,” she said. “The Prince wants to talk to you.”

  We slipped through the silk partition into the main room. The Prince wasn’t there—I’d heard him leave the tent while I was getting dressed. We crossed to the entrance, and Malik held the flap back for us so we could duck beneath it and go outside.

  I blinked in the bright sunshine. I had slept later than I’d realized. It was mid-morning, and the camp was busy, with most of the tents already packed away, the goods being boxed and piled into caravans.

  Outside our tent, a table had been set up with food and drink, covered with a large awning that provided some shade from the already warm morning sun. Farah sat there with a dish of dates and honey, and Nedira joined her and started to fill her plate with food, clearly hungry.

  The Prince stood in front of the table, in the shade, his back to me as he talked to a couple of men. He wore loose cream trousers and a white tunic, and he looked cool and elegant, a world apart from the warrior I had met last night.

  Then he turned and saw me. His brown eyes widened, and a smile spread slowly across his face. An image filled my mind of him on top of Nedira, his body tightening as he came, and heat rose to my cheeks the same as it had before.

  “Good morning,” he said. Leaving the men, he walked up to me. “How are you? Did you sleep well?” His eyes gleamed. He didn’t know I had watched them make love, surely?

  I bit my lip, certain it was my guilty conscious plaguing me, and nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You must be very hungry.” He gestured for me to sit at the table. I slid into one of the chairs and perched on the edge. Everything was surreal, from the way the sand shimmered in the heat, to the exotic food on the table.

  Sitting next to me, he motioned for me to take something. Not wanting to be rude, I took a peach and put it on my plate, but made no attempt to eat it. Was I supposed to pass the food under the veil? I watched Farah do just that, lifting the veil to pop a date into her mouth. Even so, I could not bring myself to eat.

  The Prince leaned back in his chair, resting one ankle on the opposite knee, and surveyed me with his intense brown eyes. The way he looked at me made me feel as if there was nobody else in the world, as if he wouldn’t dream of looking at anyone else. Which was kind of ridiculous considering he already had four wives, two of whom sat next to me.

  “So have you given your predicament some thought?” He tipped his head at me.

  I nodded. I had thought about little else.

  “And your decision? Are we to be married?”

  I hesitated and looked at my plate. The truth was that I couldn’t think what to do. The reasons that had seemed real enough before I’d arrived had become blurred and confused after my conversation with Farah and the scene I had witnessed.

  But I didn’t want to admit that the decision I’d blurted out the night before had been a mistake, so I did the only thing I thought I could do and shook my head.

  “You have traveled a very long way,” the Prince said. “And yet you make this decision only when you arrive. Why so? Do you not like what you see?” He gestured down himself, then smiled, teasing me again.

  His manner confused me—I didn’t want him to be charming. I wanted him to be angry and obnoxious, and to make this decision easy for me.

  “I made up my mind when I discovered that you were already married.” I indicated Nedira and Farah. “Apparently you already have four wives. Why do you need another?”

  “A man can never have too many wives,” he said, amused. “I have lots of concubines too.”

  “Concu-what?”

  “Concubines,” he repeated patiently. “Women who live in the harem, but who are not married to me.”

  “They share your bed?” I was horrified. The notion of sharing a husband with four other women was bad enough, but a whole household?

  “Yes.” He spoke matter-of-factly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world and he had no idea why I was so outraged.

  My chest heaved, my throat tightened again, and the tears that hadn’t been far from the surface all night pricked my eyes again. “I cannot do this!”

  He frowned and blew out a long, slow breath. “I thought your father would have explained the situation to you.”

  I was struggling to stay in control. “I have not seen my father for many years. He arranged this marriage without my consent, and I left for the journey here without returning to England.”

  My mind was whirling. I could not take it all in. I had traveled for months, I was exhausted, and I felt as if I had stepped into a bard’s creation, an incredible story made up by an overactive imagination.

  The Prince said nothing. He exchanged a glance with Nedira, then his gaze came back to me. Rising to his feet, he paced along the floor, then back again
, obviously thinking.

  “Will you make me marry you?” I whispered. “Will you make me share your bed?”

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  He stopped and faced me, and his eyes flared with anger. “I do not force myself on women,” he snapped.

  There was a brief pause. My heart thudded in my ears.

  “Unless they ask you to,” Farah said from beside me.

  I blinked in surprise. Nedira rubbed her nose—I suspected to hide a laugh, and Farah’s eyes danced over the rim of her teacup.

  The Prince turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow. She lowered her gaze hastily to her cup, but I could see her fighting back giggles.

  He glared at her a moment longer, then brought his gaze back to me. Surprisingly, I thought I saw laughter in his eyes, too.

  I did not understand what was so funny, though, and I was too upset to give it any thought.

  He obviously saw my distress, because his expression softened, and he sighed. “My lady, I will not force you to do anything you do not want to do. Your father made a business deal with me and part of that bargain was marriage to his daughter, but I will not hold you to it if it is not what you desire.”

  He started to pace again. “However, I would ask one thing—that you take some time to think about your decision. What will you do if you decide not to marry me? Will you return home to England? I cannot think your father will be pleased to see you.”

  He spoke the truth. If my father thought I had ruined his business deal, he would be furious with me. Even if the Prince didn’t renege on the deal, my father would be apoplectic to learn I’d taken matters into my own hands. He’d probably send me straight back to the Prince, or organize another marriage for me. He would never allow me to return to the home where I had grown up.

  “Travel to Samarkand with me,” he said. “Visit the Palace which would be your home. Get to know the other wives and understand what life here would be like. And if, after that, you still wish to leave, I will not stop you—in fact I will make sure you are accompanied and kept safe until you reach your destination.”

  The words rang in my ears. Until you reach your destination. I had the feeling he was telling me he would care for me better than my father or my other husbands had done, or would do in the future. Had Farah relayed to him what I had told her last night?

  I could not understand why he was being so generous. I was part of the bargain—he had every right to insist on the marriage and force me to share his bed.

  I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. My mind whirled with confusing thoughts and emotions. “I am not a virgin,” I said. “I have been married twice before. And I am barren. I do not understand why you would want to marry me.”

  He stopped pacing. He ran his gaze down me, then back up. By the time his eyes reached my face again, his expression carried a lazy, sultry look. “Because you are very beautiful, and I want to take you to bed.”

  Farah snorted. Nedira gave a small laugh. The Prince just raised an eyebrow.

  My jaw dropped. “You are mocking me.”

  “Not at all. I only agreed to make this trade deal with your father because my ambassador told me you were one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. And after meeting you, I can safely say he did not lie.”

  I could not think what to say. He was making fun of me—he had to be. I was not beautiful, and I could not believe he would bring me halfway across Europe just because he wanted me in his bed.

  Moving closer, he dropped to his haunches before me and took one of my hands in his. It looked pale as milk next to his light brown skin, my fingers small in his palm.

  “Did your husbands sire children by other women?” he asked.

  Puzzled at his question, I thought about it. My first marriage had been so short I wasn’t sure. My second husband had taken many mistresses, but as far as I was aware none of them had borne him children. I shook my head.

  “Then it is probable that your husbands were the ones who could not have children. It is very likely that you will be able to have babies, Eleanor.”

  “He is very virile,” Farah said. “He only has to look at a woman and she gets pregnant.”

  He just laughed.

  The Prince is a stallion. I remembered her words and my heart shuddered to a stop. My husband had berated me for years for my failure to fall pregnant. Could it truly have been his fault?

  The Prince raised my fingers to his lips and kissed them. “You are stunning,” he said. “Exotic, with your skin white as paper and your hair like beaten gold. You fascinate me. Stay with me, marry me, and you will be safe and content—that I can promise you. My harem is a happy one—my wives look after and support each other. And I will never force you to share my bed.”

  He shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. “I cannot promise I will not try to persuade you, though.”

  “He is very good at that,” Farah said. “Be warned.”

  He gave her another exasperated glance, then rolled his eyes. He smiled and raised my hand to his lips. “Stay with me,” he repeated. “For now, at least. If you do not want to sleep with me, I will have to content myself with admiring you from afar.”

  I looked into his eyes. They were wide and sincere, filled with smiles.

  I thought of Farah’s words. “You are going to try to seduce me to your bed, though.”

  He gave a little shrug, but his eyes told me he had every intention of doing just that.

  “You would be disappointed in me,” I whispered. “I do not know how to please a man.”

  “It would be fun to teach you. And to learn what pleases you, too.” The look in his eyes suggested he relished the thought.

  I remembered the night before, and how he had slipped his tongue into Nedira’s folds and made her come, then slid his cock inside her and made her come again.

  Sex and pleasure had never gone together for me. Would he be able to eradicate all the bad memories I had of being abused and taken against my will?

  I swallowed down my nerves. “I will come with you,” I whispered. “For now.”

  He held my gaze, and slowly a warm smile spread crossed his face. “Good,” he said.

  He pushed himself to his feet, lifted my veil, and then leaned down until his lips were only inches from mine. My heart hammered, but I forced myself to sit still. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to know—however briefly—what Nedira had felt when he kissed her, and why Farah spoke of him with such love.

  The Prince waited a moment, maybe to see if I would object. When I said nothing, he smiled and closed the distance between us.

  My husband’s kisses had been wet and slobbery, carried out with force, as if he were a dog lapping at my face.

  The Prince’s kiss was light, like the brush of a summer breeze on a hot day. His lips were firm and dry, and all he did was press them briefly against mine. My eyelids fluttered shut, and I became aware of the heat of the desert beyond the shade, the jangle of harnesses and the murmurs of men in the distance as they packed up camp, and the smell of sandalwood, arising from the warm skin of the man before me.

  It only lasted seconds, but in that blink of a moment he cleansed me of every ugly thing that had ever been done to me. I would never forget that life, but whereas before the sky had been iron-gray and heavy with rain, suddenly the sun came out, filling me with light.

  He moved back and lowered the veil. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes warmed me from the inside out.

  I watched him walk away, trying to remember to breathe, then looked at Nedira and Farah, who had been watching the scene unfold with interest.

  Nedira grinned.

  “Told you,” Farah said, and bit into a peach.

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  Nedira told me that Samarkand was five days’ ride away—four nights in the desert. After such a long journey, I didn’t think I could bear to go another step, and prepared myself for a dull and dusty ride.
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  The truth turned out to be quite different. We were a big party—the Prince had brought a contingent of cataphract or elite cavalry with him, some mounted on camels, some on horses, plus there were the usual members of the household that any noble could not do without—slaves and servants, men to look after the mounts and the armor, cooks and blacksmiths, and the ragtag group of women who always accompanied any large party of men to provide essential entertainment.

  I’d thought the Prince would ignore me for the duration of the journey and leave me with Nedira and Farah. I did spend most of my day with the two young women, but he joined us frequently, weaving his horse in between ours to check on our welfare and enquire whether there was anything we needed.

  As we rode side by side, he told me about the land we were travelling through, pointing out sights like sand cats and buzzards and, in one case, a leopard, and describing the small settlements we passed, and the culture of the people there.

  He also asked me about the places I had stayed—about France, and Bavaria, and especially about England. He had never been farther north than Constantinople, and he longed to travel. He was fascinated by the tales I told him of huge stone-built castles, rolling green fields filled with crops, and dark green forests.

  I taught him some English as we rode, with Farah and Nedira listening and copying the pronunciations too, and he began to teach me some of his language, which he said was a mixture of Persian, Chagatai, and Arabic.

  I had trouble pronouncing some of the round vowels, but he was patient with me, and Nedira too was happy to continue teaching me when he returned to his men.

  The first day passed quickly enough, and we set up camp as the sun grew low in the sky. I was amazed how fast the tents were erected—it seemed like no time at all before we had eaten our meals and retired inside, with the luxurious carpets on the floor and the silk partitions swaying in the breeze.