by Andie Brock
As the tears started to roll down Nadia’s cheeks Olivia pulled her to her chest, closely followed by Clio and Alessandra. ‘Come on now, a group hug. I know what it’s like—your emotions are all over the place, aren’t they?—but you are doing a great job and Zayed is a good man. You’ve made the right choice, you know.’
‘Do you think so?’ Nadia snuffled from under the middle of the scrum.
‘We know so. Just ask the hundreds of other women who have tried and failed to get his ring on their finger!’
‘But seriously, Nadia.’ Clio’s cut-glass English accent was quietly authoritative. ‘I know Zayed well. We were at university together, and he gave me away at my wedding, supported me when I needed him most. You won’t find a better man.’
There was a telling pause, eventually broken by Olivia. ‘And you’re not on your own, you know. You can count on us now. We four have to stick together. We need all the solidarity we can get to put up with those alpha husbands of ours.’
‘Too true,’ Alessandra agreed. ‘The trick is to make them think they are getting their own way when really they are doing what we want all along. There’s a knack to it, but we can help you.’
‘Thanks!’ Coming up for air, Nadia found herself smiling, and as the arms around her loosened she reached for the box of tissues that Olivia was holding out. ‘Thank you so much. I’m feeling better now. It all just got on top of me a bit.’
‘That’s the good bit, still to come.’
‘Liv!’
‘What? I’m just saying. Enjoy it, Nadia. Your wedding night is special. Make the most of it. Our four husbands may all suffer from the belief that they are God’s gift to the female race but Zayed is a very lucky man to have you. Make sure he knows it.’
‘Okay, thank you for the advice. And for the support too, it means a lot.’ With a determined sniff Nadia leaned forward towards the mirror, then recoiled in dismay. ‘Oh, no. I look a mess.’
‘Nonsense. You look annoyingly beautiful, if a little smudged. But that’s nothing that a couple of minutes in the hands of experts like us can’t repair. Come on, girls, out with your make-up bags.’
Their husbands had left the banqueting room by the time the quartet returned, so, arms linked, the women made their way outside to join the noisy throng. A group of young men were cheering loudly and in unison, and as they drew closer it became apparent why. Watched at a safe distance by the assembled guests, Zayed was being tossed, high into the air, arms and legs flailing, his sherwani coat flapping open. And at the centre of this group of boisterous strength were the grinning faces and muscled arms of his greatest friends, Rocco, Christian and Stefan.
For the first time that day, Nadia found herself laughing. Especially when Olivia leaned towards her and whispered conspiratorially into her ear, ‘We told you—they never grow up.’
As the evening wore on, Nadia started to relax, even beginning to enjoy herself. It was hard not to, given the scale of the lavish entertainment all around her, although she had looked away when it was the turn of the belly dancers to perform. She could do without that particular reminder of how she’d gotten here.
There were singers and drummers and lute players, weaving their way between the rainbow-coloured fountains, encouraging the guests up onto their feet to join in the dancing beneath the giant chandeliers that hung from the tented roof. Every now and then Nadia caught a glimpse of her new friends, pleased to see that they were obviously enjoying themselves.
More food was served, enormous platters of shish kebabs and tabbouleh, towering pyramids of baklava and basbousa, dried fruits and fresh.
Zayed, meanwhile, was being the perfect host, attentive, charming and solicitous, taking full advantage of the networking occasion that this undoubtedly was.
She would have expected nothing less of him, of course, but the way he worked the room with such practised ease somehow made her feel worse. He was playing a part, every bit as much as her, and for some reason that hurt. Every now and then he would appear beside her and she would be borne off to meet some foreign dignitary, or more specifically the foreign dignitary’s wife, before he politely disappeared again, leaving her to watch from a distance as he embraced the flowing white robes of yet another VIP or leaned forward to better hear the words of another keffiyeh-covered head.
Finally the night of celebrations was drawing to a close. As the guests were encouraged to go outside for the fireworks display Nadia felt Zayed’s arm snake deliciously around her waist as they led the way.
‘So, wife, here we are.’
‘Yes.’ She was surprised to find she liked the term wife. And she definitely liked the way he was pulling her more closely to him, little darts of desire prickling her skin as she breathed in the citrus tang of his cologne, leaned into the span of his hand. ‘Here we are.’
A series of bangs reverberated around them as a succession of silver and gold fireworks lit up the sky. They both tilted their heads to watch.
‘I don’t think I’ve told you yet how beautiful you look.’
‘Thank you.’ Nadia continued to gaze up at the sky, the heat from Zayed’s body pressing against her side and setting off a fireworks display all of its own inside her.
‘No, I mean it. I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful bride. You have been amazing today, Nadia, and it can’t have been easy. I want you to know how proud I am of you.’
Nadia felt her spine stiffen, the arm around her waist suddenly feeling controlling. She didn’t want him to be proud of her, not like that. As Princess Nadia of Harith, being the perfect hostess had been the one skill she’d been expected to acquire. Look beautiful, behave with decorum and, most important, keep your opinions to yourself. It certainly wasn’t something she wanted praise or recognition for.
‘I’m sorry your family weren’t here today though, that you didn’t feel able to tell them about our marriage.’
Nadia froze, the fear that his casually delivered words might hold more meaning, that he had found out something about her today, holding her rigid.
She had had no contact with her family since she had left Harith, apart from getting one message to them to say that she was safe and well. They had no idea she was in Gazbiyaa and they certainly had no idea she had just married Sheikh Zayed Al Afzal. The excuse she had given Zayed, that she couldn’t tell them because they would never forgive her for running away from her arranged marriage, was only the tip of an iceberg that would blot out the desert sun if her family knew the truth. Something they couldn’t do until after the threat of war between the two kingdoms was over.
Surreptitiously, Nadia turned her head to try to read his face. His strong profile was still tipped back towards the sky, his face reflecting the glowing colours of the fireworks, but, feeling her eyes on him, he turned to look down at her. ‘When things have settled down we’ll find a way to some sort of reconciliation.’
There was no trace of sarcasm there or particular scrutiny. Just a desire to see her reconciled with her family.
And that only made her deceit feel a hundred times worse.
The last dramatic firework was drawing cheers from the crowd. The names Nadia and Zayed were emblazoned across the night sky, crackling and sparkling inside their golden heart. She heard Zayed laugh, and, pulling her closer to him again, he whispered against the top of her head, ‘Our name in lights, Nadia. Who would have thought it?’
Who indeed? But as the last of the letters fizzled and died leaving nothing but a cloud of smoke, Nadia felt an icy shiver run through her. A splendid burst of celebration and then nothing. She just hoped it wasn’t a portent for their marriage.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘WELL, I THINK we can safely say this is the bridal suite.’ Closing the door behind them, Zayed stood and surveyed the scene, his jacket suspended by one finger over his shoulder. ‘Either that or we’ve stepped into the middle of a wedding cake.’
Nadia could see what he meant. Before them stood an enormous oval-shaped bed th
at was raised on a platform studded with the heads of pink and cream roses, the perfect blooms arranged in careful rows as if they had been squeezed out of a giant piping bag. More rose petals were strewn around the bed and over the giant cushions around it, while above it metres of soft white fabric formed a canopy that swept up to the ceiling and was swathed in sumptuous folds to the sides of the room. A pair of giant floral arrangements on either side of the bed completed the extravagant scene.
Secretly Nadia thought it looked beautiful, so romantic, the perfect setting for the first night of passion between a couple in love. But that wasn’t what they were, was it? This wasn’t about love or heartfelt emotions, at least of the romantic kind. It was the love of their respective countries that had made them both enter into this contract, not a love for each other. Which somehow made the heady perfume of the roses seem strangely pungent.
‘Someone has obviously gone to a lot of trouble.’ She looked around her, nervously raising her hand to her throat.
‘Better not waste it, then.’ Stepping up onto the platform, Zayed tossed his jacket to one side and extended a hand to her. ‘Welcome to my floral lair.’
Nadia felt herself being pulled up next to him, her heart thudding madly as she was pressed against his chest, which now, minus the jacket, was encased in a tight white cotton vest that moulded itself against the granite-hard planes of his torso like a second skin.
His arms wrapped around her back. With her head turned she could feel the beat of his heart, inhale his uniquely masculine scent, feel the sexual intensity pulsing between them like a physical force. Her whole body was filled with it, weakened by it. She realised that she wanted him. Badly.
Tentatively she raised her arms, slipping them under his and running them over his vest top, across the broad expanse of his shoulder blades and down to the narrowing of his waist, stopping at the waistband of his trousers. He felt so good, so completely male. Strong and athletic and yet twitching slightly beneath her fingers as they skittered over him. She loved that she had this small power over him, that despite his ever-present control, his rigid authority, she could do this to him. Loved, too, the growing evidence of her power that was now swelling beneath his trousers, pressing against her groin.
Angling back her head, Nadia closed her eyes and felt his breath sweep hot and dry across her cheeks. Sheer sexual excitement flooded through her, pumping the blood unnaturally fast through her veins, heating her core and plumping her lips that were desperately waiting for the kiss that had to come any minute now.
Except it didn’t.
Instead, she felt Zayed pull back and as she warily opened her eyes she saw that he was staring down at her, his gaze narrowed, shuttered.
A flush crept up her throat, burning her cheeks, prickling her skin. Why was he looking at her like that? Humiliation lanced through her, his punishing stare scything through the tautness of her desire until her body sagged against his, her arms dropping by her sides.
She lowered her eyes to the bejewelled sandals on her feet, desperately trying to hide from Zayed the evidence of her body’s betrayal. Hide behind the facade she had been struggling to keep up all day long.
But something about the quiet force of his eyes was threatening to finally steal the last bit of strength she had left. Playing the part of the perfect bride all day long had taken its toll and now, faced with this last challenge, she felt herself wobble, as if in the middle of a sagging tightrope.
Suddenly she felt very vulnerable, very alone. The enormity of what she had done, the crazy leap of faith she had taken to be here, was making the room begin to close in around her, a swell of panic rise in her chest. She was trapped in a loveless marriage to a man she hardly knew. A man who still knew nothing of who she really was. The fact that her whole body ached for him, craved his kiss, his touch, him to take her in a purely carnal way, only increased the hollowed-out sense of loneliness inside her. Because the strength of these feelings frightened her, she didn’t know how to deal with them. And because she didn’t know how she would cope if he rejected her now.
Forcing herself to breathe through the panic, Nadia struggled to find her balance. She couldn’t teeter and fall now; it simply wasn’t an option. This was all her own doing. She had made her bed, now she had to lie in it.
Although, as she raised her eyes again to Zayed’s long stare, she suspected she could well be lying on that bed alone. Because far from returning the open, obvious desire that Nadia had naively revealed to him, he appeared to be regarding her more like some sort of mildly interesting social experiment. If she was desperate for him to throw her across this fairy-tale bed and make mad, passionate love to her, he was standing there like the epitome of controlled composure. Not to mention the epitome of every woman’s fantasy. The bunched muscles of his bare arms were now crossed over his chest, the loose trousers slung low over his hips, a strip of olive skin dusted with dark hair visible between the tight white vest and the drawstring of his trousers.
Nadia swallowed hard. Well, she could be controlled, too. Rearing up, she took a step back, only to get her feet caught in the metres of fabric of her skirt and stumble against the edge of the platform.
‘Careful.’ Zayed’s arms were immediately around her again, catching her before she fell, holding her steady against him. ‘This bed arrangement should carry a health warning.’
Breathing over the top of Nadia’s soft hair, Zayed realised it was Nadia herself who should carry the health warning. Being alone with her now was in danger of unravelling the last bit of self-control that he possessed. His whole body was screaming at him to give in, to claim her beautiful body, to do whatever he had to do to satisfy the lust that had been simmering inside him from the first moment he had laid eyes on her and now roared like a furnace.
But still he hesitated. He had to be sure that Nadia wanted this, too. And even though she had demonstrated her willingness just now, leaning into him, running her hands across his back in a delicate way that had jerked him to instant arousal, when he had pulled back to look into her eyes, what he had seen there had held him back. Desire yes, but mixed with anxiety. Passion, too, that seemed to have startled Nadia herself with its power and which could have so easily felled him there and then with its wide-eyed innocence. But it was a passion mixed with insecurity, doubt. Zayed knew he had to try to slow things down, to do the right thing by Nadia, even if he was killing himself in the process. Even if every second he held back from her was tightening the screws on his sensitised body like some sort of perverse, sadomasochistic torture.
Because something was obviously making Nadia nervous. Despite her poised exterior, her feisty attitude, the provocative behaviour of their first encounter, he had no doubt that she was sexually inexperienced. That she was a virgin, in fact. Was that why she seemed so tense?
Zayed couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex with a virgin. Probably ten years ago, back at Columbia University. He and his friends, Christian, Stefan and Rocco, had had something of a reputation back then, one that was well deserved. No attractive woman had been safe from the predatory instincts and practised charm of these four young men with the world at their feet and the notches on their bedposts to prove it.
But this was different—completely different. Nadia was his wife; this relationship was permanent. He had to try to figure out what was going on in that beautiful head of hers before he could take it any further.
‘Why don’t we sit down?’ Unfolding his arms, he took hold of her hand and led her the couple of steps to the edge of the bed, where he gently pulled her down beside him. ‘So—’ he turned so that he could see her face more clearly ‘—that was quite a day, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘I hope you haven’t found it all too much of an ordeal.’
‘No, of course not. It has been very enjoyable.’ Her clipped tone somehow belied her words.
‘But I’m sure you must be tired.’
‘No, I’m fine.’
&n
bsp; ‘Look, Nadia.’ Turning over her hand in his, Zayed exposed the palm, as if the answer to the enigma that was Nadia could be read there. ‘You can relax now, you know. Don’t feel you have to keep up the pretence any longer.’
‘What pretence?’ Her hand had curled in his, a sharp edge to her voice. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I mean—’ Zayed lowered his voice, determined that she should understand him ‘—we don’t have to do this now, you know.’ He jerked his head back to indicate the petal-strewn elephant in the room behind them. ‘It doesn’t have to be tonight. If you are really not tired, perhaps I could get us some drinks sent up. We could just talk, get to know one another better. I would like to discover more about the real Nadia.’ He raised his eyebrows, even risked a lopsided smile.
‘There is nothing to discover.’ Blocked again by her blunt reply, Zayed felt Nadia’s petulance begin to grate through his patience. He sighed heavily.
‘Then, maybe we should just go to our separate rooms.’
‘Fine.’ Snatching back her hand, Nadia used it to gather up her skirts, edging away from him. ‘But if you don’t want to make love to me, I would prefer it if you just came right out and said it.’
‘For God’s sake!’ With a growl of exasperation Zayed leaped to his feet and turned to look down on Nadia. ‘Of course I want to make love to you.’ He raked a hand through his dark hair in pure frustration. ‘Believe me, there is nothing I would like to do more.’
Wasn’t it obvious? He was alone at last with the most hot, sexy, unconsciously erotic woman who he had ever met in his life. His fingers were itching to peel off that beautiful gown of hers and throw her across this ridiculous bed and devour her in the purely carnal way he craved. The way she was glaring at him now only intensified his lust; the jut of her chin, the slight flaring of those perfect nostrils, the thick black lashes lowered over eyes that looked as if they could slay him. Everything about her was pure torment. He cleared his throat, determined to give reason one last shot.