The Sheikh's Wedding Contract

by Andie Brock

  ‘Yes, Zayed, I trust you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  That was all he needed to know.

  The palace seemed very quiet. A servant, his head bowed so low that he didn’t look into their faces, had ushered them into the echoing hallway, and on Zayed’s firm announcement that they were here to see Prince Imran had indicated that they should follow him. He led them down a maze of flagstone corridors deep into the heart of the palace before leaving them outside an ancient panelled door. Somewhere in the distance a dog howled.

  ‘Ready?’ Zayed asked the question, his knuckles raised in readiness to knock. Nadia nodded, holding herself very still. Zayed rapped on the door.

  Imran Amani was seated behind a wooden desk in a sparsely decorated room with a vaulted stone ceiling. At the sight of the two of them he scraped back his chair, leaping to his feet.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ His dark, hawkish features darted from one to the other, shock at the sight of his sister shaking his composure, shaking his hands, too, as they gripped the edge of the desk. ‘What is she doing here?’

  ‘Prince Imran.’ Zayed spoke slowly, deliberately. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.’

  ‘Where did you find her?’ He pointed at Nadia with a trembling finger. ‘What sort of trick is this?’

  ‘No trick, Your Royal Highness. There is no need for you to be alarmed.’

  ‘I’m not alarmed.’ His voice rose an octave. ‘It is you that should be alarmed. You and that creature you have brought with you.’

  Zayed took in the man opposite him. About the same age as himself, he was several inches shorter, with the sort of body that needed a good personal trainer. Was this really the man who Nadia feared? One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going to speak to her like that.

  ‘Before we go any further I must ask that you show your sister some respect.’

  ‘Respect? You bring this woman here and ask for respect?’ Imran Amani tried for a derisive sneer but under Zayed’s direct gaze it froze on his face. ‘In any event—’ he cast about for his lost dignity ‘—she is no sister of mine. She has brought shame on our family and disgrace to our kingdom.’

  ‘Imran, if you would just listen to what we have to say...’ Nadia took a step towards her brother but Zayed stretched out a hand to bar her way. He didn’t want her getting too close to this vile man.

  ‘That’s right, protect your prey. You may have brought her here to drop like a rat at my feet but you will certainly get no reward.’

  The room suddenly went chillingly quiet. Zayed could feel Nadia’s eyes on his but he didn’t trust himself to look back at her. Because he knew that if he saw the hurt in them he wouldn’t be held responsible for his actions. He sucked in a deep breath.

  ‘Prince Imran. I’m sure your sister must be tired after her long journey. Perhaps you would be kind enough to offer her a seat?’ Without waiting for a reply he reached for a chair for Nadia and one for himself. Reluctantly Imran Amani acknowledged that they were all sitting down.

  ‘Now.’ Zayed spoke with deadly calm. ‘Let us continue. I asked my brother to arrange this meeting because—’

  ‘Your brother, yes.’ The memory of Azeed sparked another frothing outburst. ‘He begged me to meet with you, and this is how you repay my generosity.’

  ‘I asked Azeed to arrange this meeting—’ Zayed forced the words through the clench of his jaw ‘—because there are things we need to discuss.’

  ‘I have nothing to say to you. Or her.’

  ‘Then, perhaps you would like to listen.’ Zayed risked a look at Nadia now, sitting silently beside him. Her hands were twisting in her lap, creasing the fabric of her gown. But her head was held high. ‘The first thing Nadia and I have to tell you is that we are married.’

  Another deadly silence filled the room, Imran Amani opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish.

  ‘Married?’ He finally managed to spit out the words. ‘To each other.’

  ‘That is correct.’ There were no flies on this one. Actually, there would be if Zayed had his way, crawling over his rotting corpse.

  ‘You are married to Nadia?’ His face was busy going several interesting shades of red.

  ‘It’s true, Imran.’ Nadia’s voice was soft but clear in the hollow emptiness of the room. ‘Zayed Al Afzal is my husband.’

  Zayed stilled, something about her words laying him bare. Was that the first time he had ever heard her refer to him as her husband?

  ‘No!’ Imran Amani was up on his feet again, moving out from behind the desk, then swinging back, a look of evil pleasure crossing his face. ‘Well—’ there was a childish excitement in his voice ‘—I can’t wait to tell my father the good news. You know he will have you both killed?’

  ‘He will do no such thing.’ Zayed rose slowly to his feet.

  ‘Then you don’t know our father like we do, does he, Nadia?’ He addressed his sister for the first time, now relishing the sibling connection, reverting to the bullying ways of his childhood. ‘You have made a very stupid mistake coming back to Harith with this news.’ Seeing Zayed’s much taller figure looming in front of him, he took a couple of steps back. ‘By choosing to share the bed of a man who is ruler of our sworn enemy, Nadia has brought about certain war.’

  ‘I think you will find the reverse is true.’ Zayed’s voice was calm and measured. ‘By choosing to share my bed, as you put it, Nadia has, in all probability, saved your country. Because that is the other reason we are here, Prince Imran. To make peace between our two nations.’

  ‘Peace! Ha! You’ve got a strange way of going about it.’ Imran was hopping about from foot to foot now. ‘You have been away from your country for too long, Sheikh Zayed. Your brain is addled by your Western ways. Perhaps you should seek advice from your brother, Azeed. He has courage and spirit, something you know nothing about. He does not fear war like you.’

  ‘You are right, I do fear war.’ At Zayed’s words Prince Imran’s sneer turned into a smile of triumph, but it was short-lived. ‘I would hate to see the blood of my countrymen spilled over such a conflict. But mostly I fear war for your kingdom.’

  ‘The kingdom of Harith is fierce and noble. We will never be cowed.’

  ‘The kingdom of Harith is on the point of economic collapse. If you were to go to war with Gazbiyaa, a war you could never win, it would mean not only a deplorable loss of life, but financial ruin, as well.’

  ‘What are these lies that you speak?’ Prince Imran paced back to the desk then lunged forward again, beads of sweat on his brow. ‘Ah, now I see.’ He swung his hate-filled eyes towards Nadia. ‘The viper in the nest is right beside you.’

  Zayed flexed his biceps. This loathsome man was really asking for it. He was ready, more than ready, to take him down without any further provocation. But as the bile filled his throat, he felt the touch of Nadia’s hand on his arm, forcing him to collect himself.

  ‘My background is finance.’ He barked the words, keeping it short. He owed this man no explanations. ‘I know a country in severe economic difficulties when I see one.’

  Imran Amani ran a shaky hand over his brow as he desperately tried to formulate a fitting response. ‘We may not have riches,’ he finally managed, ‘but we have courage and valour. Something that you know nothing about.’

  ‘There is more to courage than beating your chest in a vain attempt to show your might. The real test of courage is to face up to the truth of the situation and have the guts to deal with it.’

  ‘Pah! You come crawling in here, hiding behind your wife, no doubt doing her bidding, and dare to speak to me of courage. What real man would do such a thing?’

  ‘My wife is Harithian. That is why we are here. But more than that, Nadia is my equal and I respect her opinion. I suggest you do the same. And just for the record—’ he felt the muscles in his neck tighten ‘—she has more courage in her little finger than you have in the whole of your pathetic, flaccid body.’

&nbs
p; ‘Your wife is nothing more than a common whore.’

  That was it! In a split second Zayed had lunged at Imran Amani, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and hauling him up into the air.

  ‘Zayed! No!’

  He had his hand on the man’s throat, his face right in front of the bulging eyes of his victim. What he wouldn’t like to do to him. But Nadia was beside him now, pulling on the sleeve of his jacket. The spoilsport.

  ‘Don’t you ever, ever, speak of my wife like that again.’ Zayed had to content himself with giving the creature a hound-like shake, his voice a deadly growl. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

  Amani gave a terrified nod.

  ‘Good.’ Moving round the desk, he loosened his grip on his brother-in-law and unceremoniously dropped him down in his seat. ‘Just as long as we understand each other. Now it is time for you to listen hard and listen good.’

  Nadia breathed a sigh of relief. At least they were all sitting down again, for the time being anyway. She knew Zayed well enough to see that he was holding his temper on a very short rein. She knew her brother well enough to see that he was beaten.

  She stole a look from one man to the other. Why had she ever doubted that Zayed would be able to deal with Imran? Well, he hadn’t so much dealt with him as made mincemeat of him. In fact, if she hadn’t stopped him that might literally have been the case. She had never seen Zayed so close to real violence, never expected to see him so pumped up and ready to fight. And although his famous control had kicked in before any blood was spilled, she couldn’t help the shiver of excitement that went through her when she thought about the way he had leaped to her defence.

  Zayed had looked magnificent standing there, effortlessly holding her squirming brother by the neck. This brother that had made her teenage years such a misery, whom she had been ordered to respect, to honour, to obey. Suddenly all the years of oppression fell away, along with the scales from her eyes. She’d never had any intention of doing any of those things anyway, but now she realised she didn’t have to like him, let alone love him. He was nothing to her. And she didn’t have to feel guilty about that, either.

  She realised something else, too. Zayed was the only person who had ever stood up for her. Her father too despotic, her brother too vile, her mother too weak. She had always been on her own, fighting her own cause. It felt so good to have someone on her side. Especially when that someone was Zayed.

  He was speaking to her brother now, his voice low and authoritative, spelling out to Imran very clearly what he had to do. There was a veneer of calm about him, but Nadia could see the clench of his jaw beneath the close-cropped beard, the way his hands, resting in his lap with the fingers laced, squeezed as he spoke. The tie round his neck had been wrenched to one side, the sleeves of his jacket pushed up. He meant business. Nadia’s heart sighed.

  ‘So when your father returns from his business trip with his begging bowl empty, yes—’ he paused in response to Imran’s head shooting up from the notepad he had been furiously scribbling on ‘—I know all about that, too. Trust me, there’s not a financial backer in the world that will touch this place. When he returns I suggest you put forward my generous proposals. And you had better make them convincing. Because one day soon you will be sheikh of Harith. Do you want to be ruler of a kingdom growing in wealth and prosperity? Or one decimated by war? How you present the facts to your father is going to seal that fate.’

  Imran stole a look at his sister, and, raising her eyebrows, Nadia stared back. It was a silent exchange but it said it all. For the first time ever, Nadia was the victor.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SITTING AT HER dressing table, Nadia fastened the gold bracelet around her wrist and, looking up, caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She leaned in closer. Those were her mother’s eyes staring back at her. The same shape, the same deep lilac colour and now holding the same shuttered anxiety. Years of living with Nadia’s father had brought about that look in her mother. Zayed had done it to Nadia in a matter of months.

  It had been three weeks since they’d returned from Harith, when Nadia had been filled with such hope and optimism. The relief that the threat of war had been lifted was immense, but, more than that, she had somehow managed to convince herself that their relationship might change now, that the wretched wedding contract no longer applied. That there might be the beginnings of a real, true relationship between them.

  How foolish she had been.

  For with each passing week Zayed had become more cold towards her, more distant, more withdrawn, her misguided optimism dashed against the towering wall of his complete disregard.

  She thought back to how proud her mother had been of her when she had briefly seen her in Harith. How proud Nadia had been to introduce Zayed to her and to hear him explain the plans he had put in place to ensure peace between the two kingdoms. Now she felt guilty for deceiving her mother, about their relationship at least. She could already imagine the look of hurt in her eyes when she found out their marriage had been nothing more than a sham.

  Zayed’s father had also been briefed of the situation, both the negotiations with Prince Imran and the fact that Nadia was, in fact, the daughter of the sheikh of Harith. With Nadia sitting apprehensively beside him Zayed had delivered the information politely but very firmly, and certainly with no apologies. Her father-in-law hadn’t exactly tossed his walking stick in the air with joy, but he had at least accepted the news. More than that, he had accepted his son’s complete and absolute command.

  And that was when Nadia had recognised the change in Zayed. He was now every inch the commanding, powerful ruler. Any lingering resentment he’d had, any yearning for the life he had left in the west, had long gone. He was now the true sheikh of Gazbiyaa. A role he had been unwittingly born for, a role he had finally accepted, a role he was perfect for.

  But that brought about a sadness all of its own. Because no matter how much the world around them had improved, the relationship between the two of them could hardly have been worse.

  All of which made what Nadia had to tell Zayed tonight so desperately, gut-wrenchingly hard.

  * * *

  Hearing Nadia enter the dining room, Zayed stopped pacing around and turned to look at her. The familiar lurch of desire kicked in.

  She was wearing a sleeveless green silk dress that caught the light as she came towards him, her long legs bare, her hair falling loose over her shoulders. She looked poised and solemn and totally beautiful.

  Seeing her simply confirmed all his convictions. They couldn’t carry on like this. He couldn’t carry on like this. Because being around Nadia was driving him completely and utterly crazy.

  Every little thing about her set him off, tested his resolve, robbed him of his self-control, tormented him beyond belief. The way she looked, the way she moved, the way she smelled. He found himself conjuring up her little gestures and mannerisms even when they weren’t together, just for the tortured fun of it, remembering the way she would touch her earlobe when she was thinking, or bite down on her bottom lip or twist a curl of dark hair between her fingers.

  And those eyes... The eyes that were trained on him now, holding him with their steady, lethal power. He had to put an end to this madness. And he would. Tonight.

  ‘Imran has been on the phone again.’ He lobbed her brother’s name in as a diversionary conversation starter.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ As they sat down Nadia shook open the napkin on her lap, her eyes lowered. ‘What did he want this time?’

  ‘Some daft business idea he’s got, breeding Arab stallions, would you believe? I had to put him straight, again, that the money Gazbiyaa is investing in his country is to be used for infrastructure, health, education. Certainly not for him to canter about at the races.’

  ‘And you can control that?’

  ‘Too right I can.’

  This at least was one aspect of his life that he could control. His little talk with Prince Imran had done the trick and ho
stilities between the two kingdoms had ceased. Imran Amani had broken the news to his father of Nadia’s marriage to Sheikh Zayed, eventually making him see that, far from being a cause for war, it was one for optimism, if not celebration. Because it would save Harith from financial ruin.

  The delicate negotiations had necessitated Imran Amani constantly contacting Zayed for advice, something that Zayed knew he had to put up with but found increasingly hard to tolerate. One thing was for sure: they were never going to be best friends. The guy made his skin crawl.

  ‘My legal team have been all over that Harithian contract. There is no way Amani is going to get his greasy mitts on that money for his personal gain.’

  ‘Zayed—’

  ‘I know, I know. He’s your brother and I shouldn’t speak about him like that.’

  ‘It’s not that. There’s something I need to talk to you about, something we need to discuss.’

  Zayed raised his eyes from the meal he was concentrating so assiduously on, that he had no appetite for. There was a catch in her voice that drew his gaze to her face. She looked tired, he realised, paler than usual but with faint dark shadows under her eyes.

  This wasn’t easy for her, either, was it? He was so busy thinking about himself, about how he felt, that it had only just occurred to him how uncharacteristically quiet Nadia had been for the past few days. Or maybe he had refused to notice. Because maybe that quietness was her plotting how she could get away from him, be rid of him. After all, she had achieved her aim, all that she cared about: finding peace and security for Harith. Why would she want to hang around here now? There was the little matter of their marriage, of course, but that would be sorted in due course. In the meantime he could offer her a way out. One that might just save his sanity.

  ‘I know what you are going to say.’ He felt the sharp dart of her gaze, heard her fork rattle against her plate. ‘And I agree. There is no reason for you to have to stay in the palace now.’