Bound to the Sheikh: An ancient debt. A deathbed promise. A marriage of duty and obligation. Desire too strong to control.

by Clare Connelly

  He was as surprised as Laurie to find his hand lifting to run comfortingly over her hair. Afida did not do emotional scenes, and he did not offer emotional comfort. And yet now, he was doing both. He eased himself from a squatting position, to sit beside her. The arm that had stroked her hair stretched around to wrap across her shoulder. He brought her to his chest and held her there, wanting to silence her tears.

  “When my father died, I was left feeling as though I had lost a limb,” he confided the words that he had never expressed to a single soul. “He was my hero. A ruler of great power and foresight, who I hope to this day I will one day emulate.”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, tilting her head up to his. It brought their faces close together, and her eyes drifted to his lips distractedly. “Most people face the grief of losing a parent at some point in their lives; it’s the natural order of things, I guess. But in both our cases, it was premature.”

  “Yes.”

  “And your mother?” She prompted thoughtfully.

  “She died when I was a baby. An aeroplane crash.”

  “Terrible.” Laurie shook her head sadly. Her stomach was in knots. “It’s not too late to back out of this.”

  He scanned her face. “Is that what you want?”

  Her sigh was soft. “It’s not up to me.”

  His eyes flashed with something she didn’t understand and then he shook his head. “Why would you ask then?”

  “You don’t want to marry me. You wanted a way to help my father. You’ve done that.”

  “It can be undone,” he said seriously.

  “Are you threatening to…”

  “No.” His smile was thin. “But I believe your father would insist on returning the money if we cancelled the wedding now.”

  “So do I.” She swallowed. “But I wanted to offer anyway.”

  His hand was stroking her arm slowly, gently. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” She exhaled softly. “I had no idea I’d feel like this.”

  Their eyes hung together and a flash of understanding seemed to bond them, for a moment at least. It was only a moment, but Laurie held it close to her heart all day. She thought of it and she allowed it to breathe hope into her body; hope that perhaps she and her husband might find some common ground after all.

  When it came time for the ceremony, Laurie was filled with a sense of calm she could never have imagined she’d feel. The wedding itself was short and simple. A repetition of vows in both English and Aktarian, followed by a ceremonial ring exchange. Unlike western weddings, though, her left hand was bound to his right with a thin gold thread. Attendants weaved it between their fingers until it formed an unbreakable bond.

  “It signifies a lasting union,” he murmured, as they were stitched together.

  “I had presumed as much,” she responded with a self-conscious flicker of her eyes in his direction. His smile knocked her sideways. He was so disastrously attractive. She felt a shift of desire deep in her abdomen and quickly looked away. “How long do we have to be like this?” She blinked down at their hands.

  “For the rest of our lives.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I mean tied up with string.”

  “It doesn’t appeal to you?” He dragged his gaze from her innocent green eyes down lower, to the swell of cleavage that was completely concealed by the wedding gown she wore.

  “Being tied up? Or spending the rest of my life with you?”

  “Both.”

  She looked away because she had no idea how to answer.

  “Silence will not quieten me,” he murmured in her ear.

  Her heart notched up a gear and she managed to fire him a warning glance, but it only brought a smile to his lips. Somewhere behind him, she was conscious of a dark shape moving and her eyes tugged to it purely for the welcome distraction.

  “Elon didn’t stand beside you.” It had only just occurred to her. She’d been so caught up in the magical allure of her husband that very little else had managed to punctuate her fogged brain.

  “No.” His mouth was a grim slash in his face. He followed her gaze. “But he is here.”

  She nodded, not quite sure why there was suddenly an undercurrent of tension.

  His voice was gruff. “Shall we?”

  “Shall we what?”

  “Begin our married lives.”

  “Yes.” She scanned the crowd and picked out her father. He was laughing, his eyes shining, and his cheeks red. For the first time in years, he looked happy. “My dad is smiling,” she said, emotion heavy in her words.

  “Let us never give him a reason not to,” he muttered thickly. Music had begun to play, and the guests had visibly relaxed. Some were dancing in time to the hypnotic beat, others were sipping brightly coloured drinks. Many were watching the new royal couple with undisguised curiosity.

  “Do you realise that I only met you three weeks ago?” Laurie said in a voice that only he couple hear.

  “Is that all?” And because their hands were still stitched together by the shining gold thread, it seemed only natural that he would fold his arm around her shoulder and pull her against his chest. “Dance with me?”

  She nodded wordlessly.

  The song was fast-paced and yet they moved slowly. Her hips moved in time with his, and their eyes clung together as though no one else in the room existed.

  And yet, despite the perfection of the moment, her memory was long.

  Never, no matter how I might act in the presence of others, allow yourself to believe my attitude towards you has changed. To the day I die, I will think of you as the worst example of humanity. A daughter who has betrayed her father is not worth the air she breathes.

  He had said that to her.

  And now? Though he was dancing with her as though she were the only woman in the world, his words reverberated around her brain. He was acting as the room expected him to. Doting, adoring, loving. And her? What was her excuse? Was she simply playing a part? Or was she allowing herself to get confused by the spectacular uniqueness of the moment?

  “You’re not dancing.” He was still smiling.

  Was she imagining the strain in his eyes? The stillness there?

  She shook her head and tried to pull her hand away, but the thread held firm.

  “I …” her heart was sinking. “I need a moment.”

  “Of course. Come with me.”

  “No,” she shook her head, and lifted her free hand to enclose their co-joined one. “I need a moment on my own.”

  The worry was there, but he banked down on it quickly. “Fine.” He joined his hand to hers, and removed it. “Let me show you something.” There were two filaments of string, and he indicated that she should hold one. “When we pull at the same time, the string unwinds easily. It is supposed to be a reminder: that two people can easily unwind a marriage by both pulling on it in unison. When one person pulls, it remains intact. See?” She watched as the string looped free and formed a pool in his palm.

  He tipped it into hers and she went to discard it on a nearby table.

  “No.” He shook his head slowly. “You keep it until the birth of your first child. It then forms the embroidery on their clothing.” Your first child. Not ours. It was a small point, but one she heeded nonetheless.

  And despite the fact it was a sham marriage and he had sworn he would despise her for the rest of his life, she felt a rush of overpowering emotions. “I really need a moment,” she explained apologetically, her eyes lifting past him and scanning the crowd.

  He nodded. “Of course. Would you like me to …”

  She nodded, bumbling the string back into his grip. Whatever part he thought it ought to play in their future, she knew it would never come to pass. There was no way she could hold onto something with such heavy symbolism. “Thank you. You keep it. I won’t ever need it, will I? Excuse me.”

  She ducked away from him, aware all the while that a trail of three attendants followed her. She was no long
er simply engaged to the Sheikh. She was his partner, a ruler of Aktaria, and she would forever after be accompanied by security and oppression.

  From the corner of the room, where he sat brooding, Elon watched her go. His mood was sour, and yet he was ashamed of that. He had no claim on Laurie, and from everything he knew of her, she would have refused to marry Afida unless she wanted to. Or unless, he qualified, she felt the marriage significantly outweighed her doubts. Still, he watched her leave, and wondered … where was she going?

  She ploughed out of the staterooms and down the corridor; her white dress pluming behind her like a spectacular swan cloud. The louder she heard the click clacking of her attendants, the faster she walked, click, clack, click, clack; her skirts swished around her legs. She walked until she found a doorway and she pushed through it, not caring what was on the other side.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t the woman of the hour.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I’m sorry.” In desperate need of solitude and peace, Laurie had happened upon a room that was not at all private.

  A woman stood at the centre of it, her gown a piercing shade of green, her fair hair pinned into a chignon with a pure diamond headpiece. Her eyes were green, but not like Laurie’s. This woman’s were emerald green, shining and moist looking. Her lips were scarlet, painted bright red and perfectly shaped, and her skin was honey coloured.

  Laurie paused just inside the door and then turned to leave.

  “Don’t go.” The voice was smooth and accented.

  Laurie tossed a tight smile over her shoulder. She had the beginnings of a headache, and she suspected that another banal conversation about her good fortune in finding a husband such as Afida would quickly wear her down to migraine status.

  “I was looking for a quiet room,” she said with more honesty than she had employed while addressing strangers. “It’s been a hectic day.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  Was Laurie imagining the tone of bitterness in the other woman’s words? She couldn’t be certain, but something about her voice had the bride shifting back to face her.

  “Do you know me?” The blonde haired woman asked, moving slowly closer. She was even more beautiful at that proximity.

  “I’m sorry,” Laurie said again, shaking her head. Her attendants had done their best to bring her up to speed on all of the important guests, but it was an enormous job to complete in such a limited time.

  “Stop apologising,” the woman responded harshly, her smile completely belying the harshness of her words. “Not for not knowing me, nor for coming into this room. It is your palace.”

  And now, the way she spat the words, showed vehemence where Laurie had become used to adoration. That alone captured her attention.

  “Is it?”

  “Yes. You have just accepted it as yours in front of almost a thousand people.”

  Laurie’s stomach felt like she’d crested over the highest point of a roller coaster. Had it been so many? Strangely, she’d been aware of only one.

  “But he will never belong to you.” The woman taunted silkily, her beautiful face tormented by the depth of her emotion.

  “I’m … sorry…” Laurie repeated with a murmur, for lack of a more suitable rejoinder. “I’ve no idea who you are, nor what you want.”

  “I am May.” The woman’s green eyes flared in her stunning face. “And I can see by your expression that you have heard of my role in your husband’s life.”

  Laurie’s face paled, but she held herself steady. “Yes.” Why deny it?

  “Good.” The word was a purr of venom. “And do you also know that your husband,” another spit, this time with actual bubbles of lava detonating from her lips, “has spent every night with me since you arrived? Did you know he spent last night in my bed? Making love to me? His body moved within mine, his hands roamed my flesh, he took of me as he has done for two years. Do you know this?”

  Laurie felt an odd sense of eclipsing ache. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or awake, but the words were coming to her from far away, and with the accompaniment of a shrill whistle. She stared at May’s face, waiting for things to return to normal.

  But they didn’t.

  Finally, she shook her head from side to side, her expression haunted despite her best efforts. “I’m sorry for you, if this is true,” Laurie whispered compassionately, in the end. “I had thought Afida and I were the only casualties in this union.” Why deny, to this woman, what they truly were?

  May was visibly startled. Of all the reactions she had expected, sympathy had not ranked a glance. “You do not care?” She was finally able to demand, with a residual fierceness.

  Laurie’s smile was contemplative. “If Afida and I loved one another, if we had the kind of relationship you presume, then of course I would care. As it is, I know what I mean to him. I’m a means to an end. He’s said as much to me, and Elon, and undoubtedly to you.” She crossed to May, her desire to ease the other woman’s pain strangely at odds with her own throbbing ache. “I agreed to this marriage to save everything my father has worked for in his life. Everything he values. Afida approached me, yes, but I accepted. I did not know about you then.”

  “And if you had?”

  “I don’t know,” she murmured truthfully. “Impossible to say.” She recalled the conversation she’d overheard, and it dragged across her throat like barbed wire. “I do know that Afida has no intention of ending things with you because of me.” She spun away from May, no longer able to mask her sadness. “I’m his wife in name only, May. You’re welcome to him.”

  Elon had stormed the hallway, but as he approached the doorways, he paused. A small circle of servants stood just outside, clearly indicating the new Sheikh was in the room. The doors were sound-proof, though, and he could not have known what was being discussed within.

  “I’ve hated you since I heard of you.”

  “Understandably,” Laurie’s smile was gentle. She felt a great empathy for the stunning mistress, but her own pain was beginning to demand more of her now. “I have given you my word that I will not interfere with your relationship. It is between you and my husband. But now I must beg leave to be left in peace.”

  May was beautiful, wealthy, powerful, and had been known as the Sheikh’s consort for two years. To be dismissed in such a fashion was unusual, and a novelty, yet she found her legs carrying her unsteadily across the floor.

  “I am … grateful … that you are so reasonable.”

  “Of course,” Laurie nodded, holding May’s eyes with true effort. “Good evening.”

  She waited until May had stepped out of the room and then paced to the far side, so that she could stare at the dark desert beyond. The lights twinkled, and she might have thought of her mother if she’d been in less pain.

  She was not given the sanctity of privacy for long. Elon’s voice was swift on May’s departure. “Laurie,” he came to stand behind her, his body emanating waves of concern. “What just happened?”

  Laurie continued to stare at the night sky. Far off in the distance, fireworks were blossoming from the capital city, like luminescent sea creatures dancing joyously against a blackened ocean. “What does zivzel mean?”

  “Disturbance,” he responded immediately. “Why? Is that what May called you?”

  Laurie’s laugh was almost deranged sounding. “No.”

  “Laurie, what’s happened?”

  She squared her shoulders. “Nothing.” Her smile was ghost-like when she faced him. “I should get back to the party. It’s just a hunch but I think my absence might get noticed.”

  Elon did not wish to argue with her, but at the same time, the highly unorthodox sight of his friend’s mistress walking serenely away from a conversation with his new bride deserved more thorough examination. “Laurie …”

  “Elon,” she reached out and put a slightly trembling hand on his. “Leave it now. The die is cast. We all have our parts to play, so let’s just … play them.” />
  “Laurie …”

  She squeezed his hand. “Will you dance with me?”

  He thought of Afida, and the condemnation his friend would feel, and knew the wisest move would be to decline. But one look at Laurie’s face and he found himself smiling encouragingly. “All night, if you’ll take me.”

  Her laugh was relieved. “Now that would draw the wrong kind of comment.”

  They walked together towards the banquet hall. Music swelled towards them as they got close, like a wall of festivity that neither knew how to pierce. As they entered, Elon tilted his head to her thoughtfully. “You aren’t going to tell me what transpired between you and May?”

  Her smile was filled with dark emotion. “No.”

  “She upset you.”

  Laurie’s eyes flew to Elon’s. “No.” She bit down on her lip. Dancing and laughter swirled around them, but Laurie was too confused to notice anyone and anything. She certainly didn’t notice the way her husband, in the midst of conversation with her father, had stopped talking, so that he could observe the intimate conversation his closest advisor and wife were sharing.

  Unpleasantness cursed through him. David followed his gaze. “She looks beautiful,” he smiled, thinking how very like her mother Laurie looked.

  “Yes.” Afida pushed down on jealousy. He had no reason to suspect Elon would ever betray him; and surely Laurie wouldn’t do something so stupid. A muscle jerked in his jaw. He smiled distractedly in Angove’s direction. “Excuse me, sir, I’ve missed my bride.”

  “Of course.” David was beaming. After a month of worry, finally he could see for himself how happy his daughter and son-in-law were; they loved one another. He just knew it. He settled back into a comfortable chair against the wall and smiled. If only his wife had lived to see this day!

  He was only steps from Laurie when May came into his line of vision. Her beautiful smile stretched wide over her face and her eyes shimmered with what he knew to be mischief. He paused, consternation briefly reflected in his expression before he fixed a polite smile to it. “May,” he nodded towards her but didn’t stop.