by Liz Fielding
‘He’s dead. He and my mother died when I was seventeen.’
‘Do you have any other family?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I was the only child of only children.’ At least as far as she knew. Her father might have had a dozen children...
‘Can I ask if you are in any kind of relationship?’ he persisted.
‘Relationship?’
‘You are on your own—you have no ties?’
He was beginning to spook her and must have realised it because he said, ‘I have a proposition for you, Ruby, but if you have personal commitments...’ He shook his head as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing.
‘If you’re going to offer me a package too good to refuse after a couple of hours I should warn you that it took Jude Radcliffe the best part of a year to get to that point and I still turned him down.’
‘I don’t have the luxury of time,’ he said, ‘and the position I’m offering is made for a temp.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Since you have done your research, you know that I was disinherited five years ago.’
She nodded. She thought it rather harsh for a one-off incident but the media loved the fall of a hero and had gone into a bit of a feeding frenzy.
‘This morning I received a summons from my father to present myself at his birthday majlis.’
‘You can go home?’
‘If only it were that simple. A situation exists which means that I can only return to Umm al Basr if I’m accompanied by a wife.’
She ignored the slight sinking feeling in her stomach. Obviously a multimillionaire who looked like the statue of a Greek god—albeit one who’d suffered a bit of wear and tear—would have someone ready and willing to step up to the plate.
‘That’s rather short notice. Obviously, I’ll do whatever I can to arrange things, but I don’t know a lot about the law in—’
‘The marriage can take place tomorrow. My question is, under the terms of your open-ended brief encompassing “whatever is necessary”, are you prepared to take on the role?’
CHAPTER THREE
‘ME?’
Bram let go of the breath he’d been holding as Ruby reached for the glass of juice. Her hand was shaking but, rather than throwing it at him, she lifted it to her lips. She was taking a moment to gather her thoughts and he did not interrupt them.
‘You’re suggesting that I pretend to be your wife.’
‘No.’ He was a fairly shrewd judge of character and everything she’d done and said suggested she would appreciate straight talking, but there was no way of knowing how she’d take such an outrageous suggestion. ‘What I’m suggesting is a temporary marriage of convenience with the divorce, at a mutually convenient moment, as easily arranged as the wedding.’
The dark arch of Ruby’s brow hit her hairline. ‘But you don’t know me...’
‘I don’t have to know you. That’s the deal with a temp and, as you’ve been at pains to stress, you are a temp with the highest references.’
‘As a temporary PA!’
‘I still need one of those.’
‘But the marriage would be real?’
‘There will have to be a contract witnessed by someone my father trusts but, to be quite clear, this will be a simple business arrangement with a title upgrade from temporary personal assistant to temporary princess. While the pay grade is on a scale to match the new position, there would be no additional duties.’
‘By additional duties you mean sex?’ she said. ‘To be absolutely clear.’
She was direct; he’d give her that. ‘No sex,’ he assured her. If this was to work it had to be a business arrangement. No complications.
‘You simply want to convince your father that you’re married.’ She sat back in her chair, sitting holding the juice ‘Are you gay, Bram?’
Direct? That was direct...
‘I realise that in some parts of the world it’s difficult,’ she continued. Her face might be made for poker but he could imagine the thoughts racing through her brain. The real nature of his relationship with Peter...
‘No!’ He stopped as Mina appeared. She spoke little English but she understood the word no, and thought he was telling her to wait, but he quickly reassured her and when she had removed their empty plates he said, ‘No, Ruby, I’m not gay but if I was I wouldn’t hide the fact behind a paper marriage.’
‘So what are you hiding?’
‘There are pressing reasons, Ruby.’
‘No doubt.’ Those wide silver eyes were fixed on him and the drop in temperature of her voice was like a cold draught. ‘I’m sorry, Sheikh, but I can’t be party to such a deception.’ A draught cold enough to be coming off the Russian Steppes in January.
The fact that she’d turned him down flat was no more than he had expected and only served to prove everything that Jude and Peter had told him about her.
‘My father had heart bypass surgery last year, Ruby.’
Her eyes softened. ‘I didn’t know. I’m sorry—’
‘He refuses to step down, rest. I have to be there to kneel at his feet, receive his forgiveness.’
‘And he will want you there.’ She paused as Mina returned with plates, more food, urging them to eat. ‘I don’t understand what the problem is,’ she said, as she spooned spiced chicken and rice onto his plate and then hers. ‘He’s the Emir. His word is law.’
‘A ruler has to put aside personal feelings for the good of his people. Umm al Basr was once torn apart by tribal infighting and no one cared until oil was found. The prospect of wealth focused everyone’s minds and a meeting of the tribal elders chose the Ansari family as their leader. The Khadri family were soothed with a marriage contract, a political alliance between the oldest daughter of the Khadri family and the future Emir of Umm al Basr, joining the bloodline in a pact to end decades of discord.’
‘The medieval solution. Seal a peace deal with the sacrifice of a daughter.’
‘I was ten years old and Safia Khadri was four at the time the contract was written. When I dishonoured Safia with my escapade in the fountain, Ahmed Khadri threatened to kill me if I ever set foot in Umm al Basr.’
‘A bit excessive?’ She was toying with her food now. ‘Presumably he was seizing a handy excuse to cause trouble and stir up feelings against your family?’
He smiled. ‘You are very quick, Ruby. I do not place my life at so great a value, but my death would have had to be avenged and that would have meant a return to the kind of tribal conflict that tore my country apart in the past, with the possibility of the Khadri family seizing power.’
‘So your father disinherited you to keep the peace,’ she said, leaning forward to put her glass on the table, propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands.
The frost had melted but her sympathies were with his father, with Safia. He would have expected nothing else.
‘He flew to London and disinherited me because he was furious. I’d been given an international education to prepare me for my duties as a modern ruler, given freedom to enjoy the sports I loved because it brought honour to our country, and I’d repaid him by behaving like a dissolute playboy and was not fit to rule.’ His father’s words were carved into his heart. ‘He banished me to keep the peace.’
She nodded, clearly understanding the difference. ‘So what’s this deal, Bram?’
‘The price of my return to Umm al Basr is marriage to Ahmed Khadri’s youngest daughter, Bibi.’
Only the movement of her throat as she swallowed, drawing attention to the glow of candlelight on the cream silk of her neck, betrayed her shock.
‘I’m sorry, Bram, but I don’t understand your problem.’
‘You are remarkably sanguine,’ he said. ‘I was sure your western sensibilities would
be outraged.’
‘By an arranged marriage? It’s the cultural norm in this part of the world,’ she said, ‘and at a much earlier age than the average western marriage.’ His surprise must have telegraphed itself. ‘This is a return to the status quo,’ she added. ‘A second chance.’ Then she frowned. ‘What happened to Safia?’
‘The contract was for the marriage of the oldest daughter of the Khadri family to the heir to Umm al Basr. When I was disinherited,’ he said, ‘my brother took my place. He married Safia Khadri.’
Like Ruby telling him that she had changed her name because of a scandal, that her parents were dead, he kept his voice expressionless, shrugged as if it was no big deal. As if he hadn’t given a damn about being disinherited, banished...
‘I’d ask how she felt about that,’ Ruby replied, ‘but I don’t suppose she had any choice.’
‘Feelings did not come into it. They did their duty.’
‘Right...’ Ruby eased a finger around the neckline of her top, not quite as laid-back about the situation as she would like him to believe. Which suited him perfectly. She took a sip of juice, set the glass down. ‘So what has changed?’ she asked.
‘Changed?’
‘Why is Ahmed Khadri, the man who threatened to kill you on sight, willing to give you his youngest daughter?’
‘Safia has given my brother three daughters in five years. With the last pregnancy there were complications. Pre-eclampsia. Hamad has been warned to wait a full two years before trying again for a son.’
‘So now her father is prepared to forgive you and sacrifice another daughter to the baby factory?’ she demanded, her natural instincts as a liberated woman clearly outraged.
‘This has nothing to do with forgiveness; this is politics.’
‘To think that when I said medieval I was being flippant. Does Bibi have a choice?’
‘In theory. In practice, she will obey her father.’
She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Do you know her?’
‘Her mother died when she was born and both Safia and Bibi were educated with my sisters at the palace. The last time I saw Bibi Khadri she was a brainy twelve-year-old with her heart set on becoming a doctor. She took her university entrance exams a year early and the last I heard she was going to begin her training in September.’
‘What? When I said sacrifice—’
‘You had no idea how close to the truth you were. Being forced to give up her heart’s desire and marry a scarred old man to provide her father with a grandson, her country with an heir, has to be as appalling a prospect to her as bedding a seventeen-year-old virgin is to me.’
‘Seventeen? But she’s a child,’ she said, clearly horrified. ‘Not that you’re old,’ she added quickly.
‘You are not a teenager, Ruby. I’m twice her age,’ he said, amused by her attempt to save his feelings but determined to press the point home.
She looked thoughtful. ‘You do know that it’s the man who decides the sex of the infant? If girls run in your family her sacrifice will have been in vain.’
‘Good point. I have four older sisters.’
‘Four?’ Those expressive brows did a little dance. ‘Ahmed Khadri might have a long wait to see a grandson.’
‘The seas will run dry before I give him one,’ he assured her. ‘Bibi is going to be part of a modern Umm al Basr where women have rights, are valued as equals, not traded at the whim of men.’
‘So you’re doing this for her?’
‘No, Ruby, I’m doing it for me. Have you any idea what living with an unwilling teenage bride would be like?’
She sat back and as she looked at him he could see the cogs turning in her brain.
‘Are you certain that she’s unwilling?’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘That while she might have wanted to be a doctor at twelve, at seventeen being the wife of the Emir’s son might be a lot more appealing. And if she produces a boy in nine months from now I imagine Ahmed Khadri would be applying pressure for you to be restored to the succession.’
‘No doubt,’ he said. ‘Thankfully, Bibi, who is already in pre-wedding seclusion, managed to smuggle a note to her sister. A plea for help. Until that moment no one but my father and Ahmed Khadri knew of the plan.’
‘Your brother warned you?’ He nodded. ‘But if you arrive with a wife surely it will be back to square one?’
‘A secret works two ways. On the one hand I return home to be presented with a fait accompli in which the consequences of my refusal to accept Bibi as my bride would be catastrophic. On the other I arrive, totally unaware of what has been planned, with a brand-new wife to present to my family. What can anyone say?’
‘Quite a lot, I imagine.’
‘No doubt, but none of it out loud. My father is a politician. He will hide his pleasure at besting an old enemy. As for Ahmed Khadri, he has nothing to gain from creating a crisis. No doubt he extracted an eye-watering dowry from my father in return for giving his youngest daughter to a disgraced son. More than enough to cover the expense of setting up and running a house for Bibi in England while she studies medicine.’
‘So everyone will be satisfied.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
With the slightest movement of her head she said, ‘I was wondering what will happen a few weeks down the line when you announce the marriage is over.’
‘Everyone will think I’ve been a fool?’ he suggested. ‘Nothing new there.’
‘Everyone will think it was very convenient.’
‘Point taken.’ He hadn’t thought much beyond the immediate problem. Beyond this week. ‘What is the longest you’ve ever temped for anyone?’
‘Six months. To cover maternity leave.’ She lifted elegant shoulders in the briefest of shrugs. ‘It was my first temporary job. A one-man office.’
Six months... What would it be like to have Ruby Dance at his side for six months? Sparky, smart-mouthed. Those extraordinary grey eyes full of questions...
‘Did you enjoy it?’ he asked.
‘He was patient, very kind at a bad time for me. I still temp for him when he needs someone.’ The implication being that while she was now in demand from those at the top of the business tree, she did not forget those who’d helped her.
‘I’m neither patient nor kind,’ he said, ‘but if you will give me six months of your time I will make it worth your while.’
‘Is there no one else you could ask?’ she said. ‘A friend?’
‘Time is short, you are here and a straightforward business arrangement will be simpler.’ He met her direct gaze head-on. ‘How much is six months of your life worth, Ruby?’ he asked. ‘Name your price.’
Ruby froze. Until this moment his proposition had felt rhetorical but suddenly it was very real and her first reaction was No way. Deception of any kind was abhorrent to her but this was different. She would be hurting no one. On the contrary, she would be reuniting Bram with his father, saving a very young woman from a forced marriage—both noble aims.
And he’d asked her to name her price. It wasn’t an idle offer. He was a billionaire and the sum in her head would be peanuts to him while to her it would mean a new start, a chance to clear the last of her father’s debts, wipe the slate clean, be free...
‘I need to think,’ she said. ‘I need to walk. Is the beach safe?’ she said, standing up.
‘Walking at night by yourself is not wise,’ he said, rising to join her, apparently able to read her mind. ‘I go to the stables when I need to think through a difficult decision. Horses make great listeners.’
She swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat, remembering the hours she’d spent talking to her horses as she’d brushed their coats. The confidences she’d shared with them. Her ambitions, her first crus
h, her first kiss...
‘Would you like to come and meet them?’ he asked.
No... Yes... She looked at her barely touched plate. ‘Will you apologise to Mina for me?’
‘Of course.’
He paused to speak to Mina and then led the way across the terrace and down more steps that led to a large courtyard sheltered by the rear of the fort.
Concealed lighting, activated by movement, flickered on around the yard and for a moment she paused to breathe in the familiar scent of hay and warm horseflesh as Bram disappeared into the tack room and returned with a handful of carrots.
There was a soft whicker from the first horsebox and then the pale grey head of a magnificent horse appeared over the half door and reached towards Bram.
He murmured soft words in Arabic as he rubbed his hand down the dished face before turning to her. ‘This is Vega. The brightest of my stars.’
‘Salaam, Vega.’ She approached him carefully, as she would any unknown animal, offering her hand to be sniffed at and, when that was approved, offering him the carrot that Bram handed to her.
The horse lipped it from her palm, allowing her to rub his nose as he crunched it.
Bram led the way around the yard, introducing her to his beautiful horses, saying nothing as she greeted each one, was accepted, allowed to run a hand down a warm neck, fondle an ear, stroke a cheek.
‘They are all so beautiful, Bram,’ she said with a sigh.
‘Who do you think would make the best listener?’
‘Rigel,’ she said, without hesitation. A silky chestnut with a black mane and a white blaze on his forehead who had pushed his head towards her, laying his forehead against her shoulder.
Without another word, Bram fetched a body brush from the tack room, handed it to her and opened the door to Rigel’s stable. ‘Get to know one another. Take as long as you need. I’ll be with my hawks.’
* * *
Bram was smiling as he walked across to the mews. He’d seen her hesitation when he’d invited her to ride, the longing in her eyes even as she’d shaken her head, made a joke about keeping out of danger.