Hired to Wear the Sheikh's Ring

by Rachael Thomas

  She leant forward and picked up the remaining gift from the ornate table, pulling at the gold ribbon and then opening the white tissue to reveal a beautiful box. He kissed her neck as she opened the box, the idea of breakfast slipping to the back of his mind. Indulging in a more passionate activity would be far more satisfying.

  Tiffany gasped with shock, snapped the box shut and pulled away from him, leaving him momentarily wondering what was happening. ‘Is it not a suitable gift?’

  He had made it clear to her sister and her friend it was tradition for the bridesmaids to leave gifts for the bride that would help her in her new role as a wife. The necklace was perfect, forming a connection with her homeland. What was in the box that would upset her so much?

  Her beautifully arched brows pulled together and the look on her face was one of genuine fear. What the hell was in that box?

  ‘It’s a very suitable gift. I only wish I had opened it last night.’

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded sharply.

  She looked down at the box clutched in her hand, then handed it to him, her expression wary, as if she was expecting an explosion of fury from him at any minute. He took it roughly from her, opened it and swore savagely in his own tongue. Inside was a box of condoms with a note attached.

  Have some fun! Xx

  ‘Condoms?’ The word was fired out from him and a cold slick of dread crept over him. He never slept with a woman without using protection. Even if she told him she was on the pill, he always used condoms. Always, damn it.

  ‘I didn’t think...’ Her words trailed away as she pushed her hands through her hair in frustration. He wanted to be angry, with her, with himself, but the distress she showed made that impossible—especially after last night.

  ‘It is my fault. I should have been more responsible. You told me you were a virgin. I should have made sure I looked after you—in every way.’

  He moved to take her in his arms and held her against him, inhaling the scent of her hair as the ramifications of what could happen settled over him. Last night they could have done the one thing he’d sworn never to do. They could have created a new life.

  ‘But what if...?’ she said as her breath shuddered from her. ‘What if I’m pregnant?’

  He closed his eyes against the word, knowing full well that if this had happened in Paris they could have averted an unwanted pregnancy. Things were very different here in Shamsumara, especially for the Sheikh and his Queen in the days after their wedding. ‘There is nothing we can do now. We must spend the week together, as tradition dictates. We cannot be apart for any reason.’

  ‘But a baby, Jafar,’ she implored, looking so frightened his heart constricted. ‘That would change everything.’

  He took a deep breath, silently acknowledging the truth of what she’d just said. ‘It was one night, Tiffany. Your first time.’

  He didn’t believe a word of what he’d just said, but put as much conviction into it as he could. The blame for this lay firmly at his feet and if anyone was going to spend the next few weeks worrying, it was him.

  * * *

  Tiffany tried to eat the delicious breakfast that had been prepared for them, and the fragrant tea smelt amazing, but the worry of last night wouldn’t go away, despite Jafar’s apparent lack of concern. She might have been a virgin when she’d walked in this room last night, but she knew that one time was all it took.

  Had his subtle yet persistent seduction been part of a bigger plan? Had she fallen into the trap of believing all he’d told her about his family situation? What if his plan had been to seduce her, create the heir he needed? If so, what would happen to her now?

  ‘You should try and eat something.’ He spoke firmly as he looked across at her, the lover of last night disappearing as the sun rose higher in the bright blue sky.

  ‘Why didn’t your sister come to our wedding?’ The question rushed from her as doubts stacked up along with the realisation that his sister hadn’t been present at yesterday’s ceremony. Did she really exist? And, if so, did she really carry the heir Jafar needed to rule his kingdom?

  ‘She is heavily pregnant, carrying the heir not only for her husband’s kingdom but for Shamsumara. Travelling was out of the question.’ He poured the tea from the most ornate gold pot she’d ever seen into small glasses, also lavishly decorated with gold. ‘Once our week of observing the tradition of being alone has passed, I will escort you to meet her.’

  Tiffany took the tea from him, inhaling the delicate scent, and sipped at the sweetness of the liquid, still trying to decide if last night had been planned or if they had both been taken by surprise by the strength of the desire between them. It had certainly been that way for her and, with her feelings towards Jafar deepening, despite knowing it was foolish, she’d hoped it was the same for him.

  ‘But our marriage isn’t real. Wouldn’t that just complicate everything?’ Why had she said that? Meeting his sister would be the perfect way to discover if she’d fallen into some bizarre scheme to rule his kingdom.

  ‘You’re right.’ The sharpness of the declaration cut through her unease, causing more doubt to rise in her mind. ‘In the circumstances, maybe it would be better if I went alone?’

  If that didn’t confirm she was nothing more than a temporary and necessary addition to his life, then nothing did. Whatever misguided affection she was beginning to feel for him, it was not reciprocated in any way.

  * * *

  Tiffany had to remind herself of this every night for the next week. As soon as the sun slipped down behind the sand dunes, Jafar became the passionate lover he’d been on their wedding night once again and, just like that first night, she was powerless to resist. He confused her and made her fall deeper and harder for him every night.

  Last night, their final night together as newlyweds, the passion had been more powerful than ever and the lovemaking so intense, but, just as they had been doing since she’d opened Lilly’s gift, they had used protection. Not that it lessened the worry that she might already be carrying his child—a child he’d claimed he didn’t ever want. A child that would complicate everything in a way she couldn’t bear to consider.

  Now the sun was rising, heating the cool palace rooms in which she had been shut away from the world with this man for seven days and nights. She had no idea what to expect when he resumed his normal daily life, or even what that would be for her.

  ‘I have duties to return to today,’ he said, as if he’d read her mind, and she turned to see him fully robed in white, looking as magnificent as ever. ‘You too will have duties to learn and my aide will help with these. He has been setting up your suggested charity since our wedding.’

  There was no mistaking the aloofness in his voice, or the tense way he stood, as if he couldn’t wait to leave her, to go back to his life. A kick of pain shot through her. They’d just enjoyed the most amazing week, where passion had ruled everything, and now he was going to turn his back on her.

  ‘Good,’ she said sharply. ‘I will need something to do for the next, what is it now, eleven weeks?’ If that didn’t serve as a reminder of their deal, then nothing would.

  He scowled at her and his anger simmered across the increasing heat in the room. ‘You are counting the weeks until you leave so exactly?’

  ‘Of course, I am.’ Her flippant tone helped to instil confidence in her, to give her the same carefree attitude he had adopted.

  He came to stand before her, his eyes vibrant, sparking with anger. ‘Have you not found pleasure in your first week?’

  Pleasure. She’d found far more than pleasure. She’d become ensnared in the web of passion he’d weaved every night and had no idea how she was ever going to sleep alone again. Already her body longed for his, longed for his touch and so much more.

  * * *

  Jafar looked at Tiffany as she stood in the fine silk clothes he’d ordered for her arrival. The matching headscarf clutched in her hand, the tightness of her fingers giving away so much more th
an her blasé words. He knew then that whatever it was they’d shared, that undeniable spark of sexual attraction would now have to come to an end. This was the business side of their deal, and the distraction they’d found in one another, while adhering to the tradition of remaining solely in each other’s company for a week, now had to be put aside. He had to do all he could to prevent Simdan from making a claim on Shamsumara and until his sister’s child, his heir, was born, that claim could come at any time.

  He seriously doubted that he would be able to resist Tiffany each night, but it must be done. This wasn’t a real marriage. It was a deal to save his kingdom and nothing more. She was a bride he’d hired at considerable cost. She wasn’t even one of his affairs. Passion and desire must be put aside.

  You took her virginity.

  The accusing words thrashed around his mind. Not least of all because he should never have done that and, worse still, should have ensured that the necessary precautions were used. How the hell had he been remiss about such a thing, when every other time he’d had sex with a woman he’d always been obsessively careful? After the example of marriage he’d witnessed growing up between his cold father and his fragile mother, he’d vowed he would never have a child unless it was born into a loving union. That was, of course, when he’d been nothing more than the spare heir, before he’d inherited the right to rule over Shamsumara after his brother’s tragic death. Would his plans to make his sister’s child his heir be enough to keep Simdan at bay?

  ‘Pleasure was not part of our deal, Jafar.’ Her determined tone forced his mind from the tragedy of the past, back to the present, back to the situation they now found themselves in.

  ‘Neither was a child.’ The hurt expression on her face jolted him and he schooled his frustration at the situation he was now in. ‘Forgive me. That was uncalled for.’

  He reached out to her, but she pulled back. ‘I hope that very soon I can reassure you that will not be an issue. In the meantime, I would like to sleep alone from now on.’

  ‘As you wish.’ A fierce sense of rejection rushed over him. Never before had a woman made it so blatantly clear that she no longer desired him. He’d always called time on his affairs. ‘I have much to keep me from our marital bed and, as you will be leaving after the agreed three months, it will convincingly build the story that you are unhappy here with me.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE LAST THING Tiffany wanted to do was parade herself in front of the guests assembled at the gift ceremony, especially when she discovered that Niesha would once again be attending. There was still that feeling there was something, some kind of history, between Niesha and Jafar. Whatever had happened between them, Tiffany was sure that Niesha believed it wasn’t over.

  The hours passed slowly and Tiffany could barely recall the food she’d eaten or half of the gifts she’d been given. Most of the guests had now left, leaving her and Jafar with his aide and those who appeared to be part of his team of assistants and the ever-present Niesha and Simdan.

  The music still filled the great hall and the dancers continued with their exotic entertainment, and as she watched Tiffany became acutely aware of Niesha’s scrutiny. The dark-haired woman ended her conversation with another guest and made her way towards where Tiffany sat on the large red and gold cushions. Before she joined her, Niesha looked across the hall at her husband, now deep in conversation with Jafar.

  Tiffany looked at Jafar and frowned. Whatever it was that he and Simdan were discussing appeared to be getting heated. Not that they were raising their voices—quite the opposite. Tiffany could tell from their body language that they were hissing and snarling at one another like jungle cats fighting over territory. She looked again at Niesha, only to find she was the object of the other woman’s scrutiny and not whatever was happening between the cousins.

  ‘I have a special gift for you.’ Niesha’s voice dragged her attention away from the two men, but she couldn’t shake off the thought that their discussion was a direct threat to the deal she and Jafar had struck. A deal that, if she didn’t honour it, would mean Jafar had the right to call back in the money he’d paid her, money that Bethany needed.

  Tiffany looked at Niesha, unease spreading over her as if the woman had said or done something to threaten her. ‘That is very kind of you. I’m quite overwhelmed by everyone’s generosity.’

  She kept her voice neutral, sure it would be unwise to let her suspicion show. Niesha smiled brightly and settled herself on the cushions next to her, presenting from the folds of her abaya a beautifully wrapped gift. Tiffany took it, shocked to see her hands were trembling. She opened it, to reveal a key-like object, made from gold and studded with jewels. It was most definitely not an imitation tourist trinket and she had no idea what it was or what it might represent. All she knew was that it was as real as the sun that was setting beyond the palace.

  ‘It is the deity of love.’ The smile on Niesha’s lips didn’t reflect in her eyes. Only cold malice showed in their inky black depths and Tiffany began to fear that her discussion with Bethany on the eve of her wedding had been overheard. Was that why she was now being given such a gift? To show that, although the full details of the deal she’d made with Jafar weren’t known, the fact that she was here as a hired bride was most certainly known. How could she have been so remiss to talk about it like that in front of others?

  ‘It is very beautiful.’ The gold was cold to the touch, but not as frosty as Niesha’s expression or her icy tone. Tiffany had suspected there was once something between this woman and the man she now called her husband and somehow this gift confirmed that. Or was she being fanciful? Reading too much into things as she always did?

  ‘It is what I would have wanted.’ Niesha let the words, veiled in threat, linger between them, and the music that still played in the background suddenly seemed incredibly loud and overpowering. ‘Had I been Jafar’s bride.’

  So that was it. Niesha and Jafar had been lovers and, judging by the venom in Niesha’s words, she was still very much in love with Jafar. Tiffany’s gaze darted to her husband and his cousin, who had now moved away from the remaining guests, to stand together under the archway that led to the formal palace gardens. There was no mistaking the hostility between the two men. Was it because of Niesha? She was, after all, Simdan’s wife.

  ‘The gift or love?’ The response fired from Tiffany in an uncharacteristic need to protect herself, to stand her ground. She had no idea what from, she just sensed she needed to.

  Niesha laughed. A cold splintering sound like iced puddles cracking in winter. The image made Tiffany momentarily homesick. She’d never see that here, but Niesha wasn’t done yet. ‘Love is not something Jafar will ever give a woman. He made that very clear to me, as I am sure he has to you also.’

  As the warning in those words sank in, Tiffany recalled exactly what she’d wanted to say to him as the heights of passion had claimed her on her wedding night and was eternally grateful she’d bitten down on the words, kept them from tumbling out in a passionate frenzy.

  What would have happened if she’d said I love you? It would have been too late to change the mistake they’d both made, a mistake she was still waiting to find out the consequences of. Tiffany swallowed back the nausea of that thought. She couldn’t be pregnant, she just couldn’t, and she tried hard to take comfort in Jafar’s reassurance that it had been her first time and unlikely.

  As the fear of what could be lingered over her like a storm cloud ready to burst, she felt Niesha’s scrutiny once more. The last thing she needed to let her see was just how unsettled the gift had made her.

  ‘Then I thank you for your gift and hope it brings all that it should.’ She kept her voice light as she looked at Jafar, who chose that moment to look across the room at her. Even from that distance her body heated and she dragged in a deep breath, forcing her emotions back under control.

  * * *

  Jafar had been angry beyond words as Simdan had insisted they talk about h
is claim to Shamsumara and had taken the conversation away from everyone. He’d been aware of the exchange between Tiffany and Niesha, seen the gift given; he had no idea what it was, but knowing Niesha it would have to be something to make her appear superior to Tiffany. As he wondered how he’d ever thought he could be married to her, he forced his mind back onto the conversation he was having with his cousin.

  His cousin wanted to rule Shamsumara and still thought he had a claim on the throne. All Jafar could do now was hope all he’d put into action would be enough to stave off that threat. His marriage to Tiffany just needed to hold this man at bay until his heir was born.

  ‘There is no claim for you to make now, Simdan,’ he snapped out coldly, determined to do right by his brother’s memory and retain the rule of the kingdom of Shamsumara. It might not be what he had ever envisaged for himself, but it was now his duty—and honour. ‘My sister’s child will provide the heir required by our laws for me to rule and my new marital status satisfies all the necessary conditions for ruler of Shamsumara.’

  ‘Why do you need to name your sister’s child as heir?’ Simdan snarled at him, his black eyes fierce with undisguised power.

  ‘After my brother’s untimely death, I want to ensure the kingdom has a successor named, one who deserves to be the ruler of Shamsumara.’ He looked at the man he despised, more certain than ever that he’d had something to do with the accident that had claimed his brother’s life and that of his wife. It was too much of a coincidence that he’d launched a challenge to rule over Shamsumara within days of his brother’s death. Soon after that he’d ensured his claim to the throne couldn’t be ignored and had married Niesha, the most calculating woman Jafar had ever had the misfortune to know, although that wasn’t how he remembered her from his youth.

  ‘And what of your charming new wife?’ The threat in Simdan’s voice was clear. ‘Will she not provide you with your heir?’

  Jafar sensed he was being toyed with, that for some reason Simdan believed he had the upper hand. ‘Our marriage happened only a week ago. It is too soon to know if our union has brought about an heir.’