The whole wedding was a fusion of their two cultures. Of course this was Huria and Malik was Sheikh, but Rachel had been keen to bring some touches from home. Her dress was a magnificent gold-and-ivory gown, with hundreds of tiny pearls sewn into the bodice. Rachel had opted to eschew the more conservative English style of dress and had requested her gown be off the shoulder, revealing much more flesh than an English bride normally would on her wedding day. However, she had asked for a veil, something no one in Huria had really understood until she’d sketched a detailed picture. It was this lace-trimmed veil the attendants were now pinning into her hair.
Adding splashes of colour to her gold-and-ivory dress were the small pink flowers that were scattered all over Huria. She had a few woven into her hair style and Ameera was to carry an elaborate bouquet as they walked down the aisle.
Finally the women were finished and they stood back, admiring Rachel in the mirror.
‘You look like a queen, my lady,’ one said.
Rachel smiled. She supposed soon she would be a queen. Not that she felt like anything other than normal, down-to-earth Rachel Talbot. Throughout all the meetings with the country’s nobles and the foreign dignitaries, every time Malik had introduced her as his new Shaykhah-to-be, Rachel had felt like giggling. It seemed surreal. But if marrying Malik meant becoming Shaykhah then she would take on the role with pride.
Not everyone in Huria was pleased of Malik’s choice of bride and they had spent considerable time over the last few months convincing some of the more old-fashioned nobles and village elders that Rachel would be an asset to the country. Many people still thought marriage should be arranged between the Sheikh and a woman from a wealthy and influential family, a union that strengthened the kingdom, but most backed down when they saw the resolute look in Malik’s eyes. Rachel knew only too well he was a hard man to deny anything.
The whole thing was made slightly easier by the fact that the normal people of Huria loved the idea of their Sheikh marrying for love. The tale of Rachel and Malik’s courtship had been retold and embellished thousands of times, and the romantics amongst the population had called it the romance of the century.
Ameera grasped her hand and together they walked from the room. In the past few months Malik had told her time and time again to move into the Queen’s rooms, but Rachel had refused, staying in the chamber she had lived in since arriving at the palace all those months ago. After today she would take up residence in the sumptuous Queen’s rooms, but before that it hadn’t seemed right.
They walked through the palace and Rachel smiled and nodded at the hundreds of staff and traders who had worked tirelessly to make this day possible. The women gently jostled each other to get a good look at Rachel’s dress and the men bowed deferentially as she walked past.
‘Are you nervous?’ Ameera asked.
Strangely she wasn’t. She was about to get married in front of hundreds of people, but all she could think about was finally becoming Malik’s wife.
She couldn’t wait to wake up next to him every morning, to stand by his side as he conducted official business, and to curl up next to him every night. She fell in love with Malik more every day and after five months of waiting she was more than ready to become his wife.
‘I’m excited,’ Rachel said.
They paused by the steps that would take them into the sunken garden and Rachel had to stifle a gasp as she looked down. Malik had made her promise not to enter the garden in the last few weeks, so Rachel knew he had planned something, but looking down she couldn’t quite believe what she saw. As well as all the plants and trees, the entire garden was overflowing with flowers. Vases and pots held the exotic foliage and every guest had a flower pinned to their outfit. It was a riot of colour and Rachel found herself laughing in delight at the beauty of the garden.
The guests themselves were all standing. The layout of the garden meant there wasn’t that much free space, but Malik had ordered some raised platforms, also decorated with flowers, to be place in the open sections of the garden to give the guests a better view. The overall effect meant that although hundreds of people were attending the wedding, when Rachel and Malik said their vows it would seem like an intimate ceremony.
In the background music was playing and Rachel realised it wasn’t the exotic notes of Hurian music she had become so used to these past months but the soft plucking of a string quartet. Malik must have scoured the continent to find musicians who could play the western instruments and his thoughtfulness made her heart swell with love.
After a few moments spent listening to the music, Rachel let go of Ameera’s hand and ushered the young girl forward. The guests turned and followed her progress down the stairs and into the garden. Rachel was only alone for thirty seconds before she felt a presence behind her.
‘Are you ready, my love?’ Malik asked as he slipped into place beside her.
Rachel slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and straightened her dress. Beside her Malik was dressed in a traditional Hurian tunic, richly embroidered with gold thread. He looked every bit the royal leader that he was.
‘You look beautiful,’ Malik whispered, as they started to descend the stairs, ‘but I can’t wait until all these people have gone home and I can peel that dress off you.’
Rachel darted him a scandalised look. ‘Behave. There’s three hundred nobles and foreign dignitaries in this garden.’
‘I’m not proposing to strip you right here in front of them,’ Malik said with a smile. ‘That would be quite an introduction to their new Shaykhah.’
Rachel felt him pull her closer as they reached the bottom of the steps. He’d been amazing through all the planning of the wedding and the preparation for Rachel to take up her role as Shaykhah of Huria. Expertly he’d guided her through all of their customs and traditions, helping her learn the most important things first and set aside the more trivial for another day. As Rachel had thrown herself into the role she could see Malik’s pleasure at having someone by his side who was interested and willing to serve Huria.
‘This is your last chance to make a run for it,’ Malik said as they walked through the verdant garden, past the hundreds of guests.
‘I never want to be anywhere else but here with you.’
It was the truth. Since Malik had proposed Rachel had lost some of the wanderlust that had filled her since a young age. Before she had come to Huria the closest place she’d felt at home was at school with her friends, but now, here with Malik, she had a true home she never wanted to leave. Of course that didn’t mean she would object to the odd trip into the desert with her new husband, or maybe she could persuade Malik one day to make the journey to England, so she could show him and the children where she grew up and take him to meet her friends.
Her friends not being at the wedding was her one regret. Of course she’d written and invited them, but Rachel had known logistically it was almost impossible for them to receive news of the wedding, organise travel and get here in the time between the engagement and the wedding. So Rachel would just have to plan a trip to see Joanna, Isabel and Grace back in England soon.
They drew to a stop in front of the official performing the ceremony and the man gave a deep bow first to Malik and then to Rachel. The ceremony was conducted in Hurian and Rachel had spent a long time going over the words with Malik, so that when she said her vows her voice was confident and clear. Beside them Aahil, Ameera and Hakim stood proudly in their new clothes and Rachel knew that, as well as gaining a husband, she was gaining a family. Already she felt like a mother to these children. She loved them as much as she would love any child of her own blood and today their bond was being made official.
The ceremony itself was short and within a few minutes the official was confirming they were man and wife. Rachel felt a flutter of excitement deep inside her as Malik looked at her for the first time as he
r husband.
‘You’re all mine now,’ he said in a low whisper. ‘For eternity.’
Rachel smiled and for a moment it felt as though it were just the two of them. She looked into his eyes as his hand came to cup her cheek and he bent his neck to kiss her gently on the lips. Despite the hundreds of people watching Malik kissed her passionately and Rachel felt her heart begin to thump inside her chest.
Too soon he had to pull away and after a moment he guided her round to face the guests.
‘May I present Rachel bin Jalal al-Mahrouky, my wife and Shaykhah of Huria?’
As one the assembled guests bowed low to Rachel. She’d expected to feel out of place with all these people bowing to her, but standing by Malik’s side Rachel felt like a queen.
Slowly Malik led her back through the sunken garden, past the guests who were now applauding and up the steps. Their day had only just begun, with appearances to be made to the hundreds of people waiting eagerly outside the palace for a glimpse of the newlyweds, the wedding breakfasts with speeches from all the important tribal leaders and many, many people to meet and smile at and talk to. Rachel relished all this; she loved being at Malik’s side, putting people at ease as they spoke to their Sheikh, but today she was looking forward to the moment when it was just the two of them.
As if reading her mind Malik stopped at the top of the steps, turned abruptly and pulled Rachel into an alcove where they couldn’t be seen.
‘I know we have a long day of duty, but I just wanted one minute with my beautiful wife all to myself,’ he said as Rachel started to protest.
She fell silent. Of course she wanted to be alone with Malik, she treasured moments like this.
Gently he cupped her face with his hands and bent to kiss her lips, kissing her languorously as if they had all the time in the world.
‘I love you, Rachel bin Jalal al-Mahrouky.’
She couldn’t help but smile as he said her new name.
‘I love you, Malik.’
Again he brought his lips to meet hers, pulling her in close to his body so she could feel his heartbeat under his skin.
‘Today is for Huria,’ Malik said. ‘But every second of every minute I will be wishing for tonight when I get you all to myself.’
* * * * *
If you enjoyed Rachel’s story, you won’t
want to miss the other three stories in
THE GOVERNESS TALES series
THE CINDERELLA GOVERNESS
by Georgie Lee
THE RUNAWAY GOVERNESS
by Liz Tyner
THE GOVERNESS’S SECRET BABY
by Janice Preston
Keep reading for an excerpt from KIDNAPPED BY THE HIGHLAND ROGUE by Terri Brisbin.
Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003
Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!
Do you want to earn Free Books and More?
Join Harlequin My Rewards points program and earn points every time you shop.
You can redeem your points to get more of what you love:
Free books
Exclusive gifts and contests
Book recommendations tailored to your reading preferences
Earn 2000 points instantly when you join—getting you closer to redeeming your first free book.
Don’t miss out. Reward the book lover in you!
Click here to sign up
Or visit us online to sign up at
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Historical.
You dream of wicked rakes, gorgeous Highlanders, muscled Viking warriors and rugged Wild West cowboys from another era. Harlequin Historical has them all! Emotionally intense stories set across many time periods.
Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Historical every month!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Kidnapped by the Highland Rogue
by Terri Brisbin
Prologue
Brodie Mackintosh, chief of the mighty Chattan Confederation, smiled grimly at his cousin. The acrid smell of burning crops and dead animals made his eyes burn as he surveyed the damage.
‘When?’
‘Last night,’ replied Rob, his cousin and the commander of all Mackintosh warriors.
‘Any injuries?’ Brodie waited for the worst. These incidents had escalated in recent days from simple mischief into unmistakable attacks. He waited for the inevitable.
‘They chased most of the crofters out and away, but Old Angus would not leave.’ Brodie cursed under his breath and Rob nodded in agreement. The old man was stubborn, so he’d stayed behind on purpose and not because of age or infirmity.
Brodie walked away then, examining some of the footprints on the soft ground. Crouching down, he stared off into the trees, thinking about the progression of the attacks.
This was the fourth incident in the last fortnight. Each one in a different place across their lands. Each one destroying crops and livestock but very few of the crofts and never harming any of the villagers.
Until now.
Until Old Angus.
‘What are you thinking, Rob?’ he asked as he walked back to where his cousin waited. ‘What or who is behind these?’ When Rob didn’t reply, Brodie met his gaze and saw the answer that neither of them wished to think let alone speak aloud.
Years, nay decades, of clan hostilities had ceased on his marriage to Arabella Cameron. Well, if truth be told, they had eased with that strategic marriage and ceased in the six years since. Part of their success had been due to skilful negotiation and monetary reward, but for many of the elders, weariness and loss had been the biggest and best motivation.
‘Could it be, Brodie?’ Rob asked. ‘Would they be violating the peace?’ Rob used his favourite words at the very thought of it and Brodie winced at his vehement choice. ‘But, who among them would lead such an effort?’
‘I know not, but I will seek out more information before making such an accusation to The Cameron.’
Brodie hated even the possibility that The Camerons were rising once more against them. Everything they’d accomplished in the time of peace between their clans and everything they’d suffered to attain that peace would be for naught.
‘Send our trackers to see where they went.’
Rob nodded and went off to send the men on their assignment. Brodie walked back to edge of the forest and studied the perimeter. A small fragment of cloth clung to a broken branch where the path led away from the small cluster of cottages. He tugged it free and held it closer.
The colours and warp and weft were familiar to him for he’d seen his beloved Arabella wear it. In a shawl around her shoulders. In a sash across her bodice. In the blanket that lay at the bottom of their bed.
The pattern favoured by The Cameron’s clan weavers.
Glancing at the piece of torn cloth, Brodie shook his head, partly in resignation and partly in regret. Nodding at Rob, he mounted up and rode back to the keep, still grasping the bit of wool in his hand.
He wanted to be the first one to reveal this to his wife. If her family was betraying their honour and their agreement, she needed to know it first. He owed her that much.
Chapter One
Fia Mackintosh tried to turn her glance away but failed. Oh, she wo
uld be the first to admit that her efforts to avoid staring at the intimate scene before her were not her best. But truly, the sight before her was one she would admit she wanted to experience for herself. Not with the man involved—God forbid!—but with a man who would look at her the way her cousin the laird looked at his wife.
Brodie towered over Arabella even more so than he towered over most of the men of the clan. The lady was petite and known throughout the Highlands of Scotland as the most genteel and beautiful woman who lived there. And yet, not for a moment did Arabella seem intimidated by the huge man standing so close to her, leaning down over her. When Brodie pressed his lips to Arabella’s, Fia’s own lips tingled. But that was not the worst thing.
The worst thing was when a loud sigh escaped her control and echoed in the silence of the chamber.
Loud enough to draw Brodie’s attention from his wife. Loud enough to draw his attention to her instead. And even loud enough that Ailean, the lady’s cousin and companion, laughed aloud. Thankfully, Aunt Devorgilla was not here to witness her embarrassment. Once again, Fia had broken the rule that servants were never to be seen or heard from when not being addressed. It was a lamentable failing that her mother had long bemoaned and, once more, it had gotten Fia into trouble.
‘I beg your pardon, laird, my lady,’ she began in a soft voice and without lifting her gaze towards him. ‘I did not mean to intrude on a private moment.’
‘If he wanted a private moment, my husband would have sought me in our chambers earlier, Fia,’ Arabella said, laughing. She dared a peek now and watched as the lady pushed against her husband’s chest, barely moving him an inch. Even so, he stepped back and crossed his arms over that chest. ‘Brodie, I am well. You do not have to look in on me every hour of every day.’
Fia caught Ailean’s gaze and the truth struck her from the knowing look there—the lady was carrying another bairn. Daring a glance at them, Fia realised the laird was being protective, now more than before, because of the lady’s condition. Another sigh escaped as she hoped a man would hold her in such regard. Ailean laughed again at the sound and Fia felt the heat of a blush creep up her cheeks.
GOVERNESS TO THE SHEIKH Page 23