Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride

by Marguerite Kaye

  For the time being. Another shiver ran down her spine, but it was not in the least pleasurable. She didn’t want to give her body to this faceless man she was to marry.

  ‘Oh, let’s face it, Constance, you don’t want to marry him at all.’

  She kicked off her kid slippers and dipped her toes into the fountain. The courtyard was shaded from the direct heat of the afternoon sun though it was still very warm, a lovely salty heat that made her skin tingle. She closed her eyes, lifting her face to the sky. Scarlet and gold points of light danced behind her lids.

  Dearest Mama,

  I am in a seaside desert kingdom in a fantastical palace, the guest of the most devastatingly attractive and quite fascinating man who rather astonishingly seems to find me attractive too and, even more astonishingly, seems to be interested in what I have to say.

  I am very well, Mama, and finally able to think clearly. Though it pains me to say this, I believe you blackmailed me into this marriage. I do not mean that you lied, precisely, when you said you thought I would be happy, but you chose not to listen to me. I have told you countless times that I have no wish to be married. I do not wish to be the property of another man—not even a rich man.

  Because here is the nub of the problem, Mama. Mr Edgbaston’s money is his, not mine. Just as the money he gave Papa is his, not yours. I doubt he will have used it to pay the mortgage or even many of the bills. My sacrifice will change nothing for you, and I fear it will make me very unhappy.

  Despite what you said to me, I believe we could have managed. We would not have starved. I am even willing to wager that Papa would have found a way to prevent you from having to go a-begging to your family. He does not love you but he needs you, because you are the only one, save himself, who believes in his pipe dreams.

  Here I am, paying for those dreams, and it occurs to me that if I marry Mr Edgbaston I will be expected to go on paying—or to persuade my husband to go on paying.

  I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to marry Mr Edgbaston. I don’t want to marry any man.

  In this beautiful Arabian kingdom I am free. I know it is an illusion, but it has given me a taste of what might be. What could be if I set my mind to it. I thought I had no resources to fall back on, but I underestimated myself. I have no idea what that means—before you ask.

  I would love to remain here as court astronomer—yes, I omitted to tell you that astonishing fact—but I know I can’t. One thing I do have is time. I will apply my mind not, as you suggested, to how best to make myself into an amenable wife, but how to avoid being any sort of wife. How to be free.

  Constance heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh. It was the truth, but she could not possibly commit it to paper. She felt considerably better for having thought it, however. She lifted her feet from the fountain, setting them down on the tiles. Within seconds they were already drying in the heat. Mama would not want to know her daughter’s real thoughts. If Mama had been interested in the truth, she would not have waved Constance off on the boat. All that Mama would want to know was that her daughter was safely married. Constance would ask Kadar to write his addendum to the Consul General. She would save her own missive until she was married to Mr Edgbaston and could truthfully tell her mother what she wanted to hear.

  * * *

  It was very late. Kadar pushed aside his papers, rubbing his neck and shoulders, stiff from poring over documents. Soon, he would reveal his plans to his council and to his people. Abdul-Majid had been strangely hesitant, and though Kadar knew it would be beneficial to have the chief adviser on his side, he was reluctant to share these most precious and private aspirations before he was fully prepared.

  These last few days, the past had been creeping up on him at odd moments. The constant talk of his impending coronation could not but remind him of the day that Butrus took the throne. Abdul-Majid’s outrageous suggestion of combining wedding and coronation—Kadar shuddered. A different bride, but in a horrible twist of fate, once more his brother’s choice.

  Though this time there was no question of love. He dropped his head onto his hands. Was his chief adviser twisting the knife? But why would he do that? Perhaps it was as simple as he claimed, that re-enacting the past was the best way to reassure his people and make them warm to him.

  Kadar rubbed his brow, looking down at the scatter of papers and notebooks. His plans. If Butrus was still alive, they would be happier, his people, but they would not be prosperous. This kingdom would slide into a slow decline.

  ‘No,’ Kadar said aloud. ‘The time has come for change.’

  And long past time for him to set this complex task aside and seek the solace of his bed, but he knew there was no prospect of sleep. The miniature gold clock on his desk informed him that it was past two in the morning. Kadar turned the clockwork key of his orrery and watched the planets start their mechanical orbit. Three days had passed since he and Constance had ridden out. It was now a full week since she had arrived at the palace. He had been deliberately avoiding her. He knew that all eyes in the palace were trained on him. He knew that too much time spent with her, even as his court astronomer, would be noted and discussed and analysed. He had avoided the court when he was growing up here, but he knew all too well how it operated.

  Was Abdul-Majid the only one who knew the real reason for his departure? Butrus, he was absolutely certain, had been ignorant. The orrery slowed, planet by planet, until Jupiter ground to a halt with a jerky click. Georgium Sidus was not represented on this model, which had been made before Herschel discovered the new planet. Uranus, as Constance preferred to call it. After the goddess of astronomy.

  The gold clock struck three. His goddess of astronomy in residence would have finished surveying the stars for the night, leaving the telescope free. At this moment, Kadar could think of nothing more pleasurable than to spend the remainder of night under the stars with her. To enjoy the charms and allure of a heavenly body that was certainly not celestial in nature. He allowed himself to dwell on this very pleasurable image for a few moments.

  Pleasurable though also very frustrating. Some night air and a little stargazing would put him to rights. Kadar got to his feet wearily, and headed for the solitude of his roof terrace.

  * * *

  Constance had come up to the terrace at nightfall, and had spent several long hours painstakingly mapping a small region of the southern sky. When her eyes became too tired to observe any more, she had lain down on the stack of cushions by the telescope, meaning only to do so for a moment before retiring to her bedchamber. She awoke with a start just in time to see Kadar turning away.

  Sitting up hastily, adjusting the gaping neck of her dressing gown, under which she had donned only a flimsy cotton shift, Constance called his name. ‘Were you wishing to use the telescope?’

  He stopped some feet away. ‘I thought you would be in bed.’

  ‘I meant to be. I fell asleep. If you wish to be alone...’

  ‘No.’ He took a couple of hesitant steps towards her. ‘I’m glad to find you here.’

  ‘And I am glad of the company since I spend the greater part of my day alone.’

  ‘Are you lonely? Would you like me to arrange for you to have some female companionship? A wife of one of the council members, perhaps? I’m afraid that none of them will be able to speak English, but...’

  ‘I’m not lonely,’ Constance said, meaning it. ‘I have your beautiful mare to ride along the beach during the day, and your wonderful telescope to transport me to the stars at night.’

  ‘You have not yet resorted to talking to yourself then?’

  She chuckled. ‘No, but I have got into the habit of talking to the telescope. “We’re going to see if we can find Perseus tonight.” That kind of thing.’

  ‘And did you? See Perseus tonight, that is?’

  ‘No, he is a fickle hero and prefers
the winter sky.’

  ‘I have always thought him a rather cowardly hero,’ Kadar said, sinking onto the cushions beside her. ‘He is said to have slain Medusa in her sleep.’

  ‘And then he cut off her head and used it to turn Cetus to stone, when he probably had a perfectly good sword he could have used. You are quite right. Not a noble hero at all.’

  She sensed, rather than saw his smile. ‘Algol, the star which forms Medusa’s head in Perseus, is known in our language as the head of the demon, sometimes the ghoul. What were you looking at tonight, if not our Greek coward?’

  ‘Scorpius and Sagittarius.’ It was very dark up here on the terrace. She could see only shadows of Kadar’s face. The gleam of his teeth, the glint of his eyes. His hair looked more tousled than usual. She could feel the heat of his body, shoulder to arm, thigh to foot, beside her on the cushions. He was wearing his preferred informal robes, a tunic and trousers, in some soft cotton material. ‘You’re up very late. Could you not sleep?’

  ‘I was working.’

  ‘On your plans for the kingdom?’

  ‘Yes. They are almost ready to be revealed to my council. Would you like to see them?’

  ‘You know I would.’

  ‘Soon, then. But first, I must show you my library. I should have done so before now.’

  She had tried very hard not to miss him these last three days, but she had failed miserably. His presence filled the palace. When she was alone here on the roof terrace, or when she mounted her horse at the stables, she had the sense that she had only just missed encountering him. It felt as if he had recently vacated every room she entered. The reality of him, the flesh and blood of him sitting beside her on the cushions was so much more than her imagination had been able to conjure. Her skin felt as if it was straining, reaching towards him. ‘The telescope is still aligned,’ Constance said a little desperately, trying to distract herself, ‘if you would like to make some observations of your own?’

  ‘I’d much prefer you to show me what you’ve been looking at.’

  This was one of the many things she had allowed herself to imagine. Constance wasn’t sure she’d be able to cope with the reality. ‘You’ll have to lie back.’

  ‘I’ll get some more cushions.’

  A very sensible thing to do. She should have thought of it, she chided herself as Kadar collected several from under the awning, setting them out about a foot from hers, before lying down next to her. She followed his lead, awkwardly arranging the full skirts of her robe around her. She had kicked off her slippers, as usual. It didn’t matter, he couldn’t see her bare feet in this light.

  ‘I’ll give you a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness,’ she said, when what she actually wanted was a moment to adjust to the intimacy of having Kadar lying full length beside her. The night air was soft, heavy with diffused heat. The ferns in their terracotta pots gave off an odd scent, not mint or pine or coconut, but a mixture of all three, with something else she could not define mingling in there too. Kadar’s soap smelled of coconut. His clothes smelled of lemon. And none of this was helping!

  The stars, Constance reminded herself. ‘Are your eyes accustomed?’ She risked a glance at Kadar, and found his eyes on her. ‘You’re supposed to be looking at heavenly bodies.’

  ‘I am,’ he said softly. Then he gave himself a little shake and broke eye contact. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘Scorpius and Sagittarius,’ Constance said firmly. ‘Scorpius first. You can see his claw pointing north there, and then the curve of his sting there. And there,’ she said, pointing, ‘there is Antares. Tonight, through the telescope, it was a very vivid red, a beating heart right at the centre of the scorpion.’

  ‘Antares—Equal to Mars,’ Kadar said, ‘from the Greek, they say, but I prefer to think that it is named after Antar, the Arab warrior.’

  ‘Another warrior. The stars are a bloodthirsty lot, but so very beautiful,’ Constance said with a happy sigh. ‘Look at the Milky Way tonight, it is quite viscous, like a huge ribbon of spilt cream sprinkled with diamonds stretching right across Scorpius and Sagittarius.’ She paused for a moment to drink in the sheer beauty. ‘It never fails to astonish me. Here we are, thinking that our lives are so very important, that all our cares and worries are the only cares and worries that matter, and then you look at all this, and nothing matters.’

  She waved her arm in the direction of the Milky Way. ‘I mean look at it, Kadar, just look. Sagittarius is positively teeming with clusters of stars we don’t even have a number for, never mind a name. Those patches you can see, like mist—no, not mist, shimmering silver clouds, those are new stars forming.’

  Constance rolled onto her side, anxious to see whether he shared her sense of wonder. ‘Think of it,’ she said fervently. ‘Brand new stars forming right up there, an unimaginable distance away, and yet it is happening right before our very eyes. Is it not magical?’

  ‘Magical,’ Kadar said, turning towards her. ‘And for all we know,’ he said, leaning closer, ‘there could be still more magic happening up there. Things we can’t guess at. Who knows, there may even be other people on other stars looking up at us.’

  ‘Do you think so? What would they see?’

  ‘A court astronomer who can turn science into magic. Her hair,’ Kadar said, pushing it gently from her face, ‘is as wild and untrammelled as her soul, when she forgets herself. When she smiles, it is like lifting the veil which covers her true self.’

  He smoothed his hand down her hair, her shoulder, her arm, under the wide sleeve of her robe. Skin on skin. A soft, rhythmic stroking up and down that tingled along her whole body, making her shimmer like the Milky Way high above them. ‘If they looked very closely they would see that she has a way, this court astronomer,’ Kadar continued softly, ‘of making a prince forget his regal duties, and remember only that he is a man.’

  Somehow they were close enough for her knees to brush his legs, for her feet to brush his ankles. ‘She does not mean to,’ Constance said, surrendering to the need to touch him, her fingers tangling in his silky hair. ‘Though it is the same for her. Every day she tells herself, this court astronomer, that he is forbidden, this prince.’

  ‘And every day, so too does the prince. She is forbidden, he tells himself. But it only makes him want her more. Though he will never...’

  ‘And she will never...’ Constance whispered.

  ‘Never,’ Kadar said softly, as his lips claimed hers.

  * * *

  Kissing Constance was like kissing the stars. Dazzling, fiery, she blinded him to everything but his desire. Her lips were so soft, she tasted so sweet, he could swear her scent was distilled essence of moonlight. He had dreamt of this kiss, he had wanted this kiss, longed for this kiss, since that first gentle touch of her lips on the beach three days ago. Her mouth opening to his, her kiss both tentative and bold, a combination that made his pulses race and his blood heat. He rolled her onto her back, running his fingers through her hair. How could curls be so silky? He kissed her eyelids, the line of her jaw, her throat, but the allure of her mouth could not be resisted. Her hands were in his hair, on his neck, on his shoulders. Her breath was coming in soft little gasps. When his lips claimed hers again, it was she who deepened the kiss, her tongue touching his, making his heart skip a beat, his pulse roar.

  She lay on the cushions, her hair spread out like a wild halo. Her breasts rose and fell, rose and fell, beneath the filmy silk of her robe. He kissed her again, and she moaned, and his already stiff member throbbed. Her hands fluttered over his shoulders, his chest. He kissed her throat, and then the hollow at the base. And then her mouth again, because he could not get enough of her mouth.

  He ran his hand down her side to the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip. ‘Captivating Constance,’ he whispered, kissing the tender skin just behind her ear.

&
nbsp; ‘Captivated,’ she said, rubbing her cheek against the stubble of his beard. ‘Captivated Constance,’ she said, ‘quite utterly captivated.’

  Their kisses became passionate. He stopped thinking, desire taking hold of him, breaking the iron bands of control which had been squeezing the life out of his body for days, weeks, months. It was such a relief, such a wild relief, just to be two bodies, to revel in the melding of flesh, to allow the simmering need which had been there since Constance first walked into the Royal Saloon to boil over, to envelop them both. He inhaled her kisses, he devoured her kisses, falling half on top of her, his leg between hers, groaning as she arched closer.

  Her robe had come undone. She was covered only by a filmy night garment, revealing the sweet swell of her breasts, the peaks of her nipples. Breast warm and heavy in his hand, nipple a hard bud, and Constance, eyes wide, suddenly still as he touched her. He lowered his head to take her nipple in his mouth through the sheer fabric. She sighed, a sound of pure pleasure that made his groin tighten. He sucked. She whimpered. And then she sighed. A very different sound. Her hand on his shoulder. A tiny shake of the head, and Kadar finally came to his senses.

  He sat up, thankful that his tunic more or less covered his modesty. Constance lay perfectly still, gazing up not at him, but at the stars. ‘Will they be shocked by our wanton behaviour, those people looking up at us?’ Before he could answer, she sat up, pushing her hair over her shoulder. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘“Look at that sky,” they will say. “Look at those stars. Is it any wonder that such a thing happened?” I don’t think they will be at all surprised. It was bound to happen. It may even be a good thing that it did, because now we will stop wondering.’

  Kadar, shifting on the ground in an unsuccessful attempt to get comfortable, was forced to laugh. ‘Very true. I can now stop asking myself whether your kisses can possibly be as delightful and arousing as I have imagined them. The problem is I will now move on to asking myself whether making love to you would be as delightful and arousing as I am very sure it would prove to be. I would imagine,’ he added hurriedly.