Bundle of Brides

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Bundle of Brides Page 43

by Kay Thorpe


  ‘Nurse Clemmy was my mother,’ Kahlil said. ‘Ahmed Mehdi Bhaya has noted the resemblance between the two of you, as have many of the people here.’

  ‘I look like your mother?’

  ‘You are the same type of woman,’ he said, in a way that made Lucy wonder whether that was a good thing or not.

  Determined, stubborn, and as spirited as my most troublesome thoroughbred, Kahlil was thinking, counting himself fortunate that Lucy could not read his thoughts. But he could see she was burning up with curiosity.

  ‘So your mother was a nurse?’

  ‘Yes, she was.’

  There was something in Kahlil’s eyes that made Lucy hesitate before pressing on. ‘I don’t mean to pry—if you’d rather not talk about her…’

  As he turned his luminous dark eyes on her Lucy felt their power through every inch of her body.

  ‘Of course I like to talk about her. Ask me anything you like.’

  ‘How did she meet your father?’ Lucy asked, her brow wrinkling in thought as she remembered the old standard lamp in the ruling Sheikh’s quarters and his father’s explanation for it…There were so many clues, and now she was wishing she had picked up on them sooner, given the older man a chance to talk about his Western wife.

  ‘She nursed him in hospital,’ Kahlil said, reclaiming her attention. ‘Something of a cliché,’ he admitted dryly. ‘But that’s where everything predictable finishes and the true love story begins.’

  He had Lucy totally hooked now. She was barely aware that the servants had backed away discreetly and, with the tribesmen already heading for their trucks and their camels, they were completely alone. ‘Go on,’ she murmured, her gaze locked on Kahlil’s face.

  ‘She was older than my father,’ he said, his face softening as he gazed into the fiery haze of the desert sunset. ‘She broke every convention when he brought her back here. Not only was she an older woman, but she insisted on continuing her work during her marriage to the ruling Sheikh of Abadan—something that had never been heard of before Nurse Clemmy came along.’

  ‘She sounds like quite a woman.’

  ‘She was.’

  ‘What happened?’ Lucy said softly, but seeing the look in Kahlil’s eyes she already dreaded his answer.

  ‘An accident in the desert,’ he said flatly. ‘She was trying to save the life of a child who had fallen down a ravine.’ He looked away and flinched, as if the memory caused him actual physical pain. ‘She should never have been out in the desert on her own.’

  Anger had begun to colour his voice, and Lucy felt a stab of guilt knowing her own reckless act had only rekindled terrible memories for him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, knowing it wasn’t enough.

  ‘I thought my father would never get over it…’ Kahlil stopped and eased his shoulders in a shrug. ‘Our people believe she is an angel now, looking down on them, guarding them and protecting them from harm—even arranging their marriages for them.’ His lips twisted halfway between a grimace and a smile.

  ‘She sounds like a saint.’

  ‘A saint with her feet firmly on the ground, as well as a wicked sense of humour,’ he said, lightening a little. ‘She always said she needed a sense of humour to survive her name.’

  ‘Her name?’

  ‘Clementine Ballantine.’

  ‘It sounds like her parents had the sense of humour,’ Lucy said, smiling.

  ‘She insisted on being called Clemmy, and took herself off to college, where she trained to become a nurse. Then she fell in love with my father and came to live here in Abadan.’

  ‘You said she continued to work?’

  ‘She revolutionised our medical system, and brought forward the cause of Abadanese women by several hundred years.’

  So what had gone wrong? How had such a wonderful legacy been allowed to slip away? What a tragedy that no one had picked up Nurse Clemmy’s torch. And now it was too late, Lucy mused, looking at Kahlil. Neither he nor his father would ever allow things to go back to the way they had been when Nurse Clemmy was alive.

  They were still bitter that Nurse Clemmy had left them, she realised suddenly, softening towards Kahlil as she felt his pain. Why could life never be simple? Why was the black and white of their relationship, the reasons behind their battle for custody of Edward, growing indistinct? Why did she have to care for Kahlil so much?

  ‘She sounds like a great woman,’ Lucy said sincerely. ‘I wish I could have known her.’

  ‘She was a great woman,’ Kahlil murmured distantly. ‘Truly great.’

  How they ended up in each other’s arms Lucy wasn’t quite sure. There was a moment when she was following Kahlil’s stare out into the deepening shadows, and then another when she was kissing him as if it was the most natural thing in the world…something they both wanted, both needed equally.

  ‘We’ll talk?’ Lucy whispered when he released her at last.

  ‘Later,’ Kahlil promised. Standing up, he drew her to her feet.

  The moon cast a silver net across the bed, bathing Lucy’s flushed face in light. She wondered if Kahlil could ever get enough of her, or she of him…They were both insatiable, she decided, running her fingertips through his thick glossy hair as he moved steadily down the bed, kissing every inch of her along the way.

  He had taught her the Eastern way of making love…drawing out the pleasure until she reached another level of consciousness—one that took her far beyond her worldly concerns and into another place, where pleasure ruled and sensation was everything. She felt safe, and happy, and completely loved. Reality couldn’t intrude here, she thought, sighing in anticipation of pleasure as he eased her thighs apart. Kahlil could do more with his tongue than any man could hope to achieve in a lifetime of fumbling…and his hands—

  Lucy cried out as he cupped her buttocks and brought her beneath him. ‘Again?’ she murmured with surprise.

  ‘I’m only just getting warmed up,’ he promised, slanting her a smile before claiming her mouth again with a deep, passionate kiss.

  They belonged together; they were made for each other…The words in Lucy’s head were borne out by Kahlil’s actions, and those actions were clearing her mind of thought so that now she could only move with him, rhythmically, deeply and steadily, putting every bit of her strength behind the thrust of her hips, the clutch of her fingers as she held on to his shoulders.

  With a deep groan of satisfaction Kahlil rolled away from her when they were spent. ‘You are a wildcat,’ he murmured, staring at the battle wounds on his arms. But he didn’t seem concerned as he reached for her and brought her close. ‘I cannot get enough of you,’ he murmured, and Lucy thought she detected an element of surprise in his voice as he turned to plant a tender kiss on her face. ‘Soon I may not be able to live without you at all.’

  He stopped when Lucy shifted position to stare at him in astonishment. ‘You really care for me?’

  ‘Of course I care for you,’ he said impatiently. ‘And that is why I am able to say this to you—’

  ‘What?’ Lucy whispered tenderly, brushing a lock of hair back from his face. This was the man she wanted for the father of her son; this was the man she knew she could love. ‘What do you want to say to me, Kahlil?’

  ‘I want to talk to you about getting married.’

  ‘Getting married?’ Lucy breathed in astonishment. ‘But Kahlil—’

  ‘For Edward’s sake,’ he broke in, staring deep into her eyes as he brought her hand to his lips. ‘You cannot be my mistress, Lucy. Edward’s parents must be married.’

  Elation ripped through Lucy, transporting her to a place she had only dreamed of before. But when she looked into Kahlil’s eyes, expecting some mirror image of her own heated emotion, she saw there was nothing. She made a small sound of uncertainty, frowning, suspended in a type of limbo. Like a feather on a breath of wind, she felt her emotions could be tossed either way.

  ‘Edward must be legitimate if he is to inherit the throne of Abadan one day,’ Kah
lil explained, sitting up as practical matters took over his thoughts.

  ‘I see…’

  ‘So I am proposing that we get married—what do you think?’

  Lucy swallowed, giving herself time to collect her thoughts. She wanted to feel as any other woman might feel at such a moment: elated, overjoyed, maybe even a little disbelieving, but absolutely sure, absolutely confident. But she was not confident. She was anything but confident. There was something Kahlil wasn’t saying. He had begun with a proposal when there should have been a few words of preparation first, or a special look, a lingering touch. There had been nothing.

  Lucy searched his face to be sure, but there was absolutely no emotion in Kahlil’s eyes. He had made her a practical proposition, and now she was expected to answer him.

  ‘It would only be for a short while, of course,’ he said, as if he thought that would offer her some encouragement. ‘I’d have a proper contract drawn up. Let’s say six months?’ His mouth tugged down enquiringly as he looked at her.

  Six months. Enough time to establish Edward’s legitimacy before admitting to the world they’d made a mistake.

  ‘Come now, Lucy—surely you can see what a good idea it is?’ he said when she still remained silent. ‘I’m not asking anything of you.’

  ‘You’re…not…asking…anything…of…me?’ Lucy repeated, finding it hard to breathe, feeling as if a leather strap had just been tightened around her chest. ‘Is that what you think, Kahlil?’

  She sprang away from him as he went to touch her, landing on the floor awkwardly and shaking him off when he lunged forward to steady her. Grabbing the sheet, feeling her nakedness like a towering shame, Lucy wrapped it tightly around her.

  ‘And after six months?’ she said, her face white with shock, her eyes glittering with disbelief. ‘What then, Kahlil?’

  ‘That’s when I release you,’ he said soothingly, swinging off the bed to go and comfort her.

  ‘Get away from me!’ Lucy warned, taking a step back. Snatching up his robe from a chair, she flung it at him. ‘Put this on. I can’t bear to look at you.’

  Kahlil frowned, suddenly conscious that he too was naked. Slipping the robe over his head, he gazed down at her, all the majesty of his position safely restored. ‘Before you cast any more accusations at me,’ he said, ‘won’t you listen to what I have to say?’

  ‘I’ll listen,’ Lucy said tensely, facing him. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of breaking down. She forced her breathing to steady, and straightened up so he would see she couldn’t be intimidated.

  ‘We will get married,’ Kahlil began, confident of her agreement. ‘Edward will be made legitimate and recognised by the Council as my heir. And then, in six months’ time, I will grant you a divorce. You will be free, Lucy. Free to do as you please. You know I would never stop you seeing Edward. I understand how much you love him.’

  It was too much. Lucy almost broke down. She had no idea how she managed to keep her eyeline steady and the tears safely locked behind her frozen stare. She doubted Kahlil had the slightest idea about love, let alone how much love she had for Edward. And as for the love she had for the man standing before her? That was the real tragedy, Lucy thought, listening but not hearing as Kahlil continued to put his case for a marriage of convenience. Sheikh Kahlil of Abadan had broken her heart, and nothing he could do to her now would ever cause her more pain.

  ‘I don’t want to raise any false hope,’ Kahlil said encouragingly, as if he sensed Lucy’s disappointment. ‘You must see that you could never sit on the throne of Abadan at my side—we will have to divorce. But we will live out of the public eye, I promise you. I would never subject you to gossip, or cruel innuendo. People will hardly know what has taken place—the upheaval for you will be minimal.’

  And at that point Lucy almost hit him. Anger welled from deep inside her as she faced up to him. She was good enough to bear Sheikh Kahlil’s child, but not good enough to sit beside him on the throne of Abadan.

  But what good would anger do? she wondered, feeling her fury quickly overtaken by despair. For Edward’s sake she would do this. For Edward’s sake she would marry the man she loved and then be humiliated by him after six short months, when he divorced her in front of the entire world.

  Lucy looked at Kahlil as if seeing him clearly for the first time. Even now she couldn’t hate him. She could only love him. And if six months was all Kahlil had to offer, then she would take six months.

  ‘I’ll go further,’ Kahlil offered when Lucy remained silent. ‘You can go home with Edward—as soon as you like. Breathing space,’ he explained, opening his arms in an expansive gesture. ‘This has been a tremendous shock for all of us. I can see you need time. You should have time,’ he said decisively, ‘and I’m going to give you all the time you need.’

  Lucy couldn’t prevent the small sound of contradiction escaping her throat, and was glad that Kahlil was so determined to convince her that he had come up with an acceptable plan he didn’t notice. There could never be enough time to come to terms with what was happening.

  ‘When will we go?’ she heard herself say. A sense of unreality swept over her. Going home was what she wanted more than anything—wasn’t it? But now the moment had come the thought of leaving Abadan filled her with dread. Then Edward swam into her mind—she would be with him—her face softened.

  ‘That’s better. I was beginning to think I would never see you smile again.’

  Was she smiling? Lucy wondered. The whole episode had shocked her so much she had no control over her responses

  ‘I know this must all seem contrived to you,’ Kahlil said. ‘But Edward cannot be my heir under the laws of Abadan unless and until we are married. That is a fact, and there is nothing that either of us can do about it. I take it you want Edward to inherit the throne of Abadan in due course?’

  His gaze rested on her face but Lucy’s mind went blank. This wasn’t the battle she had intended to fight—a clean-cut legal contest to secure custody of Edward. This had turned into something heart-rending and ghastly, something unbelievably bitter and disappointing. ‘Marriage…’ she murmured distractedly.

  ‘Our relationship must be legalised, recognised here in Abadan.’

  ‘Our relationship?’ The word grated on her. ‘Don’t you mean sex?’

  ‘Don’t cheapen what we have, Lucy,’ Khalil said, frowning. ‘I’m just stating facts plainly. I can see you need time to think about this, but you don’t need to worry, I’ll get my legal team onto it straight away. And if you have any difficulty locating a lawyer to act for you I’m sure I can help—’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Lucy said, quickly reclaiming her composure. ‘I’m quite capable of handling that side of things myself.’

  ‘If you’re certain?’

  ‘I’m positive.’

  ‘Lucy,’ Kahlil said, moving closer until he could brush aside the hair that had fallen over her face. ‘Come here to me.’

  Inwardly spent, Lucy moved like a rag doll and Kahlil brought her back into his arms. ‘Surely you can see that we both need some time apart?’ he murmured.

  And then he nuzzled his face against her cheek, and she felt his warmth, inhaled his special scent, and tears began to trickle unhindered down her cheeks. Was this how the Sheikh disposed of a mistress when he was tired of her? Lucy supposed she should count herself fortunate. Kahlil was offering her marriage for the sake of their son. And he didn’t have to. He must love Edward very much, she realised.

  ‘I’ll go and shower and dress,’ she said, wiping her eyes discreetly, ‘and then we can finalise the details.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LUCY’S cottage in Westbury on a freezing cold March morning was quite literally a world away from the sultry romance of a desert encampment. And as for the Golden Palace—that seemed nothing more than a mirage in the desert, like everything else in Abadan.

  Throwing back the curtains, she stared out at the main street running through the
village. The road was glittering with frost, making the desert seem further away than ever. Abadan seemed nothing more now than a fantasy kingdom that only the most inventive film director might have dreamed up.

  At least Westbury Hall looked magnificent after its face-lift. The work on the building was almost completed. Her own dreams might have been crushed, but she was glad someone else had taken up the challenge. Rumour said it had been turned into a luxury hotel and spa, and it did seem the most likely explanation that a leisure complex had been built. There was even a helicopter landing pad on the newly reinforced roof.

  As Edward claimed her attention Lucy saw how close he was to walking unaided, and felt a flash of regret that Kahlil wouldn’t be there to see his son’s first steps. But Kahlil had made his choice and he had to live with it, just as she had to face the prospect of a loveless marriage.

  Not loveless on her part, Lucy thought, feeling frustration sweep over her. She was in control of every other area of her life, but where Kahlil was concerned she seemed to have lost touch with reality. He had no love for her and it was time to accept that fact. Their marriage would be one of expedience only.

  And thanks to Kahlil she also had silent visitors to contend with. His security forces were always around—and not just the man lodged in her guest bedroom. There were more, she noticed, parked across the road in a discreet black sedan. She could pick them out easily.

  Turning away from the window to prepare Edward’s breakfast, Lucy couldn’t help thinking about their forthcoming marriage. It had turned her into something of a celebrity in the village, as well as the envy of her friends. Only she knew the reality of the situation. There wasn’t much romance in a marriage of convenience. And with the bodyguards part of her life now she was just as much a prisoner in Westbury as she had been captive to the Sheikh in Abadan. Kahlil could control events even from half a world away, Lucy realised, making a point of smiling at Edward when she realised he was watching her.

 

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