“Even if that means that I won’t be by your side?”
“Ah, well, see, there’s the problem. You’re going to have to go back and forth. Because I must be married as well, but whereas you only have to show a wedding ring and be legally wed,” he continued, moving closer, “I have to produce an heir.”
Ilara stared up at him. Had he mentioned that before now? He probably had, but she’d been so overwhelmed by everything else, including the prospect of marrying a man she barely knew, that the idea of producing an heir hadn’t really sunk in. But now…the image of exactly how they would produce an heir, the act of creating that heir, hit her right between the eyes.
“I think we need to discuss this in a bit more detail,” she whispered, but her eyes dropped to his lips. Then back up. “I don’t think we should…”
“Relax, Ilara,” he said with a chuckle. “There’s no time limit on the creation of that heir. So we can relax and get to know one another.”
Relax? Was that even possible around a man like Jabril? A more accurate statement would be, was there any other man like Jabril? He was a pretty…incredible man, she thought as her eyes drifted once again to his lips.
“Besides, we’ve already slept together.”
She pulled back, shocked by his words. “I haven’t…we didn’t!”
He threw back his head, laughing at the horror in her eyes. “Of course we did! Just a few hours ago, in fact. You woke up in my arms and I thought you looked delightful, once my chin recovered from meeting your head.”
Her gaze moved lower, peering at his chin. There wasn’t even a bruise and she looked up again, realizing that he was teasing her. “You’re fine!” she sighed, and looked around at all of the people who looked incredibly industrious suddenly.
“You did a good thing here today, Ilara,” Jabril said, moving closer. “You’ve given them hope and purpose.”
“Yes, but marriage,” she gasped, trying to tamp down on the panic. “It’s such a huge step and we don’t even know each other! We’re strangers! We met two days ago and…”
“And do you have another willing candidate waiting and ready to marry you?” he asked, tucking her hand onto his arm as he led her towards the back of the truck.
“Well, no,” she grumbled. “But I’d like to point out that it isn’t particularly gentlemanly of you to point that out.”
“I know. And I’m sure you’ll find adequate retribution for my sins later. But right now, we really need to get this food unloaded and hidden while everyone is preparing for our wedding.”
She was just about to reach out and grab the box when he said that and she turned to level a glare at him instead. “You know that I will get you back for that,” she replied.
He winked as she took the box. “I’m looking forward to it,” he turned to get the next box. They carried the boxes over to the first building they came to and peeked inside. “This seems like a good enough place,” he put the box filled with cans of food on the floor. “It should be safe enough and out of sight.”
They unloaded several other boxes, then walked around the town.
“We’re not really getting married today, right?” she asked, smiling automatically when several of the kids raced across the dusty street in front of them, their arms loaded with what looked like weeds.
He watched the kids as well, enjoying their enthusiasm. “Oh yes, my dear. Today is our wedding day.”
“Right. We’re doomed,” she sighed and dodged teams of men carrying wooden boards. “What in the world?” she asked, staring as they bowed, then hurried down the street.
“My lady!” a woman called out. She raced up to Ilara, did an awkward curtsey, and straightened, her eyes laughing and hopeful. “This way? Please?” she asked and gestured towards another building. “We will get everything ready for you!”
Ilara didn’t know what to do. Was this truly happening? Was she really about to be married? Here? It seemed so completely outrageous! But the woman was insistent, taking Ilara’s hand and leading her towards a building across the street.
She looked over her shoulder at Jabril. He crossed his arms over his chest so that his biceps and shoulder muscles bulged enticingly. “You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Just go and we’ll figure things out later. Okay?”
The past few days had been…overwhelming! This couldn’t be happening!
“Trust me,” he said softly, correctly reading the worry in her eyes. “It will be okay. Just…get through today and we’ll help these people as we sort everything out later.”
She stood there for a moment, the woman tugging gently but persistently on her hand. Finally, she sighed. “You’re right. We’ll sort through this later. Just…I’ll see you in a while.”
And with that, she followed the woman into the building. There was a gaping hole in one of the walls and the sight actually helped convince Ilara to go through the motions. Her uncle, or someone her uncle hadn’t been supervising, had done this to this group of gentle people.
This town, and all of the people who had lived in the burned down houses she’d passed yesterday needed and deserved her support now. Jabril was right, they would sort it out later. Right now, get married so she could take power.
This all seemed so trite! Was her story really heading this way? Would her friends back in California ever believe that, in less than seventy-two hours, she’d gone from a financial advisor to a married woman about to wrest control of her country back from a rumored despot? Did things like this even happen in real life?
It sounded like something out of a fairytale!
And yet, here she stood, smiling politely to a group of women who pulled a lovely, white wedding dress from a back room, holding it high so that the dust from the rough, wooden floor wouldn’t mar the hemline.
“Oh, my!” she gasped, admiring the soft fabric. It wasn’t silk or even fine linen. The material was rough cotton. But it was lovely. Truly lovely! Probably a couple of inches shorter than her five feet, six inches, but she knew that she could make it work.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling to the women who all beamed with delight, eager to help and be a part of Ilara’s wedding. “Why is this here?”
One of the women blinked, shrugging slightly. “My daughter was supposed to be married in this dress last spring. But her fiancé, he was taken away. We don’t know where.”
Ilara swallowed. People have gone missing? Had they been imprisoned? What in the world was going on here? When had her uncle lost control? This was truly insane!
“Where is your daughter?”
“She lives in Piara now, with my sister,” the woman explained. “She’s still fighting, trying to find her fiancé. They were very much in love.” The woman shook her head, looking at the floor. “I don’t think she will ever find him now.” She looked up and forced a smile through her tears, an expression that broke Ilara’s heart. “But you…you will marry Sheik Jabril and find her man, yes?”
“Yes. I’ll find out where he went. What is his name?”
“Ruthar Akbar,” the woman replied, a slight blush to her cheeks. “He was a good man, one of the best farmers.” The other ladies twittered and Ilara knew that there was more to the man’s appeal. “All the ladies thought he was a romantic hero!” The other ladies sighed, smiling as they nodded in agreement.
“Nothing like your sheik!” one of them argued.
Another wave of nervous laughter followed. “Yes, your sheik is a bit extraordinary,” one woman stated and the others nodded in agreement to that as well.
“I don’t think my Lacy would have been able to handle Sheik Jabril!” the woman said.
“Oh, but she would have loved to try, right?”
“Who wouldn’t?” they laughed.
One of the ladies led Ilara to the back and Ilara looked at the small bathtub filled with warm water. “Where did the water come from?’ she asked. “I thought the river had dried up.”
The ladies helped Ilara take off her clothes. She was a bit self-c
onscious of the disrobing at first, but the ladies were insistent and treated the moment as if it were perfectly normal. Hiding her breasts with her arms crossed over her chest, Ilara stepped into the bath and sank down into the water, intending to scrub herself clean as quickly as possible.
But no! A quick scrubbing wasn’t good enough for the ladies! They insisted on helping her with her bath as well. Ilara knew that this happened in other cultures, but she’d never experienced it personally. Her nanny growing up had insisted that Ilara bathe herself. And having lived in the United States for the past several years, she was used to quick, efficient showers.
So, being bathed felt strange, but Ilara got through it. No soft terry cloth towel for drying off though. Ilara wrapped a rough cotton fabric around her when she stepped out of the tiny bath basin, then rubbed herself dry. This she didn’t need help from the ladies to accomplish and stepped back when they started to try. “I’m fine,” she asserted firmly. The ladies only tittered and moved over to the table where clothes had been laid out.
Ilara watched carefully as they brought over clothes. She appreciated the clothing, but felt awkward with their help. How did one dress when three ladies were holding stockings to slide on? And why would she even need stockings? This felt surreal, she thought, but kept herself from laughing, knowing that the sound would be a bit hysterical if she allowed herself the luxury.
Finally, the white, cotton dress was slipped over her head and she looked down, startled by how pretty it looked. The white fabric floated over her figure, hugging her breasts then skimming over her hips. The ladies led her over to a broken mirror and Ilara smiled at the image reflected back at her. This wasn’t just a white dress. Someone had hand crafted this dress and made it into something special. The neckline was tight and lower than she would have preferred, but the edges had small, white flowers embroidered along the edge, adding a romantic touch. Overall, the dress was truly lovely and she was honored to wear it for this day, even if the day wouldn’t be an official wedding for her.
A moment later, several teenage girls burst into the room, two of them carrying a handmade crown of flowers.
“Oh, my!” Ilara gasped as the girls reverently brought it to her. Instead of taking it from the girls, Ilara bent down and allowed the girls to place it on her head. Then she hugged each of the girls who were delighted to be allowed to participate in this event.
“Thank you!” she whispered to the group of giggling girls standing behind the two who had brought the flower tiara. They all blushed, accepted her praise, then turned and hurried out of the room.
“It is time!” another woman announced stepping through the doors. “And with your generosity, we’ve even created a wedding feast for you!”
Ilara had no idea why they’d bothered. This group of people were starving, from the looks of their clothes and gaunt faces. But just as she was about to say that she didn’t need a feast, Ilara realized something. This ceremony wasn’t for her. It was for them. It was to give them hope and something to think about besides the horror that their lives had become over the past several years.
So instead of saying anything, she smiled and bowed her head in gratitude. “Thank you. For everything.”
They all twittered, delighted. And then it was time! How silly was this? She was sort-of, kind-of, marrying a man she’d met three days ago and who had been her enemy before that.
The town square had been transformed! Literally, everything around the town was now covered in whatever flowers could be found. And all of those weeds? They were magically wrapped around the posts and columns of the buildings and the fountain that used to be bubbling with fresh water but was now dry. Hours ago, it had represented the desolate hardships these people had endured. But now, it was draped in flowers and greenery, looking like a fresh, spring breeze had blown away the sadness.
Someone started playing a fiddle.
Jabril stepped forward, his scarred face relaxed and serene. Did he know the mental gymnastics she was going through? Did he suspect she was frantically searching for another solution? Marriage seemed like such a drastic measure.
And yet, was there any other option? She’d believed her uncle’s lies. And yes, Ilara was starting to accept that her uncle was doing this, not someone else. But even if her uncle hadn’t ordered the attacks on these people, he should have known what was going on. Either way, she had to fix this. And if it meant marrying a man she’d met three days ago, she’d do it.
That resolve was reinforced when she saw everyone watching her. She’d hesitated and now worried looks were exchanged, murmurs filtered to her terrified brain.
Taking in a deep breath, she relaxed her shoulders, letting the air out slowly. “I can do this,” she whispered to herself. Motivation, she thought. She stood looking out at the villagers and the hastily decorated town, not moving despite the music that indicated she should walk down the make-shift aisle.
But her heart ached for what these people had gone through. These people, her people, were once again scared. Their hopeful expressions were turning panicky. These were her people and if she had to marry a stranger to save them, to protect them, she was going to do it!
She stepped forward and the fear eased into smiles. “One step forward,” she whispered to herself. “Just one step closer and this will all be over soon.”
A moment later, she reached the officiant and Jabril stepped forward, taking her hands in his. He squeezed her fingers lightly, telling her that he understood what she was going through. At least, she hoped that was the silent message. Again, she reminded herself that she’d only known this man for three days! Three freaking days! And yet, he was here with her, doing the same thing, sacrificing just as much. This wasn’t even his country. Well, in his mind, it was, she acknowledged. But even still, he could have taken this country back years ago. It wasn’t strategic to Piara’s national security. It was a small corner of the world, an isolated region that had very little to offer other than smiles and a warm welcome to tourists.
But he was here for the same reason she was: to protect the people who needed his help.
Another breath. Another exhale. She didn’t hear the words of the officiant saying the ancient words that would bind them together for the rest of their lives. She felt the tender warmth of Jabril’s hands and the warm breezes combing through her hair.
“May I have the ring?” the officiant asked.
Ilara jumped. A wedding ring? She didn’t have a ring! Three days ago, she hadn’t anticipated being here, marrying anyone! She’d thought she’d be back in California, laughing on the phone with her uncle about the crazy rumors that some leaders thought about Ditra!
Fortunately, Jabril was more prepared. Of course he was! He’d flown all the way to California, ready to marry her! Of course he had wedding rings already purchased.
One of his guards stepped forward, obviously acting as groomsmen, and placed two rings in the officiant’s palm.
“I bless these rings, asking for strength and warmth for this union.” He handed one to each of them. Ilara took the warm gold ring, looking down at it. Just a plain, gold band but…it was so much more! It was a powerful symbol of what they were doing at this moment, what this moment would mean to each of them for the rest of their lives!
“With this ring, I bind you to my future and your future to mine,” he intoned, reciting the ancient words.
He curled her fingers over the ring.
It was now her turn. She took the ring, swallowing past the lump in her throat, and took Jabril’s hand. “With this ring, I bind you to my future and my future to yours.”
“You are now husband and wife,” the man announced, clasping his hands over and above theirs. “Forever will your lives be bound together after this moment. Go in peace.” With a chuckle, the man turned to Jabril. “You may kiss the bride!”
Jabril stepped forward, shocked at the sensation those words sparked inside of him. She was his wife, he thought as he lowered his head for a b
rief kiss. His wife! Even after days traveling throughout the rough countryside, no makeup and wild flowers around her head, she looked shockingly beautiful. And smelled of those flowers too!
It occurred to him that he should be relieved to know that Ditra was now back under his control. Marrying Ilara meant he could take charge and fix things. But that wasn’t what he thought. At this moment, all he could think about was finally kissing Ilara, feeling her lips against his and know what she tasted like.
As soon as his lips brushed against her trembling mouth, he knew that one brief kiss would never be enough. Not with Ilara. Moving closer, his hands moved around her waist, pulling her in for a deeper kiss. His head angled lower, wanting more, needing more. She must have felt it too because she lifted her face up to his kiss, her lips softening as he kissed her again. And again. Her hands crept up, clinging to his shoulders and he wanted to feel all of her clinging to him, to know that she was all his and she wanted him even a fraction of how much he wanted her.
His hands moved up her back, sliding higher to hold her head. He wasn’t aware of the flower crown falling from her head as his hands dislodged the pins.
And still, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough!
But sounds filtered through his haze and he pulled back, trying to figure out what was happening. As he lifted his head, he noticed that Ilara’s lips were swollen, wet and…open. Ready for more! He wanted to pull her closer and give her that ‘more’! He wanted to…
“Congratulations!” the officiant said, laughing as he patted their shoulders.
Jabril looked around, finally noticing the townspeople were clapping and cheering, laughing and patting themselves on the back. The wedding! Damn, he’d lost all sense of decorum during that kiss!
Looking down at Ilara, he felt her bury her face against his chest and laughed, completely understanding her embarrassment. He felt it a bit as well, although he powered through it, pretending that it was all good and he’d meant for that kiss to get out of control.
Immediately, the crowd shifted, calling Ilara and Jabril down from the makeshift stage to the porch where someone, he had no idea who, had created a feast. It was a testament to the generosity of these people that they were literally starving, and yet, they’d taken their bountiful gift and made it into something special for the wedding. The food was basic, but probably more than they’d seen in months, possibly years.
Resisting the Sheik's Commands (The Diamond Club Book 1) Page 6