Barron smirked at her, not even bothering to look abashed at his behavior. “What’s it to you? You didn’t have any interest in coming to my bed last night.”
“Or ever,” Nora said. “But that’s beside the point. I’m not putting the ring on, and I’m not marrying you. Not tomorrow and not ever.”
“So you don’t want access to your trust fund, then?”
Nora said nothing. The smirk fell away from Barron’s lips. Where had the waiter gone off to, anyway?”
“All right, I’ve got it,” said Barron. “You’re willing to give up access to everything you have over a…minor misunderstanding.”
“I think I understand what happened perfectly. And it didn’t seem minor to me.”
Barron looked to his left, then his right, then hunched down next to the table. “Last night was nothing. That woman meant nothing to me, and you should know that.”
It took everything Nora had not to roll her eyes. “Let it rest, Barron.”
“I don’t know a man on the planet who doesn’t get cold feet before his wedding. That’s all it was.” He laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in his eyes. “Think of it, Nora. We can’t disappoint all our families and friends at the last minute like this.”
“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you climbed into bed with someone else. I’m not going through with the wedding. I don’t know how many times I have to say it for you to understand.”
Barron’s expression hardened. “Fine. Make me beg for it, if that’s what you want to do. But it’s not me who’ll be in dire straits if you call it off now. It’s you. Do you even have a contingency plan?” A note of satisfaction crept onto his face. “Have you talked to your father yet? I’m sure he’ll say exactly what I’m saying. Nobody wants you to put yourself in a bad position just to get some petty revenge.”
“More coffee, miss?” The waiter stood at the side of the table, his expression absolutely neutral. Who knew? Maybe people in exercise clothes did, in fact, kneel next to tables and try to convince their ex-fiancées to stay with them every day at the Corinthia. Nora nodded. As the waiter poured the coffee, he peered over the table, seeming to notice Barron for the first time. “Would you like me to bring a chair, sir?”
Nora waved off the suggestion. “He won’t be staying.”
“Very well. Anything else I can get for you? Orders for breakfast?”
“I’ll need a few more minutes with the menu.” Nora smiled until the waiter stepped away, then looked back at Barron with an exasperated sigh. “Was there anything else you wanted? I’m about finished with this conversation.”
Barron bowed his head as if she were the one being a troublesome prat. After a moment he raised his head again, fixing her with a deadly serious expression. “Don’t do this. It’s a better choice for us both to get married tomorrow, just as we planned. And you’re the biggest beneficiary of us all. You deserve your trust fund, Nora, and you shouldn’t throw away everything you deserve because of one mistake—”
“So you have to marry to get access to your trust fund?”
Rashid’s voice broke across Barron’s, and Nora felt a wash of relief. It was genuinely pleasant to turn her attention to her old friend. “Yes.”
Rashid cocked his head to the side. “Does it have to be to this nitwit?”
Something unlocked in her chest, and Nora laughed. “Come to think of it, no.”
He leaned forward, his face illuminated by a half smile. “Then marry me.”
4
Nora and Barron stared at Rashid, the both of them wearing twin blank expressions. The noise of the lounge moved into the silent space between the three of them, Barron still awkwardly crouched next to the table and Nora sitting so rigidly straight that she seemed like a different person than the sunny girl Rashid had known.
Even in that silence, he knew.
It was the perfect solution for both Nora and himself.
Nora needed access to her trust fund. That was the one thing Barron had been right about. It wasn’t fair for her to go on without it indefinitely because Barron was a poor excuse for a man. But she wasn’t the only one who needed to marry.
It was an old custom in Omirabad that the country’s leaders were required to marry by their thirtieth birthdays in order to assume their official roles in the royal household. Rashid’s father Rafiq had, in fact, dissolved the marriage law that had been on the books in Omirabad just before Rashid was born. Rafiq’s own brother had been stripped of his titles under the law, and he wanted nothing to do with it.
That wasn’t true of the tribal people in the desert, however. They still held fast to the old ways, and it would be easier—much easier—for Rashid if he could carry on the tradition. As the crown prince, it was his duty to act as liaison to the tribal people. They made up a third of Omirabad’s population. Their beliefs could not be so easily changed, even after thirty years.
And more than that, Jazmin had seen his heart better than he had.
“Marry you?” Nora said, scattering his reverie to the wind.
“It’s the answer to both our needs.” He didn’t have time to explain the history of Omirabad’s traditions now—that would have to wait. “I need to be married in order to keep my place in the royal household, and you need access to your trust fund. Two birds, one stone.” He grinned at the idiom. “Not to make it sound so grim.”
Nora smiled back, color coming to her cheeks. “Rashid, you can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“No, you can’t.” Barron boomed, and Rashid tore his eyes from Nora’s face. Barron had gone a mottled shade of red that only deepened as he stood up to his full height. “You can’t possibly think you can propose to another man’s fiancée.”
Rashid gestured to the ring that still sat on the table next to Nora’s cup and saucer. “It doesn’t seem that anyone here is your fiancée.”
“Unbelievable,” said Barron, his voice sharp. “Unbelievable.” He slammed a fist down onto the surface of the table, rattling the china. “It’s time for you to go, Rashid. It’s time for you to take yourself back to Omirabad where you belong and leave us in peace.”
Rashid felt, rather than saw, the presence of his head security guard, Tavi, behind him.
“Leave,” shouted Barron, his voice filling every available inch of the room. The background hum of the restaurant fell away.
“Is there a problem, Sheikh Rashid?”
Rashid held up a hand. Tavi was perfectly capable of handling Barron, but there was no need for additional drama.
“Hello there.” A man in a tailored suit stepped to the side of the table. “I’m Marcus Grey, manager of the Crystal Moon Lounge. Is there anything we can do for all of you?”
Barron’s lip curled. “Yes! My fiancée and I would like this man”—he stabbed a finger at Rashid—“removed from the premises. Immediately.”
The manager turned his attention to Rashid, eyebrows raised. Rashid fingered a cufflink and kept his face neutral, the exact opposite of Barron, dressed in exercise clothes and apoplectic.
“Sir?” said the manager.
“I’m of the opinion that Mr. Rochester should be escorted to a place where he can cool down. I can have my private security handle that, if you’d prefer.”
Mr. Grey looked at Nora. “Miss?”
There was a faint flush to Nora’s cheeks, but she didn’t look upset. “Is it up to me?” she said with a little laugh. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly make that call.” She drained her coffee, then stood up. Rashid was on his feet in an instant. She took a deep breath, then reached for the ring on the table.
His heart stopped. No—not after Barron’s display. She couldn’t—
Nora turned the ring in her fingers, then put it back down on the table.
After that, there was no hesitation. She came around the table and took Rashid’s arm. “We’ll be leaving, Mr. Grey. You may deal with Mr. Rochester as you see fit.”
They turned away, an
d Rashid felt Nora’s grip on his arm tighten. He couldn’t help smiling. This was a triumph.
“Nora!” shouted Barron. “Nora, come back here. Nora, get back here!”
She twisted her head around to glare at Barron. Rashid wiped the smile off his face.
“Elevators,” she said.
“That’s where I’m headed,” Rashid said.
It wasn’t until the doors were sliding shut behind them that she spoke again. “I haven’t agreed to anything,” Nora said, still holding on to his arm. “But I’m ready to get out of here.”
* * *
Nora leaned back in her chair across from him, letting out a heavy sigh. She put a hand to her forehead as a rueful smile flashed across her face. “How unbelievably mortifying. Can you believe him?” She sat up and shook her head. “Of course you can. That’s why you tried so hard to warn me.”
“I did,” Rashid agreed.
“I knew…some of it,” Nora admitted. “I knew he wasn’t a great man, or even a good one. I think I tried to know as little as possible.”
“If you want to talk about it…” Rashid offered.
“Not much.”
“We can, if you ever do,” he said. It was the kind of thing he would have offered back at Westminster, and now that they were alone in his penthouse suite, the intervening years seemed a lot shorter. The air seemed fresher, somehow, the sunlight over London brand new. The whole world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
They’d come to the suite first thing, since Barron knew which room Nora was in and he was still technically a guest of the hotel. Now they sat on either side of a round table in front of a picture window that looked out over London, a breakfast that was both enormous and enormously delicious spread between them.
“I’d rather talk about…your proposal.” Nora was working her way through another cup of coffee, and she looked at him over the rim as she took a sip. “Is the situation really so pressing with you?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “According to the laws of Omirabad, no. But according to the traditions, yes. I’m the liaison to the desert tribes, and they won’t recognize me as a member of the royal family unless I marry by the time I’m thirty.”
“And your birthday’s only a month away.”
That brought a smile to his face. “I never would have thought Nora Williams would remember my birthday after all these years.”
“And why not?” Her cheeks went a lovely shade of pink. “We were—are—friends.” His heart beat faster at the pink of her cheeks alongside the red of her hair. “Which is why I’m considering your proposal, even though…”
“Even though what?”
“You were engaged last night.” Nora’s green eyes narrowed. “Are you not engaged anymore?”
“No, I—” He put down his fork. “After I saw you in the garden, my fiancée—former fiancée—Jazmin came out looking for me. We had a…bit of a heated discussion about it.”
“About what, exactly?”
“Why I was so interested in calling off your wedding,” Rashid admitted. “You should know that it was never a love match with Jazmin. It was…a matter of convenience. She grew up alongside us at the palace, and with my birthday coming up, it made sense. We were both fond of each other, but never in love.”
Nora frowned. “Are you sure about that?”
“She said as much herself when she released me from the marriage contract. My wedding to Jazmin is officially off. But I still need to marry. Even though my father dissolved the official laws requiring a marriage by my thirtieth birthday, I still want to uphold the tradition.”
Nora nodded. “And I still want access to my trust fund. I’m planning to start a women’s health clinic.”
“You’re sure there’s no way your father would relent?”
She grimaced. “Even if he were that kind of man—and he isn’t—the stipulation is written into the trust. I can’t get around it. But my father isn’t in the business of making things easier for me. I think he only bothered to maintain our relationship out of a hope he would benefit from the trust fund, too. I’m sure he’d find a way to charge me back rent,” she said ruefully.
The thought of Nora being unhappily under her father’s thumb twisted at his heart. It wasn’t right, letting his emotions get the best of him like this, but here he was. “I hope you had time to do something for yourself.”
Nora brightened, her grin infectious. “Oh, yes. I went to university for a degree in midwifery and birth science, and after I graduated I got my certification as a birth doula. I’ve been volunteering in several of the clinics around London.” She straightened, eyes alight. “I even went on a Doctors Without Borders trip. Oh, I’d love to do it again.”
Nora looked positively wistful at the thought of another service trip. Wanting to help others the way she did—that was princess material.
“There’s room for you to help people in Omirabad,” he said. “If you accept my proposal, that is.” That help would, of course, have to be less hands on, but Nora would know that. “A passion like yours might be a very good thing, since my duties keep me very busy.” He ran a thoughtful hand over his chin. “I’m not sure how much time we’ll have to spend together.”
Nora put her coffee cup down. “Would this be a marriage of convenience, then?”
No. The answer came instantly to his mind, but the right thing to say didn’t follow. With every passing minute, he wanted more and more from a marriage to Nora. Perhaps his feelings for her had never stopped. They’d only been put away for a while. “What would you want from our marriage, Nora?”
Nora looked down at the plates in front of her, and he was pleased to see the pink in her cheeks darken a shade.
Her phone vibrated on the table, the edge pressed up against a plate in a way that magnified the sound. Nora jumped, then tilted her head to look at the screen.
“I’m sorry—” She pressed at the phone, one button, then another. But the vibrating only started again. “It’s my father. And…” Another round. “Barron.”
Nora got to her feet, and Rashid jumped to his.
“I should go,” Nora said, tucking the phone into the clutch purse she carried, and he stepped around beside her.
Rashid looked down into Nora’s eyes. “If you need me—”
“Will we need a marriage contract, too?” she said in a rush. “Or will a handshake do the trick?”
The words hit him in a burst of joy, and he stuck out his hand. She took it, and they shook.
Rashid couldn’t help himself. He tugged her in a bit closer, putting an arm around her shoulders, and leaned down to kiss her cheek.
At the last moment, she turned her head, and just like that he was doing the thing he had always wanted to do at Westminster—kissing her perfect lips.
The kiss was full of energy and potential, her lips soft and yielding, and Rashid felt his soul bend toward her. It was several heartbeats later when Nora pulled back with a little, “Oh.”
Oh, indeed.
5
The ceiling was exactly the same.
Nora stretched her arms above her head, then out to the sides. She kicked both her legs out and took up all the available room. It was another luxurious king-sized bed, but it was a floor up from her previous room at the Corinthia.
“Thank God there is no wedding today.” There was no one else in the room to answer back, other than a cold strum of doubt low in her gut. It was not her wedding day. There would be no trip down the aisle, no exchanging of vows, and no start of the countdown clock to her trust fund.
Nora sat up and ran her hands over her hair, smoothing down the red waves. Rashid had arranged for her to stay at the Corinthia until they left together. It had taken him all of five minutes to have her room upgraded to a suite on a different floor.
She wouldn’t be going back to any of her old rooms. Not her old room at the hotel, and not her room at her father’s house. No. Today she was set to jet off into a new life in Omirab
ad with Rashid.
Another wave of nervousness moved through her, and she threw off the covers, getting up and rocking onto the balls of her feet. How could she have agreed to this? If she’d gone ahead with marrying Barron, she’d at least have been able to stay in London on familiar ground. Would a year as his wife have been so bad? After she had access to the trust fund, the sky was the limit. She’d have no trouble affording the city’s best divorce lawyers.
Omirabad was another world.
Nora had never been there, but she’d learned a little about the Middle Eastern country over the course of her friendship with Rashid. He’d described a capital city that was an oasis in the desert, surrounded by green irrigated fields of crops and rolling deserts. He’d described the heat in the summer and the relative cool of the winter. And he’d described a society that was still very invested in its traditions.
Nora stepped into the shower and let the water run over her hair.
How was she supposed to navigate that kind of life? And life in the royal palace, no less? All the wealth that Nora had known had come from her mother’s family. But she’d grown up without the benefit of her mother’s advice, because she’d died before Nora was old enough for preschool. Her father had maintained a lavish lifestyle, but he was still rough around the edges, and it wasn’t as if Westminster had prepared her for a life among Middle Eastern royalty.
A sore thumb. She’d stick out like a sore thumb. Nora wanted to keep up with practicing midwifery and assisting women in labor as a doula. How was she supposed to square that with a life in the palace with Rashid? She’d had half a plan to find underserved clinics in the capital city and offer her services, but that had been in the middle of the night, when all of this still seemed reasonable and not utterly impossible to mesh with what she wanted from her life.
The Sheikh’s Convenient Bride: Omirabad Sheikhs Book One Page 3