The Sheikh's Contract Bride: Theirs was an ancient debt, and the time had come to settle it... (The Sheikhs' Brides Book 1) Read online

  THE SHEIKH’S CONTRACT BRIDE

  Clare Connelly

  All the characters in this book are fictitious and have no existence outside the author’s imagination. They have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names and are pure invention.

  All rights reserved. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reprinted by any means without permission of the Author.

  The illustration on the cover of this book features model/s and bears no relation to the characters described within.

  First published 2017

  (c) Clare Connelly

  Cover Credit: adobestock

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  PROLOGUE

  He stared at his father and tried to pick from the relics of his body the familiar signposts.

  The intelligent eyes and fierce gaze. The strong chin. The broad shoulders that could – and frequently had needed to – carry the burdens of a nation on them.

  He studied the shrunken figure of a once great man and rallied himself to be brave.

  To smile as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  But his heart was ticking in synch with the clock above the convalescent’s bed. Time was marching on and soon it would take with it King Adin Al’Eba.

  “You must marry.”

  It was an old conversation. One that had flared up dramatically after Zahir’s first wife had died, leaving vacant the role of Sheikha of Kalastan.

  “I will,” he murmured, pressing his hand, so strong and tanned compared to his father’s, against Adin’s arm.

  “You must marry now. Before my end.”

  Zahir’s lips compressed out of habit. He was used to denying his father’s request. He had argued for years to remain independent. To resist the marriage that had long ago been planned for him. The marriage he had always despised.

  “I wish you to give me peace,” Adin continued, though the words were breathy and hoarse. He was tiring. “And to give our country stability.”

  Zahir didn’t respond as he wished to – that Kalastan was the most stable it had been in decades. Peace with Falina had been long-lasting; the region was stable. And yet, there were always enemies. Enemies who sought to usurp the powerful Al’Eba family that ruled the kingdom of Kalastan. A good marriage would only strengthen his family and his family’s place on the throne.

  “I will marry, father.”

  “She will be your bride?”

  A muscle ticked in Zahir’s jaw. He felt the same surge of emotion that besieged him whenever he thought of the woman he had been supposed to marry. And she was a woman now. Not like then, when he’d been asked to enter into a marriage contract with a child. A teenager! The idea had repulsed him at the time, and it still did.

  Now, she would be twenty three. Still young compared to his thirty four years.

  “She is the right choice,” Adin said, his mannerisms becoming agitated.

  “Of course she is,” Zahir agreed, nodding to disguise the impatience that was tearing through him.

  “Marry her, Zahir. Marry her soon.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was the kind of heat that was thick in the air.

  The mid-season Sun was beating down over London, casting it in a golden glow. Violet squinted up at the sky, a cerulean blue, and a smile pulled at her lips despite the tension that was knotting through her gut. She allowed herself a moment – just a small one – to pause on the footpath and feel the warmth of the day as it soaked through her. To warm away the worries that were becoming a permanent part of her life.

  We have no choice but to expel her, Miss Covington. Your sister has become a very bad influence on our student body. This latest scandal is merely the tip of the iceberg.

  And what a tip it had been! A naked photograph that Lilly had sent to her boyfriend had ended up on just about every student’s cell phone.

  Violet stifled a yawn. It had been days since she’d slept more than a wink – an unfortunate side effect of being the guardian of a sibling who would simply not yield to her authority.

  She looked down at the piece of paper she had clutched between her still-numb fingertips. Three institutions were listed. While each name sounded pleasant enough, Violet knew what they were. Places that ‘troubled’ girls were sent. Girls with too much money and no sense.

  The sun drifted behind a cloud and took Violet’s smile with it. She would never send Lilly somewhere like that, somewhere that her ‘Lilly-ness’ would be squashed out of her and leave in her place a society automaton. She began to walk again, past a café that was groaning under the weight of its lunch time patrons, and a pub filled with tourists seeking an authentic London experience, before turning down a narrow laneway.

  She didn’t give the limousine more than a cursory glance. Their flat was in an exclusive culdesac of Knightsbridge, just a stone’s throw from Harrods in one direction and Hyde Park the other. In fact, it was quite routine to see expensive cars pulled up on the double yellow lines.

  Only as she went to skirt around the car, stepping up onto the cobbled footpath, a door was opened and a man stepped out. He was short and balding, and he wore a grey business suit that showed a hint of darkening at the arm pits. Sympathy flooded her. The heatwave had been unexpected, and it certainly wasn’t the kind of day anyone in their right mind would want to be out wearing a tailored suit like that.

  Even in the simple sun-dress she wore, she’d been over-hot. Thoughts of a cool bath had been whispering the promise of relief to her all day.

  “Excuse me,” she murmured, flashing the melting man a tight smile as she went to step around him.

  “Miss Covington?”

  She paused, her eyes widening with obvious curiosity. “Yes?”

  “Madam, His Royal Highness Sheikh Zahir Al’Eba requests a moment of your time.”

  Except that Violet had a lifetime of experience covering her emotions, she might have felt her knees buckle beneath her. Hot and cold flushed through her. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, and old feelings of shame, self-disgust and a sense of deep rejection rolled through her. The man she had been destined to marry. The man she’d been raised to marry. The man who’d instead wed the beautiful and glamorous Anna Svorgen, leaving Violet to learn about it through the internet gossip sites. She revealed nothing of her turmoil, but it was rolling through her with determination.

  “I see,” she said, though of course, she didn’t.

  He’d married the other woman six years ago, and she had died six months later. The marriage had put a very effective end to their marriage contract. Violet considered any relationship with the man to be water under the bridge now. A part of a very distant life – one that had died with her grandfather.

  The man reached past her and instinctively she moved backwards, giving him the required room to open the back door of the limousine. Violet cast a quick glance into the cavernous space and saw only a pair of well-polished shoes attached to long legs.

  “In here?” She asked, arching a brow, wondering if there was any point in refusing to speak to him. Surely that would just suggest she was still
smarting over his rejection, and she wasn’t prepared to give him that impression.

  The servant nodded, fixing his gaze on a point over Violet’s shoulder.

  “Right.” She pressed her lips together and then, curiosity getting the better of any other emotion, she lowered her head and stepped into the limousine.

  There was a lot to take in, and in a small amount of time. The limousine itself was the last word in luxury. Leather seats, wood panelling, several discretely embedded television screens, a bar fridge tucked neatly between two of the seats, and the blessed relief of hyper-efficient air-conditioning.

  But that was all a background blur really to the shock of seeing the man she might have married, in an alternate universe.

  As a teenager, she’d thought him impossibly handsome. But over time, she’d rationalised that away easily. He was handsome, but no more so than a heap of men. Sure, he was big and broad and looked like he’d be equally at home in the boardroom as a gladiatorial ring, but her teenage infatuation had faded.

  Except it hadn’t.

  The second her eyes clashed with his she felt a lava-like burn of awareness.

  If anything, time had improved him. His hair, raven black, had not a single hint of silver. It was thick and cropped close to his head. He had a little stubble on his chin, but only a little, as though he’d shaved earlier that day and it had grown since then.

  In a word, he was virility.

  She swallowed, carefully keeping her face blanked of the over-heated thoughts. If she had been conducting her own appraisal, then he had been doing the same. Her cheeks felt warm as she realised his eyes were undertaking a slow, lingering study of her figure and she felt ridiculously exposed. The dress was hardly risqué – she’d chosen it for a meeting with Lilly’s school principal after all. But it showed more skin than she would have liked this man to see – a tent would have been preferable.

  Remembering anew all the reasons she had to hate him– the instrument of so much teenage heartbreak – she injected as much coldness into her words as possible. “Did you want to speak to me, or stare at me?”

  His eyes flashed with surprise as he lifted them to hers. His black, hers so violet they were almost purple. “You have grown since I last saw you.”

  “Well, that’s been about years, hasn’t it?”

  His lip twisted in a mocking smile but he didn’t answer.

  “So?” Violet asked, wishing her pulse wasn’t hammering so wildly. It was distracting her, making it almost impossible to process the strange turn of events.

  “At one time, we were intended for one another.”

  She nodded, not needing to fill the silence with a response. They had both been present when the terms of their marriage had been agreed.

  “I would like to fulfil that intention now.”

  Violet had been winded once, as a child, and she had that same sense of breathlessness now. She gaped a little like a fish might if plucked suddenly onto dry land. His words didn’t make sense. Was there a chance she’d misunderstood?

  “You would like … what?”

  His expression flickered with disapproval – a response she didn’t understand. “I want us to marry. And soon.”

  Violet shook her head, her mind swimming. “That’s … perhaps the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  His shrug was one of indolent arrogance. “You did not object to our marriage before.”

  “Yes, but before was … we were different people. You’re the last man on earth I would ever marry.”

  His lips were scornful. “Are you still upset over my preference for another woman?”

  Of course she was. Far more than she could ever let him know. “No. But things are different now. My grandfather was the reason I agreed to our marriage. And he’s dead.” Her voice cracked a little, despite the passage of time since Efani had passed away. “I have a life here. I am no longer a princess-in-waiting and I like it. I like not being royalty-ready.”

  He compressed his lips and she could tell that the objections she was raising were not what he expected. She let out a short, mirthless laugh. “Did you think I would actually agree to this?”

  “I know you will agree to it,” he said darkly. “It is simply a matter of discovering what motivates you.”

  Violet pressed back into her seat, careful to keep her legs from brushing his. Her troubled gaze observed the view beyond – the quiet alley, lined on both sides by grand old buildings. Her flat was just metres away. Normality would soon intrude on this bizarre scene.

  “Nothing on earth could motivate me to marry you.” She switched her attention back to his face. “Why do you want this?”

  “We have a deal,” he said, shrugging.

  “No,” she shook her head, so that her shoulder length blonde hair fluffed around her heart-shaped face. He watched as it lifted like angel’s wings, wondering if it would feel as soft to touch as it looked. “We had a deal. One I consider you firmly put aside when you married someone else.”

  “My wife is dead.”

  Such a brutally cold admission. She sent him a look of surprise and shook her head. Her response hid the deep empathy his words evoked. “That’s not relevant to our discussion.”

  “I am free to marry. And it is imperative that I marry you.”

  The statement hung between them like cartoon speech bubbles. Violet wondered if she could almost reach out and push them away. She stared at him, long and hard, confusion swirling through her, before she recognised his impatience. He was waiting for her – but what exactly did he expect her to say?

  “Pretending for a second that hell wouldn’t have to freeze over first, why?”

  His response was rapier sharp. “Why?”

  “Why now?”

  “You are a woman now,” he said, and his voice was deep and rumbly and it made her stomach twist with pleasurable anticipation. It made her feel more like a woman than ever before. Parts of her – feminine parts – that had never had much cause to stir were beginning to poke their heads up, demanding more information.

  “So?”

  “So now you are of an age that is suitable to consider such things.”

  “Oh, please. Give me a break. You’re actually trying to pretend you were being gallant in marrying someone else? That you did it to save me from becoming a child bride?”

  “I wouldn’t have let that happen. Our marriage was supposed to take place when I agreed. Not before.”

  “Right. But you married someone else. And if she hadn’t died – I’m sorry –,” she murmured, wincing at the indelicate statement. “You’d still be married and this conversation wouldn’t be taking place.”

  “True.” He shrugged. “And I am not here because I myself wish to marry you. Nor because I think we should stay married forever.”

  Pain slashed her gut and she told herself it was just frustration at having to go over this. “Then what do you want?”

  He shifted in the car, his bulky frame moving distractingly. “My father is dying.”

  “Oh.” An involuntary sound of sympathy escaped before she could suppress it. “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded, dismissing the platitude. “It has long been his most fervent wish for me to marry … and to marry you.”

  She nodded, knowing this much to be true. “My grandfather felt the same.” Her violet eyes pierced him. “He died a month after your wedding.”

  “I know.”

  “He died worried about me. About my sister. Knowing that we were orphans. That I would bear the shame of having been so unceremoniously cast aside.”

  Zahir didn’t acknowledge his feelings to her, but he’d long grappled with a sense of guilt at the way he’d mishandled his betrothal. He’d been so angry at the arranged marriage, so desperate to break free of the chains he saw as restrictive, that he’d married Anna with little care for how it would affect his Intended. Though, in his defence, he’d been positive that she would be grateful for the reprieve.

 
“I want to spare my father this same worry,” Zahir murmured instead.

  “I suppose it does you credit that you do.” Again, her eyes seemed to be lancing through his soul. “But I stopped caring about what you want a long time ago. The contract is destroyed. I have no reason to marry you now.”

  His lips twisted cynically. “As I said, it is simply a matter of finding the right inducement.”

  Her heart pounded heavily in her chest. “Believe me, there is no inducement that would suffice.”

  “Our original contract specified that you would receive a generous settlement on the occasion of our marriage.”

  “In two years I’ll mature into my inheritance,” she responded sharply. “I’ll have more money than I know what to do with.”

  “But that is still two years away,” he murmured. “And until then your finances are pinched.”

  Her cheeks darkened with a hint of pink beneath her honey coloured skin. “How do you know that?”

  “You are to be my wife. I have made it my business to know everything about you.”

  “I am not going to be your wife.”

  “For example, I know that you have a credit card that is almost at capacity. That your sister’s school fees are exorbitant.”

  “They’re covered out of her trust fund,” Violet interrupted quietly. Besides, she wouldn’t have to worry about them for much longer, now that Lilly was no longer a student at the prestigious academy. Was that a silver lining? It sure as heck didn’t feel like one.

  “I know this, too,” he said quietly. “I know that you might profess not to care about my father, but that you feel too much loyalty to your grandfather to resist my request.”

  She sucked in an angry breath, hating him for being right.

  “That even though he passed away, you know that he wanted this marriage.”

  “He wanted my happiness more,” she said, almost certain that it was true.

  “You will be happy, Violet.” He leaned forward, surprising her by catching Violet’s hands in his. “I make this a promise. You will have money. Your own suite of rooms. And with the exception of public duties and visits to my father, you will not need to see much of me.”