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

  She let his proposal sink in, examining it from each angle. “And you said this doesn’t have to be forever?”

  His smile was pure, sexy arrogance, as though her acquiescence was now a foregone conclusion. “Regrettably, my father has only months left. Of course, we would not divorce as soon as he dies. There would need to be a suitable period of mourning, a time of respect. Then, perhaps around the time your trust fund becomes accessible, we will divorce quietly. You may retire from public life; leave the country – do whatever you wish. And with the knowledge that you gave a great man, a man who has dedicated his life to others, the gift of peace right at the end.”

  His words thundered goose bumps across her flesh but she rolled her eyes, hoping she seemed dismissive of the sentiments. Marriage to Zahir? How could she do it?

  “But I don’t … I mean … I don’t even know you.”

  He shrugged, as though it were an irrelevance. “You do not need to know me in order to marry me.”

  She laughed. “Do you hear how absurd that is?”

  “It is not, to me. Nor was it to you at one time. You were happy to sign the contracts back then.”

  “I was a teenager. Caught up in the fantasy of a royal marriage.”

  “Yes, precisely.” He nodded firmly. It was one of the main reasons he’d refused to marry her. “And now you are a woman.”

  Her pulse trilled quickly at the base of her throat. “I need … to think about it,” she heard herself mutter.

  “No. We will marry as soon as we return to my palace. Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” She squeaked, staring at him in total shock.

  “I have made all the necessary arrangements. Your sister will have the suite of rooms that are adjacent to yours. Her own apartment. I will leave it to you to decide if you would like her to enrol in one of our private schools, like my brother and I attended, or if you would prefer her to continue her studies with tutors, and in the confines of the palace.”

  “Lilly.” Violet’s expression shifted remarkably as her face softened and love deepened the hue of her eyes. “Lilly would come with me.” She thought of Lilly’s group of friends and suddenly, the idea of marriage to Zahir was a Godsend! It offered a way out when she had not known one could be found. An end-point to the self-destructive, scandalous, borderline criminal behaviour that Lilly had been indulging in for the last year.

  “You are her legal guardian, are you not?”

  “Yes,” she whooshed out the word with a breath of relief. “I am.” It was like jumping off a cliff, eyes closed, trusting something, somewhere, will soften the fall. The visage of having other people around to help raise Lilly shimmered like an oasis on the horizon. Not to have to worry that the teen had made it home each night would be a weight off Violet’s mind. Until that moment, she hadn’t realised how terrifying she had begun to find the responsibility of being the sole surviving guardian to her sister. No parents, no grandfather – no one.

  It wasn’t that Lilly was a bad person, but she had fallen into a group of friends that scared Violet. She was losing the sister she knew, and suddenly Zahir was offering a new life – for both of them.

  He was watching her, but her mind was racing over this new, strange possibility. She had always believed she would marry Zahir. It was not a hard leap to make that she would do so now. And the advantages to the wedding were too great to be ignored.

  She sucked in a deep, shaking breath and met his eyes – there was a fierce determination in her stare that did something odd to his chest.

  “Yes, fine. I’ll marry you.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  His bearing had knocked Violet sideways earlier that day. Now, with the sky shifting from peach to purple to black, staring at the sleek white jet that glowed against the dusk sky, Violet regarded the man who would become her husband with a sense of bewilderment.

  He had changed into a crisp white robe – a traditional outfit of his country, it did nothing to disguise his broad, muscular frame, nor his masculinity and strength. His tan, a dark caramel colour, glowed against the pale fabric.

  Even Lilly, her teenage frame slumped with barely-contained fury, stood a little taller at his approach. “That’s him?” She whispered with obvious awe in her words.

  “Yeah.” Violet’s own words were parched. Her mouth was dry; her throat raw. Was she really going to marry this man? This King? He was the epitome of raw masculinity and he would be her husband. “That’s him.”

  His stride was long as he covered the distance quickly. Three men stood at the base of the aeroplane, watching. Violet recognised the short man who’d been at the limousine earlier; he’d changed too, though his robe lacked the same air of importance as Zahir’s. Undoubtedly he was relieved to be out of the restraint of the suit.

  “Violet,” Zahir nodded, his expression giving nothing away. “And Lilly.” He turned his attention to the teenager. Her behavioural defects included a propensity towards rudeness and surly sulking, traits she obviously intended to display now.

  “Yeah?” She said, the eye roll palpable in the impatiently drawled word.

  He arched a brow and then turned back to Violet, apparently content to ignore his future sister-in-law. “You are late.”

  “Yes, well,” Violet said without a hint of apology, “it’s quite time consuming to wrap up one’s entire life in an afternoon. We were as quick as we could be.”

  In truth, cajoling Lilly to go along with the plan had taken up most of Violet’s time. She’d railed against the very idea of moving to a faraway country and no matter how many adventures Violet had promised, Lilly had been resolute. Until finally Violet had pulled rank and informed the teenager that she had no choice. Lilly had stomped into her room and thrown a suitcase together, then collapsed onto the sofa and watched YouTube videos while Violet took care of the practical considerations.

  “No matter. Come. The plane is fuelled.”

  “Great,” Lilly snapped.

  “Lilly,” Violet reached out and caught her sister’s wrist. Her look was one of warning. “Your manners need an adjustment.”

  “Whatever,” Lilly pulled away and stormed off, not pausing to greet the trio of servants. But as she turned at the top of the stairs, moving deeper into the jet, Violet saw a single tear shimmering on her cheek and a deep, hard ache filled her gut.

  “She’s not usually so bad-tempered,” Violet fibbed, her eyes not meeting his.

  “Isn’t she?” He murmured, showing disbelief. “Then she’s a very good actress.”

  A protective urge moved through Violet. “It’s been a tough year.” She stared at the plane as if she could see through the walls to where her sister sat. “Listen,” she turned on the tarmac, angling her body away from the jet and inadvertently bringing herself hard against her husband’s frame. She startled and stepped backwards, but the damage had been done. She’d felt him. All of him. His body had touched hers for barely a moment and yet her skin tingled from the contact; her muscles jerked with the impression he’d made.

  Her thoughts scattered like leaves in the breeze. She couldn’t catch them.

  “Your sister?” He prompted, a hint of amusement startling her back to the present, and reminding her why she needed to try harder not to show how easily he could affect her.

  “Right.” She shook her head to clear the last cobwebs of awareness. “I don’t want her to know that this isn’t … that we’re not …” she frowned, and a crease formed between her brows. Out of nowhere, his fingers itched to reach up and smooth it. “I spend a lot of time trying to be a good role model for her. I’m not sure this marriage of ours qualifies.” Her look was one of remorse.

  He arched a brow, inviting her silently to continue.

  “I told her we’ve been emailing back and forth for a few months,” she said slowly, her cheeks flushing. “That we’ve got to know one another.”

  “So you think being dishonest is a preferable example?”

  Her blush deepened. “It’s
better this way, trust me.”

  “She is your sister; how you handle her is your responsibility.”

  “Thank you,” Violet murmured.

  “So she believes this to be a love match?” And his lips twisted with obvious amusement. That feeling of rejection was back, shredding Violet’s fragile confidence.

  “Is that so implausible?” She snapped. “I might not be as glamorous as the women you usually date but I trust I’m adequate?”

  He startled for a moment, visibly retaining a calm façade even when his mind had to take a leap to keep up. “You are more than adequate,” he said thickly. And she was. As a child she’d been charming – the efforts to raise her as a suitable bride for him had meant she was elegant, polite, intelligent, cultured, and that her natural beauty was always perfectly presented. But it was more than that. She was innately lovely – most of those traits were simply who she was, rather than as a result of the grooming she’d undergone.

  As an adult, she had changed. She had a more assertive nature now. She was quick to give her opinion, and apparently even quicker to challenge him. Her beauty had grown quite unexpectedly. Her face was no longer sweet – it was sexy, with pouting lips a perfect shade of pink, wide-set violet eyes, flawless skin and white teeth. Her figure was divine, though she was right. She did differ from his usual quarry. Where he had dated tall, leggy women in the past – as thin as reeds – she was short and petite, with naturally curved breasts and hips that out of nowhere he imagined grabbing and holding.

  “Gee, thanks,” she murmured, lifting her gaze to the plane. “Look, you and I both know what this marriage is. But whenever your father or my sister are around, let’s pretend that we actually like each other. Deal?”

  Something shifted inside of him. Low inside of him. He felt a very demanding member of his anatomy throb with interest. He kept his eyes on hers as he reached into the folds of his robe and lifted a jewellery box out.

  “Then perhaps you should put this on.” He cracked the lid and she gasped. Even though their marriage had been broached years earlier, she had forgotten all about this.

  The Fiyalshar was one of a kind: a ring that had been passed from heir to heir for generations and given to the brides of successive Sheikhs. It had been a way to mark possession, to warn off other suitors, and to show favouritism in the times when Sheikhs had taken multiple wives.

  The ring was unlike any other. The diamond was enormous. Thirteen carats, she knew from their first betrothal, surrounded by onyx stones that travelled down the sides and formed a perfect circlet.

  “Darkness and light,” she murmured, the stories of the ring’s formation rushing back to her. The idea that one spouse should complement the other, each offering light to counter the other’s darkness.

  His interest was obviously fanned. “You remember.”

  She nodded, looking away from the ring without attempting to touch it. “I liked the idea,” she said simply. “It is what a marriage should be, in my mind.”

  “And mine.” He pulled the ring from the box and held it towards Violet.

  “I can’t wear it,” she said slowly, shaking her head. Her throat felt thick and raw. The enormity of what they were doing was dawning on her. “I want something else.”

  His laugh was a short rasp. “This has been the Queen’s ring for hundreds of years. You think you should break this tradition?”

  She reached out, her eyes meeting his as she folded his fingers over the ring. “I think it was your mother’s ring. And that it was Anna’s ring. I remember the story of Fiyalshar because I thought it beautiful and special. This ring means something. It should definitely not be used to fool your father. That demeans all the marriages that have come before this one.”

  He was struck both by her insight and her beauty. Earnest, in the spirit of quiet reasoning, she was mature beyond her years. “Fine,” he said softly. “I will arrange another.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And in the mean time,” he murmured, his eyes flashing with a dangerous intent she had not yet learned to comprehend, “We will have to think of other ways to convince your sister we are a couple.”

  His lips dropped towards hers, and she had only a brief moment in which to react. She could jerk away, and remove herself from him altogether, but it would forever make a mockery of the marriage they were entering into. His servants were watching, and who knew who else from inside the plane? Certainly there was a high probability that Lilly was looking out at them.

  She lifted a hand and placed it firmly on his chest. Heat speared her. She tilted her head, moving it just out of his swoop path. “The fact we’re marrying should convince them,” she said with concrete determination. “Public displays of affection are neither necessary nor welcome.”

  His laugh was a low rumble. It spun through her like a tumbleweed in the desert. She felt desire bubble beneath the surface of her skin; it angered her. She didn’t want this to be complicated by lust. She’d lusted after him before. Back then. When she’d been a stupid teenager. “Are you afraid?” He teased, his face still achingly close to hers. If she relented for a moment and straightened her head, he would kiss her.

  “No,” she said firmly, believing it to be true.

  “Good.” He straightened, as though the temptation to kiss her had all been an act. “Come. We are late enough as it is.”

  Just like that. He severed the mood that had spun around them, leaving her perplexed and somewhat drained on the tarmac.

  “Violet?” He turned at the bottom of the steps, his eyes sending arrows of need pulsing through her.

  She nodded and began to walk. Aware that each step was taking her closer to a strange future – one which she could hardly visualise, she slowed a little and stared up at the plane. Through one of the round windows she could see Lilly, her dark eyes brooding, her face pale as she glared resentfully out of the plane.

  And just like that, every reason Violet had for going through with this sharpened in her mind.

  Lilly was impossible to control. She had chosen a path that was destined to bring grief and harm to them both. Violet had run out of ways in which to tempt her away from that lifestyle. And so she would physically remove her sister from London, and place her under the protection of the palace.

  Finally, her burden would be shared.

  Having grown up knowing she would one day marry His Royal Highness Sheikh Zahir Al’Eba, it was easier perhaps for Violet to accept this strange turn of events than it might have been anyone else. Her grandfather had strived to give her a normal childhood, but it had always been there. This knowledge that she was somehow different. That her future was mapped out; her destiny highlighted and waiting.

  Only it hadn’t been. Right when she was beginning to really grow attached to the whole idea of her sexy-as-sin husband, he’d married someone else. She’d accepted the news with the kind of fatalism that had been taught to her – with an almost regal sense of calm. But at night, alone in her bed, all her fantasies lying like shards of glass around her, she’d felt the true depth of her despair. She’d wondered sharply at his betrayal and realised that he must have never felt as she did: that they were two halves of a coin, separated by distance but always, always fated to reunite.

  She cringed now at the idiotic romantic she’d been. What a juvenile dream! How stupid she’d been to allow herself to grow so attached to someone she barely knew.

  She wouldn’t make that mistake again now.

  He would be her husband in name only. Theirs was a marriage of convenience: for him, it was a chance to ease his father’s passing. For her? There was hope. Hope that she could push past the layers of teenage sulking and find her sister somewhere inside the moody, bitchy, scandal-seeking hormone she’d become.

  His hand on the small of her back jerked her back to the present. She startled sharply and angled her face towards his. His expression was impossible to read, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling things deeply. She could see a thousa
nd thoughts in his eyes – a dark shade of brown flecked with candy and walnut, rimming in thick, curling black lashes. They were almond-shaped eyes, and by virtue of their shape and colouring, looked intelligent and thoughtful all the time.

  She stepped into the plane and did her best not to react visibly. But shock at the sheer luxury was impossible to conceal completely. She’d expected it to be grand. She knew the wealth and luxury that was at this man’s fingertips. But still, the sight of the ten crystal chandeliers that ran the length of the open cabin, combined with the plush carpet beneath their shoes, the luxurious designer furniture, the enormous cinema screen and a dining table that looked as though it could accommodate twenty people – this was a plane that had exceeded even her imaginings.

  “There are bedrooms upstairs, if you are tired,” he spoke quietly, for her alone, yet his voice still rung with confidence and authority.

  “Upstairs?” She sent him a droll look and moved deeper into the cabin. Lilly had chosen an armchair overlooking the tarmac. Her curvy body was angled away, her face half-covered in dark sunglasses.

  “Through there,” he nodded straight ahead and now she noted there was a staircase, curved and illuminated.

  “How … impressive,” she murmured, but her eyes returned to her sister’s form.

  “The flight time to the capital is seven and a half hours. We will need to go over some details before landing so that you are prepared for the coming days and weeks.”

  A frown pulled at her lips. It made sense, and yet it hadn’t even occurred to her that anything would be required of her beyond signing on the dotted line and becoming his wife. In name only, she reminded herself.

  A woman in a beautiful long dress approached, her dark hair held in an impossibly neat bun. Even when Violet had grown her hair longer, half-way down her back, it had refused to sit in those sorts of styles.