CHAPTER FOUR
Ash looked at the print out she’d prepared with her topics listed down the side and stifled a smile. “You’ve gone to a lot of effort to make sure this is business-like.”
Across from him, Charlotte lifted a brow. “Isn’t that what it should be?”
He nodded, a slow, thoughtful gesture. How could he have this wedding voided without hurting her feelings? There had to be a key to releasing Syed from the union without embarrassing Charlotte in any way.
“Tell me,” he tapped his pen on the side of the table, his eyes refusing to let go of hers. “Why Syed?”
She blinked, her confusion apparent. And for a moment he felt sorry for her. But not as sorry as he would if the betrothal was ended in a public way. He would not have Charlotte pilloried in the papers as The Bride Syed Didn’t Want.
His fingers curled more tightly around the pen, and his stare intensified.
“Because my father wished it,” she said after a moment, but the words were dragged from her as if by force.
“That’s not good enough,” Ash responded swiftly. “You have shown me that you are a woman who knows her own mind –,”
“There’s a difference between knowing my mind and being free to act as it wills me,” she said quietly. “And the marriage is important. Not just to my father but to the kingdom. We have the hangover of civil unrest that only an alliance with Kalastan will properly end. I want peace for my people.” She squared her shoulders. “I presume Syed feels the same.”
Ash tilted his head, studying her. “Your devotion to your country is admirable.”
“But,” she prompted.
His laugh was silk on her overwrought nerve endings. “There is no ‘but’.”
“Oh.” She blinked, lowering her gaze to the table. “I was sure you were going to contradict me.”
“No. Your marriage to Syed exists to placate our peoples. Yours, and mine.”
Her eyes flew to his, and he wondered if it was just occurring to her that he had the same place in the royal line of succession as his cousin. That marrying him would have achieved the same ends. Why had Syed been suggested before Ashad? Only Adin could answer that, but Ash was inclined to think it boiled down to dumb luck.
“Shall we start with where we’ll live?”
Ash expressed a low breath that flared his nostrils and fanned the papers in front of him. “Where do you want to live, azeezi?” The term of endearment issued from his lips without consent.
If it had surprised her, she gave nothing away.
“I can’t imagine being anywhere other than Falina,” she said thoughtfully.
“My cousin plays a vital role in our politics. He is a main figure of government and aside from that has many significant business interests in Kalastan.”
“I wasn’t saying I won’t move,” she said with a hint of frustration. “Only that it’s a little odd to think of doing so.” She crossed her legs beneath the table. The breeze coming off the marina was lovely, but her face was pink and she lifted a page and fanned herself a few times before reaching for her water. The day was hot. Stifling, in fact, but Ashad was used to the heat. As, he would have said, was Charlotte. So why was she looking as though she were being boiled alive?
“Are you okay?” He murmured.
Her gaze flicked to him. “Fine.”
He dropped his attention to her outfit, a frown pulling at his lips. “Why don’t you take off your jacket?”
Her eyes were the size of saucers in her pretty face but she stood. Turning away from him and removing the scrap of fabric at the same time she stepped out of her shoes. He imagined her bright red toenails and his body clenched hard.
But it was a rock when she returned to her seat without the modesty of the jacket. His own temper was the one in danger of reaching boiling point now. The dress was beautiful. Perfectly acceptable attire, and indeed, most women got around in clothes that showed a lot more skin. But the skin it did show? The curves it hinted at? His pulse was bursting through him, demanding attention. His body wanted to move closer to her. It was as if an ancient force of testosterone and pheromones were swirling through the room, Ash and Charlotte’s bodies merely the hosts to a desire that was far bigger.
“Syed wants to remain in Kalastan?” She prompted, seemingly completely unaware of the surge of need Ashad was battling.
“Yes.” Why was he sitting opposite this woman discussing a wedding that was most unlikely to take place? Anger at the futility of his position was exploding inside of him.
“And there’s no flexibility in this?”
What if Ashad made Syed sound so unreasonable that Charlotte had no choice but to cancel the wedding? Or to express her doubts to her father.
“Syed must remain in Kalastan. As his bride, you would do likewise.”
She clenched her jaw, her eyes dropping to the table to hide whatever it was she was thinking.
“So my betrothed is an intractable, inconsiderate despot?”
Ash laughed at the description. “No. Syed is a good man.” He had intended to make her think ill of Syed but he couldn’t allow her to believe those things of the cousin he both admired and adored. “But his place in the royal family of Kalastan is more … prominent than yours is to the palace of Falina.”
“Because I’m a woman,” she snapped. “And my role has never been allowed to expand into policy and politics.”
“Would you have wanted that?” Ash asked, drawn to her mind, her body, her essence.
She nodded, but it was cautious, concerned, as though she was revealing a great secret. “I want to be of use to my people. Beyond volunteering for charities and appearing at photo opportunities.”
Admiration swelled inside him.
“I wasn’t allowed to attend university. My parents wanted me to remain in Falina, but my mother knew how important it was to me that I study. They flew various professors in to complete my tertiary education. I chose world leaders in international affairs, diplomats, lawyers. I speak five languages fluently, not including sign language and two ancient dialects of our tribal regions. I don’t want to be a piece of flotsam wife. I want to do something.” Her eyes showed the passion of her desire and for the first time, Ash found himself wondering at the sense of this marriage. Not because Syed didn’t want it, and not because Ashad was lusting after the bride-to-be.
“I want to get married because I hope – I hope with everything I am – that Syed will be the kind of man who realises my interests and encourages me to utilise them. Am I wrong? Am I wrong to believe that a man of our generation will have a different outlook to that of our parents?”
“No,” Ash said, his gut twisting. “Syed would find your intelligence persuasive. He would indeed wish you to be as involved in high-level discussions as your time allowed.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Can you see how important that is to me? I cannot put it in the contract. My father’s parliament would deride it. But it is something I would wish you to convey to your cousin.”
A band was tightening around Ash’s chest. Discussing the wedding was impossible. He stood abruptly and moved towards the glass doors, looking down at the magnificent marina.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
Behind him, Charlotte was still. Watchful. Her heart hadn’t stopped racing since he’d arrived. She wanted, so badly, to give in to the demands of her body. But how could she? The marriage to Syed was imminent and this man was his cousin! It was bad enough that she wasn’t going to the marriage as a virgin, as she knew was expected. But worse would be if she actually made some kind of pass at Syed’s cousin!
“Where?” She asked, her voice thready.
“Down there.”
She frowned, moving to stand behind him. So close that his warmth enveloped her. His fragrance too. Her knees were weak. She couldn’t help it. She went to move past him, to take a look over the edge, and in doing so, purposefully brushed against him. Her body electrified. It was as though a live current was spreading from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, making her tremble.
“I can’t go down there. I’d be mobbed.”
“What if you were in disguise?” He said with a smile that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
“Like a wig and mask?” She joked, but excitement at the idea was eroding common sense.
“I was thinking more like casual clothes and a baseball cap.”
“Oh.” She nodded, toying with her earring. “I don’t think that would work.”
“So? What’s the worst that can happen? Someone recognises you and we leave.”
“I told you, I’d get mobbed.”
“I’ll be there.”
“You’d get mobbed, too.”
Ash grinned. “You don’t think I could protect you?”
Charlotte was warm with need. She bit down on her lip. “I’m not afraid my people would want to hurt me. Just that they’d overwhelm us, if they recognised me.”
He lifted a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Try to get past me.”
She froze, staring at his frame with new attention. He was so gorgeous. So big and strong and handsome and virile. “No,” she muttered, dragging her gaze to the view of the boats.
“I mean it. Try to move me.” Ash had come to understand how determined Charlotte was. “Unless you think you wouldn’t be able to,” he teased.
She turned her face to his, scanning him slowly. “I know I wouldn’t be able to.”
“Too afraid to try?” He taunted and she balled her hands by her side.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Why? I’m auditioning for the part of your bodyguard. So let me show you how qualified I am.”
The challenge in his dare wasn’t what it appeared. Charlotte read beyond it. He was daring her to touch him. To pit her strength against his. To be near him. He was inviting her to touch. It was madness. A madness that had gripped them both. Obviously she should have laughed and refused. He wouldn’t keep inviting this destructive idea. But that thought alone spurred her forward. She lifted her hands, pushing them at his chest. It was a hard chest. As firm to touch as she’d imagined it would be.
He didn’t budge. Her body was close to his now. The thickness of his arms, crossed over his front, kept her from touching him. She reached for them and pulled at them, trying to unhook them from his chest.
It was as if they were glued.
She made a sound of annoyance and walked behind him, reaching around him, wrapping him in a hug that finally gave her body what it had been craving – closeness – and tried to unhook them that way.
Charlotte was strong.
She had always been an active child, and that had grown into an athleticism she indulged as a woman. She played tennis, golf, ran, rock-climbed, hiked. But none of those skills made it any easier to deal with Ashad Al’Eba. She used her knees to press against the backs of his, trying to make him weaken. He didn’t.
He shifted though, dropping his arms and spinning on the spot, suddenly, instantly. His hands caught her wrists and he dragged them behind her back, staring down at her from his greater height, every cell in his body tight and alert.
Charlotte’s breath was dragged from her. Fire burned her lungs, making breathing almost impossible. “Fine. You’re strong,” she said, the words stilted.
His eyes clashed with hers. Heat, strength, need, fear flew from one to the other. He pushed her backwards, pinning her body against the wall and covering hers with his own frame. “Not strong enough,” he muttered, dropping his head. “Not with you.”
His mouth was angry when it clashed with hers. Fierce and possessive, it crushed her, demanding her submission even when she had no intention of offering a challenge. She moaned softly, every sense in her body overrun by a need that had taken away every bit of her common sense.
Of their own volition, her hands lifted and tangled in his dark, thick hair, teasing the nape of his neck, holding him where he was. Her mouth opened to his in complete surrender. His tongue duelled with hers, imprisoning it, demanding free reign of her mouth. And his body. Oh, his body. Hard, hot, firm, it held her tight to the wall, making movement impossible, even if she’d wished it. Her senses were in overdrive. Adrenalin spiked her blood and desire pushed moist heat between her legs.
“Ashad,” she groaned into his mouth, her hands tightening on his hair.
She wanted him.
She wanted him, to hell with the consequences. “Please,” she whimpered, dropping her hands to the fabric of his shirt and bunching in its softness. “I need this,” she breathed into his mouth, the ferocious intensity of his kiss making it almost impossible to get the words out.
He froze, lifting his head without moving his body. He stared down at her as though she had morphed into someone else entirely. The perplexity in his face was echoed in her heart.
“You need this?” He repeated, his breath coming in quick rushes, pushing warmth against her temple. He swore angrily but didn’t move away. His body, so close to hers, was the strength she needed. She kept her hands balled in his shirt, but she wanted to remove it.
Reality, though, was at the edges of her mind, forcing its way through her foggy desire. “What are we doing?” She forced her eyes to hold his even when confusion made her want to run and hide.
“Nothing. We aren’t doing anything.” He moved away from her. “What we just did was a mistake.” Sleep with her, cousin. That would solve all our problems… Ash cringed to think of Syed’s suggestion. If he did just that, what next? Would he then reveal the unsavoury, private detail to his cousin and uncle to relieve Syed of the burden of marrying Charlotte? And where did that leave his cousin’s betrothed? Word would spread – it always did – and her family would learn of what they’d shared.
Too much was at stake.
He pushed backwards, a muscle jerking in his jaw. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. That was my fault.”
She closed her eyes, so that her thick black lashes formed a curtain of darkness on her face. “No. I wanted you to kiss me.” She swallowed, unable to look at him, but knowing she needed to express what was in her heart. “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since I saw you yesterday.”
She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Charlotte.”
“I know. It’s wrong. You’re here to arrange my marriage, to your cousin, of all people, and all I can think about…”
“Don’t say it,” he groaned, his voice deep, the words choked from him. “It complicates matters.”
“That’s an understatement.” She opened her eyes, catching him in the middle of staring at her face. Her heart flipped.
“Let’s finish the marriage contract,” he murmured, already planning the call he was going to place to Syed as soon as he could. A call in which he would declare he had no intention of being involved in arranging this damned marriage. A life loomed ahead of him, a life in which he had to watch Charlotte and Syed together. And Syed would fall in love with her. Of course he would. How could he not? Once he actually resigned himself to the marriage, he would see that Charlotte was everything he’d been waiting for.
“Seriously?” She lifted her fingers to her lips, and she could still feel his touch.
“What would you prefer to do, Charlotte?”
Her smile was a lesson in courage. “I think the answer to that would get us both in trouble.”
* * *
The sun was setting, striking brilliant mauves and reds through the sky. She was immobile, her knees curled under her chin, her head tilted to one side, studying the sky as old witches in the city read tea leaves, as though she could intuit some meaning from the sensational display being played out before her.
This time of day had always been her favourite. When the day was bowing to the night, whispering surrender and promises of reunion. She liked to think of day and night as two star crossed lovers who spun around the earth, constantly seeking one another, being granted beautiful, fleeting moments at the beginning and ends of the day.
And on this day their meeting was as fiery as it was memorable.
Like their kiss had been. She moaned softly as she remembered his body, heavy and hard against hers, pinning her to the wall. Every childish imagining about sex and men fell away. The one time she’d shared her body with a man had been awful. Mainly because she hadn’t shared it by choice; he had taken what he’d known she wouldn’t give and she wondered if it had ruined her sexuality for life.
Now, she knew that wasn’t true. The moment Ash had kissed her, fireworks had exploded in her skull.
If just his kiss and touch could rival the sunset’s power, what in the world would it be like to sleep with him?
Guilt made her cheeks glow.
Was she seriously fantasising about having sex with her fiancé’s cousin?
And was she really going to go through with marriage to a man who was related to Ashad?
She thought of what that life would be like. Syed Al’Eba was handsome – she’d seen his photographs. But when they’d met, briefly, in the past, she’d felt nothing. Not a hint of the passionate hunger that was shredding her.
Was Ashad thinking of her now?
Even hours later, as day gave way to night, was the strength of that one kiss driving him wild with unfulfilled need?
Or had he shelved his desire easily, because of the duty he owed his cousin?
“Darling?”
Charlotte startled, her eyes widening at the unexpected intrusion. “Mum?”
“There you are. Why don’t you put on a light? It’s dark in here.”
“I’m watching the sunset,” Charlotte said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“You and your sunsets!” Eloise Shareef strode into the room, her slender frame silhouetted against the dusky sky. “How did your meeting go?”
Charlotte’s eyes moved betrayingly to the table and Eloise’s gaze followed.
“Ah! Contracts. Good. Is he being fair?”
His chin had been stubbled. It had rubbed against her own, and she’d instantly imagined it on her naked breasts, her stomach, lower still. A shiver made her swallow and she stood. “Yes.”
“Is he nice?”
“Yes.” Nice? Such a bland term. He was many things beyond that. Things that made her toes curl.
“It was such a shame, that business with his parents. And he, such a young boy.”
Charlotte froze. In the midst of her bone-melting desire for Ashad she’d completely forgotten that he was a victim of their civil war. “It was a terrorist attack, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Suicide bombers. Cowards.”
A shiver ran down Charlotte’s spine. “That’s so sad.”
“Mmmm.” Eloise had moved on. “I have decided to throw a ball for him. A masquerade.”
Charlotte froze. “Why in the world would you do that?”
“He is an esteemed guest from Kalastan, and he is young and eligible. You are not the only high ranking daughter looking for a husband.”
The idea of her mother auctioning off Ashad to young women of the parliament made Charlotte queasy.
“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” she mumbled.
“Of course it is. We are famed for our entertainment. It’s short notice, but I will arrange it for Friday evening. Everyone will be invited!”
“Oh, mama,” Charlotte shook her head. “Really, why draw attention to this? He’s here to finalise the details of my wedding, that’s all.”
“And he’s doing that! Why can’t he have a little fun too?” Eloise paused, her beautiful face lined with doubt. “In any event, I don’t know why you are troubling yourself with all the details for your marriage. Your father and his lawyers were prepared to arrange everything.”
“But then I wouldn’t know I was making the right decision.”
Eloise’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “The decision was made many years ago, dearest.”
She was drowning again. Suffocating. The tide was high, and she couldn’t see land. “Still,” Charlotte said with the appearance of calm. “I know you wouldn’t want me to marry if the terms weren’t favourable.”
“What could be unfavourable about marriage to Syed Al’Eba? He is rich. Kind. Good looking. Young. Virile. He will make you happy.”
“Did you just describe my fiancé as virile? I have to tell you, that makes me feel just a little bit sick, mama.”
“Why should it? You are a woman, I am a woman. You have been through something that might make you cautious to approach your marriage bed…”
“Okay, moving on,” Charlotte shook her head quickly, changing the subject. “What are you doing here?”
Eloise tsked her disapproval. “Is that any way to speak to the woman who brought you to this earth?”
Charlotte lifted a brow, waiting for an explanation.
“I was shopping. And I wanted to check on progress.”
“It’s coming along,” Charlotte said honestly. But the thought of meeting with Ashad again made her doubt the wisdom of tackling her own negotiations.
“You know, your father is counting on this marriage.” Had Eloise detected the doubts that now plagued Charlotte?
“Why?” She heard herself ask, surprised by how close she was to admitting that the reality of tying herself to Syed now filled her with dread.
“He is a good man!” Eloise enumerated. “His family is good. His country powerful. And the trade deals that come into play as part of your marriage will boost our economy in a way it badly needs. Billions will flow into our country as a result of this union. Billions that will go into schools, hospitals, orphanages. You know the worries your father carries. You can alleviate them, and so easily!” Eloise tilted her head, her eyes studying her daughter. “You are very beautiful, Cherie,” she reverted to her native French. “And this marriage will be a true gift to your father.”
Nausea rolled through Charlotte, but she nodded. The wars had been costly for all. The infrastructure of Falina had been damaged. And the trade agreements with Kalastan would change all that. “I know that, mama.”
“Good. Make it happen. Make it happen fast.” Eloise tilted her head to one side. “And don’t forget to tell Ashad about the ball, hmm?”
* * *
“What do you mean, you can’t find him?”
Zahir sighed. “Syed has disappeared. No one’s seen him for days.”
“What?” Ash stared out at the disappearing sun, watching as a trail of fire seemed to leak from it into the sky. “I need to talk to him.”
“His cell’s not answering.”
“Yes, I tried that first,” Ash suppressed his impatience. “Is he in the desert?”
“Probably,” Zahir murmured. “It is where he tends to go, isn’t it, when he has things on his mind.”
“He’s not the only one who needs to think things through.”
“Perhaps I can help,” Zahir offered. “What’s on your mind?”
Ash gripped the railing. “Why was Syed offered to Princess Charlotte Shareef?”
“When my betrothal was set aside, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“As opposed to …”
“Me.”
A long silence sat heavily between them. Finally, Zahir spoke. “It was my father’s wish that you would marry … no. That’s a lie.”
“What? What is a lie?”
“Your mother and father,” Zahir spoke heavily, and Ash could imagine him rubbing his chin, as he did when deep in thought. “Were very strongly opposed to arranged marriages. They argued for me, for Syed, for all of us, to be free of such a notion. They felt an older generation had no place using their children for political gain. My father has abided by their wishes, even though I’m certain he would have liked to marry you off many times over.”
Ash closed his eyes, thinking of his parents fondly. “My parents were right.” He thought of the night on Syed’s balcony, when his cousin had asked him to find a reason to break the betrothal. He had advocated the wisdom of arranged marriages. He had extolled their place in royal life, relying on the way things had been done, rather than examining how they ought to be done.
“Perhaps,” Zahir’s response was noncommittal.
“Meaning you don’t regret your marriage?” It was a sharp question, and a rude one. Ash immediately felt the insult in the words. “Ignore that,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Of course.” Zahir accepted the apology instantly. But the words were still there. “I don’t regret my marriage. I fought it for a long time. I think that’s very natural. I despised the idea of being told whom I was to marry. I realise now that I fought too hard. I fought out of fear of what Violet meant to me. Sometimes it is necessary to trust to fate. Don’t you?”
Ash disconnected the call, his mind pondering the statement.
Fate.
It was a notion he had never really bought into.
And yet …
He thought of Charlotte and a sense of intense rightness filled him.
No, if it had been rightness, it would have been Ashad Al’Eba contracted to marry her, and not Syed.
Marry her? Is that what he wanted?
Ash stared at the sky as realisation after realisation pounded through him.
He wanted her. He wanted to own her, and for her to own him. He wanted her with an intensity he’d never experienced about anything. Was that fate at play? Was it fate that had led Syed to send Ashad to Falina?
And could he steal his cousin’s bride? Was it stealing, if Syed no longer wanted her? Or could he solve everyone’s problems by seducing Charlotte into his bed – and convincing her to swap her betrothal to him?
CHAPTER FIVE
Charlotte,
I have meetings in the morning. Are you free for lunch?
A.
She read the email several times, and the racing of her pulse didn’t lessen. She flopped back against her pillows and stared at the ceiling. It was late. Perhaps she could pretend she hadn’t seen it?
And what would that accomplish, her mind challenged angrily. It was simply delaying the inevitable. Lunch. With Ashad? Impossible.
I’m not. Sorry.
She cringed as she sent it, wishing she could recall the email the second it had whooshed out of her phone. But her emotions were rioting all over the place and she knew only one thing for certain: Ashad complicated things beyond bearing.
Make yourself available. My embassy, 12 o’clock.
She read his reply with a fever of indignation.
I beg your pardon, but I am not at your beck and call. I told you, I’m not available.
She sent the email and was just about to turn off her phone when his reply came through.
I am well aware of your unavailability; there is no need to remind me.
Dinner, then. Your place.
That was a crazy idea. Dinner was far more dangerous than lunch, so too was her apartment. Though the idea of having him in her home, eating with him, laughing with him, called to her seductively, she knew it was opening the door to a world of problems she couldn’t face.
No. Lunch is fine. I’ll come to the Kalastani embassy.
She sent it and then she did turn her phone off, so that she didn’t see his reply until early the next morning.
I’m looking forward to it. Sweet dreams.
The final missive put her in a foul temper.
Was he playing with her? Was he trying to confuse her? And if so, why? Surely he had as much, if not more, reason to feel regretful for what they’d shared the day before. Syed was his cousin! He owed him more than to be making out with Charlotte.
So why bid her sweet dreams, as if he knew that her dreams would be filled with him?
Her morning was quiet. She went through her emails and calendar, checking her schedule for the coming month, diarising commitments she couldn’t make and sending notes to her assistant for the speeches she had to make. Though Charlotte preferred to speak ‘off the cuff’, she covered a variety of events and issues and a well-prepared list of information made her feel prepared.
She chose an exceptionally modest dress for the meeting. It was a pale gold and flowed to the floor. The sleeves were bell-shaped, emphasising her slender wrists, and the collar was buttoned right to her throat. It was floaty and ethereal, beautiful and feminine, but definitely not sexy.
Her dark hair she pulled into a severe style, dragged back from her face and pinned into a tight bun at her nape. She kept her make up minimal. Nothing in her appearance suggested that she was dressing to impress.
But, by the time her limousine arrived at the embassy, her cheeks had flushed pink and her lips were swollen and red from the manner in which she’d gnawed them during the drive. A breeze whispered past as she stepped from the limousine, loosening some of the hair around her cheekbones.
Unbeknownst to her, Ashad watched her approach from the top floor of his embassy, his eyes seeing every detail.
The enormous black doors were opened as she approached.
“Your highness,” a man bowed low, then lifted and met her eyes with a twinkling smile. “His Highness is expecting you.”
“I should think so, given that he summonsed me,” she murmured, falling into step beside the servant as he led her through the embassy. Instead of taking her to the office she’d first met Ashad in, he took her up yet another flight of stairs, the burgundy carpet beneath them exquisite. Charlotte wished she could make her own way to Ashad. She wanted to dawdle and explore, to study the artwork of Kalastan which was alike, yet different, to those of Falina.
At the top of the stairs and set a little down the corridor there was a pair of doors. Wide and bevelled, painted gold with black trim and a marble handle.
“This way, madam,” the servant said, knocking on the doors once before bowing and disappearing further down the corridor.
Charlotte waited, her breath held, her hands wanting to fidget when her body knew she couldn’t give any indication of her anxiety. The doors were pulled inwards.
Ash stood there, his frame large, his expression unreadable.
And Charlotte knew she was lost.
Every single cell in her body was screaming, begging her to throw herself into his arms, to lift her mouth to his and demand that he kiss her.
“Hi,” she said instead, the single word a tight dismissal.
“Charlotte,” he murmured, and her name on his lips was a beautiful thing. Sensual and deep. “Please, come in.”
She nodded, following him into the room. But as soon as she’d moved a step in, she paused. “This is your apartment?”
“Not my apartment,” he corrected, clicking the doors shut. “But The Royal Apartment, where we stay when we are in Falina.”
She swallowed, resisting the urge to suggest they move back to his office. Though the more formal setting suited her better, she didn’t want to appear churlish. So she said nothing. Her eyes scanned the room – they were in a large foyer, and she could see a living room to one side and to the other, what appeared to be a dining room.
“Would you like a tour?”
She shook her head, even though she was filled with curiosity. “I think we should get down to business. I have something to get to after this.”
He arched a brow. “You may need to cancel it.”
“Why?”
“Because I have something organised.”
Charlotte spun around, her eyes clashing with his. “I’m here to go through the details of my wedding. That’s it. You have an hour.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw but he smiled – a tight smile that showed he wasn’t necessarily going to listen to her.
“I have lunch prepared.”
“Oh, yeah? You’ve been cooking?” She responded, inwardly cringing at the sarcasm in her voice.
“Yes,” he responded in a tone that told her he was joking. “In between meeting with the ambassador to Egypt and arranging the prisoner exchange of two top-level data thieves, I’ve been whipping up a storm in the kitchen.”
Chastened, she shot him a barbed look but he smiled and all was forgiven.
Ashad put a hand in the small of her back; a small gesture, his touch was light, and yet heat radiated through her, filling her with a swarming awareness. In the area she’d picked as a lounge room there were large glass doors that led to a balcony. It was the same balcony Ashad had stood on the night before, speaking to Zahir and imagining a way to make Charlotte his own.
“The day is nice,” he said softly. “Shall we?”
She nodded, moving ahead of him through the doors and taking in the table that had been set with a crisp white cloth. There was an ice bucket of champagne in the centre, an arrangement of fruit, and two plates covered with silver tops, keeping their contents warm, she presumed. Ashad moved to one chair and pulled it backwards.
Charlotte took the seat, expelling a breath. Her nerves were screwed.
His hands brushed her shoulders and her stomach clenched answeringly. What magic was at work with them?
He lifted the bottle of champagne and poured two glasses.
“Are we celebrating?” She asked, watching as bubbles filled the crystal, effervescing into the air.
“You’re going to get married. Surely that’s worth a toast?”
Her skin prickled hot and cold. Could he so easily forget what had happened between them? Or was he working overtime to make sure they both remembered the truth of their situation?
“Thank you,” she said distractedly, as he placed the glass before her. “My mother has asked me to invite you to a party,” she said, before she forgot.
Ash paused, his lips lifting in an appreciative smile. “Your mother’s parties are legendary,” he said after a moment. “I would be honoured to attend.”
“You will be honoured,” Charlotte agreed. “At least, the guest of honour. She’s throwing the thing for you. To welcome you to Falina.”
“I have been to Falina many times,” he laughed.
“Ah, yes, but not in this capacity before,” Charlotte pointed out. “You are organising her only daughter’s marriage. And she wants you to have your pick of Falinese brides, apparently,” Charlotte added for good measure. The distance between what she wanted and reality was widening.
“And this will be a sort of bride-smorgasbord, will it? A choose-your-own-wedding adventure?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Apparently.”
“Ah. I fear her efforts will be wasted,” he said, leaning closer to Charlotte and lifting his glass. “To your marriage.”
She lifted her drink and chinked it against his. Her heart was heavy. “Why? Are you promised to someone too?”
“Not exactly.” His smile hinted at a secret, one that was filling her with envy.
“Not exactly?”
“I’ve recently learned that my parents were opposed to arranged marriages. Out of respect to their wishes, Adin refrained from promising me to anyone.”
Her heart rate accelerated. So there was no one?
“So there’s no one lined up for you?”
“I wouldn’t say that either,” he responded cryptically.
Charlotte frowned and opened her mouth, intending to questioning him further. But Ash spoke first. “Please tell your mother I would be delighted to attend her party.”
“It’s more of a ball, actually. A masked ball.”
“The perfect place for secret deeds.” He took the seat opposite and Charlotte frowned in confusion. Was he flirting with her? Or making her think he was? Why? What was going on?
“I’m sorry about your parents,” she blurted out, and then wished she hadn’t when his eyes met hers and she felt for herself his sorrow. He covered it quickly, but it was there. A deep sense of loss. “I had forgotten until recently.”
He dipped his head forward. “Thank you for your sympathy.”
But Charlotte wasn’t going to leave it there. They’d come further than that. “How old were you?”
He swallowed, his neck knotting visibly as he dealt with the emotions. “Seven.”
“Seven!” She shook her head. “Do you remember them?”
His smile was contemplative. “I do. I’m fortunate. Though in some ways perhaps it would have been easier if I had not the memories to grieve.”
Charlotte lifted the lid off her plate, staring down at the smoked fish and salad. It looked delicious. “What were they like?”
He sipped his drink, his eyes linked to hers. For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer and she regretted the invasive question. “My father was Adin’s twin. Identical to look at yet very different personality wise.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Adin is calm and contemplative. He values his Kingdom above just about anything else.”
“And your father?”
“He was curious about the world. Passionate. He didn’t like rules and obeyed them only when it suited him to.” His smile was tight. “The day they were killed, they’d gone out without their guards, wanting to explore on their own. A romantic notion; one that put them intrinsically in danger.”
Charlotte swallowed. “You blame them?”
“Not at all,” Ash contradicted swiftly. “The same disinterest in following someone else’s instructions runs through me.”
Yes, she could see that. See it, want it, need it, she thought with a growing urgency to her attraction.
“I would rather die as they did, free and following my own path, rather than safely locked in this gilded cage.”
The words set fire to her blood. Or perhaps they merely fanned the flames of a blaze that had been simmering for years. “There are so many rules for people like us, though.”
“And have you ever broken them, Charlotte? Or are you as perfect as you appear?”
The compliment swelled her heart but the truth of her being contradicted it. “I’m far from perfect,” she said after a moment.
“In what ways?”
“Ways I choose not to advertise.” She refocussed her attention on the meal in front of them. “This looks delicious.”
He didn’t respond. His eyes bore into her; she could feel them on her face, her skin, her mouth. Truth scratched at her flesh, making her itchy and hot.
“Such as?” He pressed his fork into the fish, not distracted from the conversation.
“You first,” she said, dropping her eyes to the table.
“Yesterday wasn’t a good enough example?” He murmured, the timbre of his voice low and husky.
Memories of the kiss fired her belly. “You followed the rules there, as I remember.”
“Eventually.” He shifted in his seat.
“So if Adin and your dad were twins, why is Adin King?”
“Father was never interested in the job. As children, the plan had been that they would share the duty. But by the time my father was ten, his disinterest was apparent. His role in the Kingdom was more ambassadorial.”
“But technically you have as much claim to the throne as Zahir or Syed?”
“Yes, technically,” Ash nodded. “But like our fathers before us, there was a clear candidate for the role, and it wasn’t me.”
“Zahir?”
Ash nodded. “He was born to rule.”
“I think you have that quality in abundance.”
His smile was an acknowledgment. “Perhaps. I have a great many duties within the Kingdom. It works.”
“I’m surprised there’s no disenchantment between you.”
“We are close,” he said softly. “Very much like brothers.”
“Which will make me your sister, more or less, once I’m married.”
Ash’s laugh was a soft whisper against her cheeks. “You have changed the subject very skilfully, azeezi.”
“Apparently not,” she contradicted, lifting a piece of fish into her mouth. It was mouth wateringly delicious. The combination of spices with the natural smokiness of the fish practically made her moan.
“You were about to tell me of your rule breaking?”
She lifted a finger towards her lips, indicating her full mouth, and shrugging with mock apology.
“I’ll wait.”
She glared at him, finished chewing and reached, slowly, purposefully delaying, for her drink. She sipped it, her eyes locking to his. She saw laughter in them and it warmed her up.
“So?” He prompted, relaxing his chin on his interlocked fingers.
“Yesterday isn’t going to cover me, too?”
His eyes flared and he leaned further across the table. “Nothing about what happened yesterday was your fault, Charlotte.”
“How do you figure?” She arched a brow. “Wasn’t I there with you?”
“I should have known better. That situation was my doing.”
Her mouth suddenly felt filled with saw dust. “Let’s not rehash it,” she said softly, the words weakened by the intensity of her emotions.
“If you wish.”
Charlotte pushed her fork into the fish and then put it down again. The problem was, she wanted to rehash it, badly. As in to live it over and over again, in real time. To be back in that moment, when anything had seemed possible.
“Are you pretending you are not perfect? To make me feel better?”
She shook her head, holding back a laugh. “Well, I’m pretty great now,” she grinned. “And seriously? You feel bad?”
“No.” He agreed with an arrogant shrug.
“What is this imperfection you are hesitating to share with me?”
She bit down on her lip. Why was she hesitating? It was a part of her past. Admittedly, one her parents had gone to lengths to keep secret.
“There was a scandal, when I was younger.”
He paused, his heart pounding. He sat on tenterhooks, waiting for her to reveal something that might satisfy Syed’s requirements, and free her for Ashad.
He nodded, silently encouraging her to continue.
“I was only sixteen.” Charlotte shook her head. His eyes were drawn to her face. The style was severe, even with the loosened tendrils of hair. Yet it simply served to accentuate her bone structure, making him see how stunning she was. Her beauty was, indeed, rare.
“And?” He murmured encouragingly, waiting, waiting, waiting.
“I thought I knew everything.”
“Like most sixteen year olds,” he prompted.
Her smile was tight on her face. “I suppose. But I had far more to risk, you see. I was out of the media embargo. My photo was taken wherever I went. I suppose that’s how it started?”
He arched a brow, thoughtfully.
“I met a man.” She swallowed, turning her head, focussing on the glorious view of the gardens that surrounded the Kalastani embassy.
Ash was very still, every fibre of his being concentrated on Charlotte and the story she was telling with an air of necessity.
“He was older.”
“How much older?”
She smiled, but it was a reflex, something she did when distracted. “He was thirty-five.”
“And you were sixteen,” Ash murmured, moving a hand beneath the table so she wouldn’t see the fist he was making.
Charlotte nodded. “I loved him. I thought I did, anyway.” She grimaced.
“And it didn’t work out.”
“It was fake. All of it.” She sipped her champagne, but even the bubbles as they glided down her throat couldn’t calm the raging torrent of memories. “He’d read everything about me, stalked me, turned himself into my perfect man.” She shook her head. “I had no idea.”
Ashad’s fist pumped. His temper was spiking. “Until?”
“Yes, yes. That sort of thing has a way of coming out, doesn’t it? I surprised him at his house one evening. He had walls filled with my photograph, going back years.” She shivered, the truth of that night making it hard to breathe for a moment. “It was … terrifying.” She hadn’t had a panic attack in years; she wouldn’t have one now. She inhaled slowly, counting to three.
“It was just as well you discovered the truth before it was too late.”
“Too late?” She whispered, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’d been seeing him for months.” She could smell Marook. She could feel him. His heavy body, so strong, so insistent. “It was too late.”
Ashad stood, scraping the chair back, and moved towards the railing. He gripped it for a moment, his breath burning through his lungs, his mind turning over this information. So she’d slept with him, this man who’d targeted her. Was that it?
He turned slowly, and instantly regretted his hasty reaction. Charlotte was ashamed. It was an unmistakable emotion, playing across her features.
“See?” She whispered, not meeting his eyes. “I’m anything but perfect.”
A need to kiss away those doubts assaulted him from every angle. His body was taut, his mind heavy with the war it was waging with his heart and body.
“Falling for the wrong person doesn’t invalidate perfection,” he said quietly.
Her eyes lifted, holding his for a brief, electric moment before skidding away sharply. He didn’t know the truth.
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Who?” Ashad stared at her in confusion.
“Syed.” Her cheeks flushed. “I’m sure he has certain … expectations … about me. That will obviously be … disappointed.”
Ash’s gut rolled. Hell. He hadn’t even thought of Syed! It would be the perfect kernel of information to spill to release his cousin from the betrothal. Or would it? Adin was no fool. He didn’t expect people in this day and age to stand true to virtues and societal standards that had been in play decades earlier. And the matter had been hushed up successfully, kept out of the media’s eye. There was no need for anyone to know.
“No,” he said, shaking his head from side to side slowly. “I’m not.”
“Why not?” She asked, her surprise obvious.
“Because what you have just told me has no bearing on the kind of wife you will be. It is irrelevant to your marriage. And because no one should be punished for innocent mistakes made many years in the past.”
* * *
Ashad placed the lid on his pen carefully, a grim sense of reality adding urgency to his question. “Can you cancel your afternoon’s plans?”
Charlotte startled. Not because his words were in any way offensive or remarkable, but because she had been on tenterhooks since arriving at the embassy hours earlier. The idea of spending more time with Ashad, talking, looking, laughing, and not touching, was impossible to contemplate.
“No, I have to go,” she said with an attempt at sounding apologetic.
He didn’t argue, though watching her walk away – again – was something he wished to avoid. “Fine. Tomorrow morning?”
“What about it?” She asked cautiously.
“Will you meet me?”
“I … we’re almost done, aren’t we?”
“This isn’t about the wedding,” he said quietly.
“Oh.” She blinked down at the notes they’d made, detailing many aspects of the marriage that lay ahead of her. “I don’t think …”
“Think of it as getting to know your groom’s family,” he added.
“Ashad.” A warning, but her eyes met his and her desire to say yes was patently obvious.
“One morning, azeezi.”
“Danger can find purchase in one minute, let alone one morning,” she murmured.
“True.” He grinned. “Just as well we’re both risk-taking law-breakers then.”
“Ashad … this is … not appropriate.” Her cheeks coloured.
Ash couldn’t help but agree. If Charlotte only knew that Syed had no interest in marrying her! Perhaps then she’d feel differently. “Is that a ‘no’?”
She drew her lower lip between her teeth and stared at him. She shook her head and her eyes were beseeching, begging, hoping that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake in her life.
“Fine. Where?”
He expelled a sigh of relief. “Meet me downstairs from your apartment. Seven o’clock.”