The Sheikh Crowns His Virgin Page 5

  ‘Good heavens... Grandad knows about all this?’ Zoe gasped, already shaken by Raj’s serious respect for her ancestry, which was, she realised finally, far more valued in Maraban than it would ever be anywhere else.

  ‘Your grandfather is agreeable to the exchange of bridegrooms,’ Raj delivered.

  Zoe turned slowly pale with anger. ‘But what about me? What about what I want?’ she demanded starkly.

  ‘That is why I am here...asking,’ Raj stressed sardonically. ‘Your grandfather and my father are quite happy to believe that only their consent is required. I am not that foolish.’

  Her anger drained away again. ‘Thank goodness, someone here has some sense,’ she mumbled.

  ‘You were willing to marry Hakem sight unseen,’ Raj reminded her.

  Zoe’s knees felt weak and she flopped down on a cushioned seat as if her breath had been stolen from her. She was at a crossroads. ‘That’s different, that was before all this happened and I realised Hakem had abandoned his wife for me and stuff like that,’ she argued uncomfortably. ‘It was a mistake to agree. Now I just want to forget all this nonsense and go home again.’

  ‘But I am asking you to stay here and marry me,’ Raj stated with precision. ‘And it is an entirely selfish request.’

  Taken aback at that confession, Zoe tilted her head back to look up at him. ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes. It would mean the end of my exile and my estrangement from my father,’ Raj pointed out grittily. ‘And not only that, my marriage to Azra’s granddaughter would delight my people as well. What is in it for you other than the acquisition of an entirely useless title, I don’t know, but it would at least be as much as you would have received from my uncle. I can also promise to treat you as well as he would have. He is a decent man, regrettably poisoned by his pointless need to compete with my father.’

  What is in it for you? Zoe appreciated his honesty with regard to the advantages to him should he marry her. Even so, her understanding of his position did nothing to stop her brain from whirling with wild indecision. She had been ready to go home and give up on her quest for greater independence but now Raj was offering her another option. Yet somehow marrying him struck her as a far more intimidating prospect than marrying a much older man, who had sworn he would treat her like a daughter. Raj was so much younger, more aggressive, more virile... Her brain ran out of descriptive words as she glanced warily at him.

  He was so poised in his long white buttoned tunic, a black cloak folded back over his broad shoulders, his lean, darkly handsome face grave and cool while he awaited her answer, those glorious dark-as-the-devil eyes gleaming with an impatience he was too polite and intelligent to voice. A positive reply would mean a lot to him. She understood that, she really did. She also still yearned for the opportunity to live an independent life, unfettered by the expectations of her family. But most of all, she wanted to prove herself to herself and she wanted to be strong without leaning on anyone else for support. Even less did she want to run home with her tail between her legs and disappoint her grandfather as well.

  ‘What would it take to win your agreement?’ Raj pressed, the skilled negotiator that he was breaking cover.

  Zoe coloured as if he had turned a spotlight on her and dropped her head. ‘Well, I don’t know what your expectations would be but I can assure you now that I wouldn’t want sex. I’m not into sex. It’s something I can live without, but you?’

  That he couldn’t even look at her without thinking about sex was a truth Raj decided he needed to keep to himself. Overpowering curiosity assailed him at the same time. What had put her off sex? One bad experience? An assault? Those were not questions he could ask and he suppressed the urge to probe deeper even as he winced inwardly from the upfront immediate rejection she was handing him. She didn’t want sex with him. He had never met with that kind of rejection before and he pushed away that awareness, deeming it arrogant and ultimately unimportant in the greater scheme of events.

  ‘I can offer you the exact same marital agreement that persuaded you that you could marry my uncle,’ Raj broke in to insist with measured cool.

  Zoe tossed her head back in surprise. Little tendrils of white-blonde hair were beginning to cling to her damp brow because she was feeling too warm even in the shade of the tent. Probably because even talking about sex set her cheeks on fire with self-consciousness, but she knew that she had to be frank with him. There was no other way and no room for any misunderstandings if she was candid from the outset. It shook her to acknowledge that she was seriously considering the marriage he was suggesting, for it was unlike her to take a risk. And Raj, her sixth sense warned, would be a risk.

  ‘Unfortunately, you’re not old enough to treat me like a daughter!’ she told him ruefully.

  ‘But I am old enough not to put pressure on a woman, who doesn’t want me, for sex,’ Raj retorted without hesitation. ‘I appreciate that you would have to take that guarantee on trust but it is the truth. I have never had to put that kind of pressure on a woman and I never will.’

  ‘OK,’ Zoe mumbled, feeling that they had done the topic of sex and not having it to death. ‘I admit that I would like to stay in Maraban and explore a little of my heritage.’

  ‘I could make that possible,’ Raj told her.

  ‘Where would we live?’

  ‘In the palace, which is, I must admit, a little dated,’ Raj acknowledged, choosing to understate the case because he himself considered his surroundings immaterial as long as the basics were in place.

  His father, unhappily, had a great reverence for history and it had proved a major battle to persuade Tahir to allow even modern bathrooms and cooking facilities to be constructed in the ancient building. Guests were lodged in one of the very contemporary villas built within the palace compound to provide convenient accommodation for visitors while preserving his father’s privacy.

  ‘I could live with dated,’ Zoe muttered uneasily. ‘I’m really not very fussy. My sisters and I lived in some real dives before we met our grandfather a couple of years ago and he invited us to move into a property that he owns in London.’

  ‘The palace is not a dive,’ Raj murmured with reluctant amusement. ‘To sum up, you are prepared to consider my proposal?’

  ‘Thinking about it, wondering if I can trust you.’ That admission slid off the end of Zoe’s tongue before she could snatch it back and her face flamed with guilt.

  ‘I keep my word...always,’ Raj proclaimed with pride, dark eyes aglow with conviction. ‘You have nothing to fear from me. You would be doing me a very great favour. The last thing I would do is harm you. In fact, if you do this for me, I will protect you from anything and anyone who would seek to harm you.’

  He was gorgeous, she thought helplessly, standing there so straight and tall and emotional, so very emotional. She had never met a man who teemed with so much emotion that he couldn’t hide it. She had never met a man she could read so clearly. Reluctant hope, growing excitement and the first seeds of satisfaction brimmed in his volatile gaze. She couldn’t take her eyes off his, could still hear the faint echo of his fervent promise to protect her from all threats.

  ‘We would still be able to get a divorce after a few months?’ Zoe checked anxiously.

  ‘Of course. We would not want to find ourselves stuck with each other for ever!’ Raj quipped with sudden amusement.

  And for the very first time in a man’s presence, Zoe felt slighted by honesty. She scolded herself for being oversensitive. Naturally, he wouldn’t want to stay married for good to a woman he didn’t love and neither would she wish to stay with him, would she? He was simply voicing the facts of their agreement.

  ‘Then...’ Zoe rose to her feet, suddenly pale with the stress of the occasion and the big decision she was making for herself without consulting her sisters, who probably would’ve voiced very loud objections ‘...I will agree to marry yo
u and I can only hope that it brings you the advantages that you believe it will.’

  Raj took a sudden step forward and raised his arms and then let them fall again as he stepped back. ‘Forgive me, I almost touched you but I am sure you prefer not to be touched.’

  ‘I do.’ But Zoe was lying. He had been about to sweep her up in his arms and hug her and she was disappointed that he had recalled her rules and gone back into retreat. He was passionate, a little impulsive, she suspected, the sort of guy who occasionally in the grip of strong feeling would act first, think later. She would have liked the hug, the physical non-sexual contact, the very warmth and reassurance of it, but it was better that he respected her boundaries, she told herself urgently. ‘So when will this marriage take place?’

  ‘Today.’

  ‘Today?’ she exclaimed in soaring disbelief.

  ‘My father does not trust me enough to allow me to return to the palace without immediate proof that I have changed my ways,’ Raj told her grimly. ‘This marriage will provide that proof. He brought the palace imam here with him.’

  ‘We’re getting married here...now?’ she prompted incredulously. ‘What on earth am I going to wear?’

  ‘My father leaves nothing to chance. I would suspect that his wife has brought appropriate clothing for you.’

  ‘Which wife?’ she prompted curiously.

  ‘He only has one wife still living. My mother died when I was nine and her predecessor died about ten years ago. The Queen, his first wife, is called Ayshah,’ Raj proffered. ‘She is pleasant enough.’

  Zoe breathed in deep and slow. She was going to marry Raj and make a go of her life all on her own. She would stay in Maraban for several months and there would be no more panic attacks. She would pick up some of the language, learn the history and find out about her grandmother’s culture. It would be an adventure, a glorious adventure, she told herself firmly while watching Raj stand by the doorway, quite unconscious of her appraisal. He smiled with sudden brilliance. And gorgeous wasn’t quite a strong enough word for him at that moment...

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘MY FATHER TELLS me that the King is arranging a state wedding to take place in two weeks’ time and for that you can wear a Western wedding gown,’ Farida informed Zoe in a discreet whisper. ‘The King wants to make the most of your entry into the family.’

  Apprehensive enough about the wedding about to take place, Zoe could have done without the news that there was to be a second, which would be a public spectacle. Such an event lay so far outside her comfort zone that even thinking about it made her feel dizzy. But she squashed that sensation. Baby steps, she told herself soothingly. She would cope by dealing with one thing at a time, and fretting about the future would only wind her up. Right at that moment it was sufficient to accept that she was about to legally marry a man she had only met for the first time that day.

  Marrying Raj’s uncle, however, she would have been doing the same, she reminded herself wryly, and at least Raj came without previous attachments such as wives, children and grandchildren. Yes, she had definitely dodged a bullet in not marrying Hakem. Raj was single and refreshingly honest. He had admitted that he had once suffered panic attacks too. He had even admitted to defying his father over the woman he loved and subsequently discovering that she had cheated on him, which must have been a huge disillusionment. Most men that Zoe came across would have concealed such unhappy and revealing facts. That Raj had been so frank had impressed her.

  Surrounded by fussing tribeswomen presided over by the elderly Queen Ayshah, who sat in the corner, entirely dressed in black, barking out instructions, Zoe studied her reflection in the tall mirror. She was so heavily clothed in layers and jewellery that she was amazed she could move. A beaten gold headdress covered her brow, a veil covering most of her hair, weighty gold earrings dangling from her ears, hung there by thread. She had very narrowly sidestepped having her ear lobes pierced there and then and she had Farida to thank for tactfully suggesting thread be used to attach the earrings instead. More primitive gold necklaces clanked and shifted round her neck with every movement while rich and elaborate henna swirls adorned her hands and her feet. What remained of her was enveloped in a white kaftan covered in richly beaded and colourful embroidery. Below that were several gossamer-fine silk layers, all of which rejoiced in buttons running down the back. Getting undressed again promised to be a challenge, she thought ruefully.

  She had insisted on doing her own make-up though, having run her eyes over her companions, already festooned in their glad rags and best jewellery for the wedding, their faces over-rouged, their eyelids bright blue. Only Farida had gone for the subtle approach. Zoe had used more cosmetics than she normally did and had gone heavy on the eye liner when urged to do so but at least there was nothing theatrical about the end result.

  ‘My wedding celebrations lasted a week,’ Farida told her.

  ‘A week?’ Zoe gasped.

  ‘But yours will only last the afternoon. The King does not wish to spend the night here. The state wedding celebration parties will go on longer, I expect,’ Omar’s wife chattered. ‘Everyone loves these events because they get to see family and friends, but this has been arranged so quickly that it is a very small and quiet wedding—but the jewellery Raj has given you is magnificent.’

  ‘What jewellery?’ Zoe whispered.

  ‘Everything you’re wearing comes from the royal house. Traditionally, the jewellery is your wedding gift.’

  ‘The King must’ve brought that with him as well,’ Zoe muttered.

  ‘Yes, you were getting married today whether you wanted to or not!’ Farida laughed. ‘But who could say no to Raj?’

  Zoe could feel her face heat and was grateful when the sound of music outside the tent sent all the women to the doorway. She followed them and glanced out to see some sort of ceremonial dance being performed with much waving of swords and cracking of whips. Men leapt over the campfire, competing in feats of daring that made her flinch and at one point close her eyes. A moment later, she was ushered out in an excited procession into another larger tent filled with people. She was led up to the front where a venerable older man appeared to bestow some sort of blessing on her and gave a long speech before handing her a ring. Farida showed her which finger to put it on. In the middle of the speech, she finally glimpsed Raj, resplendent in a sapphire-blue silk tunic, tied with a sash, his lean, darkly handsome features very serious. She tried and failed to catch his eye.

  Another, even older man spoke more briefly and then moved forward to flourish a pen over a long piece of parchment, which he duly signed. In fact, several people signed the parchment and then she in turn was urged forward to sign as well, before being led away again without a word or a look exchanged with Raj.

  ‘And now we party!’ Farida whispered teasingly in her ear.

  ‘You mean...that’s it done? We’re married now?’ Zoe exclaimed in wonderment.

  ‘As soon as you signed the marriage contract, it was done. I would’ve translated for you but I didn’t want to risk offending the King by speaking during the ceremony,’ the lithe brunette confided. ‘You are now the Crown Princess of Maraban.’

  ‘And I don’t feel the slightest bit different!’ Zoe confided with amusement, reckoning that her grandfather would be sorry to have missed the ceremony but she assumed he would be attending the state wedding, which was to follow. Her sisters would have to come as well and she smiled at the prospect as Farida guided her into yet another tent full of chattering women where music was starting up in the background.

  Introduction after introduction was made and plate after plate of food was brought. There were no men present. Farida explained that the reception after the state wedding would not be segregated but that rural weddings were of a more conservative ilk. Zoe sipped mint tea and watched the festivities as the dancing began. Married, she kept on thinking; she couldn’t
believe it. But she wasn’t really married, she reminded herself wryly, not truly married because she and Raj were not going to live together as a married couple. She wondered how he was feeling. Was he wishing she were his ex-love, who had let him down? Or did the significance of the actual marriage escape him because he was not in love with his bride? Or, more likely, was he simply happy that he was back in Maraban and accepted by his father again?

  At one point, Zoe drifted off in spite of the noise and liveliness surrounding her and wakened only when Farida discreetly pressed her hand. She blinked in bemusement, for an instant not even knowing where she was. Darkness had fallen beyond the tent and it was quieter now, only a couple of women dancing, the rest gathered in chattering groups. Slowly her brain fell back into step and she suppressed a sigh, murmuring an apology to Farida for her drowsiness.

  ‘Your body is probably still working on ridding you of the sleeping drug you were given at the palace. Our doctor said it would be a couple of days before you fully recovered from that. I am so sorry that that happened to you,’ the other woman said sincerely.

  ‘You were involved in it against your will...not your responsibility,’ Zoe pointed out gently.

  ‘And sadly, the instigator will only be celebrating the reality that he has regained his son,’ Farida murmured ruefully.

  The last piece of the puzzle fell into place for Zoe and her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she finally appreciated that only Raj’s father could have had her kidnapped and remained safe from punishment of any kind. That was why Raj had remained silent about the identity of the perpetrator; that was why he had seemed to feel partially responsible for her ordeal. Clearly the King had been determined to prevent his brother, Hakem, from marrying her.

  ‘It is time for you to retire,’ Farida told her, reacting to a signal from Queen Ayshah, who raised her hand and gave her a meaningful look.