Читать книгу Postcards From Paris - Sarah Mayberry - Страница 11

CHAPTER ONE

CLASPING THE COLD metal railings, Annalina stared down at the swirling black depths of the River Seine. She shivered violently, her heart thumping beneath the tight-fitting bodice of her evening gown, her designer shoes biting into the soft flesh of her heels. Clearly they had not been designed for a mad sprint down the bustling boulevards and cobbled back streets of Paris.

Oh, God. Anna dragged in a shuddering lung full of cold night air. What had she just done?

Somewhere behind her in one of Paris’s most grand hotels, a society party was in swing. A glittering, star-studded occasion attended by royalty and heads of state, the great, the good and the glamorous from the world over. It was a party being thrown in her honour. And worse, far worse, a party where a man she had only just met was about to announce that she was to be his bride.

She let out a rasping breath, watching the cloud of condensation disperse into the night. She had no idea where she was or what she was going to do now but she did know that there was no going back. The brutal fact was she couldn’t go through with this marriage, no matter what the consequences. Right up until tonight she had genuinely believed she could do it, could commit to this union, to please her father and to save her country from financial ruin.

Even yesterday, when she had met her intended for the first time, she had played along. Watching in a kind of dazed stupor as the ring had been slipped onto her finger, a perfunctory gesture performed by a man who had just wanted to get the deed over with, and witnessed by her father, whose steely-eyed glare had left no room for second thoughts or doubts. As King of the small country of Dorrada he was going to make sure that this union took place. That his daughter would marry King Rashid Zahani, ruler of the recently reformed Kingdom of Nabatean, if it was the last thing she ever did.

Which frankly, right now, looked like a distinct possibility. Anna gazed down at the ring on her finger. The enormous diamond glittered back at her, mocking her with its ostentatious sparkle. Heaven only knew what it was worth—enough to pay the entire annual salaries of the palace staff, no doubt, and with money to spare. She tugged it over her cold knuckles and held it in her palm, feeling the burden of its weight settle like a stone in her heart.

To hell with it.

Closing her fist, she raised herself up on tiptoes, leaning as far over the railings as she could. She was going to do this. She was going to fling this hateful ring into the river. She was going to control her own destiny.

He came from out of nowhere—an avalanche of heat, weight and muscle that landed on top of her, knocking the breath from her lungs, flattening her against the granite wall of his chest. She could see nothing except the darkness of him, feel nothing except the strength of the arms that were locked around her like corded steel. Her body went limp, her bones dissolving with shock. Only her poor heart tried to keep her alive, taking up a wild, thundering beat.

‘Oh, no, you don’t.’

He growled the words over the top of her head, somewhere in the outside world that, until a couple of moments ago, she had quite taken for granted. Now she panicked she would never see it again.

Don’t what?

Anna forced her oxygen-starved brain to work out what he meant. Shouldn’t it be her telling this mad man what he shouldn’t be doing? Like crushing her so hard against him that she was almost asphyxiated. She tried to move inside his grip but the ring of steel tightened still further, pinning her arms to her sides. Her mouth, she suddenly registered, was pressed against flesh. She could touch him with the tip of her tongue, taste the very masculine mix of spice and sweat. She could feel the coarseness of what had to be chest hair against her lips. Forcing her mouth open, she bared her teeth, then brought them down as hard as she could. Yes! Her sharp nip connected with a small but significant ridge of his flesh. She felt him buck, then curse loudly in a foreign tongue.

‘Why, you little...’ Releasing her just enough to be able to see her face, her captor glared at her with ferociously piercing black eyes. ‘What the hell are you? Some sort of animal?’

‘Me!’ Incredulity spiked through the terror as Anna stared back at him, squinting through the dark shadows to try and work out who the hell he was, what the hell he wanted. He seemed somehow familiar but she couldn’t pull back far enough to see. ‘You call me an animal when you’ve just leapt out on me from the shadows like some sort of crazed beast!’ The jet-black eyes narrowed, glinting with all the menace of a brandished blade. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to goad him. ‘Look.’ She tried for what she hoped was a conciliatory tone, though her voice was too muffled from being squeezed half to death to be able to tell. ‘If it’s money you want, I’m afraid I don’t have any.’

This much was true. She had fled the party without even thinking to snatch up her clutch bag.

‘I don’t want your money.’

The rush of fear returned. Oh, God, what did he want, then? Terror closed her throat as she desperately tried to come up with something to distract him. Suddenly she remembered the ring that was still digging into her palm. It was worth a try. ‘I do have a ring, though—right here in my hand.’ She tried unsuccessfully to free her arm to show it to him. ‘If you let me go you can have it.’

This produced a mocking snort from above her.

‘No, really, it’s worth thousands—millions, for all I know.’

‘I know exactly what it’s worth.’

He did? Anna gasped with relief. So that was what this brute was after—the wretched ring. Well, he was welcome to it. Good riddance. She just wished she could get out of her engagement as easily. She was struggling to thrust it upon him when he spoke again.

‘I should do. I signed the cheque.’

Anna stilled. What? This wasn’t making any sense. Who on earth was this guy? Twisting in his arms, she felt his grip loosen a fraction, enough to let her straighten her spine, tip her chin and gaze into his face. Her heart thundered at what she saw.

Fearsomely handsome features glowered down at her, all sharp-angled planes of chiselled cheekbones, a blade-straight nose and an uncompromising jut of a granite-hewn jaw, all highlighted by the orange glow of the Victorian street lights. He exuded strength and power, and his sheer forcefulness shivered its way through Anna’s body, settling somewhere deep within her core.

She recognised him now. She remembered having seen him out of the corner of her eye somewhere amid the flurry of guests at the party, amid the endless introductions and polite conversations. A dark yet unmissable figure, he had been looming in the background, taking in everything—taking in her, too, before she had haughtily turned her profile to him. Some sort of bodyguard or minder—that was who he had to be. She remembered now the way he had hovered at the side of Rashid Zahani, her new fiancé, always a step behind him but somehow in charge, controlling him, owning the space, the glittering ballroom and everyone in it.

But a bodyguard who picked out engagement rings?

Somehow she couldn’t see this towering force of a man lingering over a tray of jewels. Not that that mattered. What mattered was that he took his brutish hands off her and left her alone to carry on making the hideous mess of her life that she seemed so hell-bent on doing.

‘So, if I am not being mugged, perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me exactly why you have leapt out of the dark and scared me half to death. And why you’re not letting me go now, this instant. Presumably you know who I am?’

‘Indeed I do, Princess.’

The word ‘princess’ hissed through his teeth, curdling something in Anna’s stomach. Loosening his arms from around her back, he moved his hands to her shoulders, where they weighed down on her with searing heat.

‘And, in reply to your question, I’m stopping you from doing something extremely foolish.’

‘Flinging this into the river, you mean?’ With a contemptuous toss of her head, Anna opened her hand to reveal the hated ring.

‘That and yourself along with it.’

‘Myself?’ She scowled up at him. ‘You don’t mean...? You didn’t think..?’

‘That you were about to leap to your death? Yes.’

‘And why exactly would I want to do that?’

‘You tell me, Princess. You flee from your own engagement party in a state of high anxiety, position yourself on a bridge with a thirty-foot drop into a fast-flowing river and then lean forward in an extremely dangerous way. What was I supposed to think?’

‘You weren’t supposed to think at all. You were supposed to mind your own business and leave me alone.’

‘Ah, but this is my business. You are my business.’

A wave of heat swept over Anna at the possessiveness of his words.

‘Well, fine.’ She fought to stand her ground. ‘Now you can go back to your boss and tell him that you prevented a suicide that was never going to happen by leaping on an innocent woman—a woman who just happens to be a princess, may I remind you?—and scaring her half to death. I’m sure he will be very pleased with you.’

Piercingly dark eyes held hers, flicking over her like the flames of a newly lit fire, mesmerising with a promise of deadly heat. There was something else there too, an amused arrogance, if Anna wasn’t mistaken. If ‘amused’ could ever be used to describe those forbidding features.

‘In fact I may decide to press charges.’ Anger hardened her voice. ‘If you don’t get your hands off me within the next second, I will make sure everyone knows of your behaviour.’ She jerked at her shoulders to try and dislodge his leaden hold.

‘I’ll take my hands off you when I am good and ready.’ His voice was as dark and menacing as the river that flowed beneath them. ‘And when I do it will be to personally escort you back to the party. There are a number of very important people there waiting for a big announcement, in case you had forgotten.’

‘No, not forgotten.’ Anna swallowed. ‘But, as it happens, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided I won’t be marrying King Rashid after all. In fact, perhaps you would like to go back and inform him of my decision.’

‘Ha!’ A cruel laugh escaped his lips. ‘I can assure you, you will be doing no such thing. You will accompany me back to the ballroom and you will act as if nothing has happened. The engagement will be announced as planned. The wedding will go ahead as planned.’

‘I think you are forgetting yourself.’ Anna fired back at him. ‘You are in no position to speak to me like that.’

‘I’ll speak to you any way I want, Princess. And you will do as I say. You can start by putting that ring back on your finger.’ His hand moved to Anna’s, picking up the ring and sending a jolt of awareness through her. For one crazy moment, she thought he was going to slip it back on her finger himself, like some sort of deranged suitor, but instead he handed it to her and waited as she did as she was told, the sheer force of his presence giving her no choice other than to obey.

With her ring in place, he took hold of her arm with manacle-like force and Anna found herself being turned away from the railings, presumably to be marched back to the party. This was outrageous. How dared he treat her like this? She wanted to spell out in the clearest possible terms that she did not take orders from bodyguards, or ring-choosers, or whoever this arrogant piece of work thought he was. But presumably he was working on the orders of King Rashid...

With her mind racing in all directions, she tried to think what on earth she could do—how she could get herself out of this mess. Physically trying to get away from him was clearly not an option. Even if she managed to escape his iron grip—which was highly unlikely, as the forceful fingers wrapped around her cold skin could testify—she would never be able to run fast enough to get away from him. The image of him chasing and finally capturing her flailing body was strangely erotic, given the circumstances.

She would have to use the only thing she had left in her armoury—her feminine wiles. Drawing herself up to her full height, she let her shoulder blades slide down her back, which had the desired effect of pushing her chest forward, accentuating the fullness of her breasts as they spilled over the tight bodice of her gown. Ah, yes, she had his attention now. She felt her nipples harden beneath his veiled scrutiny, sensing rather than witnessing his eyes delve into the valley of her cleavage. Her breath stalled in her throat, a tingling warmth spreading through her entire body, and she fleetingly found herself wondering who was supposed to be seducing who here.

‘I’m sure we can come to some sort of mutual agreement.’ Her voice came out as a sort of husky burr, more as a result of the sudden dryness of her throat than an attempt at sexiness. Still, it seemed to be working. Bodyguard man was still staring fixedly at her and, even if his granite expression hadn’t softened, there was no doubt she was doing something right.

Raising her arms, Anna went to link them behind his neck. She had no clear thought of what she was doing except that maybe she could persuade him with flattery, or perhaps blackmail him after a kiss—he was certainly getting no more that—so that she could make her escape. It went against her feminist principles but desperate times called for desperate measures.

But before she had the chance to do anything of the sort this hateful man snatched at her wrists, easily clasping them in one hand and bringing them down to her chest at the same time as swinging his other arm around her waist to pull her snugly against him. Anna gasped, the contact with his body, that part of his body, the particular swell of that part of his body, ricocheting through her with clenching waves. Granite-faced he may be, but that wasn’t the only part of his body she had managed to harden.

And, judging by the look on his face, her captor had been taken by surprise too. He was glaring at her with a mixture of horror and hunger, the hand clasping her wrists shaking very slightly before he tightened its grip. Controlling the tremble of her own body, Anna stared back. If this was a small victory, though small was hardly the right word, she was going to make the most of it. Tipping back her head, she trained her eyes on his, forcing his to meet them, to see the temptations that they held, temptations that burned so brightly, even if she had no intention of honouring them. She could sense the quickening of his heartbeat beneath his white shirt, hear the faint rasp in his exhaled breath. She had got him.

‘Princess Anna!’

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light, illuminating their bodies, freezing them against the backdrop of darkness.

‘What the hell?’ A low growl rumbled from Anna’s captor as he spun around to face the photographer that had crept out of the shadows, the shutter of the camera clicking furiously.

Blinking against the glare, Anna felt her wrists being released as this warrior man lunged towards the photographer, clearly intent on murder. But when she went to move, to make her escape or save the photographer’s life—she didn’t know which—he was right back by her side again, pulling her forcefully into his arms.

‘Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not going anywhere.’

‘Come on, Anna. Show us a kiss!’ Bolder now, the photographer took a step closer, the camera flashing all the time.

Anna had a split second to make a decision. If she wanted to get away from this man, avoid being frogmarched back to her own engagement party and forced to announce her betrothal to a man she could never, ever marry, there was one sure way to do it. Standing on tiptoes, she raised her arms to link them behind her captors head, shoving her fingers through the thick swathe of his hair and pulling against his resistance to bring him closer. If this was what the photographer wanted, this was what he was going to get.

With one final, terrifically brave or wildly foolish breath—Anna had no idea which—she reached up to plant her lips firmly on his.

* * *

What the hell?

Shock sucked the air from Zahir Zahani’s lungs, numbing his senses, closing his fists. Plump and firm, her lips had swiftly turned from cold to warm as they sealed his own, the pressure increasing as she raked her hands through his hair to pull him closer. Her breath rasped between them, her delicate scent filling his nostrils, temporarily freezing his brain yet heating every other part of his body. Zahir went rigid, and the arms that were supposed to be restraining her were no more than useless weights as Annalina continued her relentless assault on his mouth. With the blood roaring in his ears, he found his lips parting, his body screaming to show her just where this could lead if she carried on this very dangerous game.

‘Fantastic! Cheers for that, Anna.’

The camera flashes stopped and Annalina finally released him, letting her arms fall by her side. Meanwhile the photographer was already on his scooter, his camera slung over his shoulder.

‘I owe you one!’

Turning the scooter around, he noisily zoomed off into the Paris streets, giving a cheery wave over his shoulder.

Zahir stared after him, suffering a split second of silent horror before his brain finally kicked into action again. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he grabbed his mobile phone. He’d have been able to catch the low life on foot if he didn’t have this vixen to deal with. But his security team would pick him up—get him stopped and get the camera tossed into the Seine, the photographer along with it, if he had any say.

‘No.’ Her cold, trembling fingers closed over the phone in his hand. ‘It’s too late. It’s done.’

‘The hell it is.’ Shaking off her hand, he started to punch in numbers. ‘I can get him stopped. I will get him stopped.’

‘There’s no point.’

He stopped short, the cold determination in her voice halting his hand. ‘And what exactly do you mean by that?’ A trickle of dread started to seep into his veins.

‘I’m sorry.’ Dark-blue eyes shone back at him. ‘But I had to do it.’

Hell! Realisation smacked him across the head. He’d been had. The whole thing was a set-up. This deceitful, conniving little princess had set a trap and he had walked right in. Fury coursed through him. He had no idea what her motive was but he did know that she would live to regret it. Nobody made a fool of Zahir Zahani.

‘You will be sorry, believe me.’ He kept his voice deliberately low, concentrating on controlling the rage that was pumping adrenaline dangerously fast around his veins. ‘You will be more than sorry for what you have done.’

‘I had no choice!’ Her voice was full of anguish now and she even reached out a trembling hand to touch his arm before demurely lowering her eyes to the ground.

Nice try, Princess. But you don’t get to fool me more than once.

Roughly grasping her chin, Zahir tipped back her head so she couldn’t escape his searing gaze. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted her to know exactly who she was dealing with here.

‘Oh, you had a choice, all right. You’ve chosen to bring scandal and disrepute to both our countries. And, trust me, you are going to pay for that, young lady. But first you are going to tell me why.’

He saw her slender body begin to tremble, her bare shoulders hunch against the shiver that ran through her. Bizarrely he itched to touch her, to warm that tantalisingly goose-bumped skin with his hot hands. But he would do no such thing.

‘Because I am desperate.’ Clear blue eyes implored him.

‘Desperate?’ He repeated the word with disgust.

‘Yes. I can’t go back to that party.’

‘So that’s why you set up this little charade?’

‘No, I didn’t set it up, not in the way you mean. I just took advantage of the situation.’ Her voice lowered.

‘You tricked me into following you. You arranged for that photographer to be there.’

‘No! I had no idea that either of you had followed me.’

‘You’re lying. That guy knew you.’

‘He didn’t know me. He knows who I am. There’s a difference. The press have been following me around all my life.’

‘So you are telling me this wasn’t planned?’

Annalina shook her head.

‘Think carefully before you speak, Princess. Because, I have to warn you, to lie to me now would be very foolish indeed.’

‘It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. And that is the truth.’

Despite everything, Zahir found himself believing her. He dragged in a breath. ‘So that...that little display you just put on...?’ He curled his lip against the traitorous memory of the way she had leant into him, the way she had messed with his head. ‘What exactly did you hope to achieve? What makes you so desperate that you would bring disgrace upon your family? Fabricate a scandal to rock the foundations of both of our countries?’

‘Disgrace I can live with. I’m used to it.’ Her voice was suddenly very small. ‘And the scandal will die down. But to be forced to marry Rashid Zahani is more than I can bear. That would have been a life sentence.’

‘How dare you disrespect the King in this way?’ Defensive anger roared in his voice. ‘The engagement will still be announced. The marriage will still go ahead.’

‘No. You can force me to go back to the party, even force me, with the help of my father, to go ahead with the announcement of the engagement. But, once those photographs go online, I’ll be dropped like a stone.’

Zahir stared into the beautiful face of this wilful princess. Her skin was so pale in this ghostly light, so delicate, it was almost translucent. But her lips were ruby-red and her eyes as blue as the evening sky.

He knew with a leaden certainty that she meant what she said. There was no way she was going to go through with this marriage. He could still find that photographer, destroy the photos, but ultimately what good would it do? What was to be gained?

Hell and damnation. After all the planning that had gone into this union, the careful handling, the wretched party... It had taken all his powers of persuasion to get Rashid to agree to marry this European princess at all. Months of negotiations to get to this point. And for what? To have the whole thing thrown back in their faces and Rashid humiliated in the most degrading way. No, he could not let that happen. He would not let that happen. He had been a fool to trust this wayward princess, to believe the empty promises of her desperate father. But the situation had gone too far now—he had to try and salvage something from this mess. He had to come up with a clever solution.

Decision made, he took hold of Annalina’s arm.

‘You will accompany me back to the party and we will seek out the King and tell him what has happened. Then we will announce your engagement.’

‘Didn’t you understand a word I said?’ The fight was back in her eyes. ‘The King won’t marry me now. That’s the reason I just did what I did.’

‘We will announce your engagement—not to the King, but to his brother, the Prince.’

‘Yeah, great idea! I take it you must be employed more for your brawn than your brains.’ Zahir felt every muscle in his body stiffen at her mocking jibe. He was going to enjoy punishing her for her insolence. ‘The Prince is hardly going to want to marry me either, is he?’

‘As of five minutes ago, the Prince has no choice.’

Narrowing his eyes, Zahir watched defiance turn to confusion turn to a creeping realisation. A strangely perverse sense of pleasure stole over him.

Her trembling hand flew to her mouth then made a fist as she stuffed it between her lips, biting down onto her knuckles to stifle her cry.

‘Ah, yes, Princess, I see the truth is dawning.’ Zahir threw back his shoulders, almost enjoying himself. ‘I am Zahir Zahani, Prince of Nabatean, brother of King Rashid. And, as of five minutes ago, your future husband.’