Читать книгу The Sheikh's Contract Bride - Teresa Southwick, Teresa Southwick - Страница 6

“YOU came halfway around the world to change my mind about an honored Bha’Kharian tradition?”

Beth winced when he put it like that. She’d come because her sister had begged her. Addie needed time to figure out how to break off the engagement without alienating their father. Anything less than blind obedience would result in being cut out of his life as if she’d never existed. Addie was terrified to take that step and close the door on her relationship with the only parent she had.

Beth wasn’t as docile as her sister and said what was on her mind—a flaw that had already damaged her relationship with her father. Raised without a mother, she understood why Addie was desperate to preserve her remaining family connections. If not for her sister, Beth would have grown up in an emotional vacuum. She’d have no blueprint for love. Granted, she’d been burned by the emotion, but better to have loved and lost, as the saying went. She couldn’t stand by and do nothing when the sister who’d taught her to love might be cut off from it.

Talking Malik out of this tradition made perfect sense for everyone. Putting herself in his shoes—knowing that his bride had been chosen and he’d had no say in the matter—maybe she had a better than even chance of making him see reason. For God’s sake, he was going to be King. Shouldn’t he have a choice about the woman who would help him shoulder that responsibility?

She looked up at him. “Sometimes change is good. Shake things up.”

“Sometimes the old ways are better.”

“All right,” she said, tapping her lip. “But you never answered my question about whether or not you’re okay with not choosing your own bride.”

“There are advantages to letting others with nothing clouding their objectivity do the picking.”

“Picking?” She put her hands on her hips as she met his gaze. “You make me sound like a ripe plum.”

“On the contrary, plums are sweeter and more docile. Aside from those two things—” he shrugged “—I am well pleased with the selection my father made.”

Beth didn’t know if she’d just been complimented or insulted. Or both.

“Well, of course you’re pleased. What’s not to like?”

“Please explain.” He folded his arms over his chest and gave her his full attention.

“An arranged marriage works in your favor because you’re a powerful man.”

He shook his head. “I do not understand what that has to do with anything.”

Was he deliberately being obtuse? “Being in a position of power means you get to control everything. You can set the rules. Nothing about this situation works in my favor.”

“Nothing?” He frowned. “Do you find me unattractive?”

“No.” What she wanted to say was Good God, no. “You’re very handsome.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Does my personality displease you?”

“Since we just met, it’s too soon to tell. So far you seem okay.”

He nodded. “Is the palace not to your liking? You object to living here?”

“Oh, please. What I’ve seen of it is gorgeous, and you know it.”

“Then I am at a loss to understand your objections.”

“My objections have to do with the fact that there’s more to marriage than pleasing looks, personality and a palace.” When put like that, it occurred to her that perhaps her standards were a tad high. “There’s something to be said for a normal courtship.”

“Define this for me.”

The fact that he needed a definition for normal should have been a big clue. But she was supposed to be impersonating her sister, and Adina was nothing if not cooperative. “Okay. The average courting ritual goes like this: girl meets boy. Girl is wildly attracted to boy. Girl gets to know boy and falls in love. Bha’Kharian tradition for choosing its Queen is robbing you of this experience.”

“Me?” he asked. “Or you?”

“Both of us.”

“In the spirit of girl getting to know boy, I am told that I am quite a catch.”

She’d heard her father tell Adina the same thing. “It’s just that marriage is a big step, and pretty scary when one doesn’t know one’s intended from a rock.”

He walked over to the French doors and looked out for several moments, then turned. A frown had replaced the good-natured expression on his face. “I do not believe anyone has ever compared me to a rock.”

“That’s just an expression. It means that I don’t know you—”

“I understand the expression. But there is something I do not comprehend. In your training to be the Queen of Bha’Khar, it should have been explained that the period of engagement is the time to become acquainted.”

“It was explained.” Probably. But the step-by-step rules of courtship were still being violated. Father picks boy. Girl is engaged to boy. Girl meets boy and, after too brief a time, girl marries boy. And they live happily ever after? The odds were so against that.

She walked over to him and the breeze from the ocean cooled her face. Looking into his dark eyes, she asked, because she sincerely wanted to know how he felt, “What if it goes badly? What if you don’t like me? What if I don’t like you? What if we—?”

He touched a finger to her lips to silence her. “Do you always borrow trouble?”

“What if I do? Is that a deal-breaker?”

He laughed. “If I did not know better I would think you are deliberately trying to make me dislike you.”

“Is it working?”

“I do not know.”

“Do I need to try harder?”

“That depends on your purpose. I have not yet made up my mind about you. And you should not form an opinion about me, either.”

“I’m not pre-judging—”

“I disagree. You came all this way to talk me out of this marriage, which means you have already closed your mind to the possibility that this arrangement could be a good thing.”

She didn’t see how it could be good, but that only proved his point. “What if I have formed an opinion already?”

He took a step closer. “Let go of your preconceived ideas.” He touched his finger to her chin, nudging it up so their gazes locked. “Give me a chance to prove that I am indeed a good catch.”

Beth didn’t know whether to let out the breath she was holding or breathe deeply and overdose on his spicy, exciting scent, letting it invade and conquer her senses. A gleam stole into his eyes, a look that both excited and unnerved her. It was a purely masculine expression, full of male confidence in his power to get what he wanted.

There was little doubt in her mind that he would pull out all the stops in his mission to prove his worth, and seduction was right at the top of his list. While her romantic parts quivered with enthusiasm, her rational parts struggled to prevail.

“Malik, I have no doubt that you’re a perfectly nice man. It was not my intention to insult you, and I apologize if I have.”

“Your misgivings are understandable.”

She wasn’t sure if his easygoing manner made the situation better or worse. Although he was very attractive and charming, she had no reason to believe he was any different from the man who had discarded her in favor of his already chosen, politically correct wife. If anything, Malik was more powerful, and therefore more dangerous.

If it was up to her, she would tell this sheikh to take a flying leap. But it was Addie’s choice. And, because her sister was choosing a time out, Beth was there to make sure she had it. In that spirit, she needed to dial down her opposition. “Thank you for your patience, Malik.”

“You can repay me with patience of your own. Let us get to know each other. We will give it a chance and see what happens. Then if either of us has doubts we will choose an appropriate course of action.”

In essence, he was asking for a truce. It would make things easier if he was a jerk and she could tell him what to do with his engagement.

On the other hand, if Malik decided this arrangement didn’t work for him either, and called off the wedding, Addie would be off the hook and their father couldn’t hold it against her. So, truce it was.

She smiled. “How can I say no?”

Nine out of ten women would be overjoyed to be his betrothed, yet Malik found himself with number ten. Surprisingly, the idea did not rankle as he would have thought. Obedience was a pleasing characteristic in a woman, but after meeting Beth he realized a fawning fiancée would be boring.

He was most curious about this lovely, stubborn young woman who challenged him at every turn. When she’d called him a powerful man, the edge in her voice had warned him it was not a compliment. Oddly enough, he was looking forward to this courtship, to the opportunity for changing her mind about him and discovering the source of her misgivings about marriage.

Malik walked into his dining room and touched the control that lowered the chandelier illumination to a romantic glow. Then he lit the candles on either side of the fragrant flower arrangement gracing the table. He had a bottle of the finest champagne cooling in a silver bucket and crystal flutes waited expectantly, as did he.

Beth would be here any moment, and the dance of learning about each other would continue. Excitement hummed through him, and he realized he had not experienced such a level of anticipation in longer than he could remember. Of course, it had been a long time since he had met such a fascinating woman. The last time it had happened he had been fooled. It was comforting and convenient to know there was no chance of repeating the same mistake with his betrothed.

He checked his appearance in the beveled gilt mirror in his suite’s circular entryway. Every hair was in place, and he’d shaved a short while before—in case he kissed her, which he very much wanted to do. His silk shirt, open at the collar, and his dark pants evoked just the right informal tone, which was important, as he wished to put her at ease.

He heard a knock, so soft it would not have been audible had he not been standing near the door. Beth stood in the doorway, a vision of heaven in a high-necked, sleeveless white linen dress with a wide black belt that drew his attention to her small waist. It was a simple, elegant look, full of sophistication. The allure was in what he could not see as much as in what he could. Then he met her gaze and noticed the wariness in her large eyes—brown eyes, filled with flecks of gold.

He bowed slightly. “Good evening, Beth. Please come in.”

“Thank you.”

As she passed him, her subtle floral fragrance filled his head with visions that had nothing to do with gardens and everything to do with twisted sheets and bare flesh. Instead of entering, she stood and looked around. Of course she would be curious.

“Welcome to your new home,” he said. “This is where we shall live after we are married.”

“About the whole marriage thing—”

“Beth.”

She turned to look at him. “What?”

“You promised to give it a chance,” he reminded her.

“Promise may not be the right word. As I recall, my exact words were ‘How can I say no?’”

He grinned. “Nevertheless, your response implied your agreement for us to get to know each other. In the spirit of that, I would request that for the duration of the evening you refrain from any negative references to a state of marriage between us.”

“Is that a proclamation?”

“It is a heartfelt plea. And, under the circumstances, it is quite open-minded of me.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, as he’d hoped they would. “So, Your Highness, can we talk about your humility?”

“Of course.” He held out a hand and indicated the French doors off the living room. “Wait for me on the terrace and I will bring champagne.”

“Is that an order?”

He did not miss the wary expression on her face, or the edge in her voice. Clearly she was expecting him to seduce her. It was a tempting thought, but that was not his plan. Not yet. No, tonight was all about charming her. There was a full moon, a warm breeze, and the fragrance of jasmine mixed with the scent of the sea. Mother Nature would wrap them in romance.

“Not an order. A suggestion. I simply thought you would enjoy the view and the fresh air.”

“I see.” Without further protest or a backward glance she walked through the living room and onto the terrace.

Malik opened the champagne and poured golden liquid into flutes, then carried them outside. He handed one to Beth.

“To what shall we drink?” he asked.

After thinking for a moment she said, “Loyalty.”

That seemed an odd choice, but with his own painful lesson fresh in his mind he highly approved of her toast. “And honesty.”

As they touched glasses, a musical tinkle sounded. Then Beth sipped from her flute as she gazed out over the sea. The moon’s light created a silver path on the water, and the rhythmic cadence of the surf on the shore drifted up.

“Great view,” she said.

“Yes.” But his gaze was not on the sea. Malik was wondering if there was a more beautiful sight in the world than Beth by moonlight. And if his thoughts continued in that manner he was not at all certain he could resist her. “So, tell me more about yourself,” he said, studying the long, graceful column of her neck revealed by her upswept hair.

The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what happened to make you believe that love is not all it is cracked up to be.”

“Oh, you don’t really want to know about that.”

“On the contrary. I believe it is at the heart of your resistance to marriage.” Sipping from his glass, he studied her as she weighed his request.

“All right. There was a man. I met him when I was in college and there was an instant connection.”

“You are in love with this man?” The idea produced a knot of resentment in him that seemed out of proportion to the amount of time he had known her, and that vexed him.

“Not anymore.”

“But you were?”

“I thought I was.”

“What happened?”

“He made me believe I was the only woman for him. Then he broke my heart when he married someone else.”

The knot inside him eased somewhat and made rational thought easier. Then he realized something. “Surely you were aware that, as my betrothed, you are not permitted to give your heart to another man?”

“It was only my heart, Malik. To my everlasting shame, I couldn’t help it. But at least I didn’t compound my mistake by sleeping with him.” She did not look away, but met his gaze directly.

They had just toasted honesty, and he had no reason to doubt her. “I believe you.”

She sat on the low stucco wall surrounding the terrace and sighed. “I bet you’re sorry you asked.”

“Your candor is refreshing. The truth is not always easy, but it is preferable to pretense.”

She was just sipping champagne and started to cough.

Malik sat next to her and took her glass. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and cleared her throat. “I swallowed wrong.”

“I do not like it when that happens. I also do not like the thought of you and another man.” That was the truth.

“As the relationship ended badly, there’s no real harm done.”

“I disagree.”

“So you’re going to hold it against me?” Was that hope in her voice? “If so, there’s always the option of calling off the wedding. I can certainly understand if that’s what you decide to do. Just say the word and I’ll go back to America and—”

“On the contrary,” he interrupted, noting that when she was nervous she was inclined to talk too much and too fast. “I believe a woman whose heart has known love once is more likely to look for it again.”

“Even though I told you I don’t want to be in love?”

“Even then.”

“You’re wrong.” She shook her head and her full lips pulled tight. “I never want to feel that way again.”

“Why?”

“If I’d never loved I never would have cried. And I promised myself it was the last time I would cry over a man.”

He could understand the sentiment. He had made himself a similar promise about not being vulnerable to the charms of a woman. In his father’s esteemed opinion Malik had shown poor judgment, and it could not happen again. Yet Malik’s duty was to marry and produce an heir to succeed him on the throne. A love that burned him like wildfire would be unacceptable. And that was why marrying the woman chosen by his father was the solution. With Beth he could aspire to a fully contained warmth and respect.

Their shoulders brushed as they sat side by side and stared into the romantically dimmed light of the suite. Malik felt the soft skin of her forearm graze him and flames of desire heat up his blood.

“I feel compelled to point out that our betrothal is a good thing in light of your experience.”

“How do you figure?”

“You can have all the benefits of marriage to the King of Bha’Khar without the messiness of dealing with love.”

“So I can be like a man?” She met his gaze. The gleam of mischief mixed with challenge darkened her eyes.

The look was growing on him, but in no way prepared him for what came next. She smiled a smile that seemed to steal all the air from his lungs.

He picked up one of her small hands, then touched his lips to her knuckles. Satisfaction filled him to see the gleam in her eyes replaced by awareness. But, like her, he did not wish to be vulnerable to love. He was most pleased that they were in agreement, because his betrothed was quite a tempting combination of spirit and beauty. Theirs was a contract, a business arrangement, and that suited him well.

He brushed his thumb over the spot on her hand that he’d just kissed. “I cannot order or proclaim that you fall in love with me. But, little one, you will never be like a man.” His voice dropped into the deeply seductive range. “And this man is extraordinarily grateful for that fact.”