The Sheikh's Bought Wife

‘But you...’

‘You?’ He lifted his eyebrows enquiringly.

‘Can’t,’ she said desperately.

‘Why not?’

‘You know why not!’

‘Not unless you tell me, I don’t.’

Angry with him for putting her through this, she supposed she could pretend—but how good was she at being blasé? She had no idea because it wasn’t something she’d ever needed in her repertoire before now. And wasn’t it a stretch too far to try to be someone she wasn’t, given the already bizarre circumstances in which she found herself?

‘I’m... I’m not used to men.’

‘Explain,’ he said, moving round to the back of her. ‘And while you’re explaining I’d better unfasten your dress so you don’t have to look at me while you’re telling me, trying desperately hard not to stare at my groin.’

‘You’re disgusting,’ she snapped, trying to wriggle away from the fingers which were now brushing against her skin as he undid the fourth button.

‘I’m a realist,’ he demurred. ‘And what else are you going to do if I don’t help you undress? Sleep in your wedding dress?’

Jane bit her lip because he had a point. With its heavy embroidery and real gems, the full-skirted bridal gown weighed an absolute ton. It had felt as if she’d been carrying round bags of groceries all day and she was longing to be rid of it. ‘Oh, very well,’ she said crossly, feeling the delicious rush of cooling air on her skin as he freed another button.

‘You were going to tell me,’ he said as his fingers began to work their way skilfully down her back, ‘why you weren’t “used” to men.’

So did she tell him the truth? The unvarnished and somewhat painful truth? Maybe she should. It wasn’t as if she was trying to impress him, was it?

‘Because I was a bookish child.’

‘Go on.’

She hesitated as his middle finger brushed over her skin, willing her stupid heart to quieten its frantic thumping. ‘You know I’m a twin?’

‘No. I just knew you had a sister. Is it relevant?’

‘I think it probably is,’ she said slowly, staring out of the palace window at the bright disc of the moon and thinking how surreal this all was. It was funny, really—because nobody had ever been remotely interested in hearing her story before, and even if they had been she would have quickly changed the subject to lose herself in the infinitely safer world of academia. But as he’d said himself, how else were they going to pass the time unless they talked—at least until they were tired enough to fall into the comforting arms of sleep?

‘She is my non-identical twin,’ she explained. ‘And very lovely.’

‘I see.’

He didn’t say But you are lovely, too—which would have been the polite thing to do—and even though Jane supposed he should be commended for his honesty, that didn’t stop it from hurting.

‘So you were always classified as the clever one, while she was known as the beautiful one?’ he continued thoughtfully. ‘And the older you got, the more you grew into each of the roles to which you’d both been assigned?’

She almost turned round in surprise because she hadn’t expected him to be quite so perceptive, until she remembered what he was wearing. Or rather, what he wasn’t wearing. She carried on staring at the moon instead. ‘How on earth did you know that?’

‘It’s a common enough pattern. We all grow into the roles which were given to us as children,’ he said cryptically. ‘I’m guessing your sister spent her teens trying to capitalise on her looks, while you concentrated on your studies?’

‘You’ve been having me investigated,’ she said crossly.

‘No, I haven’t.’ He undid another button. ‘You were security cleared when you first came to work at the embassy—that was enough for me. I’m merely tapping into a lifetime’s habit of observing women, whose behaviour is far more predictable than you might imagine.’

‘Well, if you’re so clever, perhaps you can finish my story for me?’

There was silence as he undid another button and Jane briefly closed her eyes as she felt another tantalising brush of his fingers against her skin.

‘I think you devoted pretty much all your time to study, with the single-mindedness which has made you such a hit at the embassy.’