The Sultan's Choice

The first ceremony had been the most understated—the two of them alone in a room with a handful of official witnesses who had listened to them pledge their vows. The stark language and lack of frills had made it somehow more moving and momentous in a way which she knew it shouldn’t have been. After that, they’d been married. But that short ceremony had been only the start of the most colourful and frenetic seventy-two hours of Samia’s life.

It all felt slightly unreal now, like a blur. She’d gone through the motions, saying her vows to Sadiq for a second time in the more grandiose western-style service earlier. She’d been relieved when it hadn’t had the same effect as the first time round, afraid that some emotion would rise up unbidden and reveal something she wasn’t ready to share with herself, never mind the vast ogling crowd.

For the first two days she’d been relatively demurely dressed, in a selection of traditional Al-Omari kaftans and veils that had been made in Paris, and had changed into more elaborate couture gowns for the evenings. She’d been absurdly happy and touched to see that Sadiq had asked Simone to come for the wedding. The no-nonsense Frenchwoman had been on hand to help her in and out of the umpteen changes all weekend, and had just helped her out of the ornate wedding gown and into a dark blue evening gown.

Her husband turned now, and those blue eyes seared right through her. Samia knew she was in a dangerous mood because she was feeling so sensitive and self-conscious. Three days of being under intense scrutiny was pushing her to her limit. He walked towards where she sat and a hush fell around the room. Sadiq was resplendent in the Al-Omari military uniform, a sword hanging by his side in a jewelled scabard. He put out a hand and Samia placed hers in his palm. It was time for their first public dance. It would be their most intimate contact in days.

Trembling all over, from fatigue and something more volatile, she let him lead her to the dance floor. With distinct irritation in his voice Sadiq said near to her ear, ‘If it’s not too much trouble, do you think you can manage a fake smile at least? There are about five hundred spectators watching our every move. I know this is trying for you, but it’s nearly over.’

They were practically the first words he’d directed at her since they’d exchanged vows earlier. Inexplicably it made tears smart at the back of Samia’s eyes, because she felt as if she’d been playing the role of a lifetime, smiling and pretending that crowds of people didn’t terrify her; the only thing keeping her going had been Sadiq’s solid presence by her side. But with those few words Sadiq was letting her know that her innate discomfort in this milieu had been all too evident, and their intimacy of the other night felt even more like a distant dream.

Samia hated this rollercoaster of emotions she seemed to be on, and, feeling very shrewish, looked up, her long dress not diminishing the powerful feel of Sadiq’s body one bit. ‘And of those five hundred I’d suspect that at least three hundred are lamenting the loss of a lover.’

Sadiq’s hold tightened almost painfully, and with a dangerous smile on his face he looked down and said, ‘Jealous, Samia? There’s actually only two hundred women here, so unless you’re counting some of the men as conquests of mine also …?’

His cool arrogance made her want to spin out of his arms and leave the dance floor. Heat and tension surged between them, and then he uttered something guttural in a dialect that Samia didn’t even recognise and he was kissing her. She wasn’t aware of the tumultuous applause. She was only aware that she’d been waiting like a starving person for Sadiq to kiss her again properly. The chaste touches of their lips after the vows had been like a form of torture.

When he finally broke the kiss she was pliant in his arms, staring up at him, dazed. He looked impossibly grim.

‘Do you really think I would be so crass as to invite ex-lovers to our wedding and put you in a position where people could talk or mock? And, while I’m flattered that you think me capable of it, the number of women who have graced my bed is far less than you seem to imagine. The only woman here that I want is standing right in front of me.’

Samia was stuck for words, feeling incredibly chastened even as an illicit bubble of joy rose upwards. Before she could make a complete ass of herself Sadiq continued dancing, as if the explosive moment hadn’t just happened.

Somehow Samia got through the rest of the evening, buoyed up by Sadiq’s words and the way he clamped her to his side.

Later, when he walked her to her room, Samia felt remorse clawing upwards. She knew the past few days had been trying for him too. She was also terrified he might read something into her jealousy. She turned to him outside her door and bit her lip before saying in a rush, ‘I’m sorry … about earlier. I don’t know what got into me. I’m just … a bit tired.’

Sadiq’s jaw was tense. And then he sighed deeply, raking a hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to be critical. I know how hard it must have been to have everyone staring at you like an exhibit in a zoo. And you’ve been amazing.’

Samia immediately felt a warm glow infusing her whole being. Shyly she said, ‘Really?’

Sadiq looked tense again. ‘Yes. Really.’

For a moment Samia thought he was about to kiss her, but then he stepped back and said, ‘Tomorrow morning, early, we leave for Nazirat. Be ready.’

Sadiq stood outside Samia’s closed bedroom door for a long moment while the waves of desire pounded through his body, not abating one bit. He’d never wanted a woman so badly. A mixture of ambiguous feelings made him wary, though. The past three days had not been the tedious ritual he might have expected. As he’d been saying his vows at that first ceremony, looking at Samia’s veiled and downbent head, a completely unexpected wave of emotion had surged up. He’d put it down to gratitude that he’d found the right bride for him.

And she had been … amazing. Cool, calm, dignified. The perfect bride. More than he could have hoped for. Every atom of her being exuded her lineage and background with effortless grace. He wouldn’t have believed the transformation if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, but she was no longer the awkward woman he’d first met. It hadn’t stopped him feeling inordinately protective, though, because he’d sensed it was a brittle shell hiding her insecurity.

The only time she’d shown a hint of strain had been this evening, and he cursed himself now for being so harsh on her. But when he’d seen her pale, unsmiling face, he’d thought back to how reluctant she’d been to marry him. Guilt had surged upwards. And that had brought too many unwelcome reminders of his own parents’ marriage. His mother’s reluctance and his father’s vitriolic rage.

Sadiq kept assuring himself this was different—because he wasn’t obsessed with Samia the way his father had been obsessed with his mother. And yet with an uncomfortable prickling feeling Sadiq knew that the passion he felt for Samia was close to bordering on the obsessive. He assured himself again: he respected Samia and they both knew where they stood. This was different.

He thought of her comment earlier on the dance floor; she’d been jealous. Normally when a woman exhibited that emotion it made him run fast in the opposite direction. But with Samia … it had enflamed him. Turned him on. And he’d kissed her in front of that crowd of relative strangers like a starving man falling on a feast.

He finally backed away from the door and smiled grimly when he thought of the honeymoon ahead. One week with Samia alone in an oasis paradise in the desert. One week to get this fixation out of his system so that when they returned to B’harani his desire would not be this all-consuming need and he would be able to get on with his job.

Samia realised that

Sadiq hadn’t been joking when Alia woke her at five the following morning. She was hustled out of bed, dressed, and was blinking in the dawn light outside when Sadiq pulled up in a Jeep, looking dark and gorgeous in jeans and a casual jumper. Instantly Samia was awake and on high alert.

Sadiq barely looked at her though, brusque to the point of rudeness, and they drove to a small landing pad where a helicopter was waiting.

After a thirty-minute journey over the undulating landscape of the desert that changed colour as the sun rose, they landed near a modest-sized castle. Sadiq took her arm in a firm grip.

Samia figured that the only possible reason for his bad mood had to be because he was dreading the idea of spending a week in the desert, alone with her. Familiar insecurity constricted her insides. How could it be anything else? She was so inexperienced; he was highly sexed. The other night had to have been a disappointment for him.

She cursed herself again for having shown that she was jealous. She’d let fatigue and tension get to her, and she couldn’t let that happen again.