The Desert King’s Housekeeper Bride

Striding out of the lounge room, scarcely able to believe the words he had just uttered, he met the kind, tired face of the Queen.

‘Could we walk?’ Zakari asked, feeling impossibly closed in, just desperate to escape, to drag fresh air into his lungs.

‘That would be lovely,’ Queen Tia answered calmly. ‘I hope everything is okay?’ she added later as they walked through the fragrant gardens.

‘Apparently not!” He gave a tight smile.

‘Then, I am sure you have it all under control.’

‘Do we ever?’ Zakari met her tired eyes.

‘No,’ Tia admitted.

‘Yet we try,’ Zakari insisted, only they both knew he was trying to convince himself.

‘We do,’ Tia agreed. ‘Yet, when we accept we have no control, then life happens. Zakari, I know today has been difficult. I know it cannot have been easy for you to come and address such personal things with me…’ Zakari actually felt a dull blush spread on his cheeks at how easy it would have been, had it not been for Effie. ‘The news has not come as a shock to me. I always knew our marriage was one of convenience, that Aegeus’s heart was distant. In those early years of our marriage I was quite sure that he had a mistress… For so long I felt trapped, my children were my existence. I hated that protocol, nannies, schooling took them away from me.’ Zakari stared at her elegant face, her silver hair tied neatly back, the weary lines around her tired eyes, and his heart went out to this proud woman. ‘May I share a secret, Zakari?’

‘I would be honoured to hear it.’

‘I loved my husband.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘Not at first. The first ten years of our marriage were difficult, and very miserable for me. I poured everything into my duties, and gave my heart to our children. Then one day…’ they weren’t walking now, just standing as this proud, dignified lady shared a piece of her heart ‘…it was as if my husband saw me for the first time, perhaps. Not just as his wife, or his Queen, or his children’s mother. I believe that in the end love grew between us. I believe that in the end my husband did love me.’

‘He did.’ Zakari stared into her soft brown eyes and he saw the sparkle of tears there. ‘You will know that there was no love lost between Aegeus and I, but duty meant that we often found ourselves at functions together. I saw the pride on his face when he was with you, which cannot be manufactured. I heard him speak fondly of you…’

‘Thank you,’ Queen Tia whispered. ‘I have been so nervous about today, so worried for my family; the last thing I expected was that this day would bring peace to my soul. I know there is a lot still to be discussed, details to be sorted, but thank you for being so gracious and kind.’

‘There is someone else to thank for that.’ Zakari gave a pensive smile and they started walking, a long, intensely private conversation ensuing as Zakari strolled with the matriarch of the Aristo family and talked in a way he had never thought he would, receiving guidance from a seemingly impossible source until it was sunset.

Later, as he contemplated the day’s events, Zakari accepted that, though he might be guided by some unknown force, there was no control.

Guidance, yes—control, no.

He had caught her, caged her, and now the door was open.

He had broken her spirit, yet she had risen.

And, if she so chose, she was free to go.

The only revelation for Zakari was that he loved her.

It was fun really.

Ordering designers to fly over from Aristo, real designers who knew how to work with her curves, who lavished her with compliments and made her feel beautiful again.

And she’d had the top hair designer flown in too, a tiny man who fussed and cooed and gave her curls fit for a queen and who introduced Effie into the wondrous world of anti-frizz serum, her hair now a black glitter of snaky ringlets that framed her round face.

Then there was the make-up. Effie gaped in amazement that a shot of hot-pink blusher on her cheeks could transform her so, because, not only didn’t it give her the cheekbones the Calistan make-up artist attempted daily to create, it actually made her proud of the two rosy apples that made her blue eyes glitter.

Oh, and then there was the heaven of eyeliner expertly applied!

Not that Hassan seemed impressed!

‘The King is on his way back!’ Hassan looked as if he might vomit as he attempted to be polite to Effie as he delivered the precious jewel. She was standing in a new dress, the design similar to the one she herself had created on her and Zakari’s magical night in the desert, except this dress, she had been told, was an exclusive from the House of Kolovsky. Which meant little to Effie, except that it gave her a waist, and the stunning empress line displayed more daringly her creamy cleavage. The fabric was of the heaviest, softly brushed silk, and as for the colour—apparently the House of Kolovsky was renowned for their fabric, for the colours that changed, like opals, with a woman’s mood! With every turn it changed, one moment dark purple, like the dress she had worn on the night Zakari had proposed, then next it shimmered as blue and clear as her own eyes, and then as she stepped back from the mirror again the dress changed, darkening to an inky black, as seductive, as mesmerising, as beguiling as Zakari’s eyes as they looked into hers and lied.

‘The King instructs that you are to be ready to leave—’

Effie cut him short with a smile that could only be seen in the mirror as she teased her hair into final shape.

‘Oh, I’ll be ready!’

And so she waited, lay on the bed and patiently waited till finally her moment came.

‘We must leave if we are to be on time, but when we return, Effie…’ He looked exhausted, his usually haughty face weary and tired, his eyes taking in the changes as the door was closed behind him. Effie, spectacularly beautiful, was lying on the bed draped in a soft silk dress, as beautiful now as she once had been, but with a dangerous glint in those wondrous blue eyes. ‘We need to talk…’

‘Then talk.’

‘There is no time now! Duty—’

‘Fine!’ Like a lazy cat she slowly unfurled herself from the bed. His eyes followed her as she strolled across the room and headed for the dressing table. She saw his jaw tense as she picked up the Stefani diamond and unhurriedly clipped it around her neck, the stone falling into the familiar terrain of her cleavage.

Where it belonged.

‘Oh, sorry.’ Effie gave a sweet smile to his taut, pale face. ‘I forgot we’re in a hurry! Here…’ She held out her mother’s marriage certificate, watched the impatient shake of his head…

‘There is no time for this now, Effie, if we are to get there…’

‘Stefania,’ she snapped. ‘In fact, my correct title is Queen Stefania of Aristo…’ Still she held out the marriage certificate and this time he took it, his face barely moving, his expression not changing as he took in the details. But since when did Zakari show emotion? Effie reminded herself.

‘Your Highness…’ Hassan’s rapid knock was simultaneous with his entrance. ‘If you are to make it on time—’

‘We will not be attending!’ The only indication that the news had floored him was a slight husk in his voice as he addressed his aide, but he quickly recovered, clearing his throat and stating his orders more clearly. ‘Offer an excuse!’ Zakari barked, then dismissed Hassan with a flick of the wrist.

But Effie had other ideas.

‘Why would we not attend?’ Effie smiled, picking up her tiny jewelled bag and heading out of the room. ‘I’m looking forward to it!’

CHAPTER TWELVE

THERE is no presence more explosive than in a couple who have put a row on hold to go out.

Zakari, who had thought he knew women, realising this day and night that there were many lessons still to be learnt. The tender, yet heartfelt apology he had hoped to deliver after talking with Tia was, he realised, too little, too late, and just woefully inadequate now.

Like a firecracker with the tape lit, Effie sat fizzing beside him, tapping her foot to an unheard beat, her eyes glittering. Instead of her usual nerves and trepidation as they approached the gathered crowd that would welcome them, as the car slid to a halt Zakari watched as a small, satisfied smile parted her rouged lips.

He heard the gasp of the crowd as Effie stepped onto the red carpet, the explosion of cameras as they captured the woman, as they witnessed for the first time the beauty he had always seen.

Oh, a firecracker was the wrong description, Zakari soon realised.

Firecrackers exploded in an instant, whereas Effie fizzed and smouldered the whole night long.

She was like a Catherine wheel, Zakari decided—beautiful, mesmerising, entrancing, yet dangerous to touch. Like moths to a flame, she held everyone’s attention, her curls bobbing, her throat creamy white as she threw her head back and laughed at a joke, the jewel between her breasts a mere shadow to the woman who wore it tonight.

In a matter of hours she had become a woman—all woman.

For Zakari the opera was excruciating. Sitting beside a delighted Effie, who appeared entranced—dum-diddy-umming to ‘Carmen Prelude,’ laughing, crying throughout the lavish presentation, even talking to him in the interval, yet the dangerous game she was playing was right there in her eyes, and as the night progressed Zakari actually worked out her strange rules.