The Sheikh's Princess Bride

But that wasn’t for her. She knew too well she wasn’t cut out for that.

There was a bustle as her attendants rose and all four women admired the results. Samira’s hands, wrists, feet and ankles were works of art, covered in ancient designs that proclaimed her royal lineage as well as talismans of good fortune, happiness and fertility.

She swallowed, ignoring a pang of regret. There was no sense pining over what could never be. She was the luckiest of women, about to acquire a wonderful husband she could respect and trust and two delightful sons. She could ask for nothing more.

Samira thanked the women warmly. When they’d left, Jacqui put aside the bowl of cherries and sat up.

‘Now, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?’

‘Wrong?’ Samira stared. ‘Nothing. Tariq has done everything to make the celebrations a huge success. And the ceremony this afternoon—’

‘The celebrations. The ceremony.’ Jacqui waved her hand dismissively. ‘They’re spectacular and the whole country is enjoying them.’ She leaned closer, her gaze appraising. ‘But I look at you and I don’t see a bride.’

‘You don’t?’ Samira stared at the wedding patterns staining her skin, then across to the table littered with ornate jewellery. Gold, rubies and huge antique pearls caught the light. On the other side of the room hung her bridal gown, the sumptuous cloth of gold shimmering.

Jacqui followed her gaze. ‘The trappings are there, but something is missing.’ There was concern in her eyes. ‘You don’t look like a woman in love.’

Samira flinched, then made herself smile. She was making the best of her life, choosing hope over regret instead of locking herself away to fret over what she’d lost. She would build something positive and make a useful contribution, helping to raise a family.

She was being strong.

And, if the best she could hope to achieve didn’t include romantic love, that suited her. She was far better without that.

‘Not all brides are in love, Jacqui. Arranged marriages are common, especially between royals.’

‘I know, I know. Asim said the same.’

Samira tensed. Jacqui had discussed this with Asim? She hated that she’d been the subject of such discussion, even though she knew it was because they cared for her. They’d been there when she’d needed them in her darkest hours. But she was fine now.

‘It’s just that I want you to have what I have, Samira.’ Jacqui looked so earnest. ‘I want you to be happy, to be loved and in love.’

‘Thank you.’ She reached out and touched Jacqui’s arm. ‘But I am happy. This is exactly what I want.’

Still her sister-in-law frowned.

‘Not everyone wants to fall in love. Asim must have told you about our parents.’

Solemnly Jacqui nodded. ‘They were unhappy.’

Samira’s huff of laughter was bitter. ‘They were miserable and they made life hell for us too. They were either so in love no one else mattered, or they were fighting like wild cats, doing anything to score a point over the other, even using us in their battles.’ She looked down to find herself pleating the fine fabric of her skirt. Her chest tightened.

‘Your parents were volatile and self-indulgent.’ Jacqui’s voice penetrated the memories. ‘Love needn’t be like that.’

‘I know and I can’t tell you how happy I am for you and Asim.’ Samira paused. ‘But I don’t want love. I tried that and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I’m too much like my mother. I was swept off my feet by romantic dreams, blindly putting my trust in someone completely wrong for me.’

‘Jackson Brent is a louse,’ Jacqui growled. ‘You can’t blame yourself.’

Samira sat back in her chair, warmth filling her at her sister-in-law’s instant support.

‘I do blame myself. I wasn’t a child. I made the decision to throw everything over, all I’d worked for and dreamed of, to be with him. I fooled myself into believing in him and I was utterly, devastatingly wrong.’ Her palm crept across her belly as if to prevent the clenching pain, a phantom memory from four years ago.

‘One mistake...’

‘That was enough. What if I made the same mistake again? I can’t go through that again, Jacqui, I just can’t.’ Samira ducked her head, ashamed at the welling distress that filled her even after all this time. She drew a calming breath. ‘I’m too like my mother. I let passion override judgement and I paid the price. But unlike her I won’t make the mistake of staying on that merry-go-round.’