The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride

`Very well.’ She watched as he lifted the necklace from its case, saw the way the light reflected off the enormous gems and swallowed hard.

He stood behind her and lowered it over her head. He brushed her hair aside and snicked the heavy clasp closed. Belle felt the weight of it like a yoke around her neck and drew a deep, calming breath.

Suddenly she didn’t feel like Belle Winters any more.

She looked up and into the antique mirror on the other side of the salon. There was Rafiq, tall and handsome behind her. And, sitting before him, there she was, unrecognizable now as a mere hard working marine archaeologist. Transformed by the remarkable jeweled necklace into someone altogether different.

Even with her arm in a sling, and wearing her ordinary clothes, she’d subtly changed. It had to be the awesome beauty of the jewelry that did it.

She frowned. No, it was more than that. She felt different. As if the collar was imbued with the weight of all those centuries of tradition. As if she was, indeed, the true bride of a prince.

She blinked at her suddenly blurry reflection, letting herself wish again, one last time, that there was love between her and Rafiq.

That, like one of his ancestors, he’d abducted her off the high seas out of pure covetousness, out of personal desire. Not for mere public show.

`Don’t cry, habibti.’ His voice sounded hoarse, but her vision was too blurred now for her to make out his expression in the mirror.

Her throat stung with the sharp pain of grief as she fought to repress a sob.

`Belle.’ His hand brushed her cheek, and then he was hunkering down before her, gathering her hands into his. `My sweet Belle, it’s all been too much for you. We’ll postpone this till you’re better.’

Furiously she blinked, trying to dam the welling tears. `No. Let’s get this show over with. Give the people the fairytale they want and be done with it.’ She didn’t bother to hide her bitterness.

Silence.

`You misunderstand,’ he said at last, in a cool, toneless voice.

`The giving of the Peacock’s Eye is not for display. It’s not to satisfy the curiosity of the populace, though the tradition is that once it’s given it will be shown to the people.’

She stared down at his long fingers, now grasping hers. Did he know how tightly he held them?

`Belle!’

She jerked her head up and met his gaze. And immediately she felt a slow, tingling warmth sizzle in her veins. That look in his eyes…

Èven in the days when the Sheikh kept a harem the Eye was bestowed only on his favorite. The mistress of his heart,’ Rafiq explained, his voice dropping to a velvety murmur. Ànd since those days times have changed. I told you the men of my family have for generations taken only one wife. The al Akhtars are famous in the region for many things, including the constancy of their affections.’

She stared into his eyes and saw a blaze of heat there that made her breath catch.

`The Eye is given to each new bride as a symbol of her place in her husband’s heart.’ He bent his head and kissed, first one hand, then the other.

`Heart of my heart. Flesh of my flesh,’ he whispered, drawing her hand to rest over the rapid, heavy thud of his heart that matched her own. Ì give you the Eye as I could never give it to another.

You are mine, Belle, no matter the circumstances that brought us together.’

It was only the grasp of his hand round her wrist, the sizzling heat of his body beneath her touch, that convinced her this was real. Not some fantasy.

She opened her mouth, but her throat closed on whatever words she’d hoped to find. He dropped to his knees before her, leaning close so that he was only a breath away.

Ì love you, Belle. That is why the Eye belongs to you. You are my woman, my wife, my love. Feel how my heart beats for you, habibti. You are everything to me.’ He pressed her hand to his chest and she felt the tumultuous thump of his heart.

Her soul was soaring, taking flight with the joyous possibility of hope.

Rafiq loved her. She tried to take it in, to accept it, but reality intervened. She tugged her hand away, but he wouldn’t release it, held it tight against him.

`That’s not true,’ she whispered, even though saying it out loud was agony. `You married me to keep Q’ aroum safe, so you wouldn’t lose face before your people…’ Her words trailed off as she watched his lips curve up in a self-satisfied smile.

`So my advisors suggested, little one. But do you really think I would marry any woman other than the one I want for life? Do you not think I’d have been able to deal with the tawdry ambitions of Selim and his crew?’