Shackled to the Sheikh

She made him think anything was possible.

He could do much worse for a wife.

And later, when they were back at the palace during the coronation, when Kareem removed his black headband and lifted the gold igal to replace it, it was her words from this morning that he remembered. ‘You’re strong... You will be a good Emir.’

Kareem then uttered the ancient words to install him and placed the crown on his head and it was done. He was the Emir.

Cheers and applause broke out across the banquet room, the loudest coming from the quarter where his desert brothers and their families were sitting, and he smiled as he let go a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

He turned to her and saw the moisture there in her eyes—the tears she’d shed for him—and he was moved beyond measure.

But before he could tell her, before he could thank her for this morning’s words and for her quiet strength today, first there was another feast, another party complete with cannon fire and fireworks, a display above the palace that was echoed all over the city and in the tiny desert and mountain villages of Qajaran.

* * *

It was after midnight by the time the festivities wound down. Yousra had taken Atiyah back to her bed hours ago—a day of formalities interspersed with playing with the children had worn her out—and now Rashid walked silently beside Tora towards their suites.

And it seemed to Tora that the very air around them was shimmering, there had been so much energy generated by the celebrations of today, energy that now turned the air electric as they moved, into currents charged by every swish of robe against robe, every slap of leather against the marble floor a metronome, beating out the time she had left.

And all she knew was she didn’t want this night to end. She didn’t want this feeling to end—this feeling of being at peace with Rashid, of being part of his life...an important part...if only for a day. She wanted to preserve the magic of this moment and hold it precious to her for ever.

For soon her time in Qajaran would be over. Soon she would be back in Sydney in her black skirt and buttoned-up shirt and there would be no more robes of silk to slide against her skin, no more frangipani on the air.

No more Rashid.

Her heart grew tight in her chest.

He was nothing to her really. A roll in the hay and then a quick buck—a deal made with the devil—with plenty of grief along the way. He was nothing to her—and yet her heart had swelled in her chest when he was crowned, she’d been so very proud.

Nothing to her?

And her heart tripped over itself in its rush to tell her she was a liar.

All too soon, it seemed, they were at the door that led to her apartments and she turned and looked up at him, so handsome in his robes, his features a play of dark and shadow against the stark white, the gold igal on his head gleaming in the low light. ‘Thank you for seeing me to my rooms.’

He shook his head. ‘It is you who deserves thanking, Tora. What you said to me this morning...’ He trailed off, searching for the words, and she put a finger to his lips.

‘I didn’t say anything you didn’t already know. Maybe you just needed to hear them.’

He caught her hand and pressed it hard against his mouth. ‘You are a remarkable woman, Tora.’

‘No, Rashid.’

‘Yes, you know it’s true. From the moment you arrived, you have impressed everyone you have met.

‘Today, you were the star of the show, charming everyone from the tiniest child to the most important dignitary. I know our hasty marriage was foisted upon you and unwanted, but you have been one of the highlights of my return to Qajaran.’

‘We had a deal, Rashid, remember? I got something out of it, too. The money—it helped a friend of mine out at a tough time.’

‘It was nothing compared to all you’ve done. I owe you, Tora. I don’t know how I can possibly repay you.’

And she knew that the moment was now, that if she wanted this night to continue she would have to be the one to make it so.

She looked up at him, at his dark eyes and his beautiful tortured features, and knew that when she left she would be leaving a part of herself right here in Qajaran.

Her heart.

‘Make love with me, Rashid.’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE GROWL RUMBLED up from low in his throat. But then words wouldn’t come close to how he was feeling right now. He swept her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers before he carried her through to his suite where he scattered coloured cushions in all directions with one hand before he laid her reverentially in the centre of his bed.