Seducing His Princess (Married by Royal Decree 3)

Putting down a jewelry box with Saraya’s royal insignia that contained the heirloom pieces King Hassan had bestowed on Jala, insisting she wear them for her wedding, Carmen grinned. “And this magnificent place worked on its own. Any touch I put was multiplied tenfold by its magic.”

Jala could well believe it. Not that this diminished Carmen’s and Mohab’s efforts in any way.

Farah nodded. “And the people of Jareer themselves. I’ve never seen a collective so ready for entertainment and versed in preparing celebrations.”

“Yeah, and I thought the people in Judar were like that in comparison to the States,” Carmen said. “But being here showed me how modern life had taken root in Judar, too, preoccupying everyone. Here every birth and wedding, cultural or religious occasion is a feast everyone attends and takes part in.”

Farah grinned her pleasure. “And we’ve been the lucky recipients of their enthusiasm and expertise through our stay. It’s going to be such a downer going back to indoor court life and our relatively isolated family lives now.” She winked. “Good thing we have our men to keep us...intensely entertained.”

Chuckling in corroboration, Aliyah appeared from behind the screen that doubled as the dressing room. “We’re ready for you, Jala. As Carmen said, hop to it.”

Jala did hop to it. She wanted this over with.

In under ten minutes, she was looking at herself in amazement in the full-length gilded mirror. It was a good thing she’d left herself in Aliyah’s hands. That image reflected at her was a princess. And a future queen.

Still not believing how the parts she’d had fitted on her had come together, she ran her hands down the incredible deep gold Persian/Indian creation that accentuated her curves and offset her coloring. It had a deep off-shoulder décolletage, a nipped waistline and a layered skirt with a tapering trail. It was heavily embellished in breathtakingly intricate floral designs of silver and bronze thread and was worked with sequins, beads, pearls, crystals and appliqué in every shade of burnt orange, crimson and garnet. The lehenga-like skirt was organza over silk taffeta, embroidery sweeping down its lines in arcs. Everything was topped off by a lace and chiffon dupatta veil, perched on her swept-up hair, in gradations of gold and crimson with scalloped, heavily embellished edges.

She stood gazing at herself as the ladies adorned her in the priceless pieces of Sarayan treasure, which they thought were part of her shabkah, but in reality would only be on loan. The centerpiece of the collection was a twenty-four-karat gold necklace that spread over her collarbones and cascaded to fill most of the generous décolletage tapering just above her barely visible cleavage. It was the most amazing and delicate lacy pattern she’d ever seen in a piece of jewelry, inlaid with diamonds and citrines, with a gigantic bloodred ruby in the center of the design.

The other pieces matched the necklace’s delicacy and intricacy, from the shoulder-length earrings to the tikka headpiece, to the armband, web ring and anklet. By the time she was adorned in everything, she looked like a walking exhibition, but had to admit—she looked fantastic. If no one noticed the shadows in her eyes, that was.

But even those were obscured by the makeup Aliyah applied. When Aliyah stood back and said, “Voila!” Jala could barely recognize herself.

“Ya Ullah, Aliyah,” she groaned as she stood up. “Mohab will probably ask you what happened to his intended bride!”

Laughter rang around the chamber as Aliyah revolved around her one last time to ensure everything was in order. “You’re just not used to putting any makeup on. You look exactly as you always do, but with a little emphasis.”

“A little? I look like a makeup ad!”

“We women need something extra to face cameras, not like those men of ours who look fantastic in any conditions. But since you’re the most beautiful woman ever, all you needed was a brush of mascara, a line of kohl and a smear of lipstick.”

“The most beautiful woman ever, my foot!” Jala snorted.

Aliyah chuckled. “Being Kamal’s female edition makes you incontestably that to me. But then Mohab thinks so, too, and certainly not because you look like Kamal.”

“Are you ladies done making me and Mohab choke?”

Kamal. He was here to take her to her groom. And he was teasing them with the common belief that people choked when others talked about them.

He approached her, his eyes so loving, so proud, she was the one who choked and threw herself into his arms.

He hugged her off the ground, kissing her forehead. “My little, beloved sister—I am so happy you finally have someone to love you as you should be loved.”

There was no stopping the tears from gushing this time. All she wanted to do was burrow into his powerful, protective arms and sob her heartache to him. If only...

Aliyah pounced to separate them before Jala smothered her face in Kamal’s chest and spoiled all her efforts. “Postpone tear-inducing declarations to el sabaheyah, will you?”

Stepping away from Kamal, she feigned a smile. “If you think you’ll ambush me and Mohab tomorrow morning, pretending to congratulate us but really checking on the satisfactoriness of the consummation, you have another think coming.”

“I don’t care how old you are,” Kamal growled. “Or that you’re getting married. You’re my baby sister and I’d rather not hear about you and consummation in the same sentence.”

She poked him teasingly. “So you’re okay with knowing it’s happening, just don’t want to hear about it?”

Kamal shuddered. “One more word and I take you back to Judar and put you where no man can get his paws on you.”

Aliyah hooted. “My husband, the hopelessly overprotective brother.”

Jala smirked. “Hope he’s not as hopelessly old-fashioned a lover.”

Kamal mock growled and lunged at her.

Everyone continued to laugh as they left her chambers and proceeded to where both the wedding and joloos rituals were taking place, picking up her bridal procession on the way. Jala was relieved no one had thought her overwrought moments had been anything more than the prewedding jitters of a woman about to enter into a union that would change her life forever.

As it would. Just not the way everyone thought it would.

Then everything stalled in her mind as she entered the massive hall in the heart of the citadel. Farah had been right. She’d seen the preparations, but couldn’t have imagined how it would all come together.