The Sheikh's Arranged Marriage: The only thing worse than falling in love with the man she'd married was knowing he would never feel the same... (20 page)

He pulled her into his arms, and because she was at sixes and sevens, she didn’t resist. “
The first time I saw you, I felt knocked sideways, Sheikha. I’d seen photographs, and I knew you were attractive, but I was not prepared for just how graceful and captivating you would be in the flesh.”

“Me?” She squawked, angling her face up to look at him.

“You.” He squeezed her more tightly around the waist.

“
But you seemed so aloof....”

“I will deny this to anyone but you, but I was afraid. Afraid of how I could want a woman I’d never met
before, how I could be so completely under your spell at first sight. It had never happened to me before, and I ran about a thousand miles from such a novel sensation. I thought I would be able to cope better if I thought ill of you. So I looked for reasons not to like you.”

“Like calling me a gold-digger? A prostitute?” She reminded him stoically, the words still smarting despite the admission he had just made.

“Don’t remind me.” He shook his head with self-derision. “When we were together, I felt like I would do anything you asked of me. The power you have over me terrified me. It still does, Rebecca. And in the back of my mind, I always wondered what provenance had delivered you to me. How had I come to have you for my wife? I knew how I felt about you from early on, but until I knew how you felt, I lived in a state of torture.” He exhaled slowly. “Then, on our abortive honeymoon weekend, my worst fears were realised. You could never love me. Not when you’d been brought here against your will. Your true will. I’d selfishly used you, used your body, taken advantage of your sweetness, and all because you were given no choice in the matter.” He dropped his arms and stepped back from her. “I had become everything I loathed in men.”

She found breathing difficult. “I... I ... are you saying this because of the baby? To keep me here?”

“Rebecca!” He intoned crossly. “I am bearing my soul to you and immediately you believe that I’m delivering you a fiction.”

She nodded. “It just doesn’t seem possible. Are you saying that you told me to leave because you truly wanted to do what was
best for me?”

“Of course. What other reason could there be?”

“I don’t know. I just thought you were bored of me. Or bored of being married to an English woman you’d never wanted.”

“No, Rebecca. I don’t know what we will work out when our baby is born, but if you want to leave Assan, we will work out a way to make it work.”

“Leave Assan.” She nodded again, so confounded by his admission that she couldn’t find any words.

“Are you saying that’s what you’d like to do?” His words were empty of emotion.

“You big idiot!” She laughed. “No, that’s not what I want to do.” She reached up and touched a finger to his mouth, tracing it around his lips. He closed his eyes, his lashes brushing against his cheeks. “The way you felt when you first saw me... Tariq, I felt it, too. You’re right when you say marrying you was a way of running away. I needed to escape Winona and Greg, and suddenly, this betrothal gave me a way out. But it was more than that. I knew that my parents and grandfather had willed it, and in marrying you, I felt, ridiculously perhaps, brought closer to them.

“Then, I saw you, and my whole world fell apart. I
had never known desire. I’d always thought I was immune to the attractions of the opposite sex. And Winona had made certain I had no tickets on myself, no ego to make me feel confident of my ability to attract a man.” Her tone was light, but the hurt ran deep, and Tariq laced his fingers through hers reassuringly.

“Winona is a woman devoid of any good.”

“Yes, I think you’re right. In any event, the second I saw you, any reason for marrying you evaporated. All I cared about was getting to know the man who I was tying myself to for life.”

He looked down at her thoughtfully. “You have no point of reference, Rebecca, but at least a great sex life is a good starting point. If you are attracted to me, do you think you will in time come to love me as I do you?” Then, with a shake of his head. “Perhaps not as I love you, as I don’t think such love can be learned, but love me in some fashion? I know I’m selfish to ask it, but I don’t think I’m strong enough to let you go again.”
Tariq was unaccustomed to such self-deprecation but, having started down this path, he knew he had to travel it completely.

“I see.”  She pretended to think about his question and then broke out into peals of delighted laughter. “I am trying to tell you that I do love you,
Tariq. I’m no martyr. I couldn’t fake the things we’ve shared. I wasn’t expecting to feel this way, but I can’t imagine a life without you in it.”

“Can this be serious?” His voice was thick with disbelief.

“Absolutely serious, your highness,” she answered lightly, and she stood on tiptoe to place a kiss on his lips.

He groaned, deepening the kiss and
wrapping his arms tightly around her, holding her pressed to him.

“
My beautiful queen, I think we owe ourselves a real honeymoon now, don’t you?”

She smiled up at him. “I think you’re right.”

Days later, they returned to the dessert tent, and this time, there were no second thoughts, no doubts. Just the love and need and respect that would bind them for all eternity.

THE END.

If you liked
The Sheikh’s Arranged Marriage
, you’ll love
His Loving Deception
, available in the Amazon Kindle e-Reader store.

CHAPTER ONE

              He’d lied to her.

The picture in the newspaper was grainy, but she would know the intense stare of those black rimmed eyes anywhere.

Cassandra’s startled gaze flew to the man sitting opposite her, his large frame reclined with total ease as he drank his black coffee and dealt with the morning’s emails. She swallowed her herbal tea jerkily, startling as the boiling liquid burned the roof of her mouth.

“I just remembered something.” Her soft, accented voice was shaking a little with anxiety. Her tongue felt thick in her suddenly dry mouth.

Liar!
She wanted to shout at him, as her eyes met his querying glance and then dropped away. The impassive set of his expression suddenly made her seethe with rage. The arrogantly attractive features, framed by a tanned face, that had once set her heart racing with need now inspired a much darker emotion.

“I promised I’d help a friend with, er, something. I have to go.” She stood and strode purposefully away from the dining table, her elegant legs moving quickly.

A frown creased the corners of his mouth as he folded his newspaper and laid it carefully on the marble table top. Benedict Savarin had made his billions from scratch, and he’d honed his intuition into a sharp instrument along the way. Something felt amiss.

“I’ll drive you.” Firm. In control. His words cut through the air.

“No!” Her rejection was harsh, and she forced herself to soften it with a manufactured smile in his general direction. She had to get away. Everything depended on not being discovered. Her heart was pounding with the pain of his betrayal, and the knowledge of how close she’d come to being caught. This man she loved with all of her heart had lied to her. Tricked her. Fooled her into loving him. But to what end? For what purpose? What had he hoped to achieve? Her brain was exploding with questions that she had no way of answering. She took a deep steadying breath, forced herself to play her hand smartly. “You’re too busy, surely. I like the walk. It isn’t far.”

“Kate,” the commanding timbre of his voice still had the power to melt her bones with longing. “Is everything okay?”

She nodded.
It will be when I get out of here
. “Yes. Fine. I’ll see you later.” She was almost at the door, free from the sudden captivity of his penthouse apartment.

Her hands weren’t quite steady as she wrenched open the front door, and she fumbled the latch so that it slammed shut noisily behind her. She jumped, her overwrought nerves in shreds.

She pressed the lift button impatiently and then hit it again when it didn’t arrive.

“Kate,” Ben was behind her, his too-handsome face showing traces of amusement. She’d used the fake name for four years, but coming from him, now, it made her skin prickle with goosebumps. He knew it was a fake name, that’s why. He knew every damned thing about her and had done all along. “You don’t seem okay. Why don’t you come back inside?”

She dredged a bright smile up from somewhere deep inside, plastered it on her face with effort. “I’m fine, truly. I’ll call you later,” She promised, with no intention of doing any such thing. The lift pinged open and she stepped inside before he could touch her. She couldn’t bear that. Not now. Not anymore.

She pretended to search for something in the canvas handbag she’d slung over her shoulder so that she didn’t have to look at him. The realisation that he’d played her for a fool stung more than anything she’d ever felt before. And that was saying something.  The doors slammed shut with a metallic sound, and she sighed with relief.

It was only just beginning though.

She had to run. And fast. Before he could realise that she’d found out who he really was, and what he was doing in Sydney.  Three months he’d been lying to her.
Three heavenly, blissful, sensual months. She couldn’t think about that now or she’d crumble into a million pieces.
Focus on escape.

The foyer of the harbour front high rise was deserted, with the exception of Frank, the kindly old doorman. He was wiry like a coat hanger, six foot tall, and at least eighty years old. What he was supposed to provide in the way of security was a mystery to Cass, but apparently he’d been with the building since it had been built. She gave him a wave as she slid her sunglasses on to hide her distraught eyes.

She should never have let her guard down, she berated herself as she hailed a passing cab. For four years she’d been able to keep her exact whereabouts a secret, by being very careful. She’d sent vague emails loaded with misinformation to her father. Though she had come of age three years ago, she had not accessed her trust fund even once. Everyone she met here in Australia knew her by her assumed name, Kate Harris. She couldn’t afford to be discovered, for discovery may very well equate to prison.

But now, she’d gone and fallen in love with the one man who could ruin everything.

She swallowed down the knot of tears in her throat. Getting upset about it wasn’t going to achieve anything. There’d be time for sadness later, when she’d found somewhere to hide. For now, she had to work out what she was going to do, and where she was going to go.

The taxi pulled up outside the small block of flats she’d moved into two years earlier. The complex was secure, which had appealed to her, and the group of university students she’d moved in with had become the best friends a girl on the run could want. There was Ryan, the computer science engineer who lived in some sort of high-tech
gizmo world much of the time. He was awkward with people, but incredibly genuine, and Cass had warmed to him immediately. Timothy was the opposite, at least in looks and confidence. A sports science graduate training to become a school physical education teacher, he was confident, outgoing, brash, and had the body and face of a male model. His girlfriend Cherie was how Cass had come to live with them. They’d studied together at university and had been firm friends from day one.

The thought of Cherie and the others finding out about her whole other life filled Cassandra with dread. She had very good reasons for running as she had, but she couldn’t tell a soul what had motivated the sudden disappearance. That was a secret that would go with her to the grave.

Cass threw the cab driver a couple of bank notes and didn’t bother to wait for the change. She took the steps two at a time and pushed into the apartment, grunting as the door met an unknown resistance. A pair of Cherie’s heels had been kicked off just inside and one leather toe was lodged beneath the door. Such a small detail, but this, and a million other domestic normalities, were what she would mourn most when she was gone.

Despite the fact it was the middle of the morning, all three of her flatmates were home. Such was the life of university students, she thought wryly.

She called out a hurried greeting to them, but didn’t stop. She had to pack. Now.

* * *

Benedict rubbed the stubble on his square jaw, distractedly staring out at the Harbour Bridge. Cass had an unorthodox way about her, it was true. It was one of the things that had first drawn him to her, three months ago. Back then, he hadn’t known who she was, and how they were connected. But there’d been something there. An invisible pull, an overwhelming attraction. He bit the corner of his toast, mulling over that chance meeting.

She’d been working as a waitress; he’d been a guest at a high-profile function on the steps of the Sydney Opera House. How ludicrous it was for Cassandra to have come to the other side of the world to serve prawn toasts and spring rolls to people too spoiled to know how to tie their own shoes, he thought, a smile on his face as he remembered how beautiful she’d been that evening. Despite the number of women decked out in designer gowns, Cass had stolen the show, with her long blonde hair, honey coloured skin and eyes the colour of the Mediterranean Sea. Benedict Savarin was a man who always, always got what he wanted, and he’d wanted Cass from the first second he’d seen her.