The Sultan's Virgin Bride: A story of lust, loyalty and passionate resentment. (3 page)

Eleanor didn’t need to hear anymore. She couldn’t bear to. She walked quietly across the corridor and slipped inside the privacy of the room she’d used as a dressing room. All around her, there was chaotic mess, and it seemed to taunt her now. For it reminded her of her state of fevered excitement, in preparing to marry Aki. She’d practically ripped the dress from its bag; pulled her shoes out of the box, uncaring that she was strewing tissue paper across the floor. She sat down on the plush sofa and put her head in her hands.

Eleanor doesn’t make mistakes
. Michelle had said those very words in this very room only a little while earlier that very day. And she’d been very, very wrong. Eleanor might not have made mistakes often, but when she did, she did it good and proper.

She’d just married a man who hated her. A man she desperately wanted, who didn’t want her at all.

CHAPTER TWO

The last of the servants was completing her preparations. Eleanor, not given to feminine beauty rituals, had spent the last two hours being primped and primed for her first night with Aki. Her hair had been washed and dried until it shone. They’d styled it so that it fell in loose curls half-way down her back. Her outfit was a traditional Talinese robe; cream in color, it fell from neck to ankle, and had violet beads stitched in an elaborate pattern down the middle. It was soft and comfortable, but it made her look a little like the fourteen year old he’d accused her of being. She jutted her chin out in a defiant angle.

He had been wrong about that, and everything else too.

Damned wrong.

If he thought he’d married a vapid, shrinking violet, then she’d gladly show him otherwise.

She stood impatiently, waiting for the black nail varnish that had been applied to her feet to dry. She’d already earned a gentle reproach from one of the more senior servants for having smudged her manicure. She didn’t dare repeat the mistake with her feet.

But the knowledge that Aki was waiting for her was building like a dam of water in her chest, and tension and nerves were eating away at her. It was almost three o’clock in the morning, yet she was far from tired. Somewhere in the distance, the party was still in full swing. One of Aki’s cousins had informed her that it would turn into a breakfast when the sun came up. She had even smiled and winked, as she’d said, “And you and Aki will return, a truly married couple.”

The inference had been clear. A truly married couple. Something she’d been so excited about at the start of the day now felt impossible to contemplate.

How could she sleep with the man when she knew what he thought of her? She had married him, but his harsh words had forced her to remember that she was a strong and independent woman. She was not beholden to give him more of herself than she wished. He had made it clear that he benefitted from their union as much as she did. In marrying Eleanor he had brought together two families who had a claim to the throne, thereby settling any potential civil unrest. Permanently.

She had already, then, given him enough.

“Finished?” She asked, brought back to the present by the departure of all but one of her attendants.

“Almost. Close your eyes and hold your breath, please.”

Eleanor did as she said. The familiar sound of perfume being spritzed met her ears a moment before the delicate scent assailed her nostrils. It was gardenia and night-flowering jasmine; perfect for this desert Kingdom.

“You are ready. I will advise His Highness’s staff.”

“No,” she interrupted quickly. She softened the harsh word with a small smile. “I will go directly. I would like to surprise him.”

“Oh… but…”

“I know you have traditions, but I have ideas about how things will operate now.”

The inference was clear. She was Emira, wife of the Sultan, and she intended to exercise her power from that moment forward. “Very well, madam.” The servant bowed low and exited the room immediately.

Leaving Eleanor to her own devices. She moved quietly to the full-length mirror and paused, taking in her reflection. She still
looked
like herself. Confident. Happy. Normal. But inside, a part of her had hardened to steel when she’d heard herself being discussed in such a vulgar and disrespectful way. She summoned that metallic strength now and used it for courage. She would not allow the needs of her treacherous body to control her behaviour.

Aki was just a man.

A man who made her feel as none other ever had, but a man, nonetheless.

She spun on her heel and crossed the thresh hold of her bedroom. Their marital suite was two doors away. She had been shown the room the day before, and given the option of updating the décor. Even of selecting which flowers would adorn the arrangements on this, their first night together. The memory taunted her now, for how optimistic and excited she’d been about beginning her marriage to this man.

She didn’t knock. He deserved no such courtesy. Instead, she swept into the room as though it was her birth right. Which, she supposed, in some ways, it was.

Aki was leaning against a wall, staring down at the palm tree lined garden beneath. She had the same view from her room, and she knew that the trees formed a perfect square; and in the middle there was grass so green it looked as though it had been cut from a golf course.

He turned at her unexpected intrusion, and masked his features. But she’d seen it. Overhearing his conversation with Ryan had given her a key of sorts to his personality, and now she understood. That look she had taken to be brooding was actually one of cynical derision.

“My bride,” he said with a deferential seeming nod.

Ryan was right. She was beautiful. No. That word was not sufficient. He’d known many beautiful women. He took the time to look at her properly now, for she was his wife, and he had every right to enjoy the sight of her.

She bore a hint of her heritage in the honey hued tan of her skin, though if he hadn’t known her Talinese roots, he would have thought her to be as American as they came. When she smiled, as she had during their wedding ceremony, her cheeks creased into dimples that made her look young and innocent. Her eyes were almost feline in appearance; wide set and almond shaped. Her lips were generous and pouting; they were almost always set in an enigmatic smile. Except for that moment when they were pursed together.

He let his gaze drift lower. The robes disguised most of her body, as they were designed to do. She had come to him as a gift, and the tradition dictated that she was his to open. But regardless of the boxy, flowing garment, he knew that beneath it was the figure of a goddess. Far more appealing to him than the slender proportions that were fashionable, Eleanor was short and shapely, in a way that made his fingers itch to grab hold of her.

He cleared his throat, forcefully reminding himself that his wife was a woman who, besides physical appearance, held little interest for him. He held his hands out to her, but she stayed resolutely still, just inside the door of their room.

It brought a small frown to his face. Surely she had understood? He meant for her to come to him. Instinctively, he crossed to her instead.

When he put his hands out and touched her shoulders, she flinched. “Don’t.” It was quietly spoken, but unmistakably tense.

“You are nervous.”

“No,” she denied. “I am not nervous. Nor am I here to consummate our marriage.”

It earned a small flicker of surprise from Aki. He had not expected his wallflower wife to be capable of such a firm statement. “I see,” he drawled.

“I doubt it,” she snapped, stepping out of his arms. “I only came here tonight to define the parameters of our relationship.”

“You did?” Inwardly, he grimaced. He was doing a damned good impersonation of stupidity himself, now.

“Yes.” She put her hands on her hips, unintentionally drawing his attention to the narrowness of her waist.

“Do go on,” he murmured encouragingly, ignoring the way his body had responded sharply to her antagonistic assertion.

Eleanor sucked in a deep breath and spoke the words she’d been rehearsing. “I think it’s safe to say that you and I both gained something when we married. You got a bride who can erase any threat of civil war from your rule. I got a husband who has removed my father from exile.”

He dipped his head forward, unwilling to show his surprise at her astuteness. “My rule is not under threat from civil war.”

She tilted her head back and laughed. “Of course it is. Don’t be obtuse. There can have been no other reason for having approached me. In marrying me, you neatly tie up the question of the Rami family’s claim to the throne.”

His face darkened. “It is not a legitimate claim to the throne.”

“Maybe so, maybe not,” she said with an angry shrug. “We will never know now, will we?”

“No,” he agreed confidently.

“So we are married, and it suits us both. I am very willing to play my part in public. But behind closed doors, the charade ends. We are not really husband and wife, in the true sense of the words, and we do not need to pretend to be.”

His eyes narrowed, as he slowly began to understand her argument. “You think our marriage should be… without sex.”

“Yes.” She nodded, her throat dry. She’d been doing okay until he’d been so blatant. She darted her tongue out and licked her lower lip. “I don’t think sex has a place in our relationship.”

He ran a hand through his hair, surprise and disappointment at war inside of him. The surprise he understood; the disappointment he did not. “And what of children? The purpose of a marriage such as ours is to secure a continuation of the royal bloodline.”

It brought a searing memory of the overheard conversation to her mind, and she winced. “Yes, I appreciate that. But I’m only twenty four, Aki. I don’t intend to have children for several years. When such a time comes, we can renegotiate the terms of our arrangement.”

“Several years?” His expression was unreadable. “These are all excellent arguments,
azeezi
. Except for one, tiny problem.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

He moved quickly, closing the small distance between them and pulling her against him in a matter of moments. Her breath hissed out from between her teeth. In connection with his body, her resolve weakened almost completely. She swallowed past the lump in her throat.

“I have seen the way you look at me.” He lifted a finger and ran it down her cheek, to the swell of her lips. “Since we first met, you have been eating me with your eyes. You flush when I enter a room. You desire me. I do not believe you have any intention of denying your body the pleasure it seeks.”

She opened her mouth in a sound of surprise, and he took full advantage of it. His own objections to the chore of making love to his wife were nowhere to be found. After her outburst and attempt at tough-talk, he found his desire as rampant as his wife’s. He moved his mouth over hers in a total invasion of her senses. His tongue clashed with hers. It was not a kiss of love or exploration; it was a kiss of ownership and need. Demanding, fierce and angry.

Her body softened, her pliancy obvious. He capitalised on her surrender and pressed her backwards, against the wall, capturing her there with the hard planes of his much larger body. She was supple and sweet, and desperately needy. Her arms shook like jelly as she lifted them and hooked her fingers behind his neck.

Aki found the ribbon at her side and pulled on it without removing his mouth from hers. The robe parted, and beneath it, as he’d known she would be, she was naked.

Touching her skin was even more heavenly than he’d anticipated. She was soft and warm, smooth and supple. He ran his fingers tentatively over her flat stomach, to the gentle swell of her hips. As he drifted his fingers higher, to the curves at the underside of her breasts, she purred in his mouth, like a cat being stroked.

He grinned. So much for no-sex. So much for bland! He pushed the robe wider, so that she was exposed to him for fully, then lowered his mouth, eagerly flicking one of her nipples with his tongue. She arched her back in response and moaned, low and deep in the base of her throat. He lifted his hand and ran his thumb over her other breast, moving in circles around the peak, until it hardened beneath his touch. Then, he transferred his mouth, and with his hand, he cupped one round orb of her bottom, bringing her to press against his arousal. He ground his hips as he made contact with her intimate core, and cursed his own clothes. His need to be with his wife was threatening to swamp every thought in his head.

Her figure was heaven. Curvy enough to give him something to hold onto; nipped in at the waist… womanly in a way he hadn’t known possible. Despite her declaration, he couldn’t resist bringing a hand to her entrance and running his fingers along the coarse hair that guarded her modesty. “Your body wants me,” he whispered, teasing her with his fingers, running his mouth over the flesh of her shoulder and nipping her gently with his teeth. He ached to drive into her; to show her that his body could make hers dance to a special tune. To make her whole being reverberate with the pleasure they could enjoy together.

“This is more fun than abstinence, is it not?” He murmured, lifting his mouth and taking her ear lobe between his teeth. Eleanor could never have imagined that something as utilitarian as an ear could be erogenous, but ripples of sensation built inside of her. From the tips of her toes the edges of her fingers, she felt a deep, soul-tormenting ache.