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Craving Beauty(2)

By:Nalini Singh




"Daughter?"



She jerked up at the sound of her mother's voice. "Yes."



Amira smiled. "Come, it is time for you to wait for your husband."



Time to allow a stranger to touch her, Hira thought, anger spiking.   Fascinated with him from the first, his act in bargaining for her like   an object had turned her budding desire into fury. How dare he reduce   her to nothing more than the sweetener for a business deal?



As she followed her mother up the stairs, her eyes narrowed. Marc   Bordeaux might've married her, but he would not have her. Not like this.   Not without joy and tenderness. Not until she knew the heart of the  man  he was.



Marc leaned in the open doorway, his body thrumming with, anticipatory   tension. "Why the face? It's your wedding night, not an execution." He   tried to keep his tone light, but it was hard when temptation sat right   in front of him.



Hira occupied the middle of a canopied Arabian bed that screamed   decadence. Hung with rich velvet curtains in a warm gold and made up   with sheets of silken white, it invited sin and seduction. The luxurious   hangings whispered softly in the heavy heat of the desert breeze   wafting in through the open balcony doors, full of murmurs of welcome.                       
       
           



       



It was as if Zulheil itself was urging him to indulge his hunger for his   wife. To complete the invitation, her slender feet rested on pale-pink   rose petals, petals that echoed the delicate pink of her wedding   garments.



She should've looked like a dream. His dream.



But instead of welcome, there was only cool distance in her eyes. The   woman who'd captivated him with a single smile was subsumed under the   crystal hardness of icy sophistication.



One aristocratic eyebrow rose. "What did my father promise you in the   deal? Tell me and I'll deliver." That cultured voice with its exotic   accent swept along his bloodstream, inciting him without intent. Her   voice flared at the end, a stab of heat that was quickly smothered by   the ice, leaving him uncertain that it had ever appeared.



He clenched the fists he'd shoved into the pockets of his tuxedo pants, a   feeling of dread infiltrating the joy with which he'd begun this  night.  "You agreed to this marriage, princess." What could've been an   endearment came out as a taunt, her coldness stoking his temper. "I   never wanted a wife who wasn't happy to be mine."



He'd starved for this moment since he'd first seen her on the balcony of   her family home in Abraz, Zulheil's biggest city. Her face had been   upturned to gaze at the stars, a wistful and somehow hungry smile   gracing that lovely face.



"Your father refused to let me date you," he told her.



"You must know how old-fashioned he is. It was marriage or nothing, and   you were asked your choice." He'd been startled by Kerim Dazirah's   decree that no man was going to be allowed near his daughter without the   ties of marriage, but had made his choice in an instant.



Driven by feelings he barely understood, he'd agreed to a marriage   without courtship, chanced forever on the strength of one shared smiled,   one instant of pure happiness. No woman had ever made him react with   such impetuousness. No woman but Hira.



"Yes," she said softly, her strange light-brown eyes fixed on a point   beyond his shoulder. "I had a choice. As much as any woman does when she   has no independent means of income, no way to fight for her freedom,  no  chance of escape." Her tone was as emotionless as a doll's. "You  were  better than the alternative." The final line was heavy with  disgust.



"Who?" He didn't like the idea of her with some other man, though he   hadn't known of her existence until barely a week ago. From that moment,   she'd become his. Only his.



Her full lips twisted. "You've met him. Marir."



"He's a relic." Marc recalled his one encounter with the oily merchant   who was a crony of Hira's father. He'd disliked the man on sight because   his eyes had kept straying to Hira, who'd been acting as hostess for   Kerim's banquet. Marc had almost been able to see the old lech fighting   the urge to lick his lips.



Simmering with possessive anger he hadn't then had any right to, he'd   barely walked away without punching Marir in his florid face. "Why would   your father consider him a suitable match?" In spite of his lack of a   beautiful face, Marc knew he was of value to the Dazi-rah family  because  of his wealth and business status.



"He has royal blood. Many times removed, but present nonetheless." Her   mouth curved in a humorless smile. "My father always wanted to claim   royal connections."



Another blow against him-he was no more royalty than the lowest bayou rat. "Then why did he accept me?"



"In my father's eyes, you are American royalty. As well as being a man   of considerable wealth, you do business with our sheik and are welcome   in his home- close enough to royalty to please him."



Marc clenched his hands even tighter, frustrated and angry. And hurt.   Why did it hurt that this beautiful woman was rejecting him? Why did he   feel like something indefinably precious was slipping out of his grasp?   "So that was all that was going for me? I wasn't old and fat?" He  didn't  spell out what they both knew. He might not be old and fat, but  he was  disfigured.



Scars ran in fine white lines down the left side of his face. His body   bore far deeper marks. He'd become used to them long ago, his confidence   founded on more substantial things, but this beautiful ice princess   would surely have noticed. When she'd agreed to his proposal, he'd   thought that the scars didn't matter to her. Now he saw that he'd been   deluding himself. There was no welcome in Beauty's eyes for this   particular Beast.



She gave a regal nod and the shimmering light from the tiny, perfectly   detailed chandelier caught on the diamonds dripping from her ears. "I do   not know you. You are a stranger. My father may have refused to allow a   courtship, but you didn't even try to talk to me once!"                       
       
           



       



In fact, Marc had asked to speak to her several times before the wedding   but had accepted her father's explanation that such things were not   done in Zulheil. Unfamiliar with the marriage rituals of this country,   he'd been wary of giving offence and losing his chance to claim Hira.   Not that that was any excuse, he thought harshly. He should've tried   harder.



"Are your feelings going to change as we get to know each other?"   Despite everything, he continued to ache for the gift of warmth she'd   tantalized him with just once before. But he had no intention of taking   something that wasn't freely given. Not even when desire was digging   into him with razor-sharp talons and his body was heavy with passion so   hot, it was almost pain.



A sudden shadow dulled the almost-golden brilliance of her eyes. "I once   loved a man." Her long lashes lowered. "And I don't think I will ever   love again."



Her words formed an arrow aimed at dreams he'd barely acknowledged but   now knew were vital to his existence. "Why did you marry me, then? Why   make us both miserable?"



She raised her head and he caught a glimpse of red-hot anger in those   changeable eyes. "My father said you wouldn't sign the agreement unless I   married you. The deal with you is very important to the clan."



He swore under his breath. "The central agreement was signed and sealed   before I asked for permission to date you. Nothing but the most minor   ancillary matters remain." He wondered if she'd believe him, this   beautiful, dusky desert rose. It was his word against her father's.



To his shock, he thought he saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes. "I   thought he cared for me a little.. .but my worth to him has always been   determined by my looks." The pain in her was so tightly controlled, it   wounded him just to hear her. "Now I know he feels nothing for me, if  he  can so cold-bloodedly manipulate me into marriage with a man he  wishes  to do business with."



Marc couldn't stand to see this proud woman so humbled. This was not how   his haughty beauty was meant to sound, lost and alone. Striding to the   bed, he sat down beside her. When he reached out to touch her cheek,  she  froze. "I have no intention of doing anything against your will, so   stop looking like a deer caught in the headlights."