The Sheikh's Stolen Bride(2)

“My uncle has always dealt with your father,” Ash murmured, his eyes dropping to her lips as she pulled the lower between her teeth and massaged it distractedly.

“Yes, well. Now it is you, apparently, in your uncle’s place, and me in my father’s.”

Ash was more than happy to deal with Charlotte, except for one troublesome point. He wasn’t sure how the hell he was going to keep a lid on a very unexpected and unwelcome desire.

He needed to get laid.

And not by Charlotte.

Damn it! The thought alone conjured images he didn’t want. Her, straddling him, taking him deep inside of her, her dark hair falling over his naked chest as she dropped her mouth to run her tongue over his flesh. He groaned inwardly.

This was a disaster.

Were it not for the pledge he’d made Syed, he would have walked out of the whole thing then and there.

“Do you think your father won’t act in your best interests?” He prompted.

She rolled the berry between her fingers and finally lifted it to her mouth.

Great, just what he needed. Seeing it poised for a moment between her lips before she sucked it in and savoured the sweetness had him at a tipping point.

He stood uneasily and moved to the window, staring out at the ocean and thinking of anything unsexy he could fathom. Maggots, infected sores, his dying uncle.

She didn’t answer and that inspired curiosity deep within him.

The silence stretched like elastic. It pulled and pulled until finally Ash turned around and looked at her. In a moment of privacy, when she thought herself unobserved, Charlotte had dipped her head forward and caught it in her hand. He studied the gesture long and hard, his mind trying to comprehend her situation. Was it possible that she didn’t want to go ahead with this marriage?

That would solve Syed’s problem, surely. If both parties didn’t want the union  , it couldn’t go ahead. Could it?

“Is something the matter?” He prompted, hoping for selfish reasons that he was right.

“I don’t want my father to be bothered by this,” was all she said.

Ash frowned. “The King isn’t well?”

“He’s fine. He’s just … busy.”

Ash rubbed his hand across his jaw; it was a gesture he did often when deep in thought. The sense that she wasn’t telling him something was growing. “Too busy to be bothered with his only daughter’s marriage?”

“He will see the contract before we agree to the final terms. I imagine there will be a great many points for you and me to discuss before it reaches that stage.”

“I see,” Ash murmured, thinking that ‘a great many points’ gave a great many options for things to go awry. Which is what Syed wanted. Hope that he might not have to bother worrying about Charlotte’s past, and discovering a means with which to discredit her, flared inside of him.

“I don’t intend to be difficult,” she murmured, reaching for another berry and holding it between her fingers for a moment. It was softened – whether by the heat of the day or the transport to the embassy – and it stained her fingertips. “But I refuse to marry a man I don’t know without having at least some say over the type of marriage we’ll have.”

Ash felt a twist in his gut, something foreign and uncomfortable. It caught him completely unawares.

“And what terms are important to you, Your Highness?”

Her lips twisted in a mocking smile. She seemed to realise that her fingers were dark red. She lifted the berry to her lips and ate it, then placed her finger in her mouth for a moment. He stared at the gesture, his stomach churning with a desire he could no longer ignore.

But he knew what his duties required of him, and that certainly didn’t include fantasising about Charlotte Shareef.

“I don’t think we need to refer to one another by our titles, do you? We are, after all, going to be family.”

Family.

There it was again. That strange stitch inside of his chest.

“The terms?” He heard himself ask, his voice far more scathing than he’d intended. But he was impatient, and his anger was all self-directed.

She seemed to recollect herself. “Where we’ll live. How often we’ll need to see one another.” Her cheeks flushed. “The expectation of intimacy.”

His arousal was threatening to come back to life. He felt it kick and internally he muttered every curse word he knew.

“I see. Anything else?”

She nodded. “I know there is to be a financial settlement – of course that needs to be finalised. The political agreements that come into place as a result of the wedding,” she paused, knowing the value of these agreements and their importance to the kingdom.

Ash nodded. These were all valid terms, and he had expected to deal with each and every one. Though he’d imagined sitting in a boardroom, facing off against several palace officials and lawyers, as well as Charlotte’s father, King Rama. Not alone in a room with the beautiful, distracting Charlotte.

“This will take some time.”

She nodded. “I’m prepared to meet as often as necessary. I do not want to marry until I know every issue has been laid out in this document. Understood?”

God, he’d have to meet her a lot to get it sorted. He was torn between a sense of warm anticipation and dread.

“Okay. Shall we get started immediately?”

“Fine by me.” She reclined in the chair a little. “Mind if I get comfortable then, Ashad?”

Even the way she said his name made him want her. A whisper against his flesh. Ashad, Ash-ad, with a breathy pause between the syllables. He nodded. “Make yourself at home,” he invited, taking two bottles of mineral water.

As he walked towards the chairs again, he froze.

She was in the process of removing her shoes. They were leather slippers, a burgundy that matched the dress. And beneath them, her dainty, pale toes were topped in a bright red paint that might as well have sealed Ash’s fate.

He took the seat opposite, catching a hint of her distracting fragrance. “You have met Syed?”

She nodded, reaching for a grape. “Only twice, I think.”

Ash studied her thoughtfully. “I know him well. Do you have any questions about your groom?”

Colour stole across her cheeks. She shook her head, her eyes not quite meeting Ash’s.

Curious at her reaction, his eyes narrowed. “Not a single question about the man you’re to marry? Despite the fact you’ve just said you hardly know him?”

“Oh.” She fluttered her lashes as though she realised that she’d made some vital misstep. Why? And what? “What would you have me ask?”

She was adept at dodging questions, that much was apparent. His interest in her increased. “Let’s try this another way,” he murmured thoughtfully. “What is there about you that you think my cousin should know?”

Her heart was racing. He could see it from the way the delicate pulse point at the base of her neck was hammering against her soft skin. He clasped one hand over the other to stop from reaching forward and touching the tell-tale sign of emotion.

“I think knowing one another is less important than knowing what our marriage will be,” she said after a small pause. “Does your cousin envisage us … sharing a room? Once we are married?”

Straight to it, Ash thought with admiration. “An heir will be required.”

She frowned. “Even though Zahir has married?”

Ash shrugged. “The expectation of children is carried by both Syed and Zahir equally. And by me, also,” he added as an afterthought.

“Why?”

His lips twisted in a smile. “It is the way of our people. The royal family’s prosperity and power is measured by its number.”

“Fine,” she said, moving past the point. “We’ll have to cross that bridge at some point.”

Her reticence fascinated him. “Do I take it that’s something that worries you?” He asked softly, leaning forward a little in his chair.

A pale pink spread through her cheeks and he was entranced by her innocent beauty. “It’s something I can’t quite imagine,” she answered frankly despite the awkwardness she was feeling.

“You are inexperienced,” he murmured.

“Really?” She swallowed, her fine neck knotting visibly. Memories she wanted to suppress were clouding her mind. She kept visibly calm with effort. “You really want to ask if I’m a virgin?”

He ignored what he took as her indignation – which she had every right to feel. “It is something that I would be discussing with your father’s aides if you weren’t here,” he reminded her gently.

She nodded, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. Then, her eyes locked to Ashad’s and it was as though he’d been punched in the gut. An electric charge moved between them, arcing with heat and emotion. “Is he?”

“Is who?”

“Syed,” she snapped with obvious impatience. “My husband-to-be.”

Ashad laughed at the very idea. Though Syed was discreet in his affairs, he’d been involved with many women over the years. Charlotte was staring at him, her eyes narrowed, her lips compressed.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry.” He held a hand up in apology. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I don’t see why I should have to discuss my sexual past if the same burden isn’t being met by him.”