The Sheikh's Stolen Bride(20)
“Charlotte?”
“It’s just lingerie,” she said with a shrug. Why hadn’t she anticipated that she’d need to explain this? Because she hadn’t thought that anyone else would see her in her underwear.
“Did you buy it?”
Charlotte swallowed. “Where else would I have got it?” She said, without answering the question. She pulled the dress around her hips then higher, slipping the sleeves up her arms. “Would you do me up?”
Mika’s expression showed uncertainty, but she nodded.
“Did your mother tell you that Yelana Katshin is staying at the palace?”
“Yelana?” Charlotte hadn’t seen her old friend for many years. “I thought she lived in Turkey?”
“She does. Apparently your mother called her earlier today and asked her to come. Something about a man she has to meet.” Mika laughed with no idea that she’d put a seed of pain in Charlotte’s mind. “You know what a match maker Eloise is.”
“Yes,” Charlotte’s smile was tight. “Did she say which man?”
“No, but you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to guess, do you? It must be the prince from Kalastan. Ashad Al’Eba. What do you think? Would he be good for Yelana?”
Charlotte shook her head on autopilot. “I think he’s already met someone,” she mumbled.
“Well, not according to your mother. Eloise made a point of telling me that she’d spoken to Ashad about Yelana and he’d been very interested.” Mika looped the last button through its hole then stood backwards to admire the overall effect. Strangely, the sight of Charlotte in a gown such as this did odd things to Mika’s own heart.
“Oh, Charlotte. My darling. I can see you as you will be on your wedding day. I cannot believe the time has almost come for you to leave Falina, and me. How I will miss you!”
Tears clogged Charlotte’s throat but they were tears that sprung from many different wells. “You will come to Kalastan to visit me,” Charlotte murmured.
“Of course. But no more of this. The ease with which we’ve been able to spend time together…”
“Stop,” Charlotte demanded imperiously. “You are going to make me cry.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Mika laughed. “You have a mask?”
Charlotte nodded. The Tiffany box was on the foot of her bed. She moved to it, lifting it carefully, peeling the lid off and staring down at the artwork. And it was artwork. Each gem meticulously placed to maximise the effect. She couldn’t even imagine what the mask and lingerie must have cost. Tens of millions of American dollars, easily. She lifted the mask onto her face, tucking it over her ears and beneath her hair. She had styled her hair loose, with large, rolling curves that fell over her shoulders.
She turned to study the impact and even she could see what Mika had meant. The gown was unbelievably beautiful. The mask was a show stopper. And when she placed her feet into a pair of slippers that had been embellished with crystals, she looked just as Cinderella might have.
“You are ready for the ball, your highness,” Mika smiled.
Charlotte imitated her tone. “As are you, your excellence.”
Mika put her gloved hand into the crook of Charlotte’s arm. “Let’s go then.”
Though they were dressed for a royal ball, as they emerged from Charlotte’s bedroom, they were just two friends, chatting as normal. They discussed the weather, which had been unseasonably cool that day, and floated down the stairs without realising that a crowd was looking up at them. Until they were at the bottom, and their conversation was halted by the click click click approach of Eloise.
“Ah! You girls look beautiful.” She encompassed Mika in the praise, and kissed both on the cheeks. “Come, join me, as we greet your guests, Charlotte.”
Charlotte sent Mika a look that only her friend would understand and then nodded dutifully at her mother.
“They’re not my guests,” she pointed out as they walked together towards the entrance of the ballroom. A pair of gold doors marked the space, and inside, Charlotte knew the room would be decorated as a masterpiece. The ceilings were vaulted and high, at least four stories high, with chandeliers glistening from the ceiling. Gold framed balconies jutted out from half way up the walls, providing private galleries for older guests who flagged through the night. Hundreds of years ago, when this part of the palace had been constructed, the balconies served for officials and modesty regulators to observe court balls. Any behaviour that was inappropriate was witnessed and documented, for the King to hear about and decide on a suitable punishment.
Charlotte stood beside Eloise, smiling and making polite conversation with each guest as they arrived. Her father would be inside, performing the same function. Her parents were excellent hosts – there was every reason for their festivities to have become legendary.
“Ah, your highness,” Eloise’s voice caught Charlotte’s attention, not because it was particularly loud or resonant, but because Charlotte was attuned to any and all mentions of Ashad. She turned as if in slow motion, and when she saw him, she was in free-fall off the very edge of the world.
He was dressed in a tuxedo. A crisp white shirt, a pitch black suit, and a black bow tie. He wore no mask, though he carried one – a black shape that would cover one half of his face, split down the middle. She stared at him, her heart racing, her mind numb.
He was perfect. He was hers. He would be, soon. Her fingers were tingling. She wanted to reach out and touch him.
“Your highness.” He bowed low and kissed Eloise’s hand.
“We are honoured by your presence,” Eloise said. Was Charlotte imagining the reserve in her mother’s tone? The hesitation and coldness? “I have arranged that special treat we discussed,” Eloise smiled, and Charlotte’s breath snagged in her throat. Yelana.
Ashad didn’t reply in words, he simply nodded and moved along to Charlotte.
Eloise may have liked to observe their interaction but another high-profile guest arrived and was calling her attention.
Ashad took Charlotte’s hand in his own and lifted it to his lips.
“You are beautiful,” he said. He leaned closer, so that only she could hear. “Tonight?”
She nodded, her heart racing.
“Good.” He went to move past her but then he paused, leaning down once more and whispering in her ear. “How do you like your gifts.” His eyes dropped to her cleavage so she could have no doubt as to his meaning.
“Stimulating,” she drawled, winking at him before turning to address the next guest.
It took over an hour to speak to each of the arrivals but finally, Eloise turned to Charlotte and smiled tightly. “Darling,” she said, looking down at her daughter’s hands. “You’re not wearing your ring.”
Charlotte frowned. “I never wear it.”
Eloise tsked. “But at a ball honouring the cousin of the man you are to marry? You do not think he will take offense to see that you shun the gift Syed sent you?”
“It’s not a gift, but a mark of ownership.”
Eloise nodded. “And do not forget it, darling.”
The warning was odd. It bounced onto Charlotte and she felt a strange lurch of panic. Did her mother suspect that she had agreed to sleep with Ashad?
How absurd.
That wasn’t possible.
Was it?
“Don’t you worry,” Eloise patted Charlotte’s bare hand. “I’ll send Mika to retrieve it. You go and enjoy yourself.”
Charlotte wanted to rail against her mother, but nothing would be served by that except an increase in whatever suspicions Eloise held. “Fine.” A tight smile.
“And don’t monopolise Ashad Al’Eba,” Charlotte added. “He is the guest of honour. The room will be eager to speak to him.”
And Yelana, Charlotte thought with a suppressed annoyance.
Jazz music swirled through the room, fairy lights sparkled along the ceiling and enormous floral arrangements decorated every space. Guests were milling with glasses of ice-cold champagne or tumblers of spirits. She stood just inside the door and got her bearings. She knew many of the guests assembled. Friends of her parents, politicians, friends of hers, or at least contemporaries she’d spent time with growing up. She skirted the edge, and was called to by a group of just such contemporaries.
She smiled and moved towards them, chatting and pretending interest all the while her eyes skimmed the room, searching for Ashad.
He was not hard to identify, but when she saw him he was already in conversation with Eloise and Yelana. Where Charlotte’s dress was modest, Yelana’s was anything but. Low cut, sleeveless, bright crimson, her blonde hair curled tightly around her face, she was a picture in seduction. A lump formed in Charlotte’s throat, making it difficult to swallow.
Ashad’s eyes met hers, as though he too had been looking for her. She looked away instantly, not wanting him to see that she was jealous. It was a petty emotion, hardly worthy of her. Certainly not something she had a right to feel, given that she was marrying someone else.
As if to remind her more forcibly of that commitment, Mika appeared.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she lifted her hand and Charlotte blinked as the enormous rock glistened at her.