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‘When she heard that you were about to become Strathcraig’s new mistress she burst into floods of tears and scuttled away,’ the redhead shared, with a meaningful roll of her eyes. ‘She’s scared stiff—that’s what she is!’
The phone buzzed. ‘The car’s waiting for you.’ Jeanie grinned. ‘Just think—in a couple of hours you’ll be a princess.’
Kirsten looked startled. ‘Nobody has said anything about that. I honestly don’t think it works quite that way—’
‘You mean you pulled a prince and you only get to be an ordinary missus?’ Wearing an expression of comical disillusionment, Jeanie shook her head as they left the suite. ‘What about the baby? Won’t it get a title either?’
Kirsten stepped into the lift. ‘I really don’t know.’
‘His family are probably raging that he isn’t marrying a royal princess!’ Jeanie clamped a guilt-stricken hand to her lips. ‘Scratch that—forget I opened my big mouth.’
Kirsten stiffened. ‘Why? I bet it’s true. Remember how shocked you were when I admitted who the father of my baby was!’
‘Yeah…but when I stopped to think about it,’ Jeanie answered chirpily, ‘Prince Shahir getting off with the most gorgeous good-living virgin under the castle roof is really not that surprising. I mean, there’s not a lot else to do at Strathcraig. Now, don’t forget that I’m leaving straight after the service at the church with Douglas and Elspeth—’
‘Jeanie…that’s silly,’ Kirsten protested, and not for the first time. ‘We’re going to a hotel for a meal. Please join us.’
The plump redhead groaned out loud and laughed. ‘You won’t change my mind about this. No way am I sitting down to eat with a prince…I’d be so nervous I couldn’t eat!’
Donald had offered to give Kirsten away at the ceremony, but Kirsten had thanked him and gently refused. It was to be a very quiet wedding, with witnesses only, and she saw no reason to slavishly follow tradition. In fact, she thought that plain and simple suited the nature of the occasion best. It did hurt that she had not a single relative to attend. She would have loved to have had her brother Daniel with her, but she had no idea where he was. After mustering her courage she had phoned her father to tell him that she was getting married, but Angus Ross had put the phone down the minute he had heard his daughter’s voice.
She had told herself that such things scarcely mattered. After all, it was to be a marriage of convenience, forged primarily for their baby’s benefit. The ring she would receive would not be given with love, or even with respect, she conceded painfully. Shahir still believed that she was a thief, so how could he possibly respect her?
Even so, she had felt that his misconception should not prevent her from recognising their child’s right to the legitimate birth that would enable him to be fully accepted by his father’s family. But his lack of faith in her still stung like acid. On the other hand the gossip that Jeanie had mentioned made the situation look a good deal brighter. Surely if other people suspected Lady Pamela, and Morag Stevens had lied, Shahir would eventually accept her innocence?
‘Go get him, girl!’ Jeanie whispered cheekily in Kirsten’s ear as she began to move down the aisle of the church.
Her cheeks warming, Kirsten made a covert appraisal of the tall, dark and extravagantly handsome male at the altar. There was a younger man standing by Shahir’s side, but she spared the stranger the merest glance because it had been a week since she had last seen Shahir and to her it felt like half a lifetime.
There was no point denying it any longer, she thought ruefully. All that talk about loathing him had just been a brick to hurl for want of any other—a face-saving, juvenile lie. The truth was that she was crazy about him. The sound of his voice on the phone gave her butterflies. When he smiled it was as if wings were attached to her heart.
Spectacular eyes that were the colour of bronze in the dim interior met hers, but he did not smile and she lowered her gaze again.
The service was short. As she made her responses she found that she was very nervous, and she wondered if that was why her skin felt so oddly clammy.
Shahir slid a ring on to her wedding finger and tears flooded her eyes. He was her husband now. She blinked, terrified he would notice her tears and wonder what was the matter with her. Lowering her lashes, however, she hovered lest he wanted to seize the opportunity to kiss her.
‘You’re as a white as a ghost,’ Shahir remarked in a taut undertone, making it evident that kissing could not have been further from his mind.
A single tiny compliment, even a hint of a compliment, would have been sufficient to make the day a happy one for Kirsten. But to be told she resembled the living dead when she had made so much effort to look the very best she could was the equivalent of having a vampire’s stake driven through her heart.
‘I suppose that is why you look as if you’re attending a funeral rather than your own wedding?’ his bride whispered back flatly.
‘It is a solemn occasion.’ His hand closed over hers, his thumb resting against a slender wrist which felt as fragile as the bones of a tiny bird in his careful hold.
Shahir was seriously worried about her health. When he asked her how she was she always said she was fine, but she looked really ill to him. She had admitted that nausea spoiled her appetite, and perhaps that was all that was the matter. If he expressed his concern he might worry her, and upset her, and he was reluctant to take that risk. In a few hours they were leaving for Dhemen. There, the need for her to meet her new gynaecologist would ensure that she could enjoy an immediate checkup.
Kirsten was reflecting that he hadn’t even thought to give her a bouquet to carry. Suddenly her empty hands seemed to emphasise all that their wedding so conspicuously lacked. Love was the obvious missing component—and she had better get used to that, hadn’t she? There was no point hankering after what she could not have.
In the church porch, a lively male voice complained, ‘How much longer do I have to wait to meet my sister-in-law?’
Kirsten had been so preoccupied with her own feelings that she had forgotten Shahir’s companion at the altar.
‘Kirsten…’ Shahir fell still. ‘This is my younger brother, Raza.’
‘Had I met you first, Shahir would be the one acting as best man!’ Laughing brown eyes twinkled down at her, and then narrowed with an astonishment he couldn’t hide when he registered the unmistakable swell of her stomach. ‘But obviously I would have had to meet you quite a long time ago to be in with a chance,’ he completed, in a teasing recovery.
Shahir said something in his own language, his demeanour and tone as cold and crushing as ice. Kirsten went red, and then white, and hastily turned away to conceal her discomfiture. He had not even told his brother that she was pregnant. Obviously he was ashamed of her, and of her condition, and she felt cut to the bone. Her back was hurting. As she resisted the urge to massage the spot she felt a dragging pain stir low in her tummy, and a slight gasp escaped her.
