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This is me, thought Hannah—except it doesn’t look like me.
This was the last time she would stand in front of a mirror as a single woman. A last glimpse of the old Hannah, before she was taken into the vast throne room where Kulal and the rest of the wedding party were waiting for her so the ceremony could begin. And what a wedding party. A nervous shiver ran down her spine because the size of the congregation was daunting—more than that, all the guests seemed to be billionaires or royalty.
Hannah reminded herself that she’d worked for these kinds of people ever since she’d been a rookie sixteen-year-old starting at the Granchester, and they were only flesh and blood—just like her. Even so, s
he didn’t usually socialise with political leaders and sultans or academics and sports stars. The only person she’d met before was Salvatore Di Luca, who had arrived at the palace the previous evening and greeted her with a warmth which felt manufactured. She wondered if he remembered her as the last-minute guest Kulal had taken to his fancy party and whether he secretly disapproved of their unlikely union.
At least Zac Constantinides and his wife, Emma, had been unable to attend, and Hannah had felt nothing but relief when they’d cited a prior engagement in Zac’s native Greece. Imagine how embarrassing that would have been—saying her vows in front of the ex-boss who’d been forced to fire her. It was just unfortunate that his cousin Xan was present and that he and Tamsyn seemed to have had some kind of run-in during the rehearsal last night.
She pleated her lips together as she made a final unnecessary adjustment to her veil, terrified Tamsyn was going to cause some kind of scene today. Because her little sister was on the rampage and making no attempt to hide her displeasure. Had Tamsyn guessed she was being railroaded into this marriage, despite her repeated assurances to the contrary? And was she determined to fight Hannah’s corner for her, as her big sister had done for her so many times in the past?
But in the end, the choice Hannah had been forced to make had been a no-brainer.
Marriage which would confer legitimacy on her unborn child.
Or life as a struggling singleton, with the ever-present fear that Kulal might use his power and his influence to snatch her offspring away from her.
The soft voice of one of the servants interrupted Hannah’s reverie with a gentle question. ‘You are ready, mistress?’
Hannah nodded as she picked up the heavy spray of white hyacinth interwoven with juniper berries—both national flowers of Zahristan. Briefly, she lifted the blooms to her nostrils, closing her eyes as she inhaled the heady scent—and then the ornate double doors were opened and she walked into the crowded throne room.
Hannah was aware of all eyes turning in her direction, but her self-consciousness dissolved the moment Kulal stepped towards her. Was it the fact that his eyes gleamed with what looked like approval, or was it the touch of his warm flesh as he brushed his hand over her cold fingers? Because in that moment, everyone else in the high-ceilinged chamber seemed to fade away as she focused her gaze on the man who would soon be her husband.
Beneath her wedding dress, she felt the tight squeeze of her heart—for this was Kulal as she’d never seen him before, wearing the richly embellished robes he’d told her were traditional for a marrying sheikh. He looked so tall and formidable, his raven hair covered by a shimmering headdress and his hawk-like features set and tense. Against the olive gleam of his skin, his eyes were like black diamonds, but as she studied him more closely, Hannah wondered if she had imagined the pain which had briefly shadowed their depths.
Was this ceremony bringing back memories she suspected he kept locked away? He’d told her that all Zahristan kings married within the walls of this ornate room, which meant that his parents must have made their vows here. Was he thinking of them now? Wishing they’d been here to witness the occasion? She’d asked him about his family last night, but his answers had been spare and unwilling, imparting only the most basic of facts. His parents were both dead, and he hadn’t seen his twin brother for many years. She’d started to ask why, but he had shut down her queries, telling her that the rehearsal was about to begin.
As she stepped towards the velvet-covered kneeling stool, Hannah was aware of how little she knew about her future husband, but perhaps it was better this way. If she knew the answers, mightn’t she get freaked out by the enormity of what she was about to do?
‘You are ready?’ he said softly.
She nodded, wondering how many more people were going to ask her that. Were they giving her a final opportunity to change her mind? To take her chances and go at it alone? But the time for that had passed. There was no point looking back and thinking about all the ‘might have beens’. Didn’t matter what had brought them to this moment—what mattered was how they dealt with it. She should be grateful that her child would never have to go hungry, as she had done. Or have to lie in bed at night, fearing eviction because the rent hadn’t been paid. Glad, too, that they would bear the name of their father.
Hannah had always made the best of whatever situation she’d been in, so why not continue doing that now? Kulal had warned her not to love him, but there were plenty of workable alternatives to love. Couldn’t she learn to respect and to care for him, so that they could be decent parents to their child and something approaching friends to each other? Looking up into the glitter of the Sheikh’s eyes, she nodded.
‘I’m ready,’ she said and smiled.
Kulal tensed as the look she slanted him made his heart kick. Today she seemed receptive, whereas last night at the rehearsal, she had seemed anxious. Glancing around and asking him questions he’d felt unable to deal with, when he was trying to organise one of the most spectacular weddings this desert region had seen in a decade. He could have opted for a more intimate service—some pared-down celebration which could be followed by a lavish party. But something inside him had baulked at that. He didn’t want something hushed up. Something which would carry echoes of the secrets and senselessness of the past.
Was that the reason why he had evaded Hannah’s guileless queries about his late parents? Why he had mentioned his twin brother only in passing? Because what was the point in her knowing stuff—dark stuff—which might affect the way she viewed life here at the palace?
But his heart still clenched as he acknowledged the empty space where his brother should have stood, on the opposite side of the gilded throne room. The runaway twin who had left his desert home at the earliest opportunity, never to return. His no-show today had come as no real surprise, though Kulal couldn’t deny the dull beat of disappointment. Had Haydar been shocked at his twin’s sudden decision to take a bride—a move which had been made clear when Kulal had confided that Hannah was pregnant? He had wondered whether the baby news would take some of the pressure off his brother, would make him forget about the unbearable reality of their own upbringing. Yet he had not succeeded and it seemed Haydar was determined to continue with his self-imposed exile from his homeland.
But Kulal would not think of that today. He would think only of a duty which had been forced upon him and which he must now make the best of.
He stared down at the top of Hannah’s head and the fine golden mesh which covered her shiny hair. In England, she had hinted that theirs might be a marriage in name only—but that was something he refused to countenance. Their union would be consummated, he decided grimly, because a satisfied woman was a compliant woman. He would keep her sweet until their child was born.
And after that, she could do whatever the hell she wanted.
He spoke his vows without emotion, hearing Hannah repeat hers through the English interpreter which had been provided by her embassy. He felt her hand tremble as he slid the gold and ruby ring on her finger and turned her huge aquamarine eyes to his.
‘You are now my wife,’ he said, and as the interpreter translated his words into English the entire international congregation broke into spontaneous applause. He saw the way her teeth slid into her bottom lip, in that way women sometimes had of expressing pleasure. Was she revelling in the fact that she now wore a priceless wedding band and people were bowing and curtseying to her? Was this marriage what she had wanted all along—and all that hesitation false? ‘Happy?’ he questioned, aware of people around them listening and feeling it his duty to echo the usual sentiments of the bridegroom.
Looking up into Kulal’s black eyes, Hannah didn’t want to answer. She suspected he hadn’t forgotten the bright assertion she’d made that happiness was overrated—just as she suspected he had only asked the question because there were lots of people milling around them. But then he li
fted her fingers to his lips and kissed them, his gaze not leaving her face, and in that moment the truth became blurred. She felt a familiar warmth rush through her veins and, beneath the heavy gold dress, her nipples tightened. And suddenly it was easier to focus on the cravings of her body rather than the emptiness in her heart. If she concentrated on desire, which was starting to lick over her skin like a low-grade fever, rather than the fact that Kulal didn’t care for her, wasn’t it almost possible to feel the thing she didn’t really believe in?
‘Very happy,’ she said.
