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She stared at the empty bed and then took a deep breath and pulled back the covers to get into it and wait for her husband.
Two hours later she was still waiting. She had heard sounds from Kadir’s dressing room, the murmur of voices, probably his valets, she guessed, and then silence, and now as she released her muscles from their bonds of tension she acknowledged the unwantedly unpalatable truth. Kadir did not intend to spend the night with her and she would not be spending her wedding night with her new husband, but on her own.
Had she been nineteen his behaviour might have reduced her to a tearful, quivering, shamed wreck of rejection. But she wasn’t nineteen and she certainly didn’t intend to let Kadir play mind games with her and win. And that ache deep down inside her? What ache? She refused to allow there to be any ache, she decided proudly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
NATALIA had thought she knew heat, but Niroli’s heat was nothing compared to the hot blast of air that had greeted them on their arrival in Hadiya. It had been like standing in front of an open oven door with a fan blowing.
Here though, at least, in the private apartments she had been assigned in the women’s quarters of the Hadiya Royal Palace, the architecture made the most of what breeze there was, especially in the beautiful courtyard garden.
She had woken this morning breathing in the scent of the roses from that courtyard, whilst her ears were filled with the gentle sound of falling water and the fan of the whirring wings of doves. Every aspect of the apartment was designed to fill the senses with delight, right down to the coffee she was now drinking as she sat admiring her surroundings and considering everything that had happened following their arrival in Hadiya the previous night.
If she was honest it had shocked her to see just how very Eastern in its customs Hadiya actually was. There had been no question of her attending the formal reception that was given to welcome Kadir home as the Crown Prince of Niroli. Instead she had had to watch the proceedings from behind the delicate grill work that separated the women’s area from the public ‘divan’ Kadir’s brother was holding.
It had also seemed strange to her that Hadiya’s subjects were in theory free to attend such a ‘divan’ and ask questions of their ruler. The young woman who had been appointed as her guide in matters of Hadiya protocol had carefully explained to her that in these modern times all those wanting to approach the sheikh were carefully vetted first. It was a custom much like that of the traditional ‘laying on of hands’ common amongst European monarchs.
It was certainly potentially a very democratic process, making the ruler approachable and accessible to his subjects from all walks of life. And one from which Niroli might benefit?
A slightly wry smile touched Natalia’s mouth now. She doubted that many brides of two days’ duration would be spending their time thinking about matters of political domestic policy, especially not when they were married to a man as outwardly physically sexually attractive as Kadir. But then not many new brides would have spent all those nights sleeping alone.
It certainly wasn’t a part of Hadiya protocol for newly married couples to sleep alone and apart. Basima had already discreetly let her know that it was considered perfectly proper and indeed expected for a bridegroom to visit his bride in those rooms set aside for her.
‘It was the sheikh’s wish that you should be given the apartment of his mother, the sheikha,’ she had explained that first evening, and for a few minutes Natalia had thought she was telling her that it had been Kadir who had requested his mother’s rooms for her, but then she had realised that Basima was telling her that it had been Kadir’s brother, the kind and jolly new sheikh, who had requested that the rooms be prepared for her.
And what of the haughty and arrogant woman who had been introduced to her as the daughter of a prominent Hadiyan—Zahra Rafiq? What a wonderful thing the female instinct was. Natalia had disliked her intensely even before the other woman had let her know very unsubtly that she was Kadir’s mistress. Was? Zahra had certainly made it plain that she wanted that relationship to continue, but Zahra lived here in Hadiya and, as Kadir had already made clear to Natalia albeit in a very different context, he considered his future role as Niroli’s King of first and foremost importance to him, above and beyond everything and everyone else.
Had Kadir spent last night with Zahra? Her hand shook, making her put down the glass perfume bottle she had been given in Venice and which some impulse had made her bring with her to Hadiya.
She had watched whilst Zahra had prowled her room, picking it up herself. Somehow it had not surprised Natalia to see the way the beautiful glass had dulled the moment Zahra’s fingers had tightened around it. No wonder Zahra had replaced it so swiftly, looking at it with scorn. She on the other hand loved the way it glowed at her touch, giving off a warmth that seemed to heal the sore places of her heart, reaffirming for her that she was the worthwhile human being she knew herself to be. Now she put the bottle down.
Logically speaking, why after all should it bother her if Kadir had a mistress and that mistress was Zahra? But a person’s emotions weren’t always subject to logic, were they? Was she just a jealous wife resenting another woman’s role in her husband’s life? Since when had her emotions had any role to play in her marriage? They didn’t, and they must not, Natalia told herself fiercely. Just because she had felt physical desire for Kadir that did not mean that emotion was involved. Right now she was going to forget that she had ever had this time-wasting conversation with herself, and
focus instead on her new role as consort to Niroli’s Crown Prince.
This morning, for instance, she was going to be given a tour of Hadiya’s new technical college for girls, an innovative step towards modernisation set in motion by Kadir’s mother, where young women could learn modern business skills. The outer door to the room opened and, as though her thoughts had had the power to produce her like a genie from a bottle, Zahra herself stalked in. The lushly curved socialite with her dyed blonde hair was the kind of woman instantly recognisable to other women as cold and calculating and yet somehow perceived by men as being sweetly feminine and desirable.
‘I have told Basima that I shall accompany you on your formal visit this morning,’ she announced. ‘There are matters I wish to discuss with you that will be of benefit to you in your marriage to Kadir.’
Natalia gave her a long thoughtful look, and then reminded herself of the decision she had just made.
‘I doubt it,’ she told her calmly. ‘A mistress’s experience of a man rarely has any bearing on his wife’s experience of him. The role of a wife after all encompasses so much more than merely spending a few hours in his bed giving him pleasure.’
Natalia could see from the flash in Zahra’s hard brown eyes that her own deliberately pointed comments had hit their mark.
‘Kadir is right. You are not the kind of woman he would have married had he remained here,’ Zahra returned with a falsely sweet smile. ‘But of course we all know that the only reason you have been elevated to such a position is because of the folly of Kadir’s mother. Had she not compounded her sin of betraying her husband by keeping the truth of Kadir’s paternity to herself then there would have been time for Kadir to make more suitable arrangements for his marriage.’
‘I am not surprised that Princess Amira found it necessary to keep her secret, given the lack of understanding she was likely to have found,’ Natalia retaliated quietly. ‘But if by more suitable you are thinking of yourself…’
Natalia could tell from Zahra’s swift and audible intake of breath that she hadn’t been prepared for her to be so outspoken.
‘I am far too modest to dare to dream of such an honour.’ Zahra told her, sounding anything but modest. ‘It is enough for me that Kadir is generous to bestow his loving desire on me.’
Just so long as it came with a huge helping of expensive gifts and public recognition of the importance of his mistress’s unofficial role, Natalia decided cynically.
‘For me Kadir’s happiness is far more important than my own,’ Zahra continued unconvincingly, ‘and that is why I am forcing myself to put aside my natural feelings in an effort to help you to become the kind of wife Kadir needs.’
Zahra was clever, Natalia admitted. Zahra wanted a fight and she certainly knew how to provoke one, there was no doubt about it. With those few well-chosen words she had well and truly ignited the slow burning fuse of Natalia’s own sensitive temper.
