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She’d felt Zane’s eyes on her all day, and now her skin felt too tight, her breasts tender and swollen, her belly alive with the tangle of anticipation and anxiety that had dogged her for days as they’d both conducted what had seemed like a never-ending roster of official duties.
She still wasn’t entirely sure what she’d got herself into. But what had felt like a marvellous adventure after his proposal didn’t feel quite so uncomplicated any more.
She already knew she was in love with this diverse, fascinating country and culture, and its people.
But much more disturbing were her feelings for Zane.
She was already more than halfway in love with this man. But in the past two weeks, as she’d been prepared for the marriage, paraded around the kingdom by his side without ever getting a chance to talk to him properly and then serenaded and feted during the feasting and the final ceremony, she had begun to realise how little she knew him.
They were virtual strangers. That night in the tent, when he had shared a few tragic details of his childhood, seemed so long ago now. The glimpse she’d got of that vulnerable and lonely LA teenager a million miles away from the indomitable, autocratic ruler whom she had become so aware of in the last few days.
Kasia helped her into the large copper tub. Cat let out a deep sigh, sinking into the heated water—and tried to force herself to relax—as the scent of lavender filled her nostrils.
‘You are truly the most beautiful bride,’ Kasia said dreamily, working to unpick a hairdo that an army of stylists had taken several hours to create that morning. ‘The Sheikh did not take his eyes from you the whole day. He is a man very much in love, I think.’
Cat’s heart clutched painfully at Kasia’s romantic statement.
‘Zane’s chief cultural advisors told me love is not a requirement of a successful Narabian marriage, especially for the Sheikh,’ she said.
She had tried not to overreact at their insistence on mentioning this pertinent fact over and over again during her briefings. She had tried to convince herself the repeated warnings about the fickle, mercurial nature of such emotions was simply a necessary part of their job to inform her of Narabia’s culture and customs. Or maybe they were just being overcautious, trying to assess if she would be as much of a liability as Zelda Mayhew, after the love match between Zane’s parents had ended so disastrously.
But after being told this ‘fact’ several times, she had begun to wonder if this warning was coming from Zane, instead of his advisors. Had he briefed them on what to say to her?
Of course, it would be foolish of her to get upset about it even if he had. She’d agreed to this marriage knowing full well they hadn’t declared any deeper feelings for each other... But even so it had made her feel increasingly insecure.
Had she made a terrible mistake agreeing to this marriage? What if Zane didn’t believe in love? Or, more importantly, what if he wasn’t capable of loving her? After spending two weeks involved in all the pomp and circumstance surrounding their wedding, she certainly couldn’t underestimate any more how big a step it was to agree to marry the Sheikh.
But why did she suddenly feel so vulnerable? What had happened to that balloon of hope that had made her say yes in the first place?
‘Pfft!’ Kasia scoffed, as she massaged shampoo into Cat’s scalp. ‘What do a load of old men know about love anyway?’
Cat pushed out a laugh at Kasia’s irreverence, trying to ignore the apprehension that had been building for days now, but the breathless chuckle sounded strained even to her.
‘The Sheikh is so handsome and he wants only you,’ Kasia insisted as she rinsed Cat’s hair—the luxurious pampering helped relieve the tension tying the muscles of her neck into tight knots. ‘Tonight he will make you his again. And then you will know how he feels.’
Cat doubted she would know that much. But at least she would feel much more secure. It was Zane’s distance in the last fourteen days that had allowed all her insecurities to flourish.
Once she was back in Zane’s arms the hope and euphoria would return. She was exhausted and on edge, never a good combination for a pregnant lady.
Of course, she didn’t know Zane yet. They’d slept together twice and been married for approximately two hours. And they had only managed to share three private conversations since he’d proposed. All three of which had consisted of him asking her if she was nauseous, if the marriage arrangements were too stressful and if she was getting enough sleep.
He’d been kind and considerate, attentive and solicitous—despite the enormity of the responsibilities weighing him down. She was blowing everything entirely out of proportion. Kasia was right, tonight was the beginning of a new phase in their relationship. A stunning new adventure.
Maybe they had never spoken about love. But they had spoken about commitment. Because what could be more of a commitment than marriage?
He’d made her his Queen, for goodness’ sake, and here she was freaking out over something—a shared intimacy—that could only develop over time.
She forced herself to sink into the water—and put all the what ifs out of her mind—as Kasia finished washing her hair.
The bridal chamber was lavishly furnished and had a walk-in wardrobe full of the clothes the dressmakers had made for her over the last two weeks.
She and Kasia spent half an hour selecting the perfect night robe for her marriage bed. They sipped the spicy fruit liquor that had been left in the chamber to help relax her as Cat tried on the different outfits.
It reminded her of her first night with Zane. The night she and Kasia had snuck into his mother’s salon. Who would have thought only six weeks later she would be waiting to spend her wedding night with this remarkable man?
Anticipation turned to desire as she stared at herself in the mirror. The robe they had eventually chosen was in a deep purple and although not as elaborate as her wedding robe, it was a great deal more revealing. Especially as Kasia had been adamant she mustn’t wear any lingerie.
‘The Sheikh will not want to wait. And neither will you,’ she had said, as if she were an experienced courtesan instead of a nineteen-year-old virgin.
