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‘That is immaterial. We will not be visible once we arrive at the embassy. You will like our ambassador and his wife there. I went to school with Kashif, and Stella is English, like you,’ he told her cheerfully.
‘I would like a wedding dress,’ Claire admitted.
‘Claire...’ Raif traced a long finger across her anxious and downcurved lips, troubled by her uncertainty. ‘Smile.I don’t care if you dress up like a pirate. I only care that we take this important step together.’
Claire quivered and smiled so brightly that he smiled as well. And, heavens, he was so beautiful to her in that moment that she almost stretched up to kiss him. The smouldering glow in his tortoiseshell eyes lit her up like a firework inside herself where it didn’t show, and her thighs pressed tight together to contain the lingering hollow ache of longing. She wanted him as she had never wanted him before, even more than she had wanted him the first time, because now she knew what he could do to her with his mouth, his hands and his body. Blinking rapidly, she forced herself to turn away.
The ‘fashion people’ were a stylist and representatives of several designer salons, each vying with the other to fulfil her requirements. She was measured, shown pictures to establish her likes and dislikes and, in a whirl of activity and useful advice, was promised a dream wardrobe that would suit both hot and cool climates. She knew that within months most of the apparel wouldn’t fit her but, mindful of the need for discretion, she didn’t mention the fact that she was pregnant. And she was downright excited at having picked her dream wedding gown, grateful that her tummy was still flat for the occasion while inwardly apologising to the baby she carried for her ridiculous vanity.
The next day, Raif handed her his phone and explained that it was the obstetrician on the line with her test results. Tensing, Claire wandered across the terrace and listened as the sex of her child was shared. She handed back the phone.
‘We’re having a boy!’ she proclaimed with a smile.
Raif grinned. ‘I truly didn’t mind which,’ he confessed. ‘But perhaps because I’m a boy, having a boy as a first child seems an easier prospect.’
Forty-eight hours later, they moved separately through the airport and ignored each other in the VIP lounge. ‘It was like being a spy!’ Claire told Raif in delight when he finally boarded his private jet to join her. ‘And Mohsin is like a shadow when he moves around. I loved it. I was careful not to evenlookin your direction!’
‘You are a very good sport, Claire,’ he countered with a helpless grin. ‘Most women would kill me for forcing them to hide on their wedding day!’
‘I’m not most women.’
‘I know that very well.’
It was true that the fabulous clothes that had begun arriving the day after her consultation with the fashionistas had given Claire more confidence than she had ever had before. There was a newly discovered pleasure in knowing that she looked her very best in an elegant dress the colour of cinnamon, teamed with toning shoes and a stylish bag.
They landed in Barcelona and travelled separately to the embassy where she would put on her wedding gown. The embassy was a big, tall, classical stone building behind secure walls, and she climbed out of the limo to be shown indoors, where she was greeted by a young brunette with a bubbly personality.
‘I’m Kashif’s wife, Stella,’ she announced. ‘This is so exciting!’
‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Claire agreed, relaxed by that greeting from someone she reckoned was only a few years older and happy to follow Stella up an imposing staircase into an elegant bedroom where her luggage already awaited her.
‘I can’t wait to see the dress!’ Stella confided. ‘I think it’s awful, though, that Raif feels like he has to get married in secret just because of that old dictator of a father!’
Alerted to the fact that her hostess had no idea she was pregnant, Claire resisted a smile at the full extent of her future husband’s reserve even with a personal friend and his wife. Only as the rest of that speech sank in did the urge to smile die altogether. So, that was therealreason for the secrecy, she registered in dismay. Obviously, understandably, Raif was taking a wife of whom his father would not approve. Resolving not to feel wounded by that reality, she whisked her dress out of the cloaking garment bag that had enclosed it and dug out the rest of her bridal outfit.
‘No man deserves to be loved more than Raif,’ Stella told her, seating herself on the edge of the bed. ‘He had an awful childhood and he’ll never tell you about it.’
Claire wrinkled her nose. ‘He’s very reserved but we’re all different, aren’t we?’
‘Do you want to know the facts?’
‘I could know already,’ she pointed out. ‘I know the basics...his parents’ divorce, his mother’s depression. But I don’t think I’m entitled to know anything he hasn’t chosen to tell me.’
‘Sorry, removing foot that I had inserted in mouth!’ Stella commented with a guilty giggle. ‘You’re loyal. He’s never had that either, someone loyal tohim. He’s too busy being loyal and respectful to a family that act like he barely exists, except when it suits them to recognise him. They only invite him to official events. He got left out of all the weddings, new births and family celebrations.’
‘He’s a very special guy,’ Claire muttered helplessly, hurt that Raif had to endure such poor treatment from the family who should have been closest to him.
Of course, was she really one to talk? Her own childhood had been no walk in the park. Her father and her stepmother had raised her without affection or praise of any kind. Even so, nobody had beat her, nobody had starved her and, for those reasons, she didn’t feel that she had that much ground for complaint when others went through much worse experiences. It had been rather distressing to appreciate as a teenager that her father didn’t even appear to like her and only seemed to look at her to find fault. Of course, she had reminded him of her mother, having the same hair colour and eyes, but that didn’t excuse him, in her opinion, for punishing her for his ex-wife’s choices. Perhaps Raif was paying the same price as she had forhisresemblance tohismother!
‘Youcareabout him,’ Stella murmured with warm approval. ‘That’s all I really wanted to know.’
Claire reddened as she undressed. She could have asked for privacy, but she would never manage to get into her romantic confection of satin organza without female assistance. It was a designer gown with tight lace sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, the bodice neat and fitted and the skirt narrow and long. It was the colour of pale sepia, the shade that most suited her skin tone, and the shape flattered her curves without showing too much skin. The fabric was scattered with seed pearls.
‘Raif had his mother’s jewellery brought here from London for your use,’ Stella informed her. ‘There’s enough in that chest to sink theTitanic.’
‘He didn’t mention it.’ Claire climbed into her gown and eased her hands into the sleeves while Stella helped to untangle the skirt. Righting the shoulders, Claire straightened.
‘It’s really beautiful.’ Stella sighed as she proceeded to close the back of the gown. ‘We had a civil wedding. I wore a suit. If I’d my time over again, I’d wear a wedding dress.’
