More Precious than a Crown
CAROL MARINELLI
The woman he shouldn’t crave…Desert prince Zahid once walked away from Trinity Foster and the fire blazing in her eyes. He was heir to the Kingdom of Ishla, and duty required that he return home, but even the heat of the desert was unable to burn away memories of their scorching kiss…A chance encounter results in one earth-shattering night that brings more than just passion. As painful truths of the past are revealed Zahid realises that Trinity needs his protection. His only option is to bring her back to Ishla – and though she’s strictly forbidden, walking away from her again is impossible!Discover more at www.millsandboon.co.uk/carolmarinelli
‘I have not chosen my bride yet,’ Zahid said, and he took her champagne glass and placed it on a window ledge, then pulled her back to where she had been just a second or two ago. ‘If I had I would not be about to kiss you.’
‘Oh …’
Well, that settled that, then, Trinity thought. There was nothing to stop them other than her fear and the fact that she could not stand being held by a man. Except she was being held now and there was no urge to run—there was no urge to do anything other than receive the lips softly descending on hers.
Would he be able to tell her terror from her kiss? Trinity wondered.
No, she quickly realised, because there was no terror—just the melting of fear and the bliss of his lips and the stroke of his tongue.
She sank into his embrace without thought, and the press of his body against hers felt like a reward.
His mouth did make the pain disappear, his kiss did allow her to forget, and Trinity found out something new—it was very hard to kiss and smile at the same time, but she was trying.
CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation and, after chewing her pen for a moment, Carol put down the truth: ‘writing’. The third question asked, ‘What are your hobbies?’ Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered ‘swimming and tennis’. But, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest she’s got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!
More Precious than a Crown
Carol Marinelli
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my lovely Facebook friends,
who cheer me on when my heroes misbehave.
Contents
Cover (#u384fb082-1fde-5ba1-8c23-1e6abfcdb024)
Introduction (#ude7f5e36-e0d4-57ec-b91a-8adbc5e32676)
About the Author (#u27078eeb-f178-5463-be05-6446e5476e68)
Title Page (#u8031bd5a-9371-50a0-868b-621a1cab3811)
Dedication (#u799ae2d3-3c8f-5985-a8f4-886c2fe43b18)
PROLOGUE (#uc0b853c9-8a97-534f-96f0-d6d2613ffc99)
CHAPTER ONE (#u0a74c619-fe31-53f3-bbaf-bf4a117980ec)
CHAPTER TWO (#u3eeebf7f-6c15-589f-bfc2-9cb753ac0a7f)
CHAPTER THREE (#uc5539155-b12f-5117-906d-2cecbc4b49bb)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_1f406254-fa54-5a93-b48d-4cc9234b27fc)
‘HAS ANYONE SEEN TRINITY?’
Dianne’s voice carried through the still night. It had become a familiar cry this past year or so, and one that Sheikh Prince Zahid of Ishla had grown more than a little used to whenever he spent time at the Fosters’ residence.
Zahid had been a regular guest to the household since he had been sixteen but now, about to turn twenty-two, he had made the decision that this would be his last time he would stay here. The next time he was invited he would politely decline.
Zahid walked through the woods at the edge of the Foster property. He could hear the sounds of laughter carry across the lake on this clear summer night. Zahid was flying back to Ishla soon and he hoped that his driver would arrive early rather than promptly, for he really would rather not be here. The Fosters were throwing a party to celebrate their son Donald’s graduation and, given that they had added the fact that Zahid too was graduating, it would have been rude to decline.
Next time he would.
Zahid did not enjoy their company, he never really had. Gus Foster was a politician and it seemed to Zahid that he never switched off. His wife Dianne’s sole purpose in life seemed to be to stand by her man whatever Gus did. Since Zahid had known the family, there had been the humiliation of two very public affairs as well as the scandalous revelations of sleazier encounters and not once had Dianne’s plastic smile wavered.
After tonight he would not have to see it again, Zahid thought. Neither would he have to make polite small talk with the obnoxious Gus. He only did it because he was a friend of their son Donald.
Well, as much as Zahid had friends.
Zahid was a lone wolf and very independent. He preferred the company of a beautiful woman on a Saturday night rather than this type of thing, but obligation had brought him here.
When he had been sixteen and a boarder at a top school there had been a random locker inspection and a wad of cash and drugs had been found in Zahid’s locker. They had not been Zahid’s. It hadn’t been the mandatory suspension that had been the problem, though. It had been the deep shame that such a scandal would cause his family.
On hearing the news, Zahid’s father, King Fahid, had immediately boarded his jet to fly from Ishla to speak with the headmaster, not to cover things up, for that was not how things worked in Ishla. Instead, Zahid had explained to Donald, the king was on his way to England to apologise and take his disgraced son home. Once in Ishla, Zahid would have to publicly apologise to the people of Ishla.
‘Even if you didn’t do it?’ Donald had asked.
Zahid had nodded.
‘It is up to the people if they forgive me.’
Zahid had stepped into the headmaster’s office with his back straight and his head held high, ready to meet his fate, only to find out that there had been a misunderstanding.
Donald, the headmaster had informed the prince and king, on hearing about the locker inspection, had panicked and placed the money and drugs in Zahid’s. It was Donald who would now be suspended and the school offered its sincere apologies for the disruption the incident had caused the king.
As the king and young prince had stepped out of the headmaster’s office, there had stood Donald with his father, Gus.
‘Thank you,’ King Fahid had said to Donald, ‘for being man enough to admit the error of your ways.’
‘You miss the point,’ Gus had said to the king. ‘My son would never do drugs, he did this to help a friend.’
The Fosters had taken it on the chin.
Gus had even given a speech in Parliament, stating that even the most loving, functional families were not exempt from the perils of teenage years.
Functional?
Zahid had frowned at the choice of word then and was frowning now as he walked, recalling that time all those years ago.
The Fosters had appeared on the front pages on the Sunday newspapers. Dianne, smiling her plastic smile for the cameras, Gus with his arm around his suitably sheepish-looking son. The only one who had spoiled the picture-perfect image had been Trinity—she had been dressed in her Sunday best but, rather than smiling, she had scowled at the cameras.
Zahid actually smiled as he recalled the photo from yesteryear but he wasn’t smiling a few seconds later when a streak of blonde caught his eye.
There was Trinity.
She was hiding a bag of clothes beneath a tree and wiping lipstick off, and jumped when she heard Zahid call out and start walking towards her.
‘Trinity!’ Zahid said. ‘Your mother has been calling for you. Where have you been?’
She swung around to face him. ‘Please, Zahid, can I say that I’ve been with you?’
‘You know I don’t lie.’
‘Please,’ Trinity said, and then sighed. Zahid was so austere, so formal and so rigid that it was pointless even trying to get him on side. Yet, just as she went to walk off and face the music, he halted her.
‘If I am going to cover for you, first I need to know what you have been up to.’
Trinity slowly turned. Even when she had asked Zahid to cover for her, she’d never really expected him to agree, yet it sounded now like he might. ‘I was at my friend Suzanne’s,’ came her cautious reply.
‘Doing what?’
‘Just...’ Trinity shrugged.
‘Just what?’
‘Dancing.’
‘You have been to a party?’
‘No! We were just listening to music in her room and dancing.’ Trinity almost rolled her eyes as she attempted to explain to his nonplussed expression, because clearly that wasn’t the type of behaviour Zahid would understand. ‘We were trying on make-up, that sort of thing.’
‘Why are you hiding clothes?’ Zahid looked at what she was wearing—a long-sleeved top and a pair of jeans—and then he watched as Trinity screwed her blue eyes closed, no doubt to come up with a suitable lie.
Trinity was, Zahid knew, a skilled liar, only what he didn’t know was that she wasn’t trying to lie now. She simply didn’t know, in this, how she could tell the truth, when it was just a feeling she had.
How could she explain that Suzanne had suggested she borrow some clothes because Trinity hadn’t liked the way her aunt’s new husband had been looking at her in the dress her mother had bought for her? Trinity didn’t understand enough herself, let alone know how to explain it to Zahid, just how awkward Clive made her feel.
She refused to call him Uncle.
He was the reason that she’d run off.
It was the reason that Trinity was always running off at family things and, given that Zahid was only ever there on family occasions, he saw this behaviour all too often.
‘Last time I was here, I caught you climbing out of your bedroom window,’ Zahid said, and watched as Trinity did her very best to keep her face straight. ‘It is not a laughing matter.’
No, it wasn’t a laughing matter, Trinity thought, but the memory of it made her smile. Zahid had refused to believe she had simply been hungry and, rather than facing all the guests, had simply been trying to sneak into the kitchen. He’d brought her out a plate of food and then watched as she’d climbed back up to her room, using a tree and the trellis. Given her practised movements, it had been a presumably well-worn path for Trinity.
‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ Trinity said.
‘Perhaps not, but on family occasions you should be here.’ It was black and white to Zahid yet sometimes with Trinity it blurred to grey. She was so spirited and wilful and just so visibly unimpressed with her family that at times she made Zahid silently cheer, not that he would let her know that. ‘You don’t just disappear.’
‘I know, I know,’ Trinity started, but then a mischievous smile prettied her sulky face. ‘So, what’s your excuse, then?’
‘Excuse?’
‘What are you doing in the woods?’ And then, as realisation hit, she started to laugh. ‘Sorry, that was a stupid question.’ Zahid’s frown only deepened the more she tried to explain. ‘Well, I guess you needed to...’ Trinity stopped then. There was not a single vulgar thing about Zahid and, no, now that she came to think of it, Trinity could not imagine Zahid popping into the woods to answer the call of nature! ‘My mistake.’
‘I went for a walk so that I could think.’ Zahid looked down at her. Of all the Fosters, Trinity was the only one he would miss. Yes, she made him smile at times, but he wasn’t smiling as he saw that since her last escapade Trinity had changed. She had, in fact, grown into a very beautiful young woman. Her hair was blonde and had been cut in a jagged style, her eyes were huge in a too-thin face and they sparkled as she waited for him to speak. ‘If you were in Ishla you would be expected to support your parents and mix with the guests...’
‘I’m not in Ishla, though.’
As they started to walk back towards the party, Trinity tripped a little.
‘Have you been drinking?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I think I’d remember if I had.’
He turned her to him and took her cheeks in his hands. He saw her dilated pupils and neither quite recognised the lust between them yet. ‘Blow.’
‘You’re breath-testing me?’
‘Blow,’ Zahid said, and she did, but he could smell no alcohol.
‘What are you up to, Trinity?’ Zahid asked, except his hands did not leave her face and neither did Trinity want them to. Yes, he was boring, yes, he was yawn-yawn dignified, but sometimes when he smiled, sometimes when his subtle humour went completely over her parents’ heads, he made her laugh. She had never understood what women saw in him. Donald was bitterly jealous and complained often to his family that women only went after Zahid for his title.
Tonight Trinity would beg to differ.
Now she understood his attraction, for those black eyes made the skin on her cheeks flare with heat and the height of him, instead of intimidating her, had her wanting to stand on tiptoe and lift her face to his like a flower to the sun.
Now they recognised the lust.
Zahid looked down at her. She was like a little wild kitten that any minute might scratch but right now was temporarily tame, and Zahid was knocked sideways by her appeal.
‘Am I to breathe out again...?’ Trinity said, and as he went to open his mouth to tell her they should get back, Trinity blew into his open mouth. He captured her breath and then swallowed, and for the first time Zahid wrestled with self-control.
‘You need to be more careful,’ Zahid warned. ‘You should not be walking alone in the woods at night.’
‘In case a handsome prince happens to be walking by?’
‘I could be anyone,’ Zahid pointed out, but his hands were still on her cheeks.
Their lips were almost touching.
‘You’re you,’ Trinity said, ‘and I want you to give me my first kiss.’
Her mouth was, to Zahid, perfect and he was, rarely for him, tentative as his lips grazed hers for he was wrestling for control, forcing himself to hold back not just want, for the pulse of her flesh on his lips gave him more than the usual want, it filled him with need, and a man of Zahid’s standing must never feel need that wasn’t met.
For Trinity to feel him kiss her so tenderly, to feel that sulky mouth now soft against hers, was sublime.
A late developer, for six months now, or perhaps a little more, Trinity had loathed her body. The feel of another’s eyes on her had made her feel ill. Family functions had been spent fighting hands that wandered, yet she was not fighting hands now. She loved the feel of Zahid’s hands moving from her cheeks and down to her waist, and when her lips parted the slip of tongues was so mutual, so natural that Trinity let out a moan.
Zahid would have loved to linger, she tasted of cinnamon and was so sweet and warm, but the purr of her too-thin body beneath his hands, the sudden tip into sexual hunger from Trinity, the raw need in himself were enough for Zahid to attempt to halt things.
‘That was not your first kiss.’ His voice was not accusing, he was merely stating a fact, for never had a mouth had such an effect on him before and surely it had been a practised kiss.
‘Okay, it was my second,’ Trinity admitted. ‘Suzanne and I practised a while back so that we’d know what we were doing, but this doesn’t feel like practice, though,’ she breathed, her mouth searching for his again.
‘You need to get back,’ Zahid said. His voice was just a touch stern, for he was cross at his own lack of control. His life was ordered, the women he dated were generally a few years older than him, not the other way around, and with reason, for emotion he kept at a distance and love was something to actively avoid.
Sex was the name of the game but it felt like more than that now.
Trinity’s hands met at the back of his neck and she looked up at him. His hands were just above her hips and she knew that at any moment they would disengage, that he would take her back, but Trinity didn’t want that. She wanted her first proper kiss to go on for longer, she did not want to return to her family and the house, but more than that, she wanted more time with Zahid.
He was far too tall for her mouth to reach his without Zahid lowering his head, so when still he did not, her mouth moved to his neck, and worked upwards, inhaling his lovely scent and feeling his hands digging deeper into her hips.
There was a strange push-pull, for he should push her off, take her hand and walk back, yet Zahid was resisting the urge to pull her into his groin. Trinity’s tongue licked up his neck and then one hand did move. Zahid took her chin in his fingers and Trinity blinked up at him. She thought for a moment that she was about to be told off, but instead his mouth came down on hers and she found out that the first kiss had been but a precursor to bliss.
Trinity’s eyes snapped open at the passion behind his kiss. She was a little shocked, a little heady and then, when she saw the usually remote Zahid so consumed, Trinity’s eyes closed again and just revelled in the bliss of being so thoroughly kissed. One of his hands was stroking her hip and his tongue was sliding around hers and there was nothing but pleasure to be had. His other hand was on her shoulder but almost pushing her back in an attempt to resist pulling her in, yet it was Trinity who ignored the pressure and moved a delicious bit closer and discovered her home.
In the circle of his arms, pressed against him, she found herself.
Trinity loved the feel of his sex against her stomach and finally the bliss of the pressure of his hand pulling her in as his tongue duelled with hers. Now she moved up on tiptoe, wanting to feel that delicious hard length lower yet. Still fighting himself, Zahid pushed her down. It was like a match to gasoline for Trinity and she rose to her toes again and then it was she who pushed down and Zahid wrenched his face back, ending the kiss but not the contact of their groins, his dark eyes assessing her but with a smile on that stern mouth, which was shiny from hers.
‘Don’t stop,’ Trinity urged, pressing herself to him, She was building towards something that felt like a faint wail of sirens in the vague distance. Her body was on delicious alert, seeking their direction, as Zahid did his best to contain her.
‘We shall stop,’ Zahid said.
‘Why?’
‘Because...’ Zahid did not want to stop, but neither did he want to continue things here. ‘Because my driver shall be here soon to take me back to Ishla, and you are too good for the woods.’
‘Take me back to your palace.’ Trinity smiled but then it disappeared, a note of urgency creeping into her voice. ‘I need to get away...’
Zahid frowned. ‘When you say—’ He never got to finish, Dianne’s shrill voice terminating their conversation.
‘There you are. What the hell...?’
Zahid dropped contact as soon as he realised that her mother was there but Trinity still hung like a cheeky monkey around his neck.
‘Mrs Foster, I apologise. I was—’
‘Oh, it’s you! It’s fine, Zahid.’ Dianne was instantly mollified when she saw that it was Zahid who her daughter was with. ‘Zahid, your driver is here and, Trinity, you need to come and say goodbye to our guests...’ They walked back through the woods and towards the house, Zahid frowning at Dianne’s rather inappropriate response—surely she should be furious but she was chatting away as if nothing had happened. ‘Clive and Elaine are staying. Trinity, I want you to go and get the guest room ready.’
His driver was waiting and he pulled Zahid aside to tell him that if he wanted to fly tonight, they needed to leave now.
Zahid said swift goodbyes, but Trinity caught his hand and he could see the tears filling her eyes.
‘Zahid, what I said about you taking me with you. Do you think maybe—?’
‘Trinity.’ He could have kicked himself. She was reading far too much into one kiss and he had never meant to confuse her. He was just glad that Dianne had disturbed them when she had.
‘I have to go.’ Zahid’s words were a touch abrupt but better that than she even glimpse the effect she had had on him.
Her hand gripped his fingers and he felt the brush of her fingertips as he pulled away from her and glanced at his watch.
It was ten minutes after eleven and as he climbed into his car, little did he know that it was a moment in time he would regret for ever.
He looked out of the window and cursed his brief lack of control as the car pulled off.
It was better that he return now to Ishla, Zahid decided, for he did not like her unsettling effect on him.
Yet it was one kiss that he would always remember.
As for Trinity...
She saw his car drive off and on her mother’s orders headed back into the house to prepare the guest room.
Trinity too would never forget that night.
But for all the wrong reasons.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_52e53717-9078-5f23-ad75-eb2a57867d54)
‘DECLINE.’
Sheikh Prince Zahid’s response was immediate.
The king, his son and Abdul, the king’s chief aide, were walking through the second palace of Ishla, discussing the refurbishments that were necessary if it were to be inhabited again. As they walked Abdul discussed the diaries of the royal prince and king and raised the matter of Donald Foster’s wedding.
The Fosters had always imbued a certain discomfort in Zahid—loud, brash, their egos and need to further themselves at all costs had not sat comfortably with Zahid. As he had matured he had done his best to politely sever contact but Donald had remained persistent and they still occasionally kept in touch.
‘But Donald has asked you to be his best man.’
Zahid’s jaw tightened a fraction as Abdul spoke on. Zahid had not told his father that just last week Donald had called, asking him if he would be his best man at his wedding to Yvette. Zahid had said to Donald that, while flattered, he had duties in his homeland at that time and would not be able to attend. He had rather hoped that that would be the end of it, but of course Donald had persisted and it would now appear that a formal invitation had been sent, along with a repeated request that Zahid be Donald’s best man. ‘I have already explained that I cannot attend his wedding,’ Zahid said to Abdul. ‘Offer my apologies and arrange a gift...’
‘Donald Foster?’ The King halted and turned round and Zahid silently cursed Abdul for insisting that they go through the diaries now. He had been hoping that his father would not find out. ‘That is the man who saved our family from shame...’
‘That was a very long time ago, Father.’
‘Our country has a long memory,’ the king responded. ‘You owe that man...’
‘I have more than repaid my debt to him.’
Over and over Zahid had repaid his debt to Donald—he had been his friend when, perhaps, Zahid would rather not have been, he had secured invitations to functions that Donald would never have got into had he not asked Zahid to intervene, and over the years Donald had also borrowed significant amounts of money and made no effort to pay him back.
‘Were it not for Donald,’ the king pointed out, ‘you would have been brought into disrepute. More than that, you would have brought our country into disrepute. When is the wedding?’
‘It is in two weeks,’ Abdul said, then looked at Zahid. ‘We could rearrange your schedule.’
‘First a wedding and, given the speed it’s been arranged, soon it will be a christening...’ Zahid pointed out, and the King tutted.
‘I would support a polite declining of your attendance at a christening for a child conceived out of wedlock, as would our people, but the wedding...’
To the king’s surprise, Zahid took no more persuading, for he interrupted with a brief nod and then turned to Abdul. ‘Very well, arrange my schedule but make it a brief visit, two nights at the most. I will fly out the day after the wedding.’
‘If only it were that easy to get you to agree to more pressing matters,’ Fahid commented, but Zahid did not respond, for he knew what was coming next—his father had brought him here for a reason, Zahid was sure. ‘We need to speak about the renovations that are needed here.’
Memories stirred for both the king and Abdul as they walked through the second jewel of Ishla. The second palace was where Zahid and his sister Layla had been born and raised. Even on their mother’s death, when Zahid had been seven, they had lived here. The king had been heartbroken at the death of his wife, Annan, but thanks to the privacy the second palace had afforded them, he had been able to grieve largely in private.
Zahid deliberately kept his face impassive as they discussed the work that needed doing, but he knew that just the fact his father had chosen to speak with him here meant that the reins were tightening.
His father had long since wanted him to choose a suitable bride. So far Zahid had resisted, he liked his freedom far too much, but this was a working royal family and Zahid’s skills in engineering were being utilised, his vision for Ishla was taking shape, and more and more his time was spent here.
It was time for Zahid to raise a family.
‘There is much work to be done,’ Abdul said. ‘The chief architect is concerned about some erosion on the cliff face and, as we thought, the great hall and the master suite are in need of structural repair.’
‘How long will that take?’
‘Six months to a year is his best estimate,’ Abdul said, and went into further detail. It wasn’t as simple as commencing work—the second palace contained many valuable pieces that would need to be catalogued and stored before work could even begin.
‘You do realise, Zahid,’ the king said to his eldest son, ‘that once it gets out that activity has commenced at the second place, our people will assume that we are preparing the palace for the crown prince and his bride.’
‘I do,’ Zahid replied.
‘And does six months to one year sound like a time-frame you could operate within?’
Black eyes met black eyes and there was a small stand-off. The king had raised a leader, which meant Zahid would not simply be told what he should do.
‘I think that at this stage, it would be premature to go ahead with the renovations.’ Zahid did not flinch as he defied his father’s request that he marry soon.
‘Your country wants to know that they have a prince who will—’
‘They have a prince,’ Zahid calmly interrupted, ‘who shall one day rule fairly and wisely. I do not need a bride to assure them of that.’
‘You need an heir,’ the king said. ‘If something should happen to you, they need to know that the line will continue.’ He let out an irritated breath. Zahid refused to be pushed into anything, which the king grudgingly admired, but the people needed reassuring. Time was running out for the king and so he chose now to play the one card he had that just might persuade Zahid to submit to his will. ‘Of course, should something happen to you, it would be Layla’s son who would be next in line.’
Zahid’s jaw gritted because Layla did not have a husband, let alone a son.
‘Perhaps,’ the king continued, ‘if the crown prince chooses not to marry yet, another royal wedding might appease the people.’
‘Father...’ Zahid addressed him as a father and not a king, trying to reach for his softer side, for the king truly adored his daughter. ‘Layla does not like any of her prospective husbands.’
‘Layla needs to understand that with privilege comes responsibility. I am thinking of inviting the Fayeds to dine here at the palace next week.’
Zahid thought about Layla, who had kicked, screamed and bitten when her father had once attempted to drag her out to meet suitors.
She was a rebel, a challenge, and reminded him of...
Perhaps it was the wedding invitation but Zahid’s mind drifted back in time and he recalled Trinity. Not the kiss but the fire in her eyes and a spirit that would not be crushed. Imagine Trinity being forced to marry. It would never happen.
‘You wouldn’t do that to Layla,’ Zahid said, but the king nodded for Abdul to leave them for a moment and, once alone, he addressed his son.
‘Today there are reports in the news that I have lost weight. Last week it was reported that during my last overseas trip I was hospitalised. Soon I will not be well enough to leave Ishla for my treatments and the people will know that I have little time left. They need to know the future is secure.’ It was said without emotion and should be accepted the same way. Feelings were frowned upon, especially for a male royal, but Zahid could not allow Layla to be used as a pawn. If he married then he could change things for Layla, who, unlike him, believed in foolish things like a marriage based on love.
It was not just the king that Layla had wrapped around her little finger. History meant that Zahid too, was extremely protective towards his sister. Not that Layla knew why, for the time of the queen’s death and its aftermath must never be discussed.
‘I want to announce a royal wedding,’ the king reiterated. ‘I want to hear cheering in the street when you walk onto the balcony with your chosen bride.’
‘Chosen?’ Zahid’s word was tart. For all the dining with families that would take place, for all the pomp and ceremony that went in to choosing a bride, both the king and Zahid knew it was a given. Zahid must choose Princess Sameena of Bishram and right his father’s wrongs for Fahid had not chosen wisely.
Instead of choosing Princess Raina of Bishram, a younger Fahid had fallen in love.
Zahid though, would choose wisely. Sameena was his father’s first choice, for the long-ago snub to the now Queen Raina still caused problems and both men hoped for friendlier relations between Ishla and Bishram.
Zahid, though, leaned towards Sheikha Kumu.
Her country, though small, was prosperous and had an extremely efficient army.
It was a business decision to Zahid and one he would not take lightly.
‘You do not need to ask the Fayeds to dine just yet.’ Finally Zahid relented. ‘You are right: the people have already waited long enough for their prince to choose his bride. Six months to a year sounds a suitable time frame.’
‘I am pleased to hear it,’ the king said, and then called his aide to join them again. ‘Abdul, do what is necessary for the renovations to commence.’ He did little to contain the smile of victory that played on his lips as he continued speaking. ‘And send out the invitations for potential brides and their families to dine.’
Zahid walked through to the master suite and on the king’s instruction a servant opened the huge shutter and the sun streamed into the room and fell on a large carved wooden bed. Here, Zahid and his bride would first live till, on the king’s death, they moved to the first palace to rule the land that he loved.
Zahid did not have six months left to enjoy being single for once his bride was officially chosen his playboy reputation must become a thing of the past.
It was a very sobering thought and one that did not go unnoticed by his sister.
As he prepared to fly to London for Donald’s wedding, Layla came to his suite.
‘Father says that the renovations are starting.’
‘Correct.’
‘Do you know who you will choose as your bride?’
Zahid did not answer, not that Layla let that stop the conversation.
‘Perhaps Sheikha Kumu?’ Layla fished. ‘She is well connected and very pretty, or maybe Princess Sameena, she’s so beautiful—’
‘It is not about looks,’ Zahid interrupted. ‘I will choose the bride who will best serve our people. One who will understand that my heart belongs to them.’
Layla rolled her eyes. ‘Ah, but I bet you take looks into consideration when you are choosing your lovers.’
‘Layla!’ Zahid warned, but she would not quiet.
‘Why don’t women get to go overseas? Why were you allowed to leave Ishla for your education?’
‘You know why, Layla.’
‘Well, it’s not fair. At least you have had some fun before you choose your bride. Father is speaking about the Fayeds again. I don’t want Hassain to be my first love.’ She pulled a face and Zahid suppressed a smile. He wanted to tell his sister that when he was king he would change things, but that conversation was too dangerous to have just yet.
‘I want to know what it is to fall in love.’ Layla pouted.
Zahid could think of nothing worse than a mind dizzied by emotion. He truly could not stand the thought of a life lived in love.
Yes, there was a year of her life that Layla didn’t know about.
The first year.
He looked at his sister who lived with her head in the clouds, yet he cared for her so. He could still remember her screaming in the crib, could still recall their father’s repeated rejection of his second born, who he had blamed for his wife’s death.
No, Layla must never know.
‘Layla, the palace will be busy preparing for my wedding. You do not have to worry for a while.’
‘But I do worry,’ Layla said. ‘Zahid, can I come to England with you? I would love to see the sights, and to go to a real English wedding...’
‘Layla, you know that you cannot travel until you are married.’
‘No,’ Layla corrected him, ‘the rule is that I cannot travel unless I am escorted by a family member. If you took me...’
‘I am not taking you to England with me,’ Zahid said. He would already have his work cut out with the Fosters and their debauched ways, let alone adding Layla to the mix. Zahid rolled his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that his best-man duties would involve policing Trinity.
Once he had agreed to attend the wedding, Zahid had looked her up and his face had hardened as he had read on and flicked through images. Having completed school, or rather, as Zahid knew from Donald, a stint in rehab, Trinity had, it would seem, jumped straight off the wagon. There were several pieces about how she loved to party, combined with several images of her falling out of nightclubs. Things had gone quiet in recent years, though. She was now living in California and only came home on occasion, such as for the wedding of her brother.
His curiosity about Trinity surprised even Zahid. He could barely remember most of the women he had dated, yet the one kiss that he and Trinity had shared still remained clear in his mind, so much so that it took a moment to drag his mind back to the conversation.
‘Can I come on your honeymoon, then?’ Layla persisted.
‘I will hopefully be busy on my honeymoon,’ Zahid said.
‘Not the desert part.’ Layla laughed. ‘After. When you travel overseas, can I at least come with you then?’
It was not such a strange request—sisters often travelled as companionship for the new bride.
‘You might not like the bride I choose,’ Zahid pointed out.
‘You might not like the bride you choose.’ Layla smiled. ‘So I will entertain her so that you do not have to worry about such things as shopping and lunch.’
‘We shall see.’
‘Promise me that you will take me, Zahid,’ Layla said. ‘I need something to look forward to.’
‘You are up to something?’
‘No,’ Layla said. ‘I am just bored and I want something to dream about, something to look forward to.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘I need to go and meet my students.’
‘Then go,’ Zahid said, but Layla would not move till she got her way.
‘How can I teach my students about the world when I have never even left Ishla?’
Zahid accepted that she made a good point. ‘Very well, you can travel overseas with us when I take my bride on honeymoon.’
It was no big deal to Zahid.
Romance was not part of the equation in any marriage that he had in mind and that was the reason he said yes.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_024f794e-b654-5469-878a-8a18d07af300)
AN ASH CLOUD, perchance? Trinity’s heart lurched in hope when she saw that her flight was delayed.
A really, really big ash cloud that would ground aviation for days.
Or maybe the baggage handlers could go on strike.
LAX had been busy, busy and JFK was much the same. Trinity knew she had been cutting it almost impossibly fine to get back in time for her brother’s wedding and now that her flight had been delayed there was a very real prospect that the bridesmaid wouldn’t make it to the church on time.
Had she been willing that ash cloud to appear perhaps?
Of course she had.
Just a nice natural disaster where no one got hurt and one where it could be explained in the speeches that, though Trinity had done everything she possibly could to get there...
Boarding.
Trinity watched as the sign flicked over and dragged herself to the back of the line. Even as she took her seat on the aircraft she was hoping for a black miracle.
A flock of seagulls perhaps?
Yes, an aborted take-off seemed preferable to facing her family, or rather her aunt and her husband.
When Donald had called Trinity to tell her that he was marrying Yvette, though she had given her congratulations and said that, of course, she’d be thrilled to be there, inside her stomach had churned.
On concluding the call, Trinity had actually dashed to the toilet to be sick.
She felt sick now.
A harried mother and baby took the seat next to her.
Why, oh, why, hadn’t she used the money her father had given her to buy a business-class seat, Trinity thought as the baby told her with his big blue eyes that he was going to do everything in his power to scream all the way to Heathrow.
The take-off was impeccable, not a seagull to be found!
Then the captain came on and said that he would do his level best to make up lost time.
Trinity wished she could do the same—that she could push a few buttons and ride a tail wind if it meant that she could erase lost years. An ancient art history degree that she’d somehow obtained, as she’d struggled merely to operate, lay unused. Clubs, bars, dancing had been but a temporary escape from her pain and grief. California healing had beckoned, but neither reiki, nor chakra cleansing, nor the roar of the vast Pacific could replace what had been lost.
Her latest attempt to cure her repulsion to anything that hinted on sexual had been positive-reinforcement-based training.
Ha-ha.
Two thousand dollars later and several pounds heavier, Trinity had decided that no amount of chocolate or affirmations were going to cure her particular problem.
She loved herself?
Most of the time, yes.
She’d just prefer not to be touched.
The meals were served and Trinity just picked at hers and refused wine. Despite what the newspapers said, she really only drank at family things.
Which it soon would be.
No.
As the cabin lights were dimmed Trinity tried to doze but Harry, as it turned out the baby was called, had decided now that he liked her. He kept patting her cheeks with his little fat hands.
‘Sorry,’ his mum kept saying.
‘It’s not a problem.’
Trinity tried to doze some more.
It didn’t work.
The only consolation to attending the wedding was that she had just found out that, though at first he had declined, Zahid was going to be the best man.
She hadn’t seen him since that night ten years ago and Trinity wondered what he would be like now, if he even remembered that kiss in the woods.
If he’d ever given her a thought since then.
Trinity closed her eyes and briefly returned to the rapture of being in his arms and the bliss of his kiss, but her eyes suddenly snapped open for she could not even escape to the sanctuary of them without recalling what had happened later that night and in the months that had followed.
There was so much adrenaline in her legs that Trinity tried walking around the sleepy cabin, dreading what she must face later today. How she’d hoped her mother would tell her that Clive and Elaine hadn’t been invited, how she wished her father, or even her brother, would step in.
No one ever had.
Skeletons belonged in the closet. Dirty laundry belonged in a basket.
Clive was more prominent than her father.
Nothing could be gained by speaking out. It was easier to simply smile for the cameras.
It wasn’t, though.
All too soon the scent of breakfast came from the galley and, opening the shutter, she saw dawn.
The wedding day was here.
Trinity returned to her seat, where Harry was shrieking. ‘Would you mind?’ his mum asked. ‘I have to go to the restroom.’
‘Of course.’
Trinity held Harry, who stood on her thighs with his knees buckling as he screamed and screamed. ‘Go, Harry!’ Trinity smiled. Wouldn’t it be lovely to be as uninhibited as Harry, to simply scream out your pain and not care a jot what others thought?
She didn’t get to hold babies much. All her family was in the UK and none of her friends in LA had babies yet.
The sting of tears in her own eyes was terribly unwelcome and Trinity swallowed them back, telling herself she was being ridiculous. There was no comparison, Trinity told herself as she looked at Harry.
He was all big and chunky and wriggling.
Whereas she had been so tiny and so very still.
The sob that escaped Trinity’s lips came from somewhere so deep and buried that even Harry stopped his tirade.
‘It’s okay.’ Trinity fought to quickly compose herself and smiled into his curious eyes as he patted her cheek. ‘I’m fine.’
Trinity had no choice but to be fine.
She just missed her baby so.
Ached for the time that her daughter had never had.
‘Thanks so much.’ Harry’s mum was back and Trinity handed him to her but the bubble of panic was rising inside her and Trinity truly did not know if she could get through today.
She pressed her bell.
‘Breakfast won’t be a moment.’ The steward smiled.
‘I’d like a bourbon, please,’ Trinity said. ‘A large one.’
A few minutes later the steward returned with two tiny bottles of bourbon and a pussycat smile that told Trinity she was a lush.
Trinity didn’t care.
At least it calmed her enough to get off the plane.
* * *
‘Where the hell is Trinity?’ Donald demanded, as he clicked off his phone. ‘Yvette’s in tears, there’s not a sign of her at the hotel...’
Here we go again! Zahid thought as he felt the pull of the mad Fosters’ vortex. A night out last night with Donald and co. and Zahid was remembering all too well why he chose only minimal contact. Gus had kept insisting that Zahid extend his visit, or come and stay later in the year, and Zahid had reluctantly explained that he would be marrying soon and his time was now to be spent in Ishla.
And now, it would seem, Trinity had gone missing in action again.
Nothing changed.
‘Why don’t I call Dianne and see if there’s an update?’ Zahid suggested, for it was the best man’s duty to keep the groom calm, but he had never seen Donald so tense. He made the call and then gave Donald the news. ‘Your mother’s at the airport and she says Trinity’s plane just landed. As soon as she is through customs, she will take her straight to the hotel and help her to get ready. Call Yvette and tell her that she can stop worrying.’
‘You can never stop worrying when Trinity’s around!’ Donald challenged. ‘I just hope she’s sober.’
It wasn’t Donald’s comment that had a certain disquiet stir in Zahid. It was his reaction to the news that Trinity had landed and that soon he would see her again.
Over the years there had been a few near misses. Zahid, when he had heard Trinity’s plane was delayed, had assumed that this would be another. But that she was in the same country now brought a strange sense of calm—the planets seemed more neatly aligned, the stars just a little less random. They were in the same country and finally, after all this time, they would see each other again.
He wondered if she would be bringing someone and briefly wrestled with the distaste of that thought but then dismissed its significance. It had nothing to do with feelings, Zahid quickly told himself. After all, it was possibly his last weekend in England as a single man and certainly there was unfinished business between them. It was natural to be hoping that she was attending the wedding alone.
* * *
Trinity didn’t have to wait for baggage and she raced out of customs, her heart aflutter. Despite everything, she was looking forward to seeing her mum. Maybe things would be different now, Trinity hoped as her eyes scanned the crowd for Dianne. Maybe her mum would realise just how difficult today was. Maybe...
Her heart lurched in hope as she saw her mum, dressed for the wedding, just minus a hat. Trinity raced over and gave her a hug. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Have you been drinking?’ was Dianne’s only response to her daughter’s kiss.
‘I had one bourbon on the plane.’
‘It’s whisky,’ Dianne hissed. ‘You’re in England now. Where the hell have you been?’
‘The plane was delayed.’
‘I don’t want to hear your excuses.’
Trinity could feel her mother’s fingers digging into her arms as they raced to get a taxi and Dianne didn’t let up as they sped to the hotel. ‘Yvette is in tears. She wanted her own sister to be bridesmaid and now you’ve made us look...’ Dianne struggled to contain her temper. It had taken many, many dinners to convince Yvette’s parents to choose Trinity for the role, but a generous helping hand towards the wedding bill had given them leverage and the Fosters had insisted that their voice be heard.
Oh, and so too would Trinity’s voice be heard, Dianne remembered. She just had to tell Trinity that! ‘I’ve told Yvette that you’re going to sing near the end of the night.’
‘Excuse me.’ Trinity’s mouth was agape. ‘I can’t sing.’
‘You’ve got a beautiful voice.’
‘Actually, I don’t.’ Trinity could not believe that they’d ask this of her. ‘Mum, please, I don’t want to sing, I just want to...’
Hide.
‘When do you go back?’ Dianne asked.
‘Tomorrow afternoon.’
‘So it really is a flying visit, then.’
‘I’ve got an interview next week.’
‘If you’d let your father help, you wouldn’t be out of work.’
‘I’m not out of work,’ Trinity bristled, because she had a job at the beach bar and she certainly earned her money there, but Dianne pulled a face.
‘If anyone asks, say...’ Dianne thought for a moment. ‘Say you’re working in a museum.’
‘You want me to lie?’
‘Yes, please!’ Dianne said. ‘We didn’t put you through an art history degree to have you working in a bar.’
‘Ancient art,’ Trinity corrected, and then smirked at her mum. ‘What sort of museum exactly?’ She watched as her mother’s neck went red.
‘Okay, a library, then. The reference section. At one of the big colleges.’
Nothing changed.
They got to the hotel and the shoebox of a room that had been booked for Trinity. After a lightning-quick shower she sat as her hair was brushed and coiled and pinned by her tense mother while Trinity quickly did her make-up. Moods weren’t improved when her mother unzipped a bag and pulled out the most awful blue dress that Trinity had ever seen.
‘You are joking?’ Trinity said. ‘It’s so shiny I’m going to need sunglasses to wear it.’
‘Had you bothered to come to any of the fittings then you might have had a say in what you were wearing. As it is...’ She lifted up Trinity’s arm and attempted to pull up the concealed zip that was located at the side. ‘You’ve put on weight!’ Dianne accused.
‘No,’ Trinity said. ‘I gave you my measurements exactly.’
‘Then why can’t I do it up?’
Because you refused to believe I was ten pounds heavier than your goal weight for me, Trinity thought, but said nothing, just sucked in her stomach and chest as her mother tugged at the stupid zip until finally it was up.
‘Is breathing an optional extra?’ Trinity quipped.
‘Yes,’ Dianne snapped back. ‘But smiling isn’t. This is your brother’s day.’
‘Oh, funny, that, I thought it was Yvette’s.’
‘Trinity!’ Dianne was struggling to hold onto her temper. ‘Don’t start.’
‘I’m not starting anything, I was just saying...’
‘Well, don’t!’ Dianne warned. ‘You’ve already done your level best to ruin this day. All you have to do now is smile. Can you manage that?’’
‘Of course, but I’m not singing.’
‘And lose the smart mouth.’ Dianne secured her hat as she issued instructions. ‘Go now and apologise to Yvette. I’m going to make my way to the church. I’ll see you there and I’m warning you...’
‘Noted.’
‘I mean it, Trinity, I don’t want a scene from you today.’
She should say nothing, Trinity knew that. She should just nod and reassure her mum that she’d behave, but, hell, she had a voice and as much as her parents loathed that fact, Trinity was determined to find it.
‘Then just make sure I’m not put in any position where I might need to make a scene,’ Trinity said, and her mother’s silk-clad shoulders stiffened and Trinity watched as the feather sticking out of Dianne’s hat shivered in anger as Trinity refused to comply with orders.
‘Will you just...?’ Dianne hissed, and turned around. ‘Can you try and remember that this is your brother’s wedding and not spoil a family gathering for once.’ Her face was right up at Trinity’s. ‘For once can today not be about you?’
‘Of course.’ Trinity stared back coolly but her heart was hammering in her chest. ‘Just make sure that you keep that sleaze well away from me.’
‘Are you still going on about that? It was years ago...’ Two champagnes on an empty stomach that was fluttering with mother-of-the-groom nerves and Dianne would not be argued with, and certainly she wanted nothing to spoil what had to be a perfect day. ‘You will behave, Trinity, you will be polite and you will smile.’
It had been stupid to hope things might be different.
Nothing had changed, Trinity realised.
Nothing ever would.
‘What are you doing?’ Trinity asked, as she watched her mother’s painfully slow attempt to write a text. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘It’s done,’ Dianne said, as her phone made the small whooshing sound that meant her text had been sent. ‘I was just letting Zahid know that you’re on your way to Yvette and that everything’s back on schedule.’
As she took the elevator to Yvette’s room for the first time that morning Trinity smiled.
As he pulled his phone from his pocket and read the text, so too did Zahid.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_f6a5096e-a416-5c3e-b69a-d245bfb5083e)
IT WAS NOT the bride who drew Zahid’s eye as she entered the church; instead, it was the woman who walked behind her who held his attention.
There was a smile fixed on Trinity’s face but her eyes were as wary and as truculent as the teenage Trinity’s, but then they met his and Zahid watched as her pale cheeks infused with pink. For both of them there was a moment’s return to a wood many years ago and a kiss that both wished had drawn to a more natural conclusion.
Zahid smiled, which he rarely did, and Trinity was so lost for a moment, so taken aback by Zahid’s smile that as the bride halted, for a second Trinity didn’t. She actually forgot her place, for it was as if she should simply walk on to Zahid—to go now and greet him as her body wanted to and wrap her arms around his neck, but instead, after a brief falter, Trinity halted and took the flowers from Yvette.
Zahid turned his back to her then and the service commenced.
The service was long, not by Zahid’s standards, just terribly long to stand there and not turn around when he would have preferred to.
Though Zahid stared ahead, he was looking at her very closely in his mind and re-examining the Trinity he’d seen today.
Her dress was terrible. Like a synthetic sapphire, it lacked depth and mystery and it was far too tight. Her hair was worn up and dotted with violets that matched the dark smudges under her eyes, yet she looked, to Zahid, amazing. Sun-kissed, dirty blonde, fragile and sexy, she was everything he remembered her to be and more.
Trinity stared ahead, loathing that her shoulders were bare and wondering whose eyes were on them. She hated the loud sound of her aunt’s husband singing a hymn, as if he meant the words, as if he were a decent man.
So, instead of dwelling on the man behind and to the right, she fixed her gaze ahead and stared at Zahid, a man who did not know the words but neither did Zahid pretend to sing. He stood firm and dignified and she willed him to turn around.
He didn’t.
He could have no idea the torture today was for her, for she could tell no one about her past—that had been spelt out to her many years ago. His raven hair was glossy and immaculate, his shoulders wider than before and possibly he was taller. She saw the clenching of his fist in the small of his back and remembered that same hand on her waist when the world had seemed so straightforward. As he handed over the rings she was treated to a glimpse of his strong profile and her ears strained to capture whatever words he murmured to Donald.
Zahid was as conscious of Trinity as she was of him, so much so that as they all squeezed into the vestry for the signing of the register, despite the chatter from others, he only heard her exhale in brief relief.
‘Trinity...’ her father warned as she leant against the wall to catch her breath, so relieved was she to be away from Clive.
Donald and Yvette signed the register and Gus added his signature with a flourish. Trinity watched as Zahid added his. Sheik Prince Zahid Bin Ahmed of Ishla.
‘Leave some space for me.’ Trinity smiled and then added her own signature.
Trinity Natalii Foster.
Her hand was shaking, Trinity realised as she put down the pen, only the nerves she had now felt very different to the ones that she’d had before.
As she stepped back from the register she caught the deliciously familiar scent of Zahid and as he lowered his head to her ear the tiny bones all shivered awake to the deep, long-buried thrill of his low, intimate voice.
‘Natalii?’
‘Born at Christmas,’ Trinity said. ‘Please never repeat it again, I hate it.’
Of course she had been born at Christmas, Zahid thought, for, unbeknown to Trinity he had returned to the Fosters’ in the hope of seeing her in the new year after she would have turned eighteen.
Trinity hadn’t been there.
She was here now, though, and Zahid spoke on.
‘I thought that it was the bride’s prerogative to be late.’
‘You know how I loathe tradition.’
‘Does that mean we shan’t be dancing later?’ Zahid asked, and she turned to his slow smile. ‘Given how you loathe tradition.’
Oh!
Trinity blinked for it was as if he didn’t know she was dead inside, as if he didn’t know that her frigid body no longer worked, yet it felt now as if it did, for a pulse was working high in her neck—Trinity could feel it, and her stomach was fluttering as it had years before on that night.
With Zahid beside her, she could remember the beauty, rather than dwell on the pain.
‘I suppose we shall...’ Trinity sighed, as if dancing with Zahid would be a huge concession. ‘I’d hate to cause trouble.’
‘Liar,’ Zahid said, and his hand met the small of her back as he guided her out of the vestry.
With one brief exchange, with that small touch, she was back in the woods, innocent and unfurling to his hand, and it was actually dizzying to walk behind Yvette and Donald and through the congregation. More than that, it was exhilarating to step outside into the sun and, on the day Trinity had been dreading, she felt her heart soaring like the bells that rang out around them.
To be, for the first time, at such a function and be just a little bit taken care of, for Zahid’s duty now was not just to the groom, was, to Trinity, amazing.
He stood for the wedding photos and even made the unbearable a touch less so as the family all gathered around.
‘Smile, Trinity,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth, and she forgot the shiver of dread that Clive was near.
‘You don’t,’ she pointed out, and then frowned at her own words because Zahid smiled so readily when their eyes met and held.
‘It is not in my nature to smile.’
For some reason that made her giggle just enough for the photographer to get his shot and then they piled into cars and they met at the hotel.
As the bride and groom entered, one look at her very relaxed brother and Trinity knew that Donald must be on something.
Please, no, Trinity begged in her head.
He had promised her he was over that now.
She and Zahid sat at opposite ends of the top table and though she wished they were sitting next to each other, maybe it was for the best, Trinity thought, for just knowing he was here was distracting enough.
Anyway, they’d no doubt run out of conversation within two minutes, though she was dying to know what he was up to and desperate to know if he was seeing someone.
Surely not, Trinity consoled herself, because back in the vestry Zahid had definitely been flirting.
She struggled through the meal, her reward that awaited her dance with him, and soon enough it was time for the speeches.
To his credit, Zahid did unbend a fraction and asked for some sparkling water for the toasts!
God, he was so controlled, so well behaved, Trinity thought, stretching her legs under the table and slipping off her shoes as the speeches started and doing her best not to yawn, not because she was bored by the speeches but because jet-lag was starting to seriously hit.
Yvette’s father went first, thanking everyone and saying how thrilled he was to welcome Donald into the family. Zahid’s face was impassive but he privately thought that Yvette’s father had the look of a man who had brought home a puppy for the children only to realise it was going to grow into the size of a small horse.
It was the small horse’s turn next and Zahid watched as Yvette scratched anxiously at her neck as her very new husband took to his feet.
Donald thanked everyone too, especially his beautiful wife. ‘I’d like to thank Zahid for all his help and for travelling so far to be here.’ Donald smiled a loaded smile. ‘You’ve been an excellent best man and I hope to return the favour when it is your turn to marry next year.’
Zahid’s jaw clamped down as Donald rambled on and he glanced over at Trinity. Her cheeks were red, an angry red, and she was dribbling salt on her sorbet.
He hadn’t wanted her to hear his news like that.
As Donald proposed a toast to the bridesmaids, Zahid watched as Trinity raised her glass...
But to a passing waiter.
Oh, Trinity.
He wanted to go over and halt her, to whisk her away, to explain that she had misunderstood.
It was the truth, though.
And this early in the evening the truth hurt them both.
Zahid duly stood and thanked the groom for his words on behalf of the bridesmaids, though privately he’d have liked to knock him out. Then he thanked everyone else that he had to and said all the things that a best man should, but then it came to the part where Donald should star, where this future king should demure and ensure that the groom shone.
‘Donald and I...’ Zahid glanced at his notes and then faltered, and Trinity looked up at the brief hesitation as Zahid silently recalled a teenage incident and saw it now through the eyes of a man.
They were your drugs.
He could see it so clearly now and yet here he stood, all these years later, paying the price for Donald’s supposed valour.
Well, no more.
‘Donald and I...’ Zahid resumed his speech but he was not looking at his notes now ‘...attended the same school and later were students at the same university.’ Trinity heard her father’s cough in an attempt to prompt Zahid, and she looked at her brother’s expectant face, but the glory never came. Zahid went on to recall a few antidotes and all in all it was a very nice speech—he just forgot to paint Donald as the hero in Zahid’s life.
False duty had been more than repaid.
And so to the dancing.
Zahid stood over Trinity, waiting for her to join him on the floor, but it was a touch more complicated than standing for Trinity, because her already tight shoes refused to go back on, but finally she forced her feet into them. ‘The things I do for my family,’ Trinity said, as he led her to the floor. ‘Not that they appreciate it.’
‘I am appreciative...’ Zahid said, as he loosely held her and they started to dance and she waited for him to finish his sentence.
He didn’t.
‘Of what?’ Trinity prompted. ‘You are appreciative of what?’
‘That you are here,’ Zahid said. ‘That we see each other again after all this time.’
They both knew it was running out for them and there was no tail wind to help them catch up, no buttons to push that could change things.
Except he pushed the right ones.
Zahid was the only man who did.
‘I loved your speech,’ Trinity said, her words a little stilted, for she was cross with Zahid for flirting when he was about to be wed. Yet she was cross only from the neck up. Her body had seemed to overlook the fact he would soon be marrying the very second that she was in his arms.
‘You’re the only one who liked it. Your father looks as if he wants to kill me.’
‘It’s me he’s shooting daggers at!’ Trinity looked to the right and smiled sweetly at her father. ‘I was late, you know?’
‘You were.’
‘And not looking out for my brother.’
Zahid looked down to those blue eyes again and wondered how much she knew, for he was sure that Donald was high. ‘Is it nice to see your brother happy?’
‘Donald wouldn’t know what happy was if it was hand delivered and he had to sign for it.’ She looked over at Donald, who was smiling and laughing to his bride. ‘He’s loaded,’ Trinity said. ‘Nothing changes.’
‘You?’ Zahid said.
‘I don’t go near anything like that.’
‘I meant,’ Zahid corrected himself, ‘are you happy?’
‘Not today,’ Trinity said, then it was she who corrected herself. ‘Actually, right now I am.’
‘Because?’
‘Because,’ Trinity said, because in his arms she actually was and, no, she should not be flirting, she had been called a tease so very many times when she was unable to follow through, but she just needed one lovely thing to focus on, just the teeniest bit of help to get through the night and, for good or bad, Zahid was it.
‘Because?’ he said into her ear, and it was then that she succumbed.
‘Because my brother has excellent taste in groomsmen.’
‘His bride has terrible taste in dresses.’
‘She does,’ Trinity sighed. ‘Though in fairness my mother would have lied about my measurements. She prefers me with an eating disorder, it makes her a more visible martyr...’
Trinity was, Zahid decided, rather wise.
‘I’m supposed to be singing later,’ Trinity said, and her hands moved up and linked behind his neck and, yes, they were back in the woods again. ‘As I said to my mother, my name isn’t Trinity Von Trapp.’ She went to explain, because he probably had no idea what she was talking about, but then she remembered a long-ago Christmas and Dianne forcing them to watch the Sound of Music and Trinity giggling at Zahid’s somewhat bemused expression.
More than that, though, somehow he got her—she did not have to explain everything to Zahid.
‘Rolfe might join you,’ he said into her ear, and though Zahid would no more sing than fly to the moon a smile played on her lips as she pulled her head back, just enough that her back arched in just a little and Zahid’s tongue rolled to his cheek as something else stirred to her words.
‘I prefer the captain.’
It was a tiny dirty dance, but with words. The heat from his palms was surely searing her dress and the way he simply let her be had her breathing freely for the first time since she could remember. With Zahid her body seemed to know how to work. He induced only pleasure and made it safe to be a touch wanton.
Then she remembered she was cross with him.
As the music ended, instead of sinking in for another dance, she pulled back.
‘I’d better go and see how Yvette is.’
‘I will check on the groom.’ He gave a small nod. ‘Perhaps later we dance...’
Trinity gave a tight smile as she walked off but she felt conflicted. No doubt Zahid thought her a party girl, no doubt he assumed where the night was leading.
He could never guess that she felt ill at the very thought of sex.
Only she didn’t feel ill in his arms.
Trinity wanted to get back to him, only Yvette was teary and she either had raging cystitis or her bladder was the size of a thimble or more likely she really was pregnant, because she wanted to go to the loo on the hour every hour and Trinity had to help with the dress.
‘Your brother...’ Yvette was trying to tame her angry cheeks with Trinity’s foundation. ‘I just got a call from the hotel—he hasn’t paid the reservation fee...’
‘I’m sure it’s just a mix-up,’ Trinity suitably soothed.
She was quite sure to the contrary, though.
The night wore on and the only time they met was when Dianne introduced Trinity to a group that Zahid was in and, of course, one of them had to ask what she was doing with her degree.
‘I’m thinking of moving to France.’ Trinity beamed, deciding that it might not be such a bad idea actually and feeling her mother’s tension beside her, ‘but right now I work in a library at a large college—’
‘The reference section,’ Dianne interrupted, and Zahid watched the daggers that shot from Trinity’s eyes.
Dianne was determined that Trinity would sing and trying to escape the inevitable, true to form, Trinity slipped outside for some air.
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