Postcards From Paris. Sarah Mayberry
vulnerable and exposed. She could see her father in the distance and her heart took up a shaky beat at the thought of what he was about to be told. Of what they were about to do.
Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she took a deep gulp, followed by a deep breath, and, pulling on what she hoped was the suitably starry-eyed expression of a fiancée-to-be, set about mingling with her guests.
It was not long before Zahir was by her side again. Taking her arm, he steered her away from the curious stares of the small group of people she had been trying to converse with, guests who were clearly starting to wonder what was going on. Anna didn’t know who else had witnessed it, but a few minutes ago she had caught sight of Rashid skirting around the edge of the room. Their eyes had met for a fleeting second before he had lowered his head and hurried from the ballroom.
‘The necessary arrangements have been made.’ Zahir’s voice was steely with determination. ‘It’s time for the announcement.’
So this was it, then. Part of her thought she might wake up at any moment, that this was some sort of crazy dream—no, correction, nightmare. But as she slipped her arm through his, felt herself being pulled to his side, her whole body lit up to his nearness. Her heart thumped as the smooth fabric of his dinner jacket brushed against her bare arm, pinpricks of awareness skittering across her skin. This was real all right. This was actually happening.
As they moved across the floor of the ballroom the guests parted to let them through, something about the purposefulness of Zahir’s stride or maybe the mask-like expression on Annalina’s face, halting their conversations as they turned to look at them, curiosity glinting in their eyes.
Silencing the orchestra with a raised hand, Zahir waited a second for complete quiet to descend before he began.
‘I would like to thank everyone for coming this evening.’
Anna heard his calm words through the roaring of her ears. She could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes trained on her.
‘We are here to celebrate the coming together of two great nations—Dorrada and the Kingdom of Nabatean. Our countries are to be joined together by the age-old tradition of matrimony.’ He paused, scanning the room, which had gone deathly quiet. ‘I would like to formally announce that Princess Annalina and I are to be married.’
There was a collective gasp of surprise, followed by furtive whisperings. Obviously Princess Annalina was not marrying the brother the guests had been expecting. Then a small cheer went up and people started to applaud, calling out their congratulations.
Anna’s father appeared by her side and she felt for his hand, the little girl in her suddenly needing his reassurance. The smallest squeeze of encouragement would have done. Anything to show that he was pleased with her. That he loved her. He leant towards her and for one hopeful moment Anna thought he was going to do just that, but all hopes were dashed when he whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t you dare let me down again, Annalina.’ Extricating his hand, he took a glass of champagne from the proffered silver tray and waited for Anna and Zahir to do the same. Then, refusing to meet his daughter’s eye, he cleared his throat and proposed a toast, instructing everyone to raise their glasses to the happy couple and the future prosperity of their joined nations.
Anna gripped the stem of her glass as their names were chorused by the guests. Beside her she could sense Zahir, all rigid authority and unyielding control, while the false smile she had plastered across her face was in danger of cracking at any moment. In terms of appearing to be a happy couple, she doubted they were fooling anyone. But that wasn’t what this was about, was it? This betrothal was a straightforward business deal. Anna just wished that someone would tell her stupid heart.
The next hour was a torturous round of introductions and small talk as Zahir swept her around the room, making sure she was welded to his side at all times. He moved between the ministers and ambassadors of Nabatean, the diplomats and high-ranking officials of Dorrada. It was blatantly nothing more than a networking exercise, making contact with the people that mattered. Congratulations were swiftly swept aside in favour of discussions about policies and politics, Anna left smiling inanely at the wives of these important men, and forced to display the stunning ring on her finger for them to coo over yet again.
Finally finding themselves at the entrance to the ballroom, Zahir announced in lowered tones that they had done their duty and it would now be acceptable for them to leave.
Anna gave a sigh of relief but, looking up, she was immediately caught in the midnight black of Zahir’s hooded gaze. Suddenly she felt awkward, like a teenager on her first date. ‘I will say goodnight, then.’ She went to turn away, desperate to escape to her hotel room, to be free of her captor, at least for a few hours. More than anything she wanted to be alone, to have time to try to come to terms with what she had done.
‘Not so fast.’ With lightning speed, Zahir laid a restraining hold on her arm. ‘This day has not ended yet.’
Anna’s heart skipped a beat. What did he mean by that? Surely he wasn’t expecting...? He didn’t think...? Heat flared across her cheeks, spreading down her neck to her chest that heaved beneath its tight-fitting bodice. Somewhere deep inside her a curl of lust unfurled.
‘I can assure you that it has, Zahir.’ She touched primly at her hair. ‘I don’t know what you are suggesting, but for your information I intend to go to bed now—alone.’
‘You flatter yourself, young lady.’ Scorn leeched from his voice. ‘For your information, I do not intend to make any claims on your body.’ He paused, eyes flashing with lethal intent. ‘Not tonight, at least. But neither will I be letting you out of my sight. Not yet. Not until I feel I can trust you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Desperately trying to claw back some composure, she folded her arms across her chest. ‘You can hardly keep me prisoner until our marriage.’ Even as she said the words the terrible thought struck her that maybe he could. He was a man of such power, such authority, it was as if his very being demanded to be obeyed. The glittering lights of the ballroom had only accentuated his might, his towering height, the long legs and the broad, muscled shoulders that refused to be tamed by the fine material of his dinner jacket. Anna had noticed several women openly staring at him, their refined good manners deserting them in the face of this ruggedly handsome man.
‘Not a prisoner, Princess. But let’s just say I want to keep you somewhere that I can see you.’
‘But that is ridiculous. I have given you my word, made the promise to my father. We have announced our engagement to the world. What more do I have to do to convince you?’
‘You have to earn my trust, Annalina.’ His eyes roamed over her, flat and considering. ‘And that, as I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear, may take some time.’
‘So what are you saying?’ Anna bristled beneath his harsh scrutiny. ‘That until I’ve earned this so-called trust you’re not going to let me out of your sight? That hardly seems practical. Not least because we happen to live on different continents.’
Zahir shrugged. ‘That is of little consequence. The solution is simple—you will return with me to Nabatean.’
Anna stared back at him. His knowing gaze was doing strange things to her head—making it swim. She must have drunk too much champagne.
‘That’s right, Princess Annalina.’ Cold and authoritative, he confirmed what she feared. ‘We leave tonight.’
ANNA PEERED OUT of the window as the plane started to descend, the sight of the dawn sky making her catch her breath. Below her shimmered Medira, the capital city of Nabatean, glowing in the pinks and golds of a new day. Her first glimpse of the country that would be her new home was certainly a stunning one. But it did nothing to lighten Anna’s heart.
The little she knew about Nabatean had been gleaned during the first panicked days after she had been