Postcards From Paris: Bound by His Desert Diamond / Amorous Liaisons / The Secret to Marrying Marchesi

‘Fantastic! Cheers for that, Anna.’

The camera flashes stopped and Annalina finally released him, letting her arms fall by her side. Meanwhile the photographer was already on his scooter, his camera slung over his shoulder.

‘I owe you one!’

Turning the scooter around, he noisily zoomed off into the Paris streets, giving a cheery wave over his shoulder.

Zahir stared after him, suffering a split second of silent horror before his brain finally kicked into action again. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he grabbed his mobile phone. He’d have been able to catch the low life on foot if he didn’t have this vixen to deal with. But his security team would pick him up—get him stopped and get the camera tossed into the Seine, the photographer along with it, if he had any say.

‘No.’ Her cold, trembling fingers closed over the phone in his hand. ‘It’s too late. It’s done.’

‘The hell it is.’ Shaking off her hand, he started to punch in numbers. ‘I can get him stopped. I will get him stopped.’

‘There’s no point.’

He stopped short, the cold determination in her voice halting his hand. ‘And what exactly do you mean by that?’ A trickle of dread started to seep into his veins.

‘I’m sorry.’ Dark-blue eyes shone back at him. ‘But I had to do it.’

Hell! Realisation smacked him across the head. He’d been had. The whole thing was a set-up. This deceitful, conniving little princess had set a trap and he had walked right in. Fury coursed through him. He had no idea what her motive was but he did know that she would live to regret it. Nobody made a fool of Zahir Zahani.

‘You will be sorry, believe me.’ He kept his voice deliberately low, concentrating on controlling the rage that was pumping adrenaline dangerously fast around his veins. ‘You will be more than sorry for what you have done.’

‘I had no choice!’ Her voice was full of anguish now and she even reached out a trembling hand to touch his arm before demurely lowering her eyes to the ground.

Nice try, Princess. But you don’t get to fool me more than once.

Roughly grasping her chin, Zahir tipped back her head so she couldn’t escape his searing gaze. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted her to know exactly who she was dealing with here.

‘Oh, you had a choice, all right. You’ve chosen to bring scandal and disrepute to both our countries. And, trust me, you are going to pay for that, young lady. But first you are going to tell me why.’

He saw her slender body begin to tremble, her bare shoulders hunch against the shiver that ran through her. Bizarrely he itched to touch her, to warm that tantalisingly goose-bumped skin with his hot hands. But he would do no such thing.

‘Because I am desperate.’ Clear blue eyes implored him.

‘Desperate?’ He repeated the word with disgust.

‘Yes. I can’t go back to that party.’

‘So that’s why you set up this little charade?’

‘No, I didn’t set it up, not in the way you mean. I just took advantage of the situation.’ Her voice lowered.

‘You tricked me into following you. You arranged for that photographer to be there.’

‘No! I had no idea that either of you had followed me.’

‘You’re lying. That guy knew you.’

‘He didn’t know me. He knows who I am. There’s a difference. The press have been following me around all my life.’

‘So you are telling me this wasn’t planned?’

Annalina shook her head.

‘Think carefully before you speak, Princess. Because, I have to warn you, to lie to me now would be very foolish indeed.’

‘It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. And that is the truth.’

Despite everything, Zahir found himself believing her. He dragged in a breath. ‘So that...that little display you just put on...?’ He curled his lip against the traitorous memory of the way she had leant into him, the way she had messed with his head. ‘What exactly did you hope to achieve? What makes you so desperate that you would bring disgrace upon your family? Fabricate a scandal to rock the foundations of both of our countries?’

‘Disgrace I can live with. I’m used to it.’ Her voice was suddenly very small. ‘And the scandal will die down. But to be forced to marry Rashid Zahani is more than I can bear. That would have been a life sentence.’

‘How dare you disrespect the King in this way?’ Defensive anger roared in his voice. ‘The engagement will still be announced. The marriage will still go ahead.’

‘No. You can force me to go back to the party, even force me, with the help of my father, to go ahead with the announcement of the engagement. But, once those photographs go online, I’ll be dropped like a stone.’

Zahir stared into the beautiful face of this wilful princess. Her skin was so pale in this ghostly light, so delicate, it was almost translucent. But her lips were ruby-red and her eyes as blue as the evening sky.

He knew with a leaden certainty that she meant what she said. There was no way she was going to go through with this marriage. He could still find that photographer, destroy the photos, but ultimately what good would it do? What was to be gained?

Hell and damnation. After all the planning that had gone into this union, the careful handling, the wretched party... It had taken all his powers of persuasion to get Rashid to agree to marry this European princess at all. Months of negotiations to get to this point. And for what? To have the whole thing thrown back in their faces and Rashid humiliated in the most degrading way. No, he could not let that happen. He would not let that happen. He had been a fool to trust this wayward princess, to believe the empty promises of her desperate father. But the situation had gone too far now—he had to try and salvage something from this mess. He had to come up with a clever solution.

Decision made, he took hold of Annalina’s arm.

‘You will accompany me back to the party and we will seek out the King and tell him what has happened. Then we will announce your engagement.’

‘Didn’t you understand a word I said?’ The fight was back in her eyes. ‘The King won’t marry me now. That’s the reason I just did what I did.’

‘We will announce your engagement—not to the King, but to his brother, the Prince.’

‘Yeah, great idea! I take it you must be employed more for your brawn than your brains.’ Zahir felt every muscle in his body stiffen at her mocking jibe. He was going to enjoy punishing her for her insolence. ‘The Prince is hardly going to want to marry me either, is he?’

‘As of five minutes ago, the Prince has no choice.’

Narrowing his eyes, Zahir watched defiance turn to confusion turn to a creeping realisation. A strangely perverse sense of pleasure stole over him.

Her trembling hand flew to her mouth then made a fist as she stuffed it between her lips, biting down onto her knuckles to stifle her cry.

‘Ah, yes, Princess, I see the truth is dawning.’ Zahir threw back his shoulders, almost enjoying himself. ‘I am Zahir Zahani, Prince of Nabatean, brother of King Rashid. And, as of five minutes ago, your future husband.’

CHAPTER TWO

ANNA FELT FOR the railings of the bridge behind her, grabbing at the bars to stop herself from sliding to the ground.

‘You...you are Prince Zahir?’

One arrogant, scowling dark brow raised fractionally in reply.

No. It wasn’t possible. The full horror of what she had done gnawed away at her brain. Being caught in a clinch with a bodyguard to get out of her engagement was one thing, but for the ‘bodyguard’ to be the fiancé’s brother was quite another. This went far beyond the realms of scandal. This could cause an international incident.

‘I... I had no idea.’

He shrugged. ‘Evidently.’

‘We need to do something—quickly.’ Panic caught up with her, squeezing her vocal cords, spinning her brain around in her head. ‘We must stop that photographer.’

Still Zahir Zahani didn’t move. What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he doing anything? Anna felt as if she were in a terrible dream, running and running but getting no further away from the monster.

Finally he spoke. ‘To use your phrase, Princess, it’s too late. It’s done.’

‘But that was before I knew... There’s still time to find him, pay him off, stop him.’

‘Possibly. But I have no intention of doing any such thing.’

‘Wh...what do you mean?’ Confusion and frustration held her in their grip, hysteria not far behind. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Because, like you, I intend to take advantage of the situation. We will go back to the party and we will announce our engagement. Just as I said.’

Horror now joined the bedlam in her head. He wasn’t serious. Surely he didn’t mean it? She stared into his cold, forbidding features. Oh, God. He did—he really did!

Releasing the railings, she pushed herself upright, immediately dwarfed by this towering figure of a man who was blocking her way, her vision, her ability to think clearly. ‘No! We can’t. The idea is preposterous.’

‘Is it, Princess Annalina? He glowered down at her. ‘How will you feel tomorrow when those photographs are published? When you have to face your father, your people and the rest of the world? Are you prepared for the consequences?’

Her face crumpled.

‘As I thought.’ His mocking voice echoed in the dark around them. ‘Not quite so preposterous now, is it? You have no alternative but to do as I say.’

‘No. There has to be another way.’ Think, Anna, think. Why did her poor brain seem to have turned to sludge? ‘If the photographs are published I’ll simply explain that it was all a misunderstanding—that I didn’t know who you were...that it meant nothing.’

‘And that would achieve what, exactly? Apart from prove that you are the sort of tramp who goes around seducing total strangers on the eve of your engagement and that your fiancé’s own brother was caught in your trap. I would never subject Rashid to such humiliation.’

There was a second of silence.

‘But we can’t just swap!’

‘We can and we will. The arrangements are all in place. A commitment has been made between our two countries—between your father and the Kingdom of Nabatean. He has offered your hand and it has been accepted. Nothing will stand in the way of that.’ His shadowed face was as hard as stone. ‘The commitment will be honoured.’

‘But the commitment was to your brother—not you.’

‘Then perhaps you should have thought of that before you ran away and started this whole debacle, betraying the trust my brother had put in you.’ Anna lowered her eyes against the force of his biting scorn. ‘Fortunately for you, it makes no difference which brother honours the commitment. The same objectives will be achieved either way.’

‘And that’s it? Honouring the commitment is all that matters to you?’ She thrashed about, trying to find a way out. ‘How can you be so unemotional? This is a marriage we are talking about, a bond that has to last a lifetime.’

‘Don’t you think I know that, Princess?’ Lowering his head, Zahir hissed into her ear, sending a bolt of electricity through her. ‘Don’t you think I am fully aware of the sacrifice I am making? But, if it is emotion you are looking for, I must warn you to be careful. To expose my opinion of you would be straying into a dark and dangerous territory indeed.’

Cloaked in menace, his words settled over her like a shroud. Anna bit down hard on her lip to control the shiver. She didn’t entirely know what he meant by that chilling statement. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

‘And if I refuse?’ Still she tried, squirming like a worm on a fish hook.

‘All I can say is, to refuse would be extremely stupid.’ He paused, weighting his words with care. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that you already have one failed engagement behind you. Another might cause considerable speculation.’

A sharp jab of pain went through her. So he knew about that, did he? About her humiliating broken engagement to Prince Henrik. Of course he did. Everyone did.

Tears were starting to build now, blocking her throat, scratching at her eyes. Tears of frustration, self-pity and wretched misery that her life had come to this. That she should be forced to marry a man who clearly despised her. A man who was as terrifying as he was alien—an arrogant, untamed brute of a man the like of which she had never come across before. She hadn’t begun to process the extraordinary reaction between them when she’d kissed him, the shockingly carnal way his body had responded. That would have to be for another time. But she did know he would never make her happy—that was a certainty. He would never even try.

‘You have brought this upon yourself, Princess Annalina.’ Somewhere outside the buzz of her head she heard him relentlessly press home the point. ‘You have forced my hand, but I am prepared do my duty. And, ultimately, so must you.’

His damning statement was the final nail in the coffin.

And so it was that Anna found herself being unceremoniously marched back to the hotel to meet her fate. With Zahir’s arm around her waist, propelling her forward, she had had no choice but to stumble along beside him, needing two or three stiletto-heeled steps to match his forceful stride as he rapidly navigated them through the Parisian streets. Her heart was thumping wildly, her dry breath scouring her throat as she tried to come to terms with what she was about to do—tie herself to this man for ever. But with the heat of his arm burning through the sheer fabric of her dress she found herself trying to fight that assault, the whole shimmering force of his nearness, his muscled flesh, his masculine scent, leaving her brain no space to cope with anything else.

Finally outside the hotel Zahir turned her around to face him, his gaze raking mercilessly over her pale face. With the light spilling from the hotel, they could see each other more clearly now, but Anna had to tear her eyes away from his cruelly handsome features, afraid of what she might see there. Her gaze slid down the broad column of his neck to the open buttons of his shirt, the grey silk tie tugged to one side. And there, plainly visible against the exposed olive skin, was the livid red mark—the bite, where she had sunk her teeth into him. Instinctively her hand flew to her chest.

Alerted by her stare, Zahir swiftly moved to do up his shirt and straighten his tie, his knowing glare spelling out exactly what he thought of her barbarism.

‘We will go in together,’ he began coldly. ‘You will talk to our guests and behave in the appropriate manner. But say nothing to anyone about the engagement. I will find my brother and tell him of the new arrangement.’

Anna nodded, swallowing down her dread. ‘But shouldn’t I be there when you speak to your brother? Don’t I owe him that?’

‘I think it’s a little late for the guilt to kick in now, Annalina. We are way past that. I will deal with Rashid and then explain the situation to your father. Only then can we announce our engagement.’

Her father. In her frenzied state Anna had almost forgotten the man who had brought about this hideous debacle in the first place. It had been King Gustav who had insisted that his only child should marry King Rashid of Nabatean, leaving her no room to argue. Not after she had already let him down once, let her country down, by failing to secure a successful match between herself and Prince Henrik of Ebsberg—something that still both humiliated and swamped Anna with relief in equal measure.

A cold, heartless man, King Gustav had never recovered from the death of his wife, Annalina’s mother, who had suffered a fatal brain aneurysm when Anna had been just seven years old. The shock had been too much for him and it seemed to Anna that a part of her father had died with her mother. The loving, caring part. It seemed that just when she had needed him most he had turned away from her. And had never turned back.

He would be utterly furious to find out that she had messed up again—that she was refusing to marry Rashid Zahani and was chucking away the chance to provide financial stability for Dorrada. At least, he would have been, if she hadn’t had an alternative plan to offer him. For the first time Anna felt a tinge of relief about what she was doing. Zahir might be the second son but everything about him suggested power and authority, far more so than his elder brother, in fact. She suspected that her father would have no problem accepting the new arrangement. Somehow she had to find it inside herself to do the same.

She looked down, concentrating on arranging the folds of her dress, all too aware of the fire in Zahir’s eyes as they licked over her, missing nothing.

‘You are ready?’

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

‘Very well, then, we will do this.’

The arm snaked around her waist again and together they ascended the red-carpeted steps, the hotel doorman ushering them in with a polite bow.

The scene inside the ballroom appeared even more daunting than when Anna had fled less than an hour ago. More people had arrived, swelling the numbers into the hundreds, and they were milling around beneath the magnificent domed ceiling of the gilded room, illuminated by dozens of huge chandeliers and watched from above by carved marble statues. The air of anticipation had increased too. Anyone who was anyone was here, the great and the good from a host of European and Middle Eastern countries gathered at the invitation of King Gustav of Dorrada for a celebration that had yet to be disclosed.

Not that it took much working out. Presumably everyone in the room knew what this party was in aid of—or at least thought they did. It was common knowledge that King Gustav had been trying, and failing, to make a good marriage for his only daughter for some time. And the newly formed kingdom of Nabatean desperately needed entrée into the notoriously closed shop of ‘old’ Europe. The fact that the party was being held here, in one of the oldest and most exclusive hotels in Paris, right at the heart of Europe, bore testament to that and was certainly no coincidence.

Anna looked around her, the heat and the noise thundering inside her head, shredding her nerves, fuelling her panic. Zahir had left her side and gone in search of his brother, which should have been a relief, but bizarrely only made her feel more 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.’