the el-Shabbat invasion—being wounded twice during battle, and having his shoulder put back in place after the dislocation—had been a positive relief in comparison to this.
You’ll never be your brother.
Yet again his parents had been proven right. No, he’d never be like Alim.
As the float and the soldiers and the cheering throng reached the palace he looked up. His future father-in-law stood beside his bride on the upper balcony, waving to him, looking proud and somehow smug. He supposed he’d find out why when he got some time.
Amber stood like a reed moving in the wind as she watched his triumphal entry. She had a small frown between her brows, a slight tilt to her head, as if trying to puzzle out something. As if she saw his discomfort and sympathised with him.
He almost laughed at the absurdity of the thought. She who loved Alim of racing fame and fortune, the real sheikh? Right, Harun. She sees nothing in you but the replacement in her life and bed she’d do anything to avoid.
She half lifted a hand. A smile trembled on her lips. Mindful of the people, he smiled and waved to his bride, giving her the public recognition and honour they expected.
It was all she wanted from him.
At last the wedding night she’d dreaded was upon her.
With a fast-beating heart, Amber stood in the middle of her bridal suite, with unbound hair, perfumed skin and a thin, creamy negligee over her nude body. So scared she could barely breathe, she awaited the arrival of her new husband.
The last of the fussing maids checked her hands and feet to be sure they were soft enough, perfumed to the right scent. Amber forced herself to stand still and not wave them off in irritation—or, worse, give in to her fears and ask someone, anyone what she must do to please a man she’d still barely spoken to. The way she felt right now, even the maid would do—for her mother had told her nothing. As she’d dressed her daughter for the marriage bed, the only words of advice to Amber had been, Let your husband show you the way, and though it will hurt at first and you will bleed in proof of your virginity, smile and take joy in your woman’s duty. For today, you become a woman. And with a smile Amber didn’t understand, she’d left the room.
In the Western world, girls apparently grew up knowing how to please a man, and themselves; but she’d been kept in almost total ignorance. In her world, it was a matter of pride for the husband to teach his wife what took place in the bed. No books were allowed on the subject, no conversation by the servants on the threat of expulsion, and the Internet was strictly patrolled.
She only wished she knew what to do …
More than that, she wished she knew him at all—that he could have taken an hour out of his busy schedule to get to know her.
In the end, she’d had the few months’ wait she’d asked for, but it hadn’t been for her sake, nor had they had any time to know each other better. The el-Shabbat family hadn’t reckoned with Harun’s swift action when they’d invaded the city. Handing the day-to-day work to his intended father-in-law, Harun had taken control of the army personally. Leading his men into battle using both the ancient and modern rules of warfare he’d learned since boyhood, Harun had gained the adoration of his people by being constantly in the thick of the fierce fighting, expecting and giving no quarter. The whispers in women’s rooms were that he bore new scars on his body: badges of the highest honour. He’d spent no more than a night in the hastily erected Army hospital. Every time he’d been injured, come morning he’d returned to the battle without a word.
Within eight weeks he’d completely quelled the rebellion. By forgiving the followers of the el-Shabbat family and letting them return to their homes with little if any punishment and no public embarrassment, he’d earned their loyalty, his new title—and Amber’s deep respect. By assuming control of the el-Shabbat fortune and yet caring for the women and children the dead enemy had left behind, he’d earned the love as well as the respect of his people.
If Alim was their beloved lion, Harun had become Habib Numara, their beloved tiger. ‘It’s a good omen for his marriage, with his bride coming from Araba Numara,’ the servants said, smiling at her. ‘It will be a fruitful union blessed by God.’
And in the weeks since then, as he’d put down the final shadows of the rebellion and with rare political skill brought together nation and people once more, Harun had had less time for her than Fadi had done. In fact he still barely spoke to her at all; but though he’d never said a word about his heroism on the field, he’d earned Amber’s deep, reluctant admiration. If she still harboured regrets over Alim’s disappearance, Harun’s name now had the power to make her heart beat faster. He’d proved his worthiness without a word of bragging. She was ready to endure what she must tonight, and become the mother of his children.
As the main door opened the maid rushed to leave the room.
Sick to her stomach with nerves, she turned to where he stood—and her breath caught. It was strange, but it was only on the day she’d seen him returning to Sar Abbas as a national hero that she’d truly taken in his deep resemblance to Alim. A quiet, serious version, perhaps, but as, in his army uniform, he smiled and waved to the people cheering him in the streets, she’d seen his face as if for the first time.
Now, she struggled not to stare at him. So handsome and strong in his groom’s finery, yet so dark and mysterious with those glittering forest-green eyes. She groped with one hand to the bedpost to gain balance suddenly lacking in her knees. He was the man who’d come home a hero. He was—magnificent. He was hers.
‘None of you will listen or stand nearby,’ he snapped at the walls, and she was filled with gratitude when she heard the shuffle of many feet moving away.
Lost in awe, she faltered in her traditional greeting, but bowed in the traditional show of deep respect. ‘M-my husband, I …’ She didn’t know how to go on, but surely he’d understand how she felt?
Without a change of expression from the serious, cool appraisal, he closed the door behind him, and offered her a brief smile. ‘Sit down, please, Amber.’
Grateful for his understanding, she dropped to the bed, wondering if he’d take it as a sign, or was she being too brazen? She only wished she knew how to go on.
He gave her a slow, thoughtful glance, taking in every inch of her, and she squirmed in embarrassment. Her heart beat like a bird trying to escape its cage as she waited for Harun to come to her, to kiss her or however it was this thing began. ‘Well?’ she demanded in a haughty tone, covering her rush of nerves with a show of pride, showing him she was worthy of him: a princess to the core. ‘Do I pass your inspection, Habib Numara?’
For a moment, she thought Harun might actually smile as he hadn’t done since the hero’s return. There was a telltale glimmer in his eyes she’d noticed when he was in a rare, relaxed moment. Then, just as she was about to smile back, it vanished. ‘You have to know you’re a beautiful woman, Amber. Exquisite, in fact.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, her voice losing its power. He thought her exquisite? Something inside her melted—
He turned from her, and, drawing out a thin wreath of papers from a fold of his robe, sat at her desk. ‘This should cover the necessary time. I forgot my pen, though. Do you happen to have one handy, my dear?’
Her mouth fell open as he began perusing whatever work he’d brought with him. He’d brought work to their wedding
