And though she loved her father with all her soul, her racing heart forced her to acknowledge something else. Something very, very troubling. She might hate her husband, and loathe his high-handed techniques, but her whole body was energized with a deep desire for him. It was a reaction that he, and only he, had been able to inspire in Julia. She had actually started to wonder if she was some kind of sexless creature. She'd had offers, through her university years, but not a single man had elicited so much as a flutter in her stone-cold heart. Even Andrew, bless him, who had left her in little doubt that he would like their close friendship to develop into something more.
No, it was Zayn alone her body craved. She had wanted him four years ago. She would have slept with him the first night she'd met him. She'd always been a little wild and impulsive like that. It had been Zayn who'd suggested that they wait. At the time, she had thought it was an incredibly romantic gesture, especially from someone like him. Now, she was older, and wiser, and far more cynical, and she saw more clearly. It was the kind of suggestion only a man filling his bed with other women would want to make. And Zayn had been parading woman after woman through his life, before, during and after their brief relationship. So why the hell would her body still shudder with longing for him?
Every movement he made set off an equal reaction in her body; like ripples on the surface of a pond, she could not remain impervious for much longer. Theirs would be a real marriage, he had said. And she was actually excited just thinking about it. One kiss from Zayn had the ability to turn her into a puddle of desire. She could hardly fathom what it would be like to make love to him.
There was no fear of what was to come. Only impatient, soul-deep need.
Julia had always been honest. It was a quality that Zayn had told her again and again he adored. And she was honest with herself now. Four years ago, she had fallen, hard, in love with him, and her body had not forgotten. His marriage offer had actually appealed to her, on some level. She thought less of herself for it, but so it was.
His tactics she would never forgive. He had risked her father's health and pride simply to force her into this marriage. Why he would want her was beyond her comprehension. He could have had her four years ago; he hadn't wanted her then. No matter what he said, he had chosen to go back to his bachelor ways mere months after promising her the world. So he'd changed his mind, somewhere along the way.
But why the elaborate plan? It didn't make any sense. He was drop-dead gorgeous and charming as sin. He was her only love. Why had he not just come back and apologised? Begged her to give him another chance? Would she have said yes?
Julia frowned, staring thoughtfully from her window. There were no blackberry thickets here. The buildings were in the Turkish style, all close together and rendered in earthy tones. They looked to reach about three or four stories high, perhaps, and most of them had little window boxes with geraniums flowing out of them. Far in the distance, there were clothing lines strung from window to window, and colorful garments flapped in the very faint summer breeze. She sighed restlessly. Her emotions were a mess, and she simply couldn’t unravel them.
Anger was there, of course. Resentment, sadness, frustration. But also, a bud of excitement at the adventure ahead of her. As a girl, her father had always chided her for her irrepressible optimism. "Juju, you could make a snail smile," he'd teased her one sunny morning, when she had been expostulating that global hunger could be solved if the wealthier people simply gave most of what they had to the poor.
"It is not much further," Zayn interrupted her thoughts, mistaking her sigh for one of boredom. "I appreciate you'd probably rather be wearing a skimpy outfit and heading to a top nightclub."
Julia arched a brow at the man who was now her husband. Actually, she loved what she was wearing. The simple linen pants were surprisingly fashionable, and the slim fitting shirt flattered her shape well. Zayn had presented her with a whole wardrobe of clothes as a wedding present. Reading between the lines, he had wanted to ensure she arrived in Naman with a selection of outfits suitable for a princess of a Middle Eastern country - even a people as enlightened as the Namani expected unstinting modesty from their royalty. She was by no means spoiled, he'd been wrong about that. But she loved fashion, and always had. And so she had allowed the wardrobe to be packed for her. She'd supplemented it with a few of her favorite items, of course, including the denim shorts he'd found so outrageous a little over a week earlier. She did have a morsel of pride left and she intended to save it.
"That's not my scene, anymore," she said quietly, meeting his eyes without fear.
"And yet you were on your way to a music festival a week ago," he pointed out, with his usual ability of honing in on pertinent facts.
"So what? A music festival to blow off steam does not a socialite about town make."
His smile showed how little convinced he was by her argument.
"Besides," she went on the defensive, snapping tartly, "You're the one more likely to be found in a nightclub."
"True," he agreed, baring his even, white teeth in a smile. God, he really was unfairly handsome, she thought distractedly, momentarily caught off guard by the way his cheekbones appeared even more defined when he smiled.
Julia huffed and angled her face so that she was staring out of her own window once more. The car was moving out of the city, going by the way the tightly compacted buildings had given way to impressive looking homes set in the middle of large properties. Finally, they slowed, and turned off the road, and passed through a heavily secured entrance.
"Home sweet home," she murmured, eyeing the ten feet tall stone walls, with razor wire on top.
"You become used to the security," Zayn said. His frustrating ability to immediately understand her thoughts and wishes was aggravating her immensely. Mainly because she no longer had any idea what made him tick.
"I doubt it," she said with a frown.
Zayn did too. He shifted in his seat, refusing to allow uncertainty to creep into his mind. He had once loved this woman, or thought he had. She'd been like a wildflower. More vibrant and effervescent than any person he'd ever met. Like the rarest and most stunning of orchards, she was unusually, completely unique and stunning. And he'd captured her, and brought her to live in a hot house.
If he hadn't felt such rage towards her, for her deception, he would never have been able to do it. In marrying her, he knew he had probably killed off the magical quality that had made him ache with love and desire from the first instant they'd met. But he'd done it anyway. Like a child who captures a beautiful butterfly and pins its wings to a foam board, for the pleasure of looking at it always, he had captured her. That same child would learn the hard way that in capturing the butterfly, everything that was breathtaking about it was lost. But it would not be like that with Julia.
He almost groaned out loud in annoyance at his thoughts. After all, his plan was not a spontaneous one. He had resolved to make her his again from the minute he'd opened that email. Well, now she was. He was not going to regret the circumstances he'd been forced to create to ensure her cooperation. Eventually, she would adapt to live in Naman, and life as his wife. She would still be happy. Wouldn’t she?
“Is this your home?” She was craning forward in the car, looking out of her window, at the mansion he’d moved to. It was a little overwhelming, he supposed, even for someone like Julia, who had grown up in an aristocratic manor.
“Your home, too,” he reminded her sternly, trying to see it through her eyes. It was a Frank Lloyd Wright designed property, and it was a study in grandness and efficiency. The architect had used the physical environment to make a home that loomed up out of the ground and over the city. The size was essential. Though he had the palace, he often entertained here, as many of his guests found it less intimidating.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, taking in the strangely shaped windows, the rocks that gave way to darkly tinted glass and huge copper panels. “It’s strangely beautiful,” she
repeated again, wondering how it was so.
“Come, let me give you a tour.” He stepped out of the car as soon as the door was opened and held his hand out for Julia to take. He was surprised, and frankly relieved, when she placed her own small hand in it, and allowed him to help her from the car. He had expected a period of resentment and resistance. The sooner she realised her situation was permanent, the better.
Zayn had waited for this moment for years. He was not going to allow a moment of weakness and pity for his wife to take away the sweet, sweet joy of claiming his prize. He intended to drive the memory of any other man from her mind. She was his, and had been always.
Julia tried to ignore the shards of lust that were crashing through her body, but now, in his home country, and holding his hand, she felt besieged by physical longings. Her bones were liquid, her legs suddenly clunky to maneuver. She tried to appear calm as she slid her ray-bans on to the top of her head with care, so that she didn’t mess the sleek bun one of her newly acquired assistants had spent so much time styling earlier that day.
“Shall we start with the bedroom?” He suggested with a quiet intensity.
Julia did not show a flicker of emotion as she lifted her eyes to his. “As you wish.”
It was strange. He didn’t know what he’d expected. He would never force a woman to his bed. It went against everything he believed it; everything he’d been raised to value. And yet he’d been waiting for her to make him fight for her; on some level, he’d been wanting her to make him prove that he deserved her.
Zayn tugged on her hand, ignoring his security agents and pulling her in the direction of his home. “I must say,” he said honestly, “I thought you would want to argue with me about this.”
Julia shrugged her slender shoulders. “I know.”
“You know?”
She let out a shaky breath. “Obviously you like to say things to me that inspire my frustration. I figure you like arguing with me.”
His smile was genuine. “I think I must.”
“Exactly.”
Quickly, it became a frown. “And so because I like it, you have decided not to do it?”
She bit down on her lower lip, a little overwhelmed by the grandeur of the entrance hallway. Zayn squeezed her hand in reminder and she turned her attention back to him. “Pretty much.”
His eyes flared with an emotion she didn’t understand. “I do not think you realize it, but Julia, you do not wish to have me as an enemy.”
“I don’t think you realize it, Zayn,” she parroted back sweetly, “but I’m your wife now, and you have to put up with me. Even if I drive you crazy.”
His laugh was a low, seductive sound in his throat. “Oh, you drive me crazy all right. Come, let me return the favor.” And he pulled her into the circle of his arms, against the hard planes of his body, so that she could feel the stirring of his erection.
A noise from somewhere else in the house made him freeze. He shook his head slowly from side to side and stepped back from her. “I am afraid you will have to wait, habibte.”
Julia tried not to let her disappointment show. “What is it?”
“I would put money on it being my brother,” he said with a grimace. “Amal has been desperate to meet you since I told him we were married.”
She put her hands on her hips, and now her heart was racing out of hurt rather than desire. “You didn’t tell your own brother we were getting married until afterwards?”
His face showed no remorse. “Of course not. It is not his business.”
“But he’s your brother.”
Zayn shrugged. “And I am his. He did not consult me when he chose Adina for a bride.”
“But you were at his wedding, I’ll bet,” she countered swiftly.
“His was an elaborate royal wedding. He is the heir to the throne, Julia, and he married accordingly. I am free to live my life as I wish. And I wished to marry you without all the fuss.”
She shook her head. “That isn’t it. I know you better than that, Zayn.”
“You do not know me at all,” he whispered harshly. “This conversation is closed. It is time for you to meet your new family.”
“No,” she stomped her foot on the tiled floor. “Not until you tell me why you kept our marriage a secret.”
Zayn crossed the room, so that he was standing just before her. “Do I need to remind you, Julia, how high a price I paid for you?”
She shivered, despite the overwhelming warmth of the day. “I told you, I am not property. You did not pay for me.”
“Let’s not get into semantics,” he rejected stonily. “I bought your father’s worthless company for an over-inflated price. My reasons were two fold. I wanted to remove his financial worries, and I wanted to ensure your compliance as my wife.”
“My… my… compliance?” She smacked her palm against her forehead. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said with a small bow. “How dare I act like an intelligent human being, and enter into a conversation with my lord and master. What was I thinking?”
He compressed his lips, angry with her and even more so with himself. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”
Julia didn’t answer. She didn’t trust herself to speak without saying just what she thought of him. And there was a small part of her now that was afraid. She had loved Zayn and trusted him implicitly, and even when he’d come to England and bullied her into marriage, she hadn’t expected him to carry on like some barbarian once they were married. Foolishly, she’d actually thought he would just get back to his normal self.
“You agreed to our marriage. You knew my terms when you did so. Are you ready to come and show my brother what a loving, devoted bride I have acquired?”
She glared across at him. With a raging torrent of contradictory emotions, she walked slowly to his side and stared up at him. Stepping onto her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss against his lips. She’d meant it to remind him that whatever it was arcing between them, he was as susceptible as she, but her plan worked a little too well. The simple kiss deepened, and Julia couldn’t have said if it was her, or Zayn, who’d done it. But suddenly, his fingers were pushing through her hair, pulling at her bun until her brown locks flowed down her back. He massaged her scalp, then, not breaking the kiss, he moved his hands lower, to the curve of her rear, which he palmed and pushed so that she was firm against his body.
Julia knew that her whole future as Zayn’s wife depended on the next few moments. Denying her body the one thing she wanted, she broke the kiss and put some physical space between them. “I agreed to this marriage,” she said simply. “And my eyes were wide open. But you will never control me, Zayn.”
He was perfectly still in response, so Julia continued.
“You don’t want a wife who does everything you ask of her. You just admitted that you enjoy sparring with me. Well, Zayn, I will never stop fighting you. I think that’s why you chose me – an intelligent, independent woman, rather than your usual bevy of brainless supermodels. You’re sick of people giving you whatever you want. You “bought” me, as you put it, and you got just what you wanted: a woman who’ll stand up to you. So don’t taunt me about your alleged ownership of me, ever again.”
Chapter Five
Zayn was still reeling from Julia’s surprising statement while he went through the motions of introducing his wife to his brother and sister-in-law. As he had suspected, Amal and Adina had not been able to wait a moment longer to meet the woman who had finally inspired him to enter into marriage. He had been so publicly disparaging of it in the past, that they couldn’t help but be a little shocked by his about turn.
“I even wondered if you might be with child,” Adina whispered to Julia, when the two of them were alone. “But I can see you are not.”
Julia followed Adina’s gaze to her neat waist and shook her head ruefully. “Definitely not. I am not ready for children yet.”
Adina, who had the most translucent green eyes Julia had ever seen, gave her a smile
of sympathy. “I am sorry for you then that you must consider it so quickly.”
Julia’s expression showed her confusion.
“Oh,” Adina said, clearly flustered, “I presumed Zayn had told you. He’s strangely protective of Amal in this way. Though I suppose they are close, when I think about it.”
“Told me what?” Julia said, not allowing herself to become distracted by Adina’s musings.
“Amal and I can’t have children,” the older woman said. And Julia knew enough about people to know that her brevity of words hid an enormous depth of grief. It was obvious to Julia, from the way Adina forced an over-bright smile to her face at the same time her eyes couldn’t focus on anything in particular, as though it was a fact so ludicrous that she couldn’t fathom it.
“I’m sorry,” Julia said, keeping her distance. For though she felt pity for her new sister-in-law, she could tell Adina didn’t want to be coddled. That hugging her would make it worse.
“It is as it is.”
Julia frowned, not wanting to seem indelicate. “And are you sure?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, he and I both have problems that make the chances of us conceiving, even with assistance, impossible.”
There was nothing Julia could say, and so she said nothing. She was only twenty three; too young for children, but she had always known one day she would like a gaggle of chubby little humans in her home. One day. She could almost imagine the other woman’s pain at knowing it simply was not possible.
“So,” Adina continued, pouring out two glasses of sweet iced tea and handing one to Julia, “the task of providing Naman’s heir falls to you and Zayn, I’m afraid.”
Julia’s fingers gripped the etched glass beaker tightly. “Providing an heir?” She repeated dumbly.
“Yes. The Al-melara family has ruled Naman for centuries. You know, of course, how proud they are about their lineage. Once you have secured the blood line, we may adopt.”