The Desert King’s Housekeeper Bride, page 9
‘Do you remember how you kissed me there…?’
‘Of course.’ He grew in her hand at the memory.
‘If I were to kiss you—in the same way…’ Effie faltered, unsure if she might offend, unsure if she even knew what to do ‘…would it be as nice?’
‘It would be…’ Zakari caught his breath, could not continue to speak as she did just that, her pretty smiling mouth kissing his length so inexpertly, yet it felt divine. Hot, chaste kisses that had him drag in his breath as they reached his tip, her tongue swirling in a way that had his heart still in his chest.
‘Is like this okay?’
‘It is…’ Zakari couldn’t complete his sentence as she kissed him more thoroughly.
Just as she had at first tentatively kissed his mouth and had then grown hungry for more, Effie kissed him ever deeper, her tongue circling, her body greedy for his.
And then, checking his pleasure, for a second she stilled, her blue eyes glittered up at him as her soft pink mouth still held him and Zakari’s fingers knotted in her hair as she set back to work. And for the first time in his life, Zakari relaxed, just relaxed and enjoyed, because he knew she was enjoying it too; because with Effie there was no rush, no benchmark to match, just this mutual pleasure that was beyond anything he had ever experienced.
The soft swell of her intimate place pressing into his thigh had him pushing his leg up to massage, his free hand searching to pleasure her, not to impress, but because he wanted to, and feeling her sweet, slippery warmth, feeling her pleasure, he wanted to slip under the surface and let go, to accept the release she offered, only he couldn’t…
The Stefani diamond was heavy against his thigh as her tongue worked its magic. The reason it was still around her neck was so that they might consummate the marriage.
Duty must prevail.
‘Come here.’
He dragged her up to him.
He cupped her buttocks as he held her over his straining length and found that duty could also mean pleasure as he watched her sweet, intimate butterfly lips cloak him, hold him and caress him.
His eyes were on a different prize as they climaxed together—the Stefani diamond forgotten as he stared up at her face, watching it contort in ecstasy as he shuddered into her. He held her after till she was spent, till the last flutters of her orgasm stroked him as he nestled deep within her. Only when she lay on her side, when he spooned into her, one hand gently cupping her breast as they drifted off to sleep, did he remember, the Stefani stone slipping down the chain and silently coming to rest on the back of his hand.
The marriage was consummated, Zakari realised.
There was no reason not to tell her.
Except one—surely it could wait till morning.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS his duty, Zakari reminded himself. He had to secure the diamond and to do so he’d had to consummate the marriage.
Hadn’t he?
Not for the first time since waking had he questioned last night’s motives, yet for the first time he could not shrug off his thoughts. The sun would be rising in a matter of minutes, shedding light on the day ahead, demanding he deal with things. But how could he tell her now?
Should he have told her the truth in the desert?
For the first time in his life, Zakari’s conscience was pricking. Effie would not have dared argue with a king—she would not have denied him the stone. And even if she had married him out of duty, or on the chance she was carrying his heir, she had given her heart to him before the wedding—last night had not been necessary.
Yet it had!
He had wanted her, had wanted that perfect night with her before he told her the truth.
‘Zakari?’ She came up behind him on the royal balcony, her hand on his taut shoulder, her warm lips kissing the taut flesh of his back as he gazed out to the pre-dawn desert.
‘Come back to bed…’ Effie reasoned. ‘Zakari, it is too cool here.’
How much easier would it be to take her back to bed, to make love? He could feel himself harden as her warm lips nuzzled his shoulders, wanted to deny the dawn and prolong their time.
Yet already things were in place. Today she would find out, whether he told her or not.
There was a line of orange on the far horizon, saffron fingers slowly fanning out, a screech from above as the birds awoke and he looked upwards as a dark shadow soared.
Zakari had never liked falconry.
A sport amongst his people, it had never appealed to him. Oh, he had partaken at times when it was necessary, and yet watching that beautiful beast circling its prey, watching it soar so high as the tiny vermin continued unawares, he had, as a child, shuddered at what lay ahead. Even as a teenager, though he had grinned to his father, still an unseen part of him had shuddered as the bird had swooped, nausea had risen as the bird had returned to his leathered arm with its bloody beak bearing its gift.
He felt like a falcon now.
Circling his unwitting prey.
His little silver bird smiled innocently as he turned around to face her—to face the truth.
‘There is something you must know. Today there will be an announcement.’
‘About us?’ Effie checked.
‘That was released yesterday,’ Zakari explained. ‘Today the news will break that the missing half of the Stefani diamond has been found…’
Effie’s eyes were wide. ‘It was lost?’
‘It was replaced with a fake and both palaces have kept it quiet, but the fact was Prince Alex’s coronation could not go ahead without the missing half of the Stefani diamond.’
‘So it can go ahead now?’
‘No.’ Zakari shook his head. ‘The stones are to be reunited. King Christos’s Legacy is about to be fulfilled.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I am in possession of the missing half of the Stefani jewel.’ Zakari’s voice was thick, his eyes not meeting hers. ‘Which means that I will now rule both Calista and Aristo.’
‘You…’ Effie blinked, a smile breaking on her face, as dazzling and as stunning and as delightful as the rapidly rising sun. She offered him her heartfelt congratulations. ‘Zakari, I am so proud for you, I’ll do everything I can to support you…’
With every word she made it harder, her trust, her faith in him, so absolute it would take an axe to shatter it. ‘When did this happen?’ Effie continued. ‘When was it found?’
Turning, he fingered the necklace that hung between her pearly white breasts and with his heart in his mouth he raised the axe to fell her.
‘This…’ Zakari cleared his throat ‘…is the Stefani diamond.’ He saw her frown. ‘This is the missing half of the Stefani diamond.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Effie smiled, the only woman who might say that to a king and get away with it. ‘I already told you, it was my mother’s necklace. It is worth nothing… It’s probably just made of glass.’
‘No.’ Zakari shook his head. ‘That is the jewel I have been searching for—I would recognise it anywhere.’
‘Why would my mother have such a precious diamond?’ Effie reasoned. ‘She was a palace maid…’ He watched the soft smile slip from her lips, a smudge of a frown darken her pretty features. ‘My mother wasn’t a thief.’
‘A thief could not take this. These are royal jewels, guarded, accessible only to the highest members of the family.’
‘Then how?’ Effie blinked.
‘Your mother,’ Zakari said slowly, ‘was King Aegeus’s mistress.’
‘My mother?’ Effie shook her head at the impossibility. ‘Zakari, that is impossible. How could you even think it?’
‘The pool at Kionia…’ Zakari interrupted.
‘What about it?’
‘Queen Tia commissioned it.’ Zakari’s voice was so deep and low, hoarse almost, that she had to strain her ears to hear it. ‘The year Princess Elissa was born—long after your mother worked there.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything…’ She didn’t want to get it, didn’t want to understand what he was trying to explain to her. Instead Effie wanted to go back to bed where it was warm, wanted her king, her man to make love to her as he had last night, wanted him to love her as she had been so sure he had.
‘For your mother to have seen it, for your mother to even know about it…’ Zakari pushed, but Effie was refusing to hear him.
‘Maybe she went back…’ Effie attempted. ‘Perhaps she did some casual work…’
‘There are no casual staff at Kionia.’
‘Maybe she just read about it,’ Effie begged. ‘Heard about it from someone…’
‘Your mother was Aegeus’s lover…’ His lips sneered around the name—the man he hated most in the world. ‘He gave her many jewels, some of which she sold over the years. I have returned them to their rightful place, but the only one she kept was the Stefani stone. He set her up in the cottage—palace maids don’t buy cottages. Aegeus was the one who kept her.’
‘No.’ Still she denied it. ‘Not my mother and Aegeus!’
‘Yes Aegeus…’ Zakari spat—he wasn’t finding this easy, his anger at himself and at Aegeus turning on her. ‘Your name!’ he flared. ‘Your real name is Stefania. You cannot deny what is on your birth certificate—you were named after the jewel he gave to her. Your mother was his whore—’
‘My mother was no whore…’ She slapped his cheek, then when it didn’t help she slapped it again. ‘If she is a whore, then what does that make me?’
‘You are my wife.’
‘I wasn’t when we first slept together.’
‘You are my wife now.’
‘Why?’ she challenged. ‘Because you love me, because you want me…or because of this…’ She saw it then—the change she had seen, the breath that had caught in his throat when she had dressed for him, the wonder in his eyes hadn’t been for her, hadn’t been at her beauty, but at the power he had glimpsed.
‘You, Zakari, are the whore.’ She ripped off the necklace and hurled it at him. ‘You are the one who slept with me for gain! Well, take it!’
It hurt like hell to take off her mother’s jewel, but it was also impossible to keep. It was a thing—a possession, not hers to hold on to, just as she was a possession, a thing, a means to an end.
‘Where are you going?’ As Effie ran inside the suite he watched as she rapidly dressed.
‘Home.’
‘Home? Your home is here with me. You are my wife…’ He grabbed her wrist and furiously she tried to shake him off, only she couldn’t. Her unshod foot was her only method of attack and she kicked him in the shin, hurting herself more than him no doubt, but the shock was enough for Zakari to loosen his grip.
Not the shock of any pain she had inflicted.
More the anger in her.
The hurt.
And strangest of all…more than a flicker of guilt.
Well, what did she expect? Zakari reasoned, pacing the bedroom after she had gone. Kings didn’t fall in love with maids. She should be pleased; in time she would be pleased… She had status now, a title, she had more than she could ever have dreamed of in her meagre existence.
Picking up the phone, he summoned Hassan to his suite, handing over the treasure and telling him to break the news to the Aristo palace and also to the press that the diamond was now his.
That Christos’s Legacy was about to be fulfilled!
‘Your Highness!’ Hassan held the jewel in his palm more tenderly than if it were a child. ‘You have waited for this moment for so long.’
‘Where is Sheikha Stefania?’ Zakari asked.
‘She asked to be taken to her mother’s home.’ Hassan gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘She will calm down, she will return soon…’
Only Zakari wasn’t so sure. When he had signed the marriage documents he had expected hurt, anger even, when he eventually told her the news. But the woman who piece by piece had revealed herself last night was a woman he hadn’t bargained on. She had blossomed before his eyes and under the guise of his love she had flourished, and this morning he had watched her heart shatter.
‘I want a car placed outside the house,’ Zakari instructed. ‘The guard is to make sure she is not disturbed and that she does not speak with the press. When she is ready to return to the palace he will bring her to me.’
The news that Zakari had the stone ripped through the kingdoms of Aristo and Calista. Even Zakari was slightly taken aback by the fallout as he watched the breaking news on television. Regular programming had been suspended and on every channel it was the only subject on people’s minds. There was wailing in the streets of Aristo, while the Calistan people, rather than celebrating, were to Zakari’s surprise rather stunned and subdued. The Aristan royals had offered no comment but senior aides had already been despatched to Calista and were demanding to sight the stone and prove its authenticity. Second, third, fourth editions of the newspapers were being released, the later editions hazarding rapid guesses at what would happen now—how the transition of power might take place and the daunting tasks that lay ahead.
Only the Calistan royals, it seemed, were in the mood for celebration.
Zakari, naturally the head of the table, joined by his brothers and sisters and Aarif’s and Kaliq’s wives. Effie was noticeable only by her absence.
‘She will soon come to accept it,’ Aarif said.
‘Of course she will,’ Kalila agreed with her husband. ‘She has royal blood in her, after all.’
Zakari’s lips were suddenly dry. Reaching for his drink, he sipped the juice, but it did nothing to quench his thirst, and he gestured impatiently for his water to be replenished before taking a long sip, only it did nothing to refresh him either.
The bastard of Aegeus she might be, but there was more royal blood in Effie’s veins than his own and he had witnessed it first-hand that very morning—that fire, pride and indefinable strength that marked her out as being royal. It was the very thing that Zakari had worked hard to master from scratch, but Effie had been born to it.
‘Would you like me to talk to her?’ Eleni, Kaliq’s new wife, offered. She had been a lowly stable girl herself before Kaliq had swept her off her feet and knew some of how Effie must be feeling. ‘I know how hard it is to adjust. Maybe if she had a friend…’
‘I will talk to her!’ Zakari rejected Eleni’s offer with a terse response. ‘Tomorrow she will return to the palace.’
Eleni still hadn’t quite mastered the basics of dining with a king and her pursed lips and slight eye-roll let everyone at the table know what she thought. The only saving grace, Kaliq told her later, trying himself not to laugh at his fiery wife’s ways, was that Zakari had been too distracted to notice.
Lying in bed that night Zakari missed Effie.
Not just the lovemaking, but the ease, the laughter, the comfort she brought to the room.
Tomorrow he would get her; Zakari’s mind was made up.
Tomorrow he would tell her to stop this nonsense and to take her rightful place by his side.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HER mother’s things, her mother’s home, her home, had always brought her comfort.
But not today.
Wandering amongst familiar things, Effie longed for the ignorance of yesterday.
She stared into her mother’s empty jewel box, remembering as a child how she’d tried on her pretty things—the necklaces she’d draped around her neck, the rings she’d placed on her little fat fingers.
Royal jewels! Effie cringed now at the innocent memory. She had been playing with royal jewels—jewels her mother had sold over the years in an effort to support them.
Every part of her felt tainted.
What a fool. Effie sat on the threadbare sofa and huddled into the corner and stared at the rich oil paintings and books that lined the walls. What a fool she had been to never question her mother, what a blind stupid fool to believe that her mother could have supported them both on a palace maid’s savings.
From where she sat she could see the expensive cream car parked on the dust road, the tinted windows shielding the occupant, but occasionally the window wound down and a cigarette was flicked out, revealing a burly occupant wearing dark glasses who made Effie shiver.
She was a prisoner in her own home.
Hungry for information, for answers, she dragged a ladder from the shed outside and into the cramped hall and climbed up to the loft. With utter disregard for her safety, she dragged out box after box and threw them to the floor beneath her. The task of going through her mother’s things, her photos, her letters, had been too painful to comprehend, yet it was imperative to Effie that she do it now.
Sitting on the hall floor, she truly didn’t know where to start, her hand reaching for the first box, pulling out a random letter, and the second she opened it every fear was confirmed, every dream broken, just as she had deep down known it would be.
Zakari wouldn’t have got this wrong.
May 19th 1985
Lydia,
Again, I waited for you last night, just as I did last year. You know it is too dangerous for me to come to you. I am pleading with you to come to me, to contact me, to let me know that you are well.
I know we cannot be together, but we promised to meet once a year. Please don’t deny us that one pleasure.
Till next year
Yours always
Ax
She would have been one year old, Effie realised, tears coursing down her cheeks, and the year before that her mother would have been pregnant with her—no wonder she hadn’t dared meet him.
She read a few more. Each letter, each passing year Aegeus’s pleas were more desperate, more urgent, then suddenly the letters stopped. Aegeus had clearly given in.
With a weary eye, Effie stared at the boxes, but couldn’t face them now. She had started reading at the end of their story, but was just too exhausted, too drained, to start from the beginning.
There would be time for that later, Effie knew, watching her front door darken and realising her small respite was over.
