The Princess Brides. Jane Porter

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СКАЧАТЬ I didn’t have a choice, she wanted to tell him. You were pressuring Chantal, and Chantal’s had enough pressure. ‘‘I want Lilly happy,’’ she said at last, feeling the weight of the world rest on her shoulders. Somehow, in less than forty-eight hours, he’d tied her in knots. She wasn’t Nic. She wasn’t Chantal. She didn’t know who she was anymore. The only thing she did know was that the chemistry between her and King Nuri was wild…stunning…she’d never had this kind of response to anyone and there was no way—absolutely no way—she could let the attraction get out of hand.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      LATER that evening, after returning to her room, she lay in bed, staring at the wood shutters where just the faintest edge of light could be made out around the edges. She couldn’t sleep.

      Couldn’t turn her brain off.

      She was beginning to worry, really worry. First her dinner conversation with King Nuri played in her head, and then as soon as that conversation ended, she heard her last conversation with Chantal begin, the conversation they had just hours before Nic had boarded the Royal Star yacht.

      ‘‘It’s just a meet and greet, right?’’ Nicolette had asked, drumming her fingers on her locked steamer trunk. ‘‘You wouldn’t actually marry him. It’s just a chance to say hi—bye—and know what you’re not getting involved with?’’

      Chantal’s eyebrows lifted. ‘‘Be careful, Nic. This isn’t one of your fun-loving Greeks. This is King Nuri—’’

      ‘‘A man—’’

      ‘‘A King.’’

      Nic shrugged. ‘‘So he’s a royal, but so are we—and just because a man says jump, it doesn’t mean we have to.’’

      So she didn’t have to jump, but the wedding was less than two weeks away and she had no idea how she was going to make this work.

      What if she couldn’t get out of Baraka? What if she wasn’t able to break off the engagement in time?

      There was no way she’d go through with this marriage.

       Not even to rescue Lilly?

      The little voice in Nic’s head made her sigh, close her eyes. She knew she’d marry Bluebeard if it’d save Lilly. But oh, let there be another way…

      There had to be another way…

      Once again Nic woke up in a bad mood. She hated lies. Detested hypocrisy. And yet here she was, about to begin another day pretending to be someone she was not.

      Alea had breakfast waiting outside in Nic’s private courtyard, and after wrapping herself in one of the long silk robes from her wardrobe, Nic wandered outside, pulling her hair into a ponytail high on the top of her head.

      She caught a glimpse of herself in the koi pond outside. Brown hair. Long messy ponytail. Dark circles under the eyes.

      Princess heading to disaster.

      Alea sat with Nic while she had her breakfast. ‘‘It’s going to be a busy day,’’ Alea said, studying Nic’s calendar. ‘‘Language lesson. Culture lesson. Then a wedding gown fitting—’’

      ‘‘No.’’

      Alea looked up from the appointment book. ‘‘Did you want lunch before the fitting?’’

      ‘‘No. No, I don’t want to go to the wedding gown fitting—’’

      ‘‘It’s only scheduled for an hour.’’

      Nic covered her face with her hands, rubbed her forehead, hating the headache that never seemed to go away. ‘‘I just wish…I mean…why can’t the fitting wait?’’ Nic shook her head. No use complaining. Alea hadn’t made the schedule and Alea couldn’t change her schedule.

      But Alea frowned, feeling responsible. ‘‘Do you want me to send a message to His Highness? Would you like to speak with him?’’

      Nic’s gaze rested on the courtyard’s lacy latticework, and her view through the open bedroom door to her suite of rooms. The ceiling in her bedchamber was high, and painted gold and blue, the floor covered in graceful tile mosaics—all lovely, all intended to seduce the senses, subdue the will—but Nic didn’t want to be seduced and subdued. She wasn’t here to be charmed. And she wasn’t about to be wooed.

      ‘‘These rooms,’’ Nic said, ‘‘they’re incredibly beautiful. Are all bedrooms in the palace like this?’’

      ‘‘Oh, no, Princess. There are just a few of these special rooms. They are reserved for the sultan’s favorites.’’ Alea smoothed a page in the open appointment book.

      The sultan’s favorites? As in plural. Very nice. Nic’s eyebrows lifted satirically and she glanced around once more seeing the palatial use of space, large outdoor sunken pool, koi pool, and colorful mosaics with fresh eyes. ‘‘This was part of the harem.’’

      ‘‘For the sultan’s chosen.’’

      Ah, well, that was much better, wasn’t it? Nic thought pushing away from the table, thinking it fitting that she moved from one excruciating test to another. Breakfast in the harem followed by Arabic lesson with the cousin. How could life get any better?

      Nic survived the arduous lesson, and then happily the study turned to geography. Today Fatima pulled out a map of Baraka and its neighboring countries and Nicolette loved learning about the various geographical points of interest—the mountain ranges, the river, the great deserts.

      Abruptly Fatima folded the map. ‘‘What do you know about our weddings?’’

      ‘‘Very little,’’ Nic answered, wondering why Fatima had taken the map away. She’d been enjoying the lesson immensely and they still had plenty of time left. At least fifteen minutes.

      ‘‘You should know about our weddings,’’ Fatima continued tersely. ‘‘They are very important in our culture, and they are very expensive.’’ Fatima’s lips curled but she didn’t seem to be smiling. ‘‘Wedding celebrations generally last a week. The wedding itself takes place over several days. Yours will probably be at least three days. Each day of the wedding week you’ll receive more gold and jewelry from Malik. And then finally on the wedding day, you’ll be carried in on a great table, covered in jewels and all the gifts Malik has given you.’’

      Nicolette was appalled, disgusted that she’d be paraded about on a table like a roasted pig at Christmas.

      ‘‘You are very lucky,’’ Fatima added forcefully. ‘‘You are grateful for your good fortune, aren’t you?’’

      A murmur of voices sounded from the doorway and Nic glanced over her shoulder to see the servants bowing. King Nuri had entered the room and Nic couldn’t be more relieved.

      ‘‘Good morning,’’ Fatima greeted, rising.

      ‘‘How is the lesson coming?’’ he asked, approaching them, wearing dark casual slacks and СКАЧАТЬ