Romancing The Crown: Leila and Gage. Kathleen Creighton

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СКАЧАТЬ is a different thing entirely. Love is a terrible reason to get married. It is a recent idea, this notion that one must be in love in order to marry—don’t you know that? And look at what that has done! So much unhappiness. Inevitably, love leads to disappointment, and disappointment to misery and even divorce. No, thank you.”

      “So,” said Leila grudgingly, “what reason do you think people should marry for, if not love?” She was by no means ready to agree with such a cynical point of view, but there was no arguing with Nadia.

      “Why, for practical reasons, of course.” Nadia looked as annoyingly superior as an older sister can. “Marriage should be entered into as a business agreement—a contract, mutually advantageous, of course. I, for example,” she said loftily, holding her head high, “have decided to marry Butrus. Why?” Ignoring Leila’s gasp of surprise, she rushed on, ticking off reasons one by one on her fingers. “One, Butrus wishes to marry me in order to gain favor with Father, therefore, he knows he must treat me well—very well—because if I were to be made unhappy, Father would not be pleased. Two, as Father’s advisor, Butrus is away a great deal of the time. So, I would not only have the status of a married woman, but at the same time I would be assured a considerable amount of freedom. And three, I wish to have children. Butrus is handsome and physically well made. So, we would have beautiful, healthy babies. And, he has rather nice teeth, I believe.”

      “Nadia,” Leila said, giggling in spite of herself, “you sound as though you are buying a horse.”

      “It is very much the same thing,” Nadia said airily. A moment later, though, she was serious again as she bent down to cover Leila’s hand with her own and give it an urgent little squeeze. “Leila—for once in your life, use your head. Think. Cade Gallagher will make beautiful, healthy babies, too. And, he will take you to America—to Texas.” She glanced quickly over her shoulder and lowered her voice. Even so, it quivered with passion. “Away from here. Just think, Leila—in America you can do—you can become—anything you want to. Anything. Do you understand? The freedom…” She straightened abruptly, biting her lip. “Think about it, Leila,” she whispered, and snatching up her sketchpad, walked quickly away without looking back.

      Leila did not know how long she stayed there, biting her lip and stubbornly frowning at nothing. Bees hummed among the roses, birds came to drink and play in the fountain and a servant came quietly to clear away the remains of the meal. And still she sat…quivering with the burden of unshed tears.

      It was the strangest meeting Cade had ever been a part of. Definitely not what he’d expected. Though he’d have had a hard time putting into words just what it was he had expected.

      One thing, definitely—he’d expected to have at least one more chance to talk with Leila. Alone. But clearly, that wasn’t going to happen. Instead they each occupied separate leather chairs facing Sheik Ahmed’s long mahogany desk, with several feet of space between them. It might as well have been several miles. Like a cross between a biblical Moses and a junior high school principal facing down a couple of co-conspirators in mischief, Sheik Ahmed presided behind his desk. His wife, Alima, Leila’s mother, sat in a comfortable chair near one of the casement windows that overlooked the sea. She wore a serene smile and held in her hands a small, leather-bound book.

      As for Leila, she hadn’t spoken a word to Cade, or even looked at him. She sat straight-backed in her chair with her head held high, the arch of her throat as pale as the marble columns that graced the palace gardens. There was only a quivery softness about her mouth to betray any emotion or vulnerability at all, but to Cade, that was enough. Disliking the queasy, seasick feeling he got when he saw…when he remembered…that incredibly ripe, incredibly fragile mouth, he’d stopped looking at her at all.

      With a face as stern as an old-fashioned Texas hang-’emhigh judge, Sheik Ahmed was speaking, “…and that you have entered into this decision of your own free will, and with pure mind and sincere heart?”

      “Yes—” Cade cleared his throat. “Yes, sir, I have.”

      The sheik went on talking, something solemn about a man’s heart being the province of God and therefore not to be questioned by man, but Cade wasn’t listening. His mind was full of the incredible fact that he, Cade Gallagher, an American businessman living in the twenty-first century, had just agreed to an arranged marriage. Arranged—like in medieval times! How had such a thing happened to him?

      Right now, more than anything, what he felt was dazed, bewildered, at a loss to explain how a man such as he, a master at navigating through the most circuitous and complex of business negotiations, could have gotten himself so completely boxed in. Because the truth was, he just didn’t see any other way out of this. Not unless he was prepared to take it all back, right here and now, in front of Leila and both her parents. Say he hadn’t meant the proposal of marriage to begin with, that it had been a mistake and he wasn’t prepared to go through with it after all. Say it to her face.

      There was no way. He could not do that. No way in hell.

      Because if there was anything he’d learned as a kid growing up in Texas, it was to stand up and take the consequences for his actions like a man.

      Consequences…. Elena had said something like that, hadn’t she? They’d had only a few minutes together, while Hassan was speaking to the foreman at one of the refineries they’d visited this afternoon about some sort of minor problem or complaint. Even now, remembering the disappointment in her eyes made Cade squirm. “Cade, I warned you….”

      “You did,” he’d acknowledged, and added, grimly joking, “Don’t worry, I take full responsibility for my own stupidity.”

      But Elena hadn’t smiled, and with a sad little shake of her head had murmured, “This isn’t what I wanted for you, Cade.” Her eyes had gone to where her husband stood with his back to them, deep in conversation with the refinery foreman. “I’d hoped…someday…you’d find someone you could love the way I love Hassan.” Her voice had broken then, and Cade had snorted to cover the shaft of pain that unexpectedly pierced his heart.

      Why he’d felt such a sense of loss, he didn’t know. He’d never expected to experience that kind of love, anyway. The kind of love that lasts a lifetime. From his own personal experience he thought it doubtful love like that even existed.

      As for his own feelings about Leila, since they were so confusing to him, most of the time he tried not to dwell on them at all. If he had to define them, he’d have said they pretty much consisted of a mix of anger and remorse. Yeah, she’d behaved like a moonstruck girl, but he was old enough, experienced enough, and he should have known better. He was responsible and it was up to him to make it right. But there was something else in the stew of his emotions that wasn’t as easily defined, possibly because it was a whole lot less unfamiliar. The closest he would allow himself to come to defining it was protectiveness. With his own carelessness he’d hurt this child-woman immeasurably, and he never wanted to do so again.

      Understandable enough. But even that didn’t account for the strange ache of tenderness that filled his throat sometimes when he looked at her—like now, as she murmured affirmative responses to her father’s questions.

      Do you agree to this marriage, Leila, and enter into it of your own free will?

       Yes, Father….

      But still, not once did she look at Cade. And he felt a strange, unfamiliar emptiness inside.

      Alima rose then, and came to her daughter’s side. She placed the leather-bound book on the shiny СКАЧАТЬ