One Choice (14 page)

“Do you wish to ask something?” A small chuckle and a twinkle in his eye gave away his mirth.

“I have nothing to wear.” She spoke the first thing that entered her mind — that could be spoken aloud to the king. She couldn't tell him she didn't know about
that
. A blush heated her cheeks once again.

“It has been taken care of, Cahri. You must learn to trust more.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned and walked away from her. She stared at his back for a few seconds as she thought about being a princess and a wife. She walked toward Josiah's door. Did he know she would be his wife by the time the sun set?

As she drew close to the door, which was ajar, she heard Anaya and Josiah talking. She only made out a few words, but she heard her name and the word for love. She couldn't make out any more, so she tapped on the door.

“Enter,” Josiah said in his formal tone. “Ah, Cahri, we were just speaking about you.”

“You were?”

“Yes. Where have you been? I needed you and you left.” It sounded like his voice had a hint of humor in it, but she wasn't sure.

“I'm sorry, my prince. What is it you need? I will do it for you now.” Shame filled her. She had left in a fit of temper and not fulfilled her duty to the prince. Being his wife would not be as easy as she'd hoped it would. He knew enough about her to manipulate her with ease, and it terrified her. What would he do with the information?

He shot a look at Anaya, who nodded and left the room.

“I am tired. Please help me to lie down.”

“Yes, my prince.” She hurried to his side, and before she could assist him in lying down, he grabbed her with his good arm and pulled her close. She struggled, but his strength overpowered her.

“Stop wiggling,” he said. She obeyed, scared of hurting him.

“I… I… thought you wanted to lie down.” Her heart skipped a beat. His breath teased her skin with its touch.

“I do, and you will help me in a moment. Anaya tells me you are to become my wife this evening.” A cocky glint lit his eyes.

“So I have been told,” she replied, deadpan. She didn't know how she managed to spit the words out without betraying the myriad of feelings bouncing around inside her. The most disturbing were the fear and the elation, contradictory to one another, but there nonetheless.

“You are not pleased?” he asked.

She dropped her eyes.

“No. You will look at me. I want to see the truth, for your eyes cannot lie to me.”

She searched his eyes as much as he searched hers. Would he be a good husband? Her heart hammered in her chest. She was pleased, but scared.

“Are you pleased, my prince?” she whispered.

“Hmm… Am I pleased?” A grin unfurled on his face. “We will come back to that. My question first. Are you pleased?”

She started to look away, but heard a negative grunt come from him.

“I am shocked. I never expected to become your wife.” She focused on him, dared to touch his cheek. Rough. “Will you be a good husband?” She astonished herself at her boldness.

He inhaled at her touch. “I will do my best.” He leaned into her hand, and closed his eyes. She rubbed her thumb along his cheek. His jaw tightened. “You have yet to answer my question. Do not keep me waiting. I am not a patient man, and I think my time in this bed is going to test what little patience I have.”

“Yes, my prince, I am pleased to become your wife,” she whispered. She caressed his cheek once more then dropped her hand.

He released her but told her to stay put. He reached past her to the table where there was a box she hadn't noticed before. He picked it up and handed it to her. “I had planned to do this differently, maybe out in the garden we both love. But we will have to make do. I'll make it up to you later.” He cleared his throat and handed her the box. “Will you be my wife, Cahri?”

He had planned… Did that mean even before his accident he was planning to make her his wife? The king said as much, but she had doubted him. Pushing the thought aside and without opening the box, because it didn't matter what he was giving her, she responded, “Yes, my prince.”

“You will call me Josiah in private, understand?”

Electric tongues of fire spread throughout her body from his gentle touch on her cheek. She shivered.

“Yes.” She leaned into his fingers a bit. She found it amazing the arm which held her with such strength earlier could now be so gentle.

“Open the box.” He let his hand fall back to the bed. His eyes drooped and his shoulders sagged.

She opened the box. Inside sat a beautiful emerald-cut diamond flanked by two smaller square-cut diamonds in settings of white gold. A gasp escaped. Her knowledge about diamonds was limited, but even a novice could see that these were big and more than a little expensive. She glanced back at the prince.

“Put it on. I would be too clumsy with only one arm to help you.”

She obeyed.

“Do you like it?”

“It's beautiful.” The elegance of it overwhelmed her. She never imagined a ring like this in her little girl dreams.

“It was my great-great
grand-mere's
. She was from France. She wouldn't let us call her grandmother. That is almost all I remember about her. She passed when I was five, leaving the ring to Jonathan to present to his bride.” He was silent for a few minutes. He breathed deeply as he tried to control his emotions. “When he died without taking a wife, it passed down to me.” He smiled. “And now I have the honor and privilege of presenting it to you.”

He caressed her cheek again and lifted her face to look at him. Her cheeks flamed at the desire she saw flash in his eyes. His caress moved from her cheek to her neck and pulled her to him. Ever mindful of his injuries, she tried to resist, but he did not relent.

“Kiss me, Cahri.” His voice sounded husky, and he still pulled her toward him.

“I don't want to hurt you.” She continued to resist.

“Please?” he whispered. He released the pressure he had on her neck. “I will not force you…” He paused, letting his eyes relay the message no words could.

She relented, careful not to put any pressure on his ribs. Her lips touched his for just a moment, and a jolt of sensation rippled through her. While he had released the pressure earlier, he increased it now and pulled her to him again. This time she planted her hands on the pillow propped up against the headboard. She tried desperately not to hurt him, and yet fulfill his wish. Their lips touched again, and his hand tightened on her neck, pulling her closer still. The kiss deepened. Having never been kissed before, it did things to her… she didn't even have the words to describe the feeling. Electrifying. Sensational. Joyous.

She pulled back. His touch overwhelmed her body. Her breath came out in little gasps and her heart pounded in her chest.

“You need to rest.” She started at the huskiness of her own voice. “Lie down and sleep for a while. Our wedding is in less than two hours.” She started to move away, but he grabbed her hand. She glanced back at him.

“I can't wait to look upon you as a husband looks upon his wife, to see your hair down, to touch it, to have you as mine…”

The further his speech went, the deeper the heat of the blush on her cheeks. Her knowledge about how a wife should treat her husband could fit in the folds of a rose bud. Her mom hadn't talked about such things unless there'd been a reason. Now there was a reason, but not a mom. Tears stung her eyes.

He tugged on her hand, “Cahri, do you know this is God's will for you?”

“No.” She pulled her hand free of his and moved away. She needed a little space.

After she collected herself, she helped him lie down. Just when she thought he slept, his eyes opened, and he gazed straight at her.

“It is God's will for you and for me. I know you care for me. I can see it in your eyes, even when you try to hide it. I will take care of you.” His eyes closed again, and his breathing evened out.

“But will you love me?”

What kind of husband would he be? What kind of wife would she be?

Many brides-to-be have months to contemplate and discuss with their intended the future. Cahri's intended slept and would do so until close to the time for the vows.

It didn't matter. She didn't have a choice, not that she would make a different choice if she had one. She loved him, whether he would ever love her or not. Her anxiety did not come from her feelings. It came from the uncertainty of how to be a proper wife.

She paced the room, wringing her hands. When she'd first come to the palace, the reality that she could at some point become his bride had assaulted her, but this was so quick. It had never occurred to her that
she
would be his choice — a redheaded, green-eyed American who had to work for her citizenship.

She stared at the clock. After four. In less than two hours she would be married to a man she didn't know all that well but loved more than she could have ever imagined.

The classes had taught her how to handle various dignitaries, nobles, and other kings along with their wives and children, how to eat with politeness, dance with grace, sit and walk with dignity, but not how to… her cheeks heated at her own thoughts. Will he expect to do
that
tonight?

She twisted and paced in the opposite direction.

What would she do?

He couldn't, could he?

Even with his injuries?

No.

What if he did?

She stopped and stared out the window. The sheer blocked her view, but she didn't care. She wasn't looking outside anyway. She jumped when Anaya called her name and tapped her shoulder. Her entry had gone unnoticed.

“My mother wishes to speak with you. I will stay with Josiah for a time. Matthias will show you where she is.”

“Thank you.” Cahri moved toward the door.

Anaya touched her elbow to get her attention. “Cahri, we have talked of this possibility for many weeks now. My brother cares for you, and he will take good care of you. Trust God to know what is best, even if you don't understand right now. I'll see you in a bit, and then we will get you ready for your wedding.”

Cahri wiped her sweaty palms on her pants as she left the room. She found Matthias just outside the door, and he showed her to where the queen sat in the midst of an oasis in the courtyard surrounded by fig trees. At their bases a variety of daffodils grew. Unusual this late in the year. To the side, a water fountain gurgled. She hadn't seen this particular courtyard before and glanced around at the snowdrops, lilies, and tulips flowering everywhere. It relaxed her somewhat. She took a deep breath.

“Come. Sit, child.” The queen's quiet words calmed Cahri a bit, but not for long. A servant handed her a glass of
ayran
, a popular yogurt drink. She mumbled a thank you. It sloshed from side to side.

After a few sips, Cahri set the glass on the table next to her and folded her hands in her lap to still their trembling.

“Relax, Cahri. You are joining our family, not being executed.” The queen laughed at her own joke.

Cahri forced a smile to her lips.

“We want you to be comfortable. I also wanted to be sure you understand what is expected of you now that you will be a princess.”

“Yes, ma'am. I think so, for the most part.” Her fingers twisted the material of her pants, which she then had to flatten out again.

“Then why are you so nervous and agitated? You were pacing in Josiah's room after he slept.”

Cahri's face heated. She had forgotten about the cameras. “I…” She hesitated.

Could she talk to the queen about this? She was the only married woman Cahri had contact with at the moment, and she had to ask someone.

“I think I understand how to maintain the rules and requirements of being a princess, but…” Her face heated once again. She sighed and plunged in. “It's being a wife I'm not so sure about. My mom loved me with all her heart but never wanted to talk about… private things.”

“Ah, so that's it.”

The queen dismissed all of the servants.

“Let's start with you telling me about your mom.”

Cahri sighed. “She was wonderful. I mean, she wasn't perfect, of course, and I didn't always agree with her decisions, but she was always there for me when I needed to talk. Her quiet questions always helped me find the answers I was looking for. She knew her Bible too. Verse after verse would pour forth just when I needed them.”

“Do you look like her?”

“No.” Cahri laughed. “I look nothing like her. My mom was born in Turkey, so she looked more like you — dark hair and eyes, olive skin. I inherited my dad's coloring. He was American through and through. His ancestors arrived in the early 1700s from Ireland and Scotland, looking for food and freedom. My brother looks like my mom.”

“Where is your brother?”

“France, with his wife and three children. He hated being mistaken for a native, while I've always wanted to. It broke my parents' hearts when he left, but they understood.”

Cahri relaxed until the queen changed the subject. Her face burned as her future mother-in-law explained what she would need to know about how to be a wife and be pleasing to her husband.