More Precious than a Crown. Carol Marinelli

she took the elevator to Yvette’s room for the first time that morning Trinity smiled.

      As he pulled his phone from his pocket and read the text, so too did Zahid.

       CHAPTER THREE

      IT WAS NOT the bride who drew Zahid’s eye as she entered the church; instead, it was the woman who walked behind her who held his attention.

      There was a smile fixed on Trinity’s face but her eyes were as wary and as truculent as the teenage Trinity’s, but then they met his and Zahid watched as her pale cheeks infused with pink. For both of them there was a moment’s return to a wood many years ago and a kiss that both wished had drawn to a more natural conclusion.

      Zahid smiled, which he rarely did, and Trinity was so lost for a moment, so taken aback by Zahid’s smile that as the bride halted, for a second Trinity didn’t. She actually forgot her place, for it was as if she should simply walk on to Zahid—to go now and greet him as her body wanted to and wrap her arms around his neck, but instead, after a brief falter, Trinity halted and took the flowers from Yvette.

      Zahid turned his back to her then and the service commenced.

      The service was long, not by Zahid’s standards, just terribly long to stand there and not turn around when he would have preferred to.

      Though Zahid stared ahead, he was looking at her very closely in his mind and re-examining the Trinity he’d seen today.

      Her dress was terrible. Like a synthetic sapphire, it lacked depth and mystery and it was far too tight. Her hair was worn up and dotted with violets that matched the dark smudges under her eyes, yet she looked, to Zahid, amazing. Sun-kissed, dirty blonde, fragile and sexy, she was everything he remembered her to be and more.

      Trinity stared ahead, loathing that her shoulders were bare and wondering whose eyes were on them. She hated the loud sound of her aunt’s husband singing a hymn, as if he meant the words, as if he were a decent man.

      So, instead of dwelling on the man behind and to the right, she fixed her gaze ahead and stared at Zahid, a man who did not know the words but neither did Zahid pretend to sing. He stood firm and dignified and she willed him to turn around.

      He didn’t.

      He could have no idea the torture today was for her, for she could tell no one about her past—that had been spelt out to her many years ago. His raven hair was glossy and immaculate, his shoulders wider than before and possibly he was taller. She saw the clenching of his fist in the small of his back and remembered that same hand on her waist when the world had seemed so straightforward. As he handed over the rings she was treated to a glimpse of his strong profile and her ears strained to capture whatever words he murmured to Donald.

      Zahid was as conscious of Trinity as she was of him, so much so that as they all squeezed into the vestry for the signing of the register, despite the chatter from others, he only heard her exhale in brief relief.

      ‘Trinity...’ her father warned as she leant against the wall to catch her breath, so relieved was she to be away from Clive.

      Donald and Yvette signed the register and Gus added his signature with a flourish. Trinity watched as Zahid added his. Sheik Prince Zahid Bin Ahmed of Ishla.

      ‘Leave some space for me.’ Trinity smiled and then added her own signature.

      Trinity Natalii Foster.

      Her hand was shaking, Trinity realised as she put down the pen, only the nerves she had now felt very different to the ones that she’d had before.

      As she stepped back from the register she caught the deliciously familiar scent of Zahid and as he lowered his head to her ear the tiny bones all shivered awake to the deep, long-buried thrill of his low, intimate voice.

      ‘Natalii?’

      ‘Born at Christmas,’ Trinity said. ‘Please never repeat it again, I hate it.’

      Of course she had been born at Christmas, Zahid thought, for, unbeknown to Trinity he had returned to the Fosters’ in the hope of seeing her in the new year after she would have turned eighteen.

      Trinity hadn’t been there.

      She was here now, though, and Zahid spoke on.

      ‘I thought that it was the bride’s prerogative to be late.’

      ‘You know how I loathe tradition.’

      ‘Does that mean we shan’t be dancing later?’ Zahid asked, and she turned to his slow smile. ‘Given how you loathe tradition.’

      Oh!

      Trinity blinked for it was as if he didn’t know she was dead inside, as if he didn’t know that her frigid body no longer worked, yet it felt now as if it did, for a pulse was working high in her neck—Trinity could feel it, and her stomach was fluttering as it had years before on that night.

      With Zahid beside her, she could remember the beauty, rather than dwell on the pain.

      ‘I suppose we shall...’ Trinity sighed, as if dancing with Zahid would be a huge concession. ‘I’d hate to cause trouble.’

      ‘Liar,’ Zahid said, and his hand met the small of her back as he guided her out of the vestry.

      With one brief exchange, with that small touch, she was back in the woods, innocent and unfurling to his hand, and it was actually dizzying to walk behind Yvette and Donald and through the congregation. More than that, it was exhilarating to step outside into the sun and, on the day Trinity had been dreading, she felt her heart soaring like the bells that rang out around them.

      To be, for the first time, at such a function and be just a little bit taken care of, for Zahid’s duty now was not just to the groom, was, to Trinity, amazing.

      He stood for the wedding photos and even made the unbearable a touch less so as the family all gathered around.

      ‘Smile, Trinity,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth, and she forgot the shiver of dread that Clive was near.

      ‘You don’t,’ she pointed out, and then frowned at her own words because Zahid smiled so readily when their eyes met and held.

      ‘It is not in my nature to smile.’

      For some reason that made her giggle just enough for the photographer to get his shot and then they piled into cars and they met at the hotel.

      As the bride and groom entered, one look at her very relaxed brother and Trinity knew that Donald must be on something.

      Please, no, Trinity begged in her head.

      He had promised her he was over that now.

      She and Zahid sat at opposite ends of the top table and though she wished they were sitting next to each other, maybe it was for the best, Trinity thought, for just knowing he was here was distracting enough.

      Anyway, they’d no doubt run out of conversation within two minutes, though she was dying to know what he was up to and desperate to know if he was seeing someone.

      Surely not, Trinity consoled herself, because back in the vestry Zahid had definitely been flirting.

      She struggled through the meal, her reward that awaited her dance with him, and soon enough it was time for the speeches.

      To his credit, Zahid did unbend a fraction and asked for some sparkling water for the toasts!

      God, he was so controlled, so well behaved, Trinity thought, stretching her legs under the table and slipping off her shoes as the speeches started and doing her best not to yawn, not because she was bored by the speeches but because jet-lag was starting to seriously hit.

      Yvette’s father went first, thanking everyone and saying how thrilled he was to welcome Donald into the family. Zahid’s face was impassive but he privately