A Shocking Proposal In Sicily. Rachael Thomas

she would marry anyone? But Nassif?

      ‘Alif’s uncle? Alif’s cruel and spiteful uncle? You can’t mean that?’ Her voice was a strangled cry of pain and despair. Her throat had gone dry, as if she’d walked all day in the heat of the desert and not taken one sip of water. Her head spun and she dragged in rapid deep breaths, desperate to regain control of herself and this conversation. ‘I can’t. I. Can’t.’

      ‘Marriage to Nassif will unite our countries, just as they should have been five years ago, if you’d married Alif.’ Her father sat once again behind his desk, the formidable ruler he’d become slipping back into place. The glimpse of the father she’d known long ago, gone. Or was it just her wishful thinking? She’d foolishly been hoping her father would be pleased to see her after five years. How wrong could she be?

      Kaliana’s knees weakened and she wished she could slump to the floor as past hurt, past pain and heartache collided with the panic of what her father had planned. What he expected her to do without question. ‘But Nassif is so much older than me.’

      ‘That is true,’ he said slowly, his response to her objection so obviously rehearsed. ‘Now that his wife has passed away, he wants to make you his wife.’

      Kaliana backed away, needing the roar of panic in her head to stop, needing the wild spinning of her mind to cease. ‘No. I will not marry him.’

      Sweat prickled on her forehead. Nausea rose and the need to turn and run became almost irresistible. But she couldn’t run. Somewhere deep inside her, the duty her mother had implanted so innocuously into her from a young age resurfaced. Took over.

      She wanted to run. But she couldn’t. She had a duty to do. Duty to her family. Her kingdom.

      Deep down, she’d always known her father had allowed her time away, allowed her time to heal the pain of her broken heart. But now that reprieve was over. It was time for her to do the right thing. Do the duty she’d been born to.

      But marriage to Nassif? She shivered with sickening revulsion. Marriage to anyone would be bad enough, but to her late fiancé’s vile uncle? Unthinkable.

      Her father watched her without saying anything. He didn’t even flinch when, with a great shuddering breath that could lead to tears if she let it, she looked at him. Imploring him to understand. Imploring him to tell her he’d find someone else.

      Someone else. The words wandered around her mind like mist on an autumn morning in London, shrouding all other thoughts. What if she did marry someone else?

      Spurred on by the idea, the desperate thought that this was the solution, she moved back towards him. ‘I can’t marry Nassif, Father.’

      ‘Ardu Safra is facing financial ruin. Whilst you have been in London things have become very bad here.’

      ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

      ‘It is for me to deal with. I was counting on your marriage to Alif to make things right.’ The sharpness of his words only just hid his panic, the seriousness of the situation.

      ‘There were problems even then?’ she asked, saddened to think she’d been happy and free in London, while her mother and father had carried this burden.

      ‘Yes. And now I must ask that you make a marriage with Nassif.’ His voice had hardened. Was that to hide his shame that things had got so bad in the country he ruled? Guilt raced through her, forming a potent cocktail, mixing with her fear. A cocktail that made her almost physically sick.

      ‘Father, no. Not Nassif.’

      ‘He is a very wealthy man.’ Her father looked at her, no longer the strong ruler but a man who looked broken and defeated. A man who was depending on her. Her heart wrenched. ‘And he is willing to invest in Ardu Safra.’

      She shook her head in protest, but the straight line of her father’s mouth warned her it was in vain.

      ‘Your marriage will bring the finances you should have brought with your marriage five years ago.’ She knew that gritty determination in his voice. He would get what he wanted. One way or another. And he wanted to save Ardu Safra by marrying her off to a wealthy man.

      But did that man have to be Nassif?

      A solution barged into her mind, making any further words almost impossible. Her heart thudded loudly. Dare she risk telling him? Risk his anger? And, worst of all, his disapproval of her. ‘No. I can’t do it.’

      ‘Imagine the shame your mother will face.’ He believed he held the ace cards, but she wouldn’t allow him to emotionally blackmail her. He wouldn’t use the close relationship she and her mother had always shared. He wouldn’t do that to her any more.

      ‘This isn’t about Mother,’ she said flatly, glaring at him, that wilful streak of hers beginning to take over as the solution to her problem grew in possibility. Like the sun as it rose over the mountains of the desert. Becoming bigger and stronger with each passing minute.

      ‘And the people of Ardu Safra? Will you stand by and allow them to wallow in poverty and hunger because you won’t do your duty? Because you won’t make a marriage to bring wealth back to our kingdom?’

      Damn it, he did hold the ace cards. All of them. And he played them well. Too well.

      ‘Don’t, Father,’ she snapped.

      ‘How will your charities view you when they know who you really are? That you turned your back on the country of your birth? Its people?’ He stood once more, realising she was retreating, on the verge of accepting defeat. His threat to reveal her true identity, even though he’d helped her keep it secret, all he needed to use.

      ‘That’s not fair.’ How had she thought he was a fair man?

      ‘You will have to marry someone, Kaliana. A man with great wealth. A man able to rule by your side when the time comes.’ He paused, letting the image of her future permeate her mind. ‘This is your country. Your people.’

      Marry someone. That was what he’d said. Again, the other less hideous option rushed into her mind. That was it. She would find her own husband.

      ‘Then I will find someone else.’ The words tumbled out in a panic and she knew she was in danger of losing the control she was fighting to keep on her emotions. ‘I will find a man to marry who can bring the finances needed to Ardu Safra.’

      Her father looked at her, scowling, but before he could shut down her idea she spoke again. ‘I cannot and will not marry Nassif.’

      She expected him to be angry. Braced herself for his wrath, but it didn’t come. He looked as stunned as she felt.

      He shook his head in disbelief. ‘You really think you can find a man, one wealthier than Nassif, willing to marry you and take on the demands of being husband to a princess?’

      ‘Yes, Father, I do.’ Now her panic changed direction. How could she ever achieve that?

      ‘Very well, I will prepare for a wedding.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘On the day of your twenty-sixth birthday you will be married.’

      ‘But that’s...’ She paused to calculate, her mind too numb to function. ‘October. The beginning of October. Only four months away.’

      He nodded solemnly. She wanted to rail against him, but he’d changed. There was something different about him. Something that tugged mercilessly at her heartstrings. Something that once again hinted that the father she’d loved as a child, the man she wished he could be, lingered beneath his tough exterior.

      But she wasn’t about to let go of the chance he’d given her. ‘And if I haven’t found a husband by then?’ Inside she was a wild rush of panic. She could do this. She had to do this.

      ‘You have until September,’ her father solemnly said. ‘Find a suitable husband by then or marry Nassif on your twenty-sixth birthday.’