The Sheikh’s Reluctant Bride by Teresa Southwick Read Free Book Online Page A

And she is dead.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    I F THERE had been anything in the press about this, Jessica had missed it, but that wasn’t surprising. Between college and part-time jobs, the world went by and she’d missed everything until after graduation. But everything she’d said to him and the raw pain on Kardahl’s face now made her feel lower than a slug. Whatever life-form that was, she was worse. Her only defense was that nothing like this had crossed her mind. Death didn’t touch the fabulously wealthy and famous.
    She realized that was stupid and knew she tended to romanticize. Everyone got sick; fatal diseases didn’t discriminate between old and young, rich and poor.
    She needed to say something, but all she could think of was, “What happened?”
    His jaw was rigid and edgy anger rolled off him in waves. “It was two years ago,” he started, his voice even and low and all the more dangerous for its softness. “An accident.”
    Not an illness? “How?”
    “We were chased relentlessly by reporters who wanted a picture, a story, a word that could be made into a story.” He walked to the low balcony wall and looked out into the distance where the lights of the city on the coast twinkled brightly. “Antonia was upset that we were followed, as we had taken great pains to be alone. She absolutely insisted the driver attempt to outrun the horde of photographers although both of us tried to calm her. The roads were wet. The car flipped. She died instantly. Unfortunately I did not.”
    Now it was the lack of anger in his voice that frightened her. She moved beside him and settled her hand on his arm. When he met her gaze, light caught the scars on his lip and cheek. She reached up and started to touch them, but he ducked away.
    “Is that how you got those?” she asked.
    “What does it matter?”
    That would be yes. Oh God. An apology would be in order, but she didn’t even know where to start. “Kardahl, I didn’t know. If I had, I’d never have brought up such a painful subject. I’m very sorry. Please accept my deepest condolences on the loss of your wife—”
    “Not my wife,” he bit out, the anger spontaneous and underlining each word.
    “But if you loved her—I don’t—”
    “The king held tightly to tradition and I was betrothed to another.”
    He’d been betrothed to her, Jessica realized.
    She’d stood between him and the woman he’d desperately wanted and couldn’t have—now he would never have his Antonia. She felt responsible, which was stupid since she’d known nothing about him, Bha’Khar or the tradition that was responsible for her being duped into this marriage. But the resentment and lingering pain in his eyes told her he wouldn’t want to hear any of that.
    “I think now I understand the animosity between you and your father. Under the circumstances, why did you agree to go through with the proxy marriage?”
    The hard expression in his eyes made her flinch when he turned his gaze on her. “Because it ceased to matter.”
    As in he disregarded all women equally because he’d cared too much about one. Jessica was shocked and ashamed in equal parts. She’d misjudged him horribly and insulted him to his face even though he’d been unfailingly polite to her. This rage and resentment were emotions he’d kept well hidden.
    From her own experience she knew that the bitterest of tears shed over a grave were for words left unsaid or things left undone. What was it that Kardahl had not been able to say or do?
     
    “I have arranged for you to have riding lessons,” Kardahl said the morning after the reception.
    During breakfast, he was still trying to understand why he had told Jessica of Antonia. Perhaps because Jessica had provoked him. Or he’d grown weary of her low opinion. Either way, she’d caused him to feel something and he did not like it. All the more reason to facilitate the meetings with her family and send her back to America.
    He had instructed Jessica to put on