His Arranged Marriage. Tina LeonardЧитать онлайн книгу.
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“Will you never want me, my prince?” Serena asked
“I—I…” Cade stared at her, uncertain as to how to answer. “You have to give me a minute to think this through. I don’t know that I can make love to a woman intended for my brother. My mind still thinks of you that way.”
Serena leaned close to him, near enough to tease him with her perfume and her femininity. “Prince Kadar, your brother did not want me.”
“He didn’t have a chance to find out.”
“The race goes to the swiftest,” she said, placing her fingers lightly over his hand. “In this case, the crown, with all its benefits and drawbacks, goes to the fastest warrior. That would be you.”
“Only because Mac—”
“You are my choice,” she told him sincerely. “His arranged marriage is now yours. So, my husband, do you find me desirable enough to make love to me?”
His Arranged Marriage
Tina Leonard
This book was a gift, and I thank Melissa, Denise and Tashya for giving it to me. Lisa and Dean, Mumsie can cease being a grouch now. Olivia Holton, your treatise on “sheikh appeal” was invaluable—this jet’s for you! Fatin Soufan and Shadin Quran, thanks for the support—this sheikh’s for you! Last, a smile to the one who inspired me as I wrote this book. You’ll never know you were the sheikh in my heroine’s dreams, but that is as it should be.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As a child, Tina Leonard cut her teeth on Alfred Hitchcock black-and-white TV shows, enjoying late-night summer episodes with her stepmother, Judy. To this day, Tina has an affinity for the old, scary movies, and the hokier, the better! Tina in person is a self-avowed chicken, however. The only brave thing she has ever done is scare a large rat away from an open car door! She eschews the blood-and-guts movies and books, preferring instead more psychological bogeys, and believes fervently that the most compelling part of any good romantic mystery is the timeless and magical love between a man and a woman.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
“I’m not getting married,” Mac Coleman stated, “and that’s that.”
“That would be my response,” Cade Coleman agreed, shooting a grin at their mother, Rose. She stared back at her twin sons with dismay. “Mac shouldn’t have to marry a woman he doesn’t know—much less love—princess or otherwise.”
“Cade, you know that with Alex’s marriage to Hannah, Mac became the next prince in line to secure a royal match.”
“It’s hell being the oldest twin,” Mac grumbled. “I hate to be a disappointment to the family, but I’m much better with horses than women. Besides, thirty years old is much too young to get married.”
“Much,” Cade responded cheerfully, lifting a glass of tea to his brother’s sentiment.
“This is a serious matter, Cade,” Rose insisted.
Mac snorted. “Not since it’s not his neck in the matrimonial noose.”
Cade clapped his brother on the back. “Don’t take it so hard, bro. Maybe this princess is just what you need to break you out of your shell.”
“I like my shell just fine. Look, I spend long hours with the horses. She’s not going to want to be brought here and then left while I’m working. I’m pretty certain princesses expect to be waited on hand and foot.”
Cade raised his brows. “Well, those twenty-three minutes that saved me from being born first are certainly playing in my favor now. I wouldn’t be in your boots for anything.”
“The importance of this matter can not be underlined enough.” Rose leaned forward from her seat at the head of the table. “A marriage to Serena Wilson-Al Farid secures the lineage and will put the political turmoil concerning Balahar and Sorajhee to rest.”
“Imagine that a simple wedding band and an ‘I do’ can work such miracles,” Cade said. “Mac’s fine here at The Desert Rose, Mother. None of us needs to marry King Zakariyya Al Farid’s adopted daughter.”
“It is your rightful heritage, Kadar,” Rose said quietly. “It was stolen from us many years ago. This will put everything right again.”
Mac shook his head as Cade began another spirited rebuttal. “Mother’s right. I just need a day or two to absorb this.” Prince Makin—Mac—stood, suddenly tall and imposing beside his mother. Cade watched as mother and son stared at each other for a single second. Mac nodded before leaning down to give his mother a respectful brush on the cheek.
Then he left the room.
Cade sighed as he felt Rose’s even gaze upon him.
“I know. I’m not a dutiful son.”
“No. You’re not.”
“Looks like royal duty stinks to me.”
“Duty is an interchangeable word with responsibility.” Rose took a sip of tea. “Mac will do what he knows is right for The Desert Rose, and he also knows he is making me very happy. It is no small thing to be able to help achieve peace between countries that desperately need it right now, either.”
“Good boy, Mac,” Cade said under his breath.
“Cade, you have done a fine job handling the business end of The Desert Rose operations. But it is no secret to you, I am sure, that eventually this alliance could assure our position as a foremost Arabian horse farm. The most urgent factor, however, is that we gain back the royal heritage that was wrongly wrested from the family. I feel certain your father, were he alive, would approve.”
“No downside to the whole thing except for Mac’s heart. He’s never been easygoing or inclined to take life lightly.”
“No, he lacks that particular dynamic of your personality,” Rose agreed. “Sometimes not an altogether bad thing.”
“He’s too serious. He’s reflective. He’ll suffer if the marriage doesn’t work out. You know Mac will blame himself, at the least because of the responsibility involved. He’s a poster boy for doing the right thing. If this princess is a pampered pillow-sitter, or even if they simply can’t make this union a happy one, Mac will take it hard.”
“Whereas you would simply say, ‘Buck up, Princess Serena baby, this is life in Texas. Not like you saw on the Dallas TV show.”’
“Maybe.” He eyed his mother from the other end of the table, recognizing the steel in her eyes and her tone.