For Duty's Sake. Lucy Monroe
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she allow herself to be railroaded into a marriage with the potential to be every bit as miserable as her parents were for so many years.
His eyes narrowed, his expression turning even more grim than usual. “You are not making any sense.”
“We’ve been promised for ten years, Zahir. If you had wanted to marry me, we would already be living in wedded harmony here in your family’s palace.” They would definitely at least be formally engaged.
“It has not been the right time.”
She’d heard that argument before. And believed it. First, she’d been too young. Then, his father’s health had been precarious. The idea of announcing an engagement during such a time was not appropriate, or so Zahir had claimed. Then, Khalil had gotten engaged and stealing his spotlight during the preparations for, celebration of and immediate time after Khalil and Jade’s wedding would have been wrong. The same excuse came convenient to hand when Amir and Grace became engaged.
For ten years, five—if you only counted the years since she became an adult—they had not found the right time to announce their engagement, much less actually get married. And they never would, if it meant finding a time when Zahir wanted the nuptials to take place.
Though Crown Sheikh Zahir bin Faruq al Zohra would no doubt eventually allow duty to force him into following through on a marriage he did not desire.
Since she would be the other half of that marriage, she wasn’t going to let it happen. Realizing that had meant giving up her dreams. And that had hurt, even more than seeing the photos of Zahir kissing Elsa.
But then who was Angele kidding? Certainly not herself. Seeing the unfamiliar happiness on Zahir’s face had lacerated her heart far more than the passion. The numbness having long since given way to a devastation she would have happily avoided for the rest of her life. And her heart was still bleeding.
Better that, than a lifetime of pricks from the knife edge of the constant knowledge that she was not the woman her husband wanted to be with however. When she’d conceived her current plan, a steel band had formed around her chest, and that constriction was still there. Sometimes, she felt like it was the only thing stopping her from falling apart.
But that, too, would fade. Eventually. It had to.
How much worse would it be to live the rest of her life married to a man who did not love her and never would? Who did not even like her enough to spend any time with her not dictated by their roles and responsibilities?
To watch Zahir find joy in the arms of other women as her father had done over and over again? Angele wasn’t about to go that route.
Even after receiving the packet of pictures, funnily enough it had been the announcement of Amir’s marriage that had settled the issue for her. Amir had been meant to marry another member of a powerful sheikh’s family, but Lina had refused the match and Amir had ended up married today to the woman who held his heart instead.
As Angele had told her mother, Amir and Grace’s very real love had made the wedding ceremony beautiful.
What she had not told her mother was that she had seen the envy in Zahir’s expression when he had looked at Amir as he stood up with him. No one else had noticed, of course, but Angele had spent a lifetime watching Zahir with more attention than research scientists gave their life’s work.
Lina’s courage had given Angele the courage to come up with her plan. And Amir’s happiness today had cemented her determination to follow through with it. If there was any chance Zahir could know his brother’s happiness, he deserved to have it.
She could do no less for the man she loved with her whole heart.
And she would accept nothing less than that, either, even if it meant spending the rest of her life alone.
“Zahir, I have always found you to be honest. A man of deep integrity.” His liaison with Elsa had not changed that.
As he’d pointed out, Angele and Zahir were not actually engaged. And he had never once lied about it. She’d simply never thought to ask point-blank if he had sex with other women. However, she was no longer rock-solid in her belief he would not take mistresses after their marriage. In fact, that certainty had died a pretty painful death.
No matter what he’d said today. “I am.”
“Are you in love with me?” One of those point-blank questions she could not avoid asking. Not now.
He did not even blink, his handsome features set in an emotionless mask. “Our association is not a matter of love.”
“No, I know it isn’t, but please, this once, just answer my question with a simple yes or no.” His jaw tightened. “Please.”
“I do not see why you would ask.”
“I’m not asking you to understand, simply to answer.”
“No.”
She almost asked if his negative was a refusal to answer, but then she looked into his gray eyes and saw the smallest glimmer of pity. He knew she had feelings for him he did not return.
The pain his answer caused wasn’t mitigated by the fact she’d been expecting it. Though she really wished it had worked like that. Knowing he did not love her and hearing it from his lips were apparently in totally different realms of experience.
She managed to nod. “That is what I thought.”
“Love is not necessary in a marriage such as ours.”
“I don’t agree. I will not marry a man who has no hope of loving me.”
“I—”
“Have not found something worthy of love in my person in ten years—you are not likely to find it now.” In fact, she was so certain of that impossibility, she was ready to take desperate action.
“You are all that is admirable in a future princess and eventual queen.”
But not as a woman he could love. She left the words unsaid as he did. “You deserve the happiness your brothers have found.”
“It is not in my stars.” His tacit agreement sent another javelin of pain straight through her, but she refused to buckle under the fresh wound.
She had a plan and in the end, it would be best for both of them. “It can be.”
“I will not turn my back on my duty.” And his tone censured her for suggesting he try.
“I will.”
CHAPTER TWO
ZAHIR felt those two small words like they were blows from the strongest of sparring partners. Part of him had always expected some kind of betrayal from Elsa Bosch, though not to the extent she had gone to. He had never been able to give her what she craved: commitment for the future.
However, he had believed Angele a woman of supreme honor and understanding of her duty.
“You are not serious.” He looked closely, trying to see evidence of too much champagne, but her pupils were not dilated.
Her cheeks were flushed, but the topic of their conversation could easily account for that.
“I am.” She looked down at the Bedouin figure and reached out to touch it almost wistfully. “I will not allow you to be locked into a marriage with a woman you cannot love.”
“And you expect to be loved by your husband.” Where had she gotten her romantic notions of marriage? Certainly not from her parents.
“Yes.”
“You appear to forget the importance of duty and family obligation.”
A deep, burning anger flickered briefly in Angele’s dark eyes. “My mother’s adherence to duty is one of the primary reasons I am so determined not to follow through on this farce of