Imprisoned by a Vow
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Dark eyes surveyed her so closely she saw the exact moment he made up his mind. His lips pursed and his eyes gleamed approvingly.
Joss Carmody knew what he wanted. A wife who wouldn’t clutter his life. A woman who’d marry him for his wealth and prestige. A woman who would shop and amuse herself while he got on with what interested him: making even more billions of dollars. Money drove him. Nothing else.
What would he do if he realised he meant just one thing to her?
Escape.
‘He’s late!’ Gamil paced the courtyard, his heavy tread careless of the exquisite mosaics Leila’s ancestors had installed and the carefully nurtured grass by the long mirror pool, a lush green bed in a land of scarce rainfall and high temperatures.
‘What did you say to him?’ He spun round, spittle spraying Leila’s cheek. ‘It must have been you. Everything else was settled. There’s no reason for him to cry off unless you put doubt in his mind.’
His angry countenance filled her vision but she stood steadfast, knowing better than to retreat before his fury.
‘You heard all that passed between us,’ she said levelly. Too much in fact. Her temerity in laughing at Joss Carmody’s self-conceit had earned her weeks of punishment on bread and water. Fortunately her rations had been increased this week so she wouldn’t be too weak to say her vows.
‘That I did.’ Ire mottled Gamil’s complexion. He leaned forward, his stale breath hot on her face. ‘I heard you play word games! Obviously that was enough to make him have second thoughts. And now…’ Gamil gritted his teeth and turned away.
‘How will I hold my head up if you’re jilted by such a man? Think what it will do for my reputation, my prospects at court! I have plans…’
He stalked to the other end of the courtyard, muttering. His hands clenched and unclenched as if ready to throttle someone.
Her stepfather rarely resorted to physical violence, preferring more subtle methods. But she had no illusions she was safe if he felt himself goaded too far.
Leila pressed clammy hands together. If only Joss Carmody would thrust open the ornamental doors and stride into the courtyard.
Never had an unwanted bridegroom been so eagerly awaited.
Fear churned her stomach. Was Gamil right? Had the Australian cried off? What, then, of her plans for independence and the career she’d always wanted?
No! She couldn’t think like that. There was still time, though he was ninety minutes late and the whispering guests had already been ushered into the salon for refreshments.
Heat filled the courtyard. Leila stiffened her weary spine against the frightening compulsion to admit defeat.
How many more years could she take? This last bout of solitary confinement had almost broken her.
Gamil had broken her mother, destroying her vibrant optimism and love of life. Leila had watched her change from an outgoing, charming beauty, interested in everyone and everything. In a few short years she’d transformed from a society hostess par excellence and an asset to her first husband’s brilliant diplomatic career to a faded, downtrodden wraith, jumping at shadows. She’d lost the will to live long before illness had claimed her.
Leila tipped her head up, feeling the sun on her face. Who knew how long before she’d feel it again?
Despite the gossamer-fine silks, the lavish henna decorations on her hands and feet, the weight of traditional gold jewellery at her throat and ears, Leila was no pampered princess but a prisoner held against her will.
If Joss didn’t show, standing here in the open air might be the closest she’d come to freedom till she came of age at twenty-five in another sixteen months.
‘What are you doing outside in the heat?’ The dark voice sidled through her thoughts and shock punched deep in her solar plexus.
He was here!
Her eyes snapped open. At the sight of his imposing frame, his don’t-mess-with-me jaw and piercing eyes, Leila found herself smiling with relief. Her first genuine smile in years. It stretched stiff facial muscles till they hurt, the sensation strange in her world of guarded emotion.
Joss halted, struck anew by her curious combination of fragility and composure. That hint of steel in her delicate form. She looked thinner, her neat jaw more pronounced and her wrist narrow as she raised a hand and the weight of gold bangles jingled.
Her eyes opened, the pupils wide in clear grey depths. Then as he watched velvety shades of green appeared, turning her gaze bewitching.
She smiled. Not that tiny knowing smile of last month, but a broad grin that made something roll over in the pit of his stomach.
Ensnared, he drank in the sight of her, the warmth in her frank appraisal, the pleasure that drew him closer.
Heavy scent filled his nostrils, a dusky rose that clogged his senses. It wasn’t right on her. But then this woman, decked in the traditional wedding finery of her land, seemed so different from the one whose verbal sparring had intrigued him weeks ago.
‘I was waiting for you.’ There was no rancour in her voice but her eyes held his as if awaiting his explanation.
A hot spurt of sensation warmed his skin. Guilt?
Gamil hadn’t dared voice reproach when Joss arrived, knowing as countless others had before him that Joss lived by his own rules, at his own convenience. He didn’t give a damn if his priorities didn’t match anyone else’s.
Business came first with him—always. The urgent calls he’d taken this morning had required immediate action whereas a wedding could be delayed.