Leila stared out. The sea was perfect. Not for the hundredth time today did she wonder what her parents would think about her in that moment—married to a man she hardly knew but whom she was drawn toward for some reason. What would her mother think? Was this a big mistake? A mistake her mother hoped she would never make?

A warm hand briefly brushed her naked shoulder. By the way her body reacted she did not need to turn around to know that it was Marco. He stood close behind her. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” His voice was a murmur, his warm breath caressed her ear. Her skin prickled as a frisson of awareness shimmered down her spine.

“I fell in love with the beauty of the sea on my first sailing trip. This is my favourite time of day—while at sea—the reflection of the sunset and early stars on the still water, always a breath-taking sight.”  The tenderness in his voice was as gentle as his open palm slowly sliding down her arm.

When Leila remained silent, Marco continued. “My home in Italy is a different beauty to this one but it is one that stirs the soul too.” Again she noted his tone of voice. This time there was an unmistakeable ache. “I am sure you will love it as I do.”

“I look forward to seeing it. Is it near the sea?” 

“No. It’s a small distance away, in the heart of the Chianti region where the sweetest Sangiovese vines grow in the most beautiful part of Tuscany.” Pride and sentiment clear in his voice.

“You love it there, yet you live here in London,” Leila remarked.

“Business,” Marco simply stated, “but one-day when I have all that I need and tire of wheeling and dealing, well then— I will be free to spend all my time in the most beautiful part of the world.”

Leila pondered his response. She wondered what it was that he really needed. 

One of the boat’s officers, Leila did not recall his name although he was friendly and polite when they were introduced earlier, interrupted the course of her thoughts. 

“Mr. Vincenzi, please excuse the intrusion. Captain Ross wondered if you would like to take the wheel and steer us out to sea.” 

Marco nodded, enthusiastically. “Yes.”  He turned to Leila, offering her his arm, “Would you like to watch, Leila?” 

“Maybe later when I find my—sailor’s feet, is that the correct terminology?” She tried to make light of her refusal. She was exhausted. And she needed some time to herself. A few moments ago, for the first time since they met, she and Marco were talking like two people who liked each other. 

No deals, no propositions and legal conditions. Just two people talking about simple things, things that mattered. And she liked it. She liked the Marco who spoke of his home with such sentiment. But that was not part of the deal, was it? She was not supposed to like him. 

“It has been a long day, Princess. I suppose you would like to dress into something appropriate for later.” He said the last part in a whisper and winked at her as he walked off in the direction of the helm. She was appalled at the possibility of the officer hearing his comment. Red faced she turned away and escaped to their stateroom. 

Although when she thought about it, she realised, she hadn’t escaped at all, she had merely entered the lion’s den. 

She had tried desperately to avoid thoughts of Marco in the past week and she had hoped it would get easier. But the few moments they had spent with each other had been stilted and strangely unsatisfying. 

For some reason, this disturbed her. She knew she should hate him. Didn’t he force her into this marriage? Well, maybe force was a strong word but he did give her no choice. But try as she did to focus on his arrogance and his need to have his way, other thoughts were stronger. Like the way 

her heart went crazy every time he was near her, or how good it felt to be in his arms and feel his gentle kiss turn into raging passion. 

Those unwelcome thoughts, she had tried to dispel by immersing herself in the whirlwind of activity in preparation for the wedding and her honeymoon. This sailing trip to Italy—Marco’s home, was part of their journey, and the beginning of their honeymoon. 

There was no doubt what that meant. Marco had her sign legal documents as to what her role as his wife entailed amongst other things. The ruby would only be hers if all the conditions were met. She should hate him, she thought again. 

She paced the room, still furious. Her heart seemed to pound right out of her chest in anticipation of what was to come that evening. She knew what was to come. Hadn’t he just made his intentions for their evening entirely clear?

The waiting seemed endless.  There was a knock on the door and for heart-stopping seconds, Leila watched as the door slowly opened. It was Mira.

“Would, your highness, like me to help you dress?” The woman asked shyly, her eyes peered over to the huge bed that seemed to dominate the room. 

Leila saw the expression on Mira’s face and guessed the course of her thoughts. Just like every other female who came into contact with Marco, Mira was not immune to Marco’s charm and his striking sexuality. It was easy to imagine Marco on that bed and perhaps Mira thought Leila lucky. If only she knew.   

“That will not be necessary,” Leila said curtly. She did not mean to be annoyed but she could not help it. 

“B—but your lovely new things. You have to...” Mira said as she pointed to Leila’s walk-in closet.

“Mira, I don’t need your help. Not now. Please go to your cabin and rest. It has been a long day. I just want to be alone right now.” Leila saw the disappointment in the young woman’s face but it could not be helped.

Alone again, Leila sat on the bed. Her beautiful but simple wedding dress had served its purpose. She supposed that she should make some effort and look the part of a new bride. There was a collection of the flimsiest silk and lace lingerie in the closet. Marco had insisted on a new wardrobe. A stylist had arrived a few days before the wedding with gowns from some of the top fashion houses. Leila had been astounded at the designs as well as the outrageous price tags attached to the lovely clothes. Guilt niggled at the extravagant expense and she had noted that she could have bought presents for nearly every child in Oudh with the shocking amounts of money that had been spent on her trousseau. But Marco had insisted. Leila realised that she might have to get used to Marco having his way. She did not like that. She should hate him, she decided again.