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The Forced Bride Of Alazar
Kate Hewitt
Kidnapped decades ago, Azim al Bahjat stuns the Kingdom of Alazar with his sudden return. To secure his position, the ruthless royal must claim the woman who was always intended to be his–even if sheltered yet beguiling Johara Behwar resists…No matter how secretly thrilling she finds the flashes of heat beneath Azim's icy exterior, Johara's every instinct is to run. But Azim will not be denied, and as he shows his virgin bride how intoxicating their wedding night could be, Johara soon finds herself enticed to surrender to the sultan!
Claimed for the sultan’s pleasure!
Kidnapped decades ago, Azim al Bahjat stuns the Kingdom of Alazar with his sudden return. To secure his position, the ruthless royal must claim the woman who was always intended to be his—even if sheltered yet beguiling Johara Behwar resists...
No matter how secretly thrilling she finds the flashes of heat beneath Azim’s icy exterior, Johara’s every instinct is to run. But Azim will not be denied, and as he shows his virgin bride how intoxicating their wedding night could be, Johara soon finds herself enticed to surrender to the sultan!
‘His Highness, Azim al Bahjat,’ the attendant intoned, and with fear coating her insides with ice Johara stepped into the room.
The man she was meant to marry stood in the centre of the room, his body erect and still, his face grave and unsmiling. Johara could see how black and opaque his eyes were—like a starless night in the desert. His dark hair was cut so close she could see the powerful bones of his skull, and a scar snaked from the corner of his left eye to the curve of his mouth, clearly long since healed over, although the wounded flesh still looked red and livid.
The whole effect was beyond intimidating, and she had to fight not to take an instinctive step back towards the doors, towards safety, away from this man whose face even in repose looked frightening.
If she looked at his features reasonably, Johara told herself, fighting off panic, she could see that he was an attractive man—his features even, his nose a straight slash, his mouth a mobile, sensual curve.
Then Azim inclined his head in what Johara supposed was a greeting. His voice, when he spoke was clipped, cold.
‘We will marry in one week’s time.’
Seduced by a Sheikh (#uf2605fab-884b-5e3b-9981-4b5eec157bea)
Two heirs to a desert kingdom need brides to secure their legacies!
Brothers Malik and Azim al Bahjat are the two princes of Alazar, wielding enormous power with iron control.
They have no interest in love—but duty demands they take convenient wives, and these ruthless royals always get what they want!
Read Malik’s story in
The Secret Heir of Alazar
April 2017
&
Read Azim’s story in
The Forced Bride of Alazar
May 2017
Don’t miss this sensational new duet from Kate Hewitt!
The Forced Bride of Alazar
Kate Hewitt
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
After spending three years as a die-hard New Yorker, KATE HEWITT now lives in a small village in the English Lake District with her husband, their five children and a golden retriever. In addition to writing intensely emotional stories she loves reading, baking, and playing chess with her son—she has yet to win against him, but she continues to try. Learn more about Kate at kate-hewitt.com (http://kate-hewitt.com/).
Books by Kate Hewitt
Mills & Boon Modern Romance
Moretti’s Marriage Command
Inherited by Ferranti
Kholodov’s Last Mistress
Seduced by a Sheikh
The Secret Heir of Alazar
The Billionaire’s Legacy
A Di Sione for the Greek’s Pleasure
Secret Heirs of Billionaires
Demetriou Demands His Child
One Night With Consequences
Larenzo’s Christmas Baby
The Marakaios Brides
The Marakaios Marriage
The Marakaios Baby
Rivals to the Crown of Kadar
Captured by the Sheikh
Commanded by the Sheikh
Visit the Author Profile page
at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.
To Jenna, thanks for all your encouragement and chats-by-text.
See you in Orlando?!
Love, K.
Contents
Cover (#ue8fc1557-cb86-5449-838d-c3162a6f9a76)
Back Cover Text (#u00ef32bf-0072-5a22-bd85-b6b38851f3ca)
Introduction (#ubd2a74e4-3d82-5b06-ba4b-a8d1ed1ebe25)
Seduced by a Sheikh (#u4b6ed423-95f9-5cda-8e5e-3c3daff84801)
Title Page (#u59c2efe6-ec9b-5a4a-ac97-e0535f2d5b5d)
About the Author (#u517a653a-b492-5fa5-b2dc-6d01623472b1)
Dedication (#ua001b388-0bc1-5b11-943f-669314f52395)
CHAPTER ONE (#ua1415e30-fd0b-5d0e-ad35-2c4f3f6f021f)
CHAPTER TWO (#u63821832-8402-5c9c-90a8-138e1ba6481c)
CHAPTER THREE (#u548628ef-b216-5876-b634-dfdaa520ef66)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u4263f0fc-4a79-5ccd-bbf7-2d30d71268a7)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uf2605fab-884b-5e3b-9981-4b5eec157bea)
‘I HAVE GOOD NEWS, HABIBTI.’
Johara Behwar gazed in surprise at her father striding towards her. She was standing in the garden of the family villa in Provence, the dusty-sweet smell of lavender scenting the air, the sun shining benevolently down on a world on the cusp of summer. Her father’s visits to their villa in France were precious and rare, and he’d only been there last week. To see him again was indeed unexpected. ‘Good news—’ She almost said again but then she thought better of it. Her father had not viewed the end of her engagement last week in the same shining light that she had.
‘Yes, I think you will be very pleased,’ Arif continued. ‘And I, of course, am pleased when you are pleased.’ He walked towards her, a smile creasing his weathered face, his hands outstretched. Johara smiled back, caught up in his cheerful mood.
‘I’m pleased simply to see you, Father. That alone is a treat.’
‘You are so kind, habibti. And in return here is a treat for you.’ He took a small velvet pouch from his breast pocket and handed it to Johara.
She drew a diamond pendant from within the blue velvet, the jewels winking in the bright sunlight. ‘It’s lovely. Thank you, Father.’ Obediently, because she knew her father expected it, she clasped it around her neck, the heart shape encrusted with diamonds nestling in the hollow of her throat. It was indeed lovely, but, considering how quiet her life was, she had little need or place to wear it. Still, she appreciated the thought he’d given.
‘What is this good news?’ she asked as Arif took hold of her hands.
‘I have renegotiated your marriage.’ Arif squeezed her hands as his smile widened, triumph glinting in his eyes. Johara stared at her father, confusion making her mind spin even as sudden dread seeped like acid into her stomach. The diamond pendant felt cold against her skin. This was not the good news he’d said it was. This wasn’t good news at all.
‘Renegotiated?’ she repeated faintly. Her hands felt icy encased in her father’s. ‘But you told me barely a week ago that Malik—I mean His Highness—had ended our engagement.’ She’d had six days first for that news to sink in—and then to revel in the glorious freedom she’d never thought to possess. The marriage she’d been trying not to think about and dreading at the same time would no longer happen. She’d felt as if the shackles she hadn’t realised she’d been wearing had suddenly fallen off, leaving her feeling light, as if she could fly. She was free—free to do as she liked, and in a heady moment she’d let herself think about an independent future, maybe even going to university. The whole world had beckoned, shining and wide open for the first time in her life.
And now... ‘How can it be renegotiated? You told me that His Highness was...was infertile.’ It seemed indelicate to mention such a thing, but her father had not spared her the details last week, when he’d flown to France to inform her that Malik al Bahjat, heir to the Sultanate of Alazar, had called off their wedding. He’d been furious on her behalf, storming and stomping around, and he had ignored Johara’s stammering attempts to placate him and explain that she really didn’t mind not getting married to Malik, or, in fact, not getting married at all. She hadn’t quite dared to tell her father that she preferred it. After a lifetime of being reminded where her duty lay that seemed a step too far, even as she’d told herself her father surely only wanted her happiness.
‘Yes, yes,’ Arif said now with a touch of impatience. ‘But Malik is no longer the heir, and we thank heaven that you did not marry him before this happened. That would have been a disaster.’
Johara agreed, but she doubted it was for the same reason as her father. A week of freedom had made her realise how unwelcome an arranged marriage was. Malik was a virtual stranger and a life bound in duty had lost any lustre it might have possessed. But she knew her father would not agree. So what was going on? If not Malik, then...?
Arif dropped her hands to rub his own together in obvious satisfaction. ‘It has all worked out so well for us, Jojo,’ he said, using the childhood nickname she hadn’t heard in years. ‘For you.’
An instant and instinctive disagreement was on the tip of her tongue, but Johara swallowed it down. She never disagreed with her father. She hated to see the smile fade from her father’s face, the shadows of disappointment enter his eyes.
Invoking her father’s displeasure always felt like the sun disappearing behind a cloud, a sudden chill entering the air and her heart. Her mother’s love had long since gone, and taking away her father’s attention was a further blow she knew she could not withstand. ‘Tell me what has happened, please,’ she said instead, trying to inject a note of interest in her voice that she was far from feeling.
‘Azim has returned!’ Arif spoke with a joy Johara didn’t understand. The name was familiar, and yet...
‘Azim...?’
‘The true heir of Alazar. He has returned from the dead, or so we all thought him.’ Arif shook his head in happy disbelief. ‘Truly it is a miracle.’
‘Azim.’ Of course, Azim al Bahjat, Malik’s older brother. Stupidly she had not made the association. Azim had been kidnapped twenty years ago, when Johara had only been two. There never had been a ransom note delivered or a body found, and so Azim had remained missing, presumed dead, for two decades. Malik had become the heir, had been the only heir in Johara’s mind. Until now.
‘Azim,’ she said again, the name sounding strange on her tongue. ‘What...what happened? How has he returned?’
‘He had amnesia, apparently, after the kidnapping. He’s been living in Italy for twenty years, not knowing who he was. But then he saw a mention of Alazar on the news and it all came flooding back. He has returned to claim his throne.’
‘But...’ A realisation was growing in her mind like a sandstorm kicking up in the desert, obliterating rational thought just as the sand blotted out the sky. Surely her father wouldn’t...to a complete stranger... ‘But what does that have to do with me?’ She was afraid she knew the answer.
