Page 48 of Forty Days and One Knight
“No, Darius. Do not apologize again. None of what happened was your fault. In fact, you saved me from a worse fate. Lahana had been with him for hours and look how she was returned to us—bruises all over her. I only had a few. He was probably going to rape me again, and you stopped him from doing so.”
No matter how many times she told him it wasn’t his fault, he would forever carry the guilt of not reaching her before that fucking bastard defiled her. While he would never be able to make it up to her, he could at least try. Lowering his head to hers, he kissed and licked her mouth, encouraging her to open for him. As their tongues dueled, he pulled her onto his lap—to hell with the fake ass; he wanted the real thing.
Positioning her until she was straddling him, he molded his hands to her butt cheeks and squeezed. Over the years, he’d played some light “slap and tickle” with many women, but he’d never made any of them cry. After his conversations with his Dom buddies and Dr. Dunbar and some research, he now knew making Tahira cry, during BDSM play, could be very cathartic for her. She didn’t need to be “on” with him—pasting a false smile on her face and pretending everything was fine. Behind closed doors, she was free to be just Tahira—woman, friend, lover. Her royal title wasn’t necessary in this setting, and he honestly believed she preferred it that way. While he wouldn’t lay a sharp hand on her ass just yet, not without practice, getting her used to him touching her so intimately was a good place to start.
Damn, he was going to need his second or third—he’d lost count—cold shower of the day after this.
* * *
Timasur:Forty-eight hours before the royal wedding...
“There you are!”
Tahira glanced over her shoulder at Darius’s exasperated tone and grinned. He’d been getting lost in the palace over the past two days, complaining about needing breadcrumbs to find his way—after all there were five floors, eighty rooms, about half as many corridors, multiple staircases, and two elevators in the place. Add in a few secret passageways she’d loved to play in as a child, and still did on occasion, it was the ultimate place to play hide and seek, if one desired.
The palace sat on twenty-five acres of manicured lawns and maze-like gardens. It was gorgeous, but Tahira had always preferred the vacation home nestled in the mountains two hours north of Diado, Timasur’s capital city. It was there she’d felt more like the average person—there’d been a lot less bowing and catering to the royal family there. Her parents were more relaxed there too. Tahira could recall having campouts and climbing trees with her brother and cousins.
Darius stopped next to her and threw up his hands in frustration. “I seriously need a map for this place. I’m military, Tahira. Maps and GPSs are standard equipment for me. Who do I see to get the floor plans of this place? I’m not averse to bribery at this point.”
Laughing, she linked their arms together and led him toward the nearest staircase. “I was just on my way to see my bridesmaids getting their last fittings, but that can wait a few minutes. So, come with me. Amar keeps copies in the security office. I am certain you will qualify as a person who can be trusted not to publicize them.”
“Cross my heart. Your secrets are safe with me.”
Despite his joking manner, it was true. Her secrets would always be safe with Darius. He was an honorable man, and she trusted him with all her heart.
The palace staff was busier than it had been in a long time. Last minute preparations were being made for the weekend’s festivities. Friday would be the traditional, ethnic wedding, held in the gardens behind the palace, while Saturday’s nuptials would take place at the city’s main cathedral. The public and press would be lining the streets to catch a glimpse of Tahira on her way to be married and then again when the couple left the cathedral to attend the reception, at a nearby venue. Many of the over four hundred guests were royal family members and politicians from European and African countries. If this had been the full-scale celebration Tahira had fought against, the number of attendees would’ve crested the one thousand mark.
Even though the guest list had been carefully culled, Tahira’s and Darius’s friends and family would all be in attendance. Some had flown in from the United States yesterday and this morning, while a few more were scheduled to arrive tomorrow. Although, Ian had insisted Angie get her obstetrician’s permission to fly across the Atlantic Ocean in Trident’s private jet, five weeks before her due date. Tahira had assured the couple the best doctors in the city would be on call in case, God forbid, the woman went into premature labor. Ian had been showing signs of stress until Brody had pointed out that if “Little Bit” was born in Timasur, he or she would have dual citizenship. For some reason, the expectant father had gotten a kick out of that and seemed more at ease ever since.
After leaving Darius in good hands with the security staff, Tahira returned to the second floor and located the sitting room where her bridesmaids were being fitted in their dresses for both ceremonies. She found the staff of seamstresses making sure each woman would look beautiful on her special day. Lahana, who didn’t look happy to be there, Nala, Barrie, and two of Tahira’s other cousins, Shani and Abena, were all in one of their two custom-made dresses, as the designer and seamstresses checked their fittings and prepared to make any needed adjustments. Meanwhile, the Trident Security women, Kristen, Angie, Kat, Harper, Fancy, Lindsey, Jenn, Ian’s goddaughter, and Dakota, who was engaged to Darius’s teammate Logan Reese, sat on the comfortable couches and chairs around the room. They were relaxing and enjoying the fruit, finger sandwiches, and sparkling water the kitchen staff had prepared for them.
Laughter and chatter filled the room, but Tahira noticed one person was not having a good time. Lahana was frowning at her, her face taut with anger and envy. Tahira wished her cousin wouldn’t blame her. It hadn’t been their fault that Lahana, Tahira, and the other women had been sexually assaulted, but since Tahira had kept her own rape from her family, friends, and the rest of the world, Lahana didn’t know she’d suffered as well. Maybe it was time to change that. Only a handful of trusted people knew Lahana had been raped. They’d kept that out of the press, and she didn’t talk about it to anyone except Nala and a therapist her mother had insisted on. Tahira’s secret would be safe with her cousin.
Making her decision, Tahira would find some time to get Lahana alone later today and talk to her. They could support each other, and hopefully become friends again. Tahira didn’t want the huge elephant in the room to come between them.
“Princess Tahira! It’s about time you joined us. Come sit.” Jenn patted an empty spot on the sofa next to her. While she’d asked the Trident women to call her by her first name in private, with the staff present, they were using her title.
Tahira took the proffered seat and thanked a staff member when the young woman handed her a glass of sparkling water with a lime wedge. She glanced around the group. In various stages of pregnancy, Angie, Fancy, and Harper, who’d recently announced she and Marco were expecting their second child, had been given rocking recliners for comfort. “Are you all having a good time? Do you need anything?”
There were a chorus of yeses to the first question, and then a round of nos to the second.
“Everything is perfect,” Fancy gushed. “And the palace and grounds are gorgeous. The landscaping is stunning. We’ll have to join the men out in the gardens later.”
“Is that where they have gathered?” Tahira had been with her own staff going over the last-minute details, so she was wondering where they’d disappeared to. Raj had told her he’d take care of the TS men while the women were busy with whatever they would be doing.
“Yup, in the gaming area,” responded Kristen. “Devon and Marco are taking advantage of the nannies you arranged for JD and Mara, so they’re all out there playing Cornhole and taking bets on who is the best archer. Our men and bows and arrows—it wouldn’t surprise me if one of them ended up being shot in the butt.”
Everyone laughed—except Lahana. Without saying a word, she stormed into the attached powder room and slammed the door. An uncomfortable silence filled the room for a moment, but then the women tried to act like nothing had happened. Two minutes later, Lahana came back out, threw her dress at one of the seamstresses, then stalked out of the room.
Tahira’s gaze met Nala’s, and the younger woman shrugged and shook her head. Sighing, Tahira turned back to her guests. “I apologize for my cousin’s behavior. She has not been herself since ... since ...” While she trusted the TS women, there were staff members around. Discussing the kidnapping in their presence was not an option.
Angie held up her hand. “Say no more. We understand, and it’s fine.”
“Thank you.” Pasting on a smile she didn’t completely feel, Tahira answered the women’s questions about the wedding ceremonies. But after fifteen minutes or so, she couldn’t stand it any longer. The guilt she felt for lying to Lahana was eating a hole in her gut. Tahira had to find her and tell her she knew what the other woman was going through and that they would find a way to heal—together. “I am sorry, but if you will excuse me, I need to go speak to my cousin.”
She hurried out to the hallway and glanced in both directions. She hadn’t seen which way Lahana had gone. Thinking she’d returned to the guest suite she always stayed in on the third floor, Tahira headed for the stairs.
One flight up, two maids were finishing their duties, cleaning the guest bedrooms and bathrooms, and bowed as she walked by. “Good day, Your Highness.”
