Seduced by the Sultan

EPILOGUE


‘READY?’

‘As I’ll ever be.’ Catrin looked up into Murat’s eyes as he gave her hand a squeeze.

‘Scared?’ he questioned.

She looped her arms around his neck, taking care not to crease the exquisite silk of her suit jacket. ‘With you by my side? Never in a million years. A bit nervous, yes, but that’s perfectly normal.’

He ran his thumb along the edge of her jaw. ‘I guess you’ve already been through quite a lot,’ he said. ‘It’s been an action-packed year.’

He could say that again.

Their engagement had caused predictable excitement in the international press. A humble girl from the Welsh valleys marrying one of the world’s richest royals was always going to be a big story in the tabloids—but it had also spawned many thoughtful pieces in the broadsheets. Much had been made about the fact that Qurhah seemed to be embracing the modern world by admitting that ancient laws could and would be changed. Privately, Catrin thought they’d rather overplayed the Cinderella aspect of the story and—as Rachel had pointed out rather indignantly—the Sultana-to-be only had one sister, and she wasn’t in the least bit ugly!

Then some enterprising journalist had ferreted out an old photo of her mother in an inebriated state, dancing on a table in a pub and doing something regrettable with a feather boa. But Murat had told her flatly that he didn’t care. Her mother was sober now and perhaps the picture might serve to remind her of how much better her life was today.

Then he had surprised much of the desert community by announcing that many of the ancient laws of his land were to be reassessed, in order to keep pace with the modern world.

A very grand Qurhahian wedding had followed the engagement. It had taken place in the beautiful royal palace in Simdahab and was attended by Sheikhs and Sultans; Prime Ministers and Kings, as well as various movers and shakers, and even a sprinkling of Hollywood. But Rachel was there, and several of the people Catrin had worked with in the hotel industry, including Stephen Le Saux, who was heard boasting that he had played matchmaker to the unlikely couple.

Two of Murat’s oldest friends were there. Alekto Sarantos and Niccolo Da Conti were considered easily to be the best-looking guests in attendance, though the racing driver Luis Martinez had been forced to decline his invitation and there were all kinds of dark rumours swirling around as to why.

And the mother of the bride shone—looking about twenty years younger and giggling at something Murat’s uncle was saying as he monopolised her during the glitzy reception afterwards. Ursula Thomas’s recovery had given Catrin and Rachel so much joy. She had returned from the Arizona clinic looking the picture of health and happiness. She had started training as a counsellor herself and there was talk that she might open up her own clinic in the beautiful mountains of Wales, with her new son-in-law’s assistance.

Murat’s sister Leila was there, along with her husband, Gabe, who had been so instrumental in bringing together all the different parties necessary to change Qurhahian law. As he’d said, it was in his interests to do so, since his own son was half-Qurhahian.

And Catrin had instantly fallen in love with her nephew, Hafez. Her nephew! Her family seemed to have multiplied overnight...and who knew where it would all end? A couple of days before the wedding she had been cuddling Hafez and had glanced up to find Murat looking at her with a wry expression on his face. And she had looked at him and smiled and he had smiled back and, in that moment, the world had seemed as perfect as it was possible to be.

Sara was there too, with her husband Suleiman. And if Catrin had harboured any latent fears that Murat still hankered after the royal princess who had once been betrothed to him they were soon dispelled. Sara was so obviously deliriously happy with her oil-magnate husband, Suleiman, that their joy was infectious. And Catrin knew deep in her heart that Murat didn’t really see any other woman but her.

Today was her first official engagement as the new Sultana, even though they had been married just over a year. But Catrin had thrown herself into preparation for her new role, not wanting to take on anything until she could do it justice. She didn’t want to let the people of Qurhah down. She wanted to be the best Sultana she possibly could.

She loved Qurhah and had studied the history of her adopted homeland. She had also been diligent in learning the language—at which she had excelled. Apparently, having Welsh as a first language had helped her linguistic skills though, as Murat always said, she was a fast learner.

Today, she was opening a new wing in her name at the children’s hospital, where Murat had once had his appendix removed. And after having afternoon tea with some of the young patients, the two of them were travelling for a short break at his summer palace.

She loved it there. It was there that they came as close to freedom as a monarch and his wife ever could. It was where he had taught her to ride and they took every opportunity they could to gallop some of his prized Akhal-Teke horses across the desert plains.

The landscape was magnificent—stark and stunning. Catrin thought that there was little to surpass the magnificence of the sun setting over the famous Mekathasinian Sands.

Only her husband managed to do that.

She touched her lips to his and met the smile in his eyes.

Oh, yes.

It was easy to see why they called him Murat the Magnificent.