In The Sheikh's Marriage Bed

‘I will keep you as long as you are of use to me,’ he returned smoothly, watching as her lovely face drained of colour.

‘No! That wasn’t what Peter intended.’ Her tone was frantic. ‘He’ll be expecting me home—’

‘And when you don’t arrive, then presumably he’ll follow you here.’ Zak surveyed her through lowered lids, finding her passionate defence of her brother entirely distasteful. Clearly she supported her brother’s dishonest dealings and was determined to pretend that nothing was wrong. ‘Unless he is too much of a coward to face me in person.’

‘My brother is not a coward.’ Her blue eyes sparked with anger and spots of colour appeared on her pale cheeks.

Zak watched with interest, intrigued by the change in her and wrestling with a basic desire to increase the colour in her cheeks still further with physical activity. ‘Tell me, Miss Kingston…’ he kept his tone conversational ‘…why did you agree to come here?’

‘Because Peter was too busy to come himself,’ she said immediately and then blushed slightly. ‘And because I thought it might be an adventure. But it didn’t occur to either of us that you’d make me stay instead,’ she said stiffly. ‘After all, I’m no use to you whatsoever.’

Her pretence at indifference was laughable.

Zak gritted his teeth, irritated that he could still want her even knowing what she was. ‘Prepare yourself for adventure, Miss Kingston,’ he advised softly. ‘Your brother has committed a crime and unless he arrives in person to stand trial, then you will face that trial in his place.’

‘Trial?’ Her face blanched. ‘But I haven’t done anything.’

‘You have come as your brother’s representative,’ Zak pointed out smoothly, ‘which makes you liable for his crimes. That is justice.’

‘Justice?’ She shook her head and then brushed aside the blonde hair that wafted over her face. ‘It doesn’t sound like justice to me! You keep calling it a crime but none of this is his fault. And you can’t make me face trial. You—’

‘I can do anything I please,’ Zak interrupted her, suddenly fighting an impulse to power her back against his desk and seek immediate payment in kind. Irritated by the extraordinarily powerful attraction that he suddenly felt, he hardened his tone. ‘This is Kazban, not England, and our laws are somewhat stricter than yours when it comes to theft.’

She lifted a hand to her throat as if she was suddenly finding it hard to breathe. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. My brother hasn’t stolen anything. Investments are always a risk. They can go down as well as up.’

Zak blinked, unaccustomed to being lectured by anyone on the subject of finance. He had a degree in economics and an MBA from a top American university, and since he’d been forced to take over responsibility for running the country as a result of his father’s ill health the economy of Kazban had gone from strength to strength. There was very little anyone could teach him about investments. And very little anyone could teach him about risk.

He thrived on risk.

Did the Kingstons really expect him to believe that the loss was a result of changes in the stock market when he knew full well that the money had never been invested?

Deciding to play her game for a little longer, he kept his features impassive. ‘Then you’d better pray they go up, Miss Kingston.’ He surveyed her thoughtfully, wondering for how long she could maintain this pretence. ‘And you’d better pray that your brother arrives here soon. Otherwise I advise you to prepare yourself for an extended stay.’

‘But—’

‘This audience is now at an end,’ he said coldly. ‘There are others waiting to see me. You will stay at the palace until your brother arrives. That is my decision.’

She had to get away.

She’d come here to help Peter, but her presence had made things worse.

The prince obviously intended to use her as leverage against her brother.

‘You’ll find my bed much more hospitable than any tower—’

Suddenly finding it hard to breathe, Emily grabbed her few possessions and stuffed them frantically into the one, small overnight bag that she’d brought with her. It was perfectly obvious that Crown Prince Zak al-Farisi wasn’t going to listen to reason and release her, which meant that she needed to take matters into her own hands.

The man might look gorgeous, but he was ruthless and cold and not at all a nice person.

Why was he pressing her brother for the money when he was obviously rolling in it?

Just how much money did one man need?

Never having been in the slightest bit interested in material possessions, Emily struggled to understand why someone would strive for unlimited wealth.

Having lost both her parents when she was twelve, her own idea of riches was to have her own family. A man who loved her. Children.

She swallowed hard as she stuffed the rest of her clothes into the bag.

One day she would have that, she told herself firmly.

And it would be with a man who was kind and loving and—and safe.

Not a man like Zakour al-Farisi who was hard and unforgiving and obviously only thought about money.

Her hands stilled and suddenly her breathing quickened as she remembered the betraying throb of her body and the heat that she’d felt when he’d stood close to her. No one had ever made her feel like that before. In fact before today she hadn’t known that such powerful emotions existed except in books.

The blatantly sexual intent in his cold, hard gaze had made her shivery and dizzy and—and—shocked.

No man had ever looked at her the way he did.

No man had ever made her feel so—so… She closed her eyes and slid a hand slowly up her body. No man had ever made her feel so much like a woman.

She lifted a hand and touched her face, remembering the cool brush of his fingers against her cheek and then her hair. Remembering the race of her pulse and the melting of her limbs.

He’d barely touched her and yet the burning heat in his dark eyes had been enough to have her swaying towards him in an instinctive feminine response to his powerful masculinity. But then Zak al-Farisi was a man so skilled in the seduction of women that someone as inexperienced as her would be child’s play to him.

Emily gripped the bag tightly with slender fingers and tried to pull herself together.

That she could respond that way to someone that she didn’t even like filled her with dismay and confusion.

She’d always thought that for her sex was something that would happen within the confines of a loving relationship. Unlike some of her peers, she’d never seen the attraction of casual sexual encounters. Until now.

You want him, she mocked herself gently. Go on, admit it. Zak al-Farisi might not be a nice person but you want him. And the thought of being taken to his bed—

She closed her eyes and gave a moan of self-loathing.

No!

She had no intention of being anyone’s virgin sacrifice!

That wasn’t the sort of relationship she wanted. That was just sex, and she wasn’t interested in anything so fragile, however exciting it might seem. She’d long ago decided that when she finally fell for a man their relationship would be based on mutual respect and friendship.

So why did her dream for the future suddenly seem so solid and boring?

She gave a little shiver. Zak al-Farisi might be astonishingly good-looking but his charms definitely ended there. He was totally unreasonable, accusing Peter of some sort of crime when she knew that her brother would never do anything illegal and the whole situation was just the result of a misunderstanding. It had to be.

And there was no way she was going to allow the prince to keep her here.

She pushed the last of her things into her bag and bit her lip.

No one was going to hold her against her will!

Pushing aside the uncomfortable thought that what she was actually escaping from was a part of herself that she hadn’t known existed before today, she gritted her teeth, jerked the zip closed and tossed the bag on the floor.

The airport hadn’t been that far away, she reasoned as she slipped her passport into the pocket of her dress. All she had to do was to persuade someone to give her a lift.

And leave the palace without getting caught—

She walked over to the windows of her room and stared thoughtfully down into the courtyard three floors below. Not far. Her eyes drifted to the elaborate curtains and then to the rope that held them back. Just like the ropes in the gym at school, she mused, fingering the rope thoughtfully.

Strong enough to take a person’s weight.

It was fortunate that she was athletic.

‘Miss Kingston has left the palace, Your Highness.’

Zak lifted his head. He was fresh from studying the expenses of his sister-in-law, and his patience was already severely challenged.

‘How?’

Sharif cleared his throat. ‘She—er—abseiled down the side of the building.’

Zak dropped the pen he was holding, his mind temporarily leaving the ever-absorbing question of how one woman could spend so much on so little. ‘She what?’

Sharif licked his lips. ‘She abseiled down the side of the palace, Your Highness. One of the guards saw her throw a rope out of the window but she moved so fast that he was unable to apprehend her.’

‘A rope?’ Zak thought back to their discussion about princes and being locked in his tower. ‘Don’t tell me,’ he drawled. ‘She spun the rope from her hair?’

Not party to the earlier conversation about fairy tales, Sharif looked confused. ‘I understand that she used the cords from the curtains, Your Highness.’

‘Of course she did.’ Zak digested this information and then sat back in his chair and gave a reluctant laugh, stunned by the realization that he’d underestimated a woman for the first time in years. For sheer nerve and inventiveness you had to admire her, he conceded, rising to his feet and pacing across to the nearest window.

And if he’d needed further proof of her guilt, then he had it now.

Emily Kingston obviously didn’t believe that there was any way her brother was going to turn up and rescue her.

But what had she hoped to achieve by escaping from the palace in such a way? Surely she knew that it was impossible for her to leave the country without his permission?

Did she really think that she could just shimmy down the palace wall and jump on a plane?

He gave Sharif a weary look, wondering why women had to be so complicated. ‘You are having her followed?’

‘Of course, Your Highness.’

‘Good.’ Zak gave a grim smile. ‘Let her walk where she wishes and see where her escape bid takes her.’

Sharif looked startled. ‘But, Your Highness, it isn’t safe for her to be wandering the streets of Kazban. She—’

‘Is in for a shock,’ Zak finished for him, his dark eyes glittering with anticipation. ‘I predict that a few hours alone in Kazban should make her desperate for my protection.’

The prospect afforded him a considerable degree of satisfaction.

Sharif looked troubled. ‘But, Your Highness, for a woman as beautiful as Miss Kingston—’ He licked his lips and broke off without finishing his sentence, suddenly remembering his place.

‘This woman sanctions theft and corruption,’ Zak reminded him curtly, rising to his feet in a lithe movement, his mouth set in a hard line. ‘Let her see a little of the rougher side of Kazban.’

Perhaps it would teach her a lesson.

Sharif hesitated. ‘But she was walking towards the souk, Your Highness, and the hour grows late. It will be dark shortly. It isn’t safe for a western woman—’

‘I agree with you entirely—’ Zak’s eyes glittered black ‘—but Emily Kingston is hardly an innocent virgin. She is obviously a woman well able to take care of herself. Let her see what can happen when she strays from the palace. In future she may not be quite so keen to leave it.’

Still looking troubled, Sharif bowed his head. ‘There is one further problem that requires your urgent attention, Your Highness.’ His tone was apologetic. ‘The nanny is finding it hard to cope with Jamal’s tantrums.’

Zak closed his eyes briefly. ‘Remind me.’ His tone was weary. ‘How long has she lasted, Sharif?’

Sharif cleared his throat. ‘Four weeks, Your Highness. Longer than the last four. I’m sorry to burden you with the problem when you have so many other matters to attend to, but while your sister-in-law is still travelling—’

Gallivanting around Europe, leaving her child in the hands of someone who was clearly not up to the job, Zak reflected grimly. The knowledge that her presence in Kazban created more tension than any reasonable man could be expected to tolerate had made him reluctant to intervene and order her return home.

Concerns for his little nephew warred with his natural desire to minimize his own exposure to his sister-in-law’s tricks.

Contemplating the facts with his customary cool, Zak decided that perhaps it really was time that he married. At least he could then put an end to Danielle’s scheming in that direction.

‘Surely there must be someone who can handle the child.’ Zak sighed and leaned back in his chair. ‘All right. I’ll speak to Jamal.’ He looked at Sharif expectantly and his eyes narrowed. ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’

Sharif looked uncomfortable. ‘It is now almost five years since your brother’s tragic death, Your Highness. His widow is—’ He broke off and licked dry lips. ‘There have been pictures—your father is asking questions. He is afraid that there will be another scandal.’ Sharif cleared his throat delicately. ‘It is no secret that your father hopes that you will wed your brother’s widow—’

Zak sat totally still, not a muscle flickered in his handsome face.

It was definitely time he married. And it wouldn’t be to his sister-in-law.

Any woman would be preferable to her.

To think that he’d once—

His jaw tightened as he contemplated the foolishness of youth. Although he was now firmly of the belief that love did not exist, he was convinced that he could do better in his choice of bride than a woman who put her own needs ahead of those of her child.

He would not be marrying Danielle.

Zak gave a sigh, the prospect of marriage leaving him profoundly depressed. There were many occasions when the duty and responsibility accorded to his role felt like an un-yielding block of concrete around his neck.

When he finally had his emotions back under control, he spoke. ‘I will deal with my late brother’s wife.’

With a wave of his hand he dismissed Sharif and lounged back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowed as he considered his next move.

Suddenly all he could think of was Emily Kingston.

He stared down at the pages of figures on his desk, but his mind was filled with disturbing images of honey-blonde hair and a soft, tempting mouth.

Doubtless she had done nothing to disguise that amazing blonde hair or those lush curves before making her bid for freedom. The knowledge that those charms were now on the streets of Kazban, visible to all, did nothing for his concentration.

With a rough exclamation he rose to his feet and stared at the sky, noting the deepening blue, acknowledging that Sharif was right. It would be dark in an hour. And Emily Kingston was alone.

Making an instant decision, he cursed softly and hit a series of buttons on his phone.

He’d sort out the problem with his nephew and his sister-in-law later. First he had to deal with Emily Kingston.

Unable to believe that she’d managed to leave the palace without being apprehended, Emily sneaked a glance over her shoulder, but there was no sign of anyone following her. Her heart was thudding and her palms were damp and she’d never felt such panic in her life before. She’d barely been able to breathe, choked with anticipation, expecting to feel a hand on her shoulder at any moment.

But there had been no hand. She’d done it.

Now all she had to do was find a car to take her to the airport.

Where on earth did one find a taxi in Kazban?

The initial panic fading, she was suddenly aware of just how hot it was away from the cool interior of the palace. Even though it was early evening, the sun hammered down on the dusty streets and the air was stifling.

Wishing that she had a hat and feeling more than a little vulnerable, she clutched her one small bag and walked as fast as she could in her one pair of ridiculous heels, trying to ignore the fact that she was boiling to death in her jacket. There was no way she was removing it. She had no wish to draw attention to herself and she knew that, although her dress fell to her ankles, it revealed far too much of her arms and shoulders to be considered decent in a country such as Kazban. So she gritted her teeth and kept the jacket on, promising herself that as soon as she was safely on the airplane she’d take it off and cool herself down.

She walked through the souk, wondering which direction to take, distracted by the colourful stalls and the wonderful smells.

Spices.

Intrigued, Emily paused by a stall heaped high with dune-like mountains of turmeric and many other spices that she didn’t recognize. Next to the spice stall someone was cooking, the clatter of pans and the sizzle of hot fat cutting through the dry, still air, the smells delicious and tempting.

She wandered on, past stalls where men dressed in traditional robes sold brightly coloured silks, past boxes and boxes of exotic nuts and sweets, fruits and vegetables.

Once she tried asking about a taxi and the man waved his arms vaguely. She tried to follow his directions but there were just more and more stalls and no sign of anything that even remotely resembled a taxi.

The light was fading fast and she realized that she was lost in the middle of Kazban, with absolutely no idea where she was.

Feeling decidedly uneasy, she turned back the way she’d come and looked at the maze of dusty streets, trying to remember her route.

When exactly had the bustle and activity ceased? The streets were eerily quiet, as if she were the only person inhabiting this corner of the planet.

Wishing that someone else would appear, she started to walk down the nearest street and then stopped dead as three men dressed in robes suddenly blocked her path.

Her heart gave a jolt of panic.

One of them spoke to her in a language that she didn’t understand and when she didn’t answer they circled around her, blocking her escape.

Instinctively Emily clutched at her bag even though there was virtually nothing in it and her passport was safely tucked into a pocket in her dress.

The tallest of them spoke again and this time he smiled, but it was such an unpleasant, threatening smile that Emily felt a shiver of fear.

Determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d frightened her, she lifted her chin boldly and tried to sidestep past the men, but they closed in more tightly, throwing remarks to each other that she didn’t understand.

One of them reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair, twisting it around his fingers as though he were considering a purchase.

‘Leave me alone!’ Heart galloping like a horse’s hooves, Emily jerked her head away from his touch and took a step backwards, but one of his friends was directly behind her, blocking her escape.

She had nowhere to go.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE was in huge trouble.

Emily glanced frantically around her, searching for an alternative escape route. But there was none. And already the men were closing in. Before she could move, one of them made a grab for her bag and another dragged her jacket from her shoulders.

Suddenly she was standing in the dusty streets wearing nothing but her thin cotton dress and a pair of ridiculous shoes.

For a moment she stood still, breathing rapidly, frozen with fear. And then some of the fear melted away to be replaced by anger. She was a visitor to a foreign country. She should be treated with respect and courtesy.

‘I’m English.’ She spoke slowly and clearly. ‘Give me my things back.’

They leered at her and, acting on a sudden impulse, she flew at the man who’d taken her bag, kicking him so hard with one of her shoes that he gave a yelp and doubled up in pain and surprise.

‘Finally I understand the origin of the term “killer heels”,’ Emily muttered, snatching at her bag and making a run for it.

Her triumph was short-lived. Temporarily stunned by her surprise attack, the man’s two comrades suddenly came to life and grabbed her bodily. Her dress tore, she lost the bag and crashed awkwardly to the ground, wincing as something cut into her ankle.

‘Ouch—!’ Gritting her teeth against the pain, she lifted her head, furious and ready to fight—and then she saw a fourth man striding towards them, his robes flowing back from his powerful frame.

He was taller and broader than the men who surrounded her and walked with a grim sense of purpose that made Emily shiver. His head was covered by the traditional gutra and she caught a glimpse of fierce black eyes before he strode forward and snapped something in a strange language, one bronzed hand resting ominously on the folds of his robes as he scanned the scene.

Friend or foe?

Emily held her breath, her eyes fixed on his hand. She knew instinctively that the folds of his robes concealed a weapon. Would there be a fight? But those long, strong fingers stayed still as his eyes flickered slowly over her attackers.

One by one they fell back, at first resentful and then visibly intimidated by the menace in that dark gaze and the physical power and authority that pulsed from his masculine frame.

And then they turned and ran, taking Emily’s bag and jacket with them.

Emily clutched the torn neck of her dress and started to shake, her eyes fixed on the man who had caused their flight.

Without uttering a word, her rescuer bent down and scooped her into his arms.

‘What are you doing?’ Taken by surprise, Emily thumped his shoulder with her fist and made contact with rock solid muscle. ‘Put me down!’

‘Be still!’ He tightened his grip on her, carrying her as if she weighed nothing, striding purposefully through a network of narrow, dusty streets until he finally came to a halt in a secluded doorway.

‘Are you hurt?’ He snapped the question in perfect English and to her horror Emily felt the mortifying burn of tears.

It was just the shock, she told herself, struggling to restrain the impulse to sob against his broad shoulder. Now that she was safe she suddenly realized just how close she’d been to real danger. If he hadn’t arrived when he had—

‘I’m fine,’ she lied, glancing around her dubiously. ‘You can put me down. Why have you brought me here? It looks more dangerous than the main street—’

‘You were drawing too much attention to yourself,’ the man said harshly, but he lowered her to the ground with surprising gentleness, muttering something under his breath as he glanced down.

‘You are bleeding.’

Emily followed his frowning gaze and suddenly realized why her leg was hurting so badly. Blood was pouring from a deep cut on her ankle.

‘Oh—I must have cut it on something when I was attacked.’

‘Which would not have happened had you not been walking in an unsafe area.’ He gave a sigh that spoke volumes and then squatted down so that he could take a closer look. In an impatient gesture he moved her skirt and slid strong fingers over her ankle. ‘No wonder you are injured,’ he growled. ‘These shoes are ridiculous.’

‘I totally agree, but they’re the only pair I brought with me,’ Emily protested, wincing as he slid the shoe off and examined her bruised ankle. ‘I wasn’t exactly planning on having to run for my life when I packed. Ouch, you’re hurting me!’

‘You should be thankful that it is only your ankle that is hurt,’ he said, his tone blisteringly unsympathetic as he finished his examination. ‘I don’t think it will need stitches. Next time you try to escape I suggest you select your foot-wear more carefully.’