“Come, Zoe, it’s time to prepare you for your wedding night.”

It suddenly sank into her. She belonged to the Sheikh. A man they called The Beast. She was married to him. Married.

Zoe didn’t resist as the women settled her in the center of the bed. She knelt on the mattress, her hands folded in front of her, her head bent down.

She was taking a leap of faith, believing she could use this marriage to her advantage, when she might have given up more than her freedom to a man who was a dangerous stranger.

What had she done?

Pure terror clamped her chest. She felt the room closing in on her as she tried to gulp in the hot air. She blinked as dark spots danced before her eyes and she remembered her cousin’s words.

“If you aren’t to Nadir’s liking, he can throw you back.”

About the Author

SUSANNA CARR has been an avid romance reader since she read her first at the age of ten. Although romance novels were not allowed in her home, she always managed to sneak one in from the local library, or from her twin sister’s secret stash.

After attending college and receiving a degree in English Literature, Susanna pursued a romance-writing career. She has written sexy contemporary romances for several publishers, and her work has been honoured with awards for contemporary and sensual romance.

Susanna lives in the Pacific Northwest with her family. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys reading romance and connecting with readers online. Visit her website at www.susannacarr.com

This is Susanna’s sizzling sexy debut for Mills & Boon® Modern™ Romance!

The Tarnished

Jewel of Jazaar

Susanna Carr

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Lucy Gilmour, for her insights and encouragement.

Thanks for making my dream come true!

CHAPTER ONE

DARKNESS descended on the desert as the black SUV came to a halt in front of the village’s inn, a large but plain building. The arches and columns that guarded the courtyard were decorated with flower garlands. Strands of lights were wrapped around thick palm trees. Sheikh Nadir ibn Shihab heard the native music beyond the columns. In the distance, fireworks shot off and sprayed into the night sky, announcing his arrival.

It was time to meet his bride.

Nadir felt no excitement. There was no curiosity and no dread. Having a wife was a means to an end. It was not an emotional choice but a civilized arrangement. An arrangement he was making because of one rash, emotional reaction two years ago.

He pushed his thoughts aside. He wasn’t going to think about the injustice now. With this marriage he would repair his reputation and no one would question his commitment to the traditional way of life in the kingdom of Jazaar.

Nadir stepped out of the car and his dishdasha was plastered against his muscular body as his black cloak whipped in the strong wind. The white headdress billowed behind him. Nadir found the traditional clothes confining, but today he wore them out of respect to custom.

He saw his younger brother approach. Nadir smiled at the unusual sight of Rashid wearing traditional garb. They greeted each other with an embrace.

“You are very late for your wedding,” Rashid said in a low and confidential tone.

“It doesn’t start until I arrive,” Nadir replied as he pulled back.

Rashid shook his head at his brother’s arrogance. “I mean it, Nadir. This is not the way to make amends with the tribe.”

“I’m aware of it. I got here as quickly as I could.” He had spent most of his wedding day negotiating with two warring tribes over a sacred spot of land. It was more important than a wedding feast. Even if it was his own wedding.

“That’s not good enough for the elders,” Rashid said as they walked toward the hotel. “In their eyes you showed them the ultimate disrespect two years ago. They won’t forgive your tardiness.”

Nadir was not in the mood to be lectured by his younger brother. “I’m marrying the woman of their choice, aren’t I?”

The marriage was a political alliance with an influential tribe who both respected and feared him. Nadir had heard that his nickname in this part of the desert was The Beast. And, like mere mortals who knew they had angered a demon god, the elders were willing to sacrifice a young virgin as his bride.

Nadir approached the row of elders, who were dressed in their finest. Glimpsing the solemn faces of the older men, Nadir knew Rashid was right. They were not happy with him. If this tribe wasn’t so important for his plans to modernize the country, Nadir would ignore their existence.

“My humblest apologies.” Nadir greeted the elders, bowing low and offering his deepest regrets for his tardiness. He didn’t care if these men felt slighted by his delay, but he went through the motions.

He had no use for the prolonged greeting ritual, but he had to be diplomatic. He was already battling political retribution from the elders, and had countered it by showing a willingness to marry a woman from their tribe. That maneuver should have improved relations with the tribal leaders, but Nadir sensed they were anything but honored.

The elders politely ushered him into the courtyard as the ancient chant accompanied by drums pulsed in the air. It tugged at something deep in Nadir, but he wasn’t going to join in. While the guests were happy that the Sheikh was marrying one of their own, he wasn’t pleased about the turn of events.

“Do you know anything about the bride?” Rashid whispered into Nadir’s ear. “What if she’s unsuitable?”

“It’s not important,” Nadir quietly informed his brother. “I have no plans to live as husband and wife. I will marry her and take her to bed, but once the wedding ceremonies are over she will live in the harem at the Sultan’s palace. She will have everything she needs and I’ll have my freedom. If all goes well we will never set eyes on each other again.”

Nadir surveyed the crowd. Men were on one side of the aisle, dressed in white, chanting and clapping as they provoked the women on the other side to dance faster. The women’s side was a riot of color liberally streaked with gold. The women silently taunted the men, their hips undulating to the edge of propriety. Their loose-fitting garments stretched and strained over voluptuous curves.

His presence was suddenly felt. He felt the ripple of awareness through the crowd. The music ended abruptly as everyone froze, staring at him. He felt like an unwelcome guest at his own wedding.

Nadir was used to seeing wariness in the eyes of everyone from statesmen to servants. International businesses accused him of being as devious as a jackal when he thwarted their attempts to steal Jazaar’s resources. Journalists declared that he enforced the Sultan’s law with the ruthless sting of a scorpion’s tail. He had even been compared to a viper when he’d protected Jazaar with unwavering aggression from bloodthirsty rebels. His countrymen might be afraid to look him in the eye, but they knew he would take care of them by any means necessary.

Nadir strode down the aisle with Rashid one step behind him. The guests slowly regained their festive spirits, singing loudly as they showered him with rose petals. They seemed indecently relieved that his three-day marriage ceremony had commenced. He frowned at the men’s wide smiles and the women’s high-pitched trills. It was as if they believed they had appeased The Beast’s hunger.

He kept his gaze straight ahead on the end of the courtyard. A dais sat in the center. A couple of divans flanked two golden throne-like chairs. His bride sat in one, waiting for him with her head tucked low and her hands in her lap.

Nadir slowed down when he saw that his bride wore an ethnic wedding dress in deep crimson. A heavy veil concealed her hair and framed her face before cascading down her shoulders and arms. Her fitted bodice was encrusted with gold beads, hinting at the small breasts and slender waist underneath. Her delicate hands, decorated with an ornate henna design, lay against the voluminous brocade skirt.

He frowned as he studied the woman. There was something different, something wrong about the bride. He halted in the middle of the aisle as the realization hit him like a clap of thunder.

“Nadir!” Rashid whispered harshly.

“I see.” His tone was low and fierce as the shock reverberated inside him.

The woman before him was no Jazaari bride, fit for a sheikh.

She was an outcast. A woman no man would marry.

The tribal leaders had tricked him. Nadir stood very still as his anger flared. He had agreed to marry a woman of the tribe’s choosing in a gesture of good faith. In return they had given him the American orphaned niece of one of their families.

It was an insult, he thought grimly as he ruthlessly reined in his emotions. It was also a message. The tribe thought that Nadir was too Western and modern to appreciate a traditional Jazaari bride.

“How dare they?” Rashid said in growl. “We’re leaving now. Once the Sultan hears about this we will formally shun this tribe and—”

“No.” Nadir’s decision was swift and certain. He didn’t like it, but all his instincts told him it was for the greater good. “I accepted their choice.”

“Nadir, you don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do.”

The tribe expected him to refuse this woman as his bride. They wanted him to defy tradition and prove that he didn’t appreciate the Jazaari way of life.

He couldn’t do that. Not again.

And the elders knew it.

Nadir’s eyes narrowed into slits. He would accept this unworthy woman as his bride. And once the wedding was over he would destroy the elders in this tribe one by one.

“I must protest,” Rashid said. “A sheikh does not marry an outcast.”

“I agree, but I need a bride, and any woman from this tribe will do. One woman is just as much trouble as the next.”

“But …”

“Don’t worry, Rashid. I am changing my plans. I won’t let her live in the Sultan’s palace. I will send her into seclusion at the palace in the mountains.” He would hide this woman—and any evidence that he had been shamed by this tribe. No one would ever know how he had paid a huge dowry for such an inferior bride.

Nadir forced his feet to move, his white-hot anger turning to ice as he approached his bride. He noticed that the woman’s face was pale against her dark red lips and kohled eyes. A thick rope of rubies and diamonds edged along her hairline. She had a tangle of necklaces around her throat and a long column of gold bangles on both arms.

She was dressed like a Jazaari bride, but it was obvious that she wasn’t the real thing. Her downcast eyes and prim posture couldn’t hide her bold nature. There was a defiant tilt to her head and a brash energy about her.

The woman also had an earthy sexiness, he decided. A proper bride would be shy and modest. She looked like a mysterious and exotic maiden who should be dancing barefoot by a bonfire on a dark desert night.

His bride cautiously glanced from beneath her lashes and he captured her startled gaze. Nadir felt the impact as their eyes clashed and held.

Zoe Martin’s blood raced painfully through her veins as she stared into dark, hypnotic eyes. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t look away. The eyes darkened. She felt as if she was caught in a swirling storm.

Please don’t let this be the man I am marrying! She needed to trick and manipulate her husband throughout their honeymoon, but she could tell immediately this man was too dangerous for her plans.

Sheikh Nadir ibn Shihab wasn’t handsome. His features were too hard, too primitive. His face was all lines and angles, from his Bedouin nose to the forceful thrust of his jaw. His cheekbones slashed down his face and a cleft scored his chin. There was a hint of softness in his full lips, but the cynical curl at the edge of his mouth warned of his impatience. She had no doubt that everyone kept a distance from him or suffered the brunt of his venomous barbs.

The pearl-white of the Sheikh’s dishdasha contrasted with his golden-brown skin and it couldn’t conceal his long, tapered body. Every move he made drew her attention to his lean and compact muscles. Zoe decided that his elegant appearance was deceiving. She had no doubt that he had been brought up in a world of wealth and privilege, but this man belonged to the harsh and unforgiving desert. He had the desert’s stark beauty and its cruelty.

The Sheikh showed no expression, no emotion, but she felt a biting hot energy slamming against her. Zoe flinched, her skin stinging from his bold gaze. She wanted to rub her arms and wrap them protectively around her. She felt the inexplicable need to slough off his claim.

Claim? A flash of fear gripped Zoe as her chest tightened. Why did it feel like that? The Sheikh hadn’t touched her yet.

She had the sudden overwhelming need to turn and run as fast as she could to escape. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breath rasped in her constricted throat, and although every self-preservation instinct told her to flee, she couldn’t move.

“As-Salamu Alaykum,” Nadir greeted as he sat down next to her.

Zoe shivered at the rough, masculine sound. His voice was soft, but the commanding tone coiled around her body, tugging at something dark and unknown inside her. The muscles low in her abdomen tingled with awareness.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with cool politeness.

Zoe gave a start, her excess of gold jewelry chiming from her sudden move. He’d spoken to her in English. It had been so long since she’d heard her mother tongue. Unshed tears suddenly stung her eyes and she struggled to regain her composure.

She shouldn’t have been surprised that the Sheikh spoke English. He’d been educated in the United States, traveled frequently, and knew several languages as well as all the dialects spoken in Jazaar. His need to travel internationally was one of the reasons why she had agreed to marry him.

But curiosity got the better of her. She couldn’t imagine this man doing something thoughtful without getting something in return. Her voice wavered as she asked, “Why are you speaking to me in English?”

“You are American. It’s your language.”

She gave a curt nod and kept her head down, her gaze focused on her clenched hands. It had been her language once. Until her uncle had forbidden it. “It isn’t spoken here,” she whispered.

“That’s why I’m using it,” Nadir said in an uninterested tone as he surveyed the courtyard. “English will be just our language and no one will know what we’re saying.”

Ah, now she understood. He wanted to create an immediate bond between them. Or at least the illusion of one. It was a clever strategy, but she wasn’t going to fall for it.

“I’m not supposed to talk during the ceremony,” she reminded him.

She sensed his attention back on her. The energy crackling between them grew sharper. “But I want you to talk.”

Right. Was this some sort of test to see if she was a good Jazaari bride? “My aunts gave me strict orders to keep my head down and my mouth shut.”

“Whose opinions are more important to you?” She heard the arrogance in his voice. “Your aunts’ or your husband’s?”

Neither, she wanted to say. It was tempting, but she knew she had to play the game. “I will do as you wish.” She nearly choked on the words.

His chuckle was rough and masculine. “Keep saying that and we’ll get along just fine.”

Zoe clenched her teeth, preventing herself from giving a sharp reply. She swallowed her retort just in time as the first elder came onto the dais. As she’d expected, the older man ignored her and spoke only to the Sheikh.

She stared at her hands in her lap and slowly squeezed her fingers together. The bite of pain didn’t distract her from her troubled thoughts. She was never going to pull off the demure look. It was just a matter of time before she messed up. Her family knew it, too. The disapproving glares from her aunts were hot enough to burn a sizzling hole in her veil.

Zoe knew her appearance and manners didn’t meet family expectations. They never had. Her face was much too pale and she lacked refinement and feminine charm. It didn’t matter if the veil concealed her features, or if her bent head hid her big, bold eyes. They knew she wasn’t a proper young woman. She talked louder than a whisper, walked faster than she should, and no matter how often she was told she never knew her place.

She was too American. Too much trouble. Simply too much.

Her relatives thought she should be timid and subservient, and they had tried to transform her using every barbaric punishment they knew. Starvation. Sleep deprivation. Beatings. Nothing had worked. It had only made Zoe more rebellious and determined to get out of this hell. If only she had a better escape plan. If only her freedom didn’t rely on pretending to be the perfect woman.

As the last elder left the dais, Zoe felt the Sheikh’s intent gaze on her. She tensed but kept her focus on her hands. Did he find her lacking or did she pass inspection?

“What is your name?” the Sheikh asked her.

Zoe’s eyes widened. Seriously? This was not something a woman wanted to hear from her husband on her wedding day. Zoe held back the urge to give him a false name. A stripper name, she thought with a sly smile. If only she could. But it wouldn’t be worth the punishment.

“Zoe Martin,” she answered.

“And how old are you?”

Old enough. She bit the tip of her tongue before she blurted out that reply. “I’m twenty-one years old.”

How was it possible the Sheikh didn’t know anything about her? Wasn’t he curious about the woman he married? Didn’t he care?

“Do I detect a Texan accent?” he asked.

Zoe bit her bottom lip as a memory of her home in Texas bloomed. The last time she had felt as if she belonged to a family. Once she had been loved and protected; now she was chattel for her uncle.

“You have a very good ear,” she answered huskily. “I thought I had lost the twang.” Along with everything else.

“Texas is a long way from here.”

No kidding. But she knew what he was really asking. How the hell had she wound up in Jazaar? She’d wondered that many times herself. “My father was a doctor for a humanitarian medical organization and he met my mother when he visited Jazaar. Didn’t anyone tell you about me?”

“I was told everything I needed to know.”

That made her curious. What had been said about her? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. “Such as?” she asked as she watched the servants bringing plates of food to the dais.

He shrugged. “You are part of this tribe and you are of marriageable age.”

She waited a beat. “Anything else?”

“What else do I need to know?”

Her eyes widened. His indifference took her breath away, but she knew she should be grateful for it. It was better that he had not asked any questions or dug for information. He would have discovered what kind of woman he was marrying.

Zoe barely ate anything from the wedding feast. She usually had a healthy appetite—some felt too robust—but tonight the aromas and spices were overwhelming. Immediately after the meal a procession of guests approached the dais to congratulate the happy couple. She was glad that no one expected her to speak. She barely listened to what was said, too aware of the man sitting next to her.

“You will have your hands full with this one, Your Highness. She’s nothing but trouble.”

Zoe glanced up when she heard those words. She knew she should keep her head down, but she was surprised that someone would warn the Sheikh. Weren’t they trying to get rid of her by marrying her off?

Yet she had never got along with the wife of the wealthy storekeeper. The older woman had forbidden Zoe from entering the store. But Zoe was used to being excluded and had frequently managed to make her purchases through strategy and stealth.

“She’s an incredibly slow learner,” the older woman continued. “It doesn’t matter how hard her uncle slaps her, Zoe keeps talking back.”

“Is that so?” the Sheikh drawled. “Perhaps her uncle is the slow learner and should try a new approach?”

Zoe jerked in surprise and immediately ducked her head so no one could see her expression. Was he questioning Uncle Tareef’s methods? She thought men sided with one another.

“Nothing works with Zoe,” the storekeeper’s wife informed the Sheikh. “Once she burned the dinner. Of course she was punished. You’d think she’d learn her lesson, but the next day she poured an entire pot of hot pepper in the dinner. Her uncle had blisters inside his mouth for weeks.”

“It wasn’t my fault he kept trying to eat it,” Zoe said as she glared at the woman. “And at least it wasn’t burnt.”

Zoe cringed inwardly when she recognized her mistake and immediately bent her head as if nothing happened. There was a long, silent pause and Zoe felt the Sheikh’s gaze on her. She instinctively hunched her shoulders, as if that would make her smaller. Invisible.

“I hope your cooking has improved,” he said.

Zoe nodded cautiously. It was a lie, but he would never find out. She was grateful that he’d ignored her outburst, surprised that he didn’t comment on it.

He was probably saving it all up for later, she decided, as the tension vibrated inside her. She was going to face one monstrous lecture after the ceremony.

“When all else failed,” the older woman valiantly continued, “Zoe was forced to treat the sick until she learned how to behave. She has taken care of the poor women for years.”

Zoe knew that the task of treating the ill was reserved for servants in the tribe, but she didn’t care. It was what she wanted to do. The science of nursing and the art of folk remedies fascinated her.

“Zoe,” Nadir said, “you no longer have to treat the sick.”

Zoe frowned, not sure how to answer. “That’s not necessary. I’m not afraid of hard work and I’m very good at it.”

“Zoe!” the storekeeper’s wife said in a scandalized tone, her eyes dancing with delight. “A Jazaari woman must be humble.”

Nadir rose from his seat and Zoe couldn’t help noticing how tall and commanding he was. He motioned for the most exalted elder to approach the dais. Zoe’s stomach twisted sharply and she tasted hot, bitter fear in her mouth. What was the Sheikh doing? She had displeased him. Somehow she would be punished for it.

The older woman smiled victoriously and walked away with a spring in her step as the elder approached. Zoe was angry at herself for letting the old bat rile her.

The Sheikh placed his palm against his heart and told the chief elder, “You have honored me with Zoe as my bride.”

The elder couldn’t hide his surprise and the nearby guests started to whisper excitedly behind their hands and veils. Zoe didn’t feel any relief. Instead, she battled the trickle of suspicion. Honored? He didn’t know the first thing about her.

“I gladly accept the duty to protect her and provide for her,” the Sheikh continued, his voice strong and clear. “She will want for nothing.”

Her suspicions deepened as the buzz of conversation swelled. What was this man up to? She had learned firsthand that when a man made those kinds of promises it was very likely he would do the opposite. Like when Uncle Tareef had promised to take her in and look after her. Instead he’d stolen her inheritance and she’d become an unpaid servant in his household.

“And as your Sheikha,” Nadir announced, “she will spend her days and nights tending to me.”

Zoe lowered her head as the guests cheered. Anger swirled inside her chest. The tribe was thrilled that she pleased the Sheikh. He wasn’t going to let her leave his side and she wouldn’t have time to nurse the sick because she had the honor of being at his beck and call.

The man had no idea how important it was for her to work. Before her parents died Zoe had volunteered at the local hospital with her mother. It had been exciting and she’d known then she wanted to have a medical career like her father’s.

Her dreams of practicing medicine with her father had been shattered when her parents died in a car accident and suddenly she had found herself living in a foreign place with people she didn’t know. She had suffered through the language barrier, strange food and an unwelcoming tribe. But when she’d watched the healer treat the sick, Zoe had felt she was back in familiar territory.

In a matter of months she had become the healer’s assistant. It was supposed to be a punishment, but she had wanted to learn. When Zoe noticed that the poor women were reluctant to seek medical help from a male healer, she gradually took on the female patients. It was her way of continuing her family’s legacy, and practicing medicine had become her lifeline.

She had finally found a way to stay away from Uncle Tareef’s house and focus on something other than her difficult situation. And when she handled a medical emergency she felt the same excitement she had when she’d been back home in the local hospital. Taking care of women in need had let her find a sense of purpose. It was the one thing that kept her going.

And now the Sheikh wanted to take that away from her? Zoe closed her eyes and tried desperately to control her temper. She had to give up the one thing that interested her, the one thing she was good at, because Nadir didn’t like it? It wasn’t fair. She wanted to argue right here and now.

What was she upset about? Zoe slowly opened her eyes. What Nadir wanted didn’t affect her life. She wasn’t going to stay married long enough for him to take her interests away from her.

“I must say you surprised me.”

Zoe looked at the tall and slender woman who was now sitting next to her—her cousin Fatimah. Zoe clenched her teeth as she braced herself for what she was sure would be a few unpleasant moments.

Fatimah wore a shimmering green gown. Heavy gold jewelry dripped from her ears, throat and wrists. She always made a glamorous and dramatic impact wherever she went.

“I didn’t think you would do it,” Fatimah told Zoe in a breezy, chatty tone. “I know how you Americans believe in love matches.”

Zoe didn’t respond. She had never liked her cousin, and they weren’t friends. Fatimah would not form an alliance with an outcast like Zoe. Instead, she preferred to feel powerful by preying on the defenseless, and Zoe had seen her in all her destructive glory. Now she noted the dark look in her cousin’s eyes. Fatimah was on the prowl for trouble and had found her target.

Her cousin bestowed a tight smile upon her. “I can’t wait to tell Musad.”

Zoe did her best not to flinch. “Please do.”

She hoped she was getting better at not reacting to his name. Musad had once represented a fragile yet blossoming love in a world of quicksand filled with hate and indifference. Now his name reminded her that no man could be trusted.

“What should I tell our old friend?” Fatimah asked as she studied Zoe’s face closely. “Shall I send him your love?”

Zoe shrugged, refusing to let the word “love” pierce her wrung-out heart. Musad had ceased to matter a year ago, when he’d moved to America without a backward glance. She had filed him under “lesson learned.”

Zoe leaned back in her chair as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Tell him what you want.”

Fatimah rested her hand on Zoe’s arm and leaned forward to whisper, “How can you say that, considering how close you were?”

Zoe felt the blood leaving her face as icy fear seeped in her veins. Fatimah knew. She saw it in the malicious glow of the woman’s eyes. Somehow Fatimah knew about her forbidden liaison with Musad. She was the one who’d started the rumors that were beginning to percolate in village gossip.

Zoe had to get away. She had to silence Fatimah. If she breathed a word of this to her family … to the Sheikh …

“Zoe?”

Zoe looked up to see her aunts and other female cousins. They were smiling. Real smiles. It was unlikely that they had heard Fatimah’s accusation. Zoe wanted to sag with relief.

“Come, Zoe.” One of her cousins unceremoniously pulled her from her chair and her female relatives surrounded her. “It’s time to prepare you for your wedding night.”

Her wedding night. Her stomach twisted sharply and she battled back nausea. Her aunts smiled and giggled as they swept her out of the courtyard and up to the honeymoon suite. She hunched her shoulders as corroding fear, thick and searing hot, bled through her body. It pooled under her skin, pressing harder and harder, threatening to burst through.

It suddenly sank into her. She belonged to the Sheikh. A man they called The Beast. She was married to him. Married.

Her married cousins were offering words of advice, telling her how to please her husband, but Zoe didn’t hear a word of it. There was a desperate energy among the women. Their laughter was a little shrill, their advice raw and uncoated.

Zoe didn’t resist as the women settled her in the center of the bed. She knelt on the mattress, her hands folded in front of her, her head bent down. She wanted to jump out of bed and run, but she knew these women would bring her back and guard the bedroom.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, jagged breath. She heard the women leaving the room, their laughter harsh as they tossed her more marital advice. She had always thought her wedding day would be different. In her daydreams it had been full of laughter and joy, not to mention love.

The reality was much bleaker. Zoe slowly opened her eyes. She was marrying because she was out of options and running out of luck. She was taking a leap of faith, believing she could use this marriage to her advantage. But she might have given up more than her freedom to a man who was a dangerous stranger.

What had she done?

Pure terror clamped her chest. She felt the room closing in on her as she tried to gulp in the hot air. Dark spots danced before her eyes.

“I can’t do this. I can’t sleep with him,” Zoe said aloud. She thought she was alone until Fatimah answered.

“He’s required to consummate the marriage,” her cousin said as she straightened Zoe’s skirt, making it a smooth circle on the bed. “Otherwise it’s not acknowledged.”

“Required?” Zoe’s stomach gave a sickening twist. That sounded so clinical. So unromantic.

Fatimah cast an annoyed look in her direction. “That’s why you have the last ceremony on the third day. It’s based on an ancient law to celebrate the consummation of the marriage.”

Zoe’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”

“And if you aren’t to his liking,” Fatimah said, giving her a sidelong look, “he can throw you back.”

Zoe frowned. “Throw me back? You mean back to your family? No, he can’t. Nice try, Fatimah, but I’m not falling for another one of your lies.”

“I’m not lying,” Fatimah swore, flattening her hand against her chest. “The Sheikh did that to his first wife.”

First wife? Zoe drew back her head and stared at her cousin as surprise tingled down her spine. What first wife? “What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t anyone tell you?” Fatimah’s face brightened when she realized she would get to reveal all. “Two years ago the Sheikh was married to the daughter of one of the finest families in the tribe. Yusra. You remember her?”

“Barely.” Yusra had been drop-dead gorgeous, ultra feminine and the perfect Jazaari girl. Zoe had privately thought Yusra was a spoiled brat and a bit of snob. She had been glad when her family left the village.

“It was a fabulous ceremony. Unlike any I’ve ever seen. Don’t you remember it? It was better than yours.”

“I probably wasn’t invited.” She was an outcast. She was either ignored or bullied. Any member of the tribe could publicly humiliate her without consequence. They all knew her uncle wouldn’t protect her. They had all witnessed the treatment she’d received under his cruel hand and followed his lead.

“Well, the third day of the ceremony had barely started when he tossed Yusra back to her parents.” Fatimah gave a flick of her wrist, the jangle of gold bracelets loud to Zoe’s ears. “In front of the entire tribe. He said she was not to his liking.”

If he’d had a problem with his first choice of a wife, he was definitely not going to be pleased with her. “He had sex with her and then dumped her? Can he do that?”

“It caused a huge scandal. How is it you don’t know any of this? You were living here when it happened.”

Zoe probably had heard about it but thought it one of those “bonfire stories.” She had heard plenty of folk tales that were designed to scare boys and girls into behaving properly.

She was in so much trouble. Her knees wobbled as a wave of fear crashed over her. If she didn’t have sex with the Sheikh he would send her back to her family. If she did have sex with him she might well have had the same problem. “So basically this ancient law is a return policy?”

“It’s rarely used. A man has to have a very good reason to invoke it. Unless you’re a sheikh, of course. Then no one will question your actions.”

“But—”

One of Zoe’s aunts peeked inside the room. “Fatimah, what are you still doing here?” the woman said in a fierce whisper. “The Sheikh is coming.”

“Good luck, Zoe,” Fatimah said with a sly smile as she slipped out of the room. “I hope you can satisfy the Sheikh better than his last bride.”

CHAPTER TWO

WHAT was she going to do? Zoe glanced wildly at the open windows and the colorful gauzy curtains fluttering in the breeze. No, she couldn’t escape that way.

Even if she got out safely she had no place to hide. She had learned that over the years, after her failed attempts to run away. No one would provide her with sanctuary and the desert was a deathtrap. She had barely survived the last time.

She was trapped and she needed to come up with a plan. Zoe squeezed her eyes shut as the panic swelled in her chest. Think, think, think!

Her mind was locked on only one thing: chastity was highly prized in a woman, and she wasn’t a virgin.

The tribe had very strict rules about sex outside marriage. The men were punished, but not as harshly as the women. Zoe tried to block out the memory of the scars her female patients had from being caned and whipped.

A man like the Sheikh would demand an untouched bride. Zoe’s stomach cramped with panic. She had known that before she accepted the arrangement, but had thought she would be safe once the marriage contract was signed. It had been a risk, and it had backfired.

The door opened and Zoe went still, her breath lodging in her throat. She heard the guests offering their best wishes over the jubilant music. The jumble of noise scraped against her taut nerves. She wanted to scream, to bolt, to break down and cry, but she carefully lowered her head and clasped her hands tightly.

She flinched violently when the door closed and Zoe winced at her response. She needed to please the Sheikh, not offend him.

“Would you like a drink, Zoe?” he asked softly as he slipped off his shoes next to the door.

She wordlessly shook her head. Her mouth was dry, her throat ached, and she wished there was alcohol to numb her senses. But she didn’t think she could accept a drop without choking.

How was she going to get through the night? Maybe he wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t a virgin? Her head ached as she tried to plan. Perhaps she could fake her virginity? She wasn’t sure if she could get away with that strategy. From what she had heard about her husband he was very experienced, with an insatiable sex-drive.

She heard his cloak fall to the ground. Something soft followed. Zoe couldn’t help but look, and discovered the Sheikh had removed his headdress. His hair was short, thick and black.

He didn’t seem any less intimating. If anything, her husband appeared even harder, more ruthless. His profile was strong and aggressive. Power came off him in waves. She was aware that this was a man in his prime.

Zoe pulled her gaze away and stared at her hands. What was wrong with her? She was not interested in the Sheikh. He could become an obstacle to her dreams of returning home.

“It was a good ceremony,” the Sheikh said, his voice closer. “Short. My favorite kind.”

Zoe nodded again, although she thought the ceremony had been miserably long. However, she hadn’t shown up late. Not that she would point it out.

But this night was going to be endless. How was she going to prevent the fallout that was sure to come? Maybe she should fake modesty so he could never get close enough to finding out if she was a virgin or not. After all, what man would admit he’d failed to bed his wife on their wedding night?

Or she could pretend to faint dead away at the sight of him without a shirt. Zoe bit her bottom lip as she considered the merit of the idea. Or she could cry. A lot. For two solid days and nights. Men couldn’t stand being around a woman in tears.

Although the Sheikh might be different. He was probably used to women trembling and crying in his presence.

She heard his footsteps approaching the bed. Zoe took a gulp of air but it fizzled in her throat. She heard the faint chime of metal and discovered her bracelets clinking against each other as her arms and hands shook.

“Zoe?”

She stilled when she heard his voice. The chiming ceased. The Sheikh was right next to her. She felt vulnerable with her head down, but she was trying to be a good Jazaari bride. It was difficult pretending to be meek when she preferred to face trouble head-on.

She decided to follow her original plan. She wouldn’t run away but she wouldn’t sleep with the Sheikh. Fatimah was trying to play mind games again. She wouldn’t fall for it. All she needed to do tonight was keep her husband at a distance. Play the reluctant and timid bride until they left for their honeymoon. Once they were out of Jazaar she could make her escape.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment already?” He sounded amused. “We haven’t been married for more than a day.”

Silent treatment? She had never been accused of that before. Her problem had always been speaking her mind. “I’m nervous, Your Highness,” she replied, hating how her voice cracked.

“You may call me Nadir. And you don’t have to be nervous with me.”

Of course she did. He had the power to destroy her life or, unwittingly, help her to create a new one. She gave a tilt of her head to show that she understood him, and immediately tensed when he knelt on the mattress in front of her.

The bed suddenly felt smaller. She felt smaller as Nadir towered over her. Zoe kept her eyes firmly on her fists that rested on her lap. She watched cautiously as he reached for her hand. She jerked when she felt a hot spark between them as his skin touched hers.

Nadir’s hand was dark and large against hers. Zoe felt his latent strength as he gently uncurled her fingers. She watched as he quietly slid the stack of bangles from her wrists and over her hand. She noticed how much lighter her arms felt as the bracelets fell onto the floor.

Once he’d removed her bracelets Nadir lazily traced the henna pattern on her hand with a fingertip. Her skin tingled as the pulse skittered in her wrist. Zoe was tempted to pull away.

“Your veil looks heavy,” Nadir said softly.

He had no idea. “Yes.”

Nadir skimmed the top of her head with his hands. Zoe’s muscles tightened as she fought the urge to bolt. His gentle touch felt like a silent claim that she didn’t want to accept or obey. She wanted to retreat. Brush his hands aside. Get away from the bed. Her skin prickled, heat sizzling through her blood as she struggled to remain still.

She heard the beat of her heart mingled with her short, choppy breaths. She felt Nadir guide his hands along the jeweled edge of her veil. He located the hairpins anchoring the veil and slid them free. Tossing the pins onto the floor, he glided the veil off her head and let it fall behind her.

She immediately felt its loss. While Zoe was grateful to shed the weight, the veil had allowed her to hide. She no longer had that luxury.

She kept her head down as Nadir threaded his fingers through her long brown hair. She couldn’t tell if he was fascinated or disappointed by the unusual shade.

“Look at me, Zoe.”

Her pulse gave a hard skip. She wasn’t ready to look at him. With more courage than she’d thought she possessed, she slowly, jerkily, raised her head to meet Nadir’s gaze.

Heat bloomed inside her when she saw the desire in his eyes. He lowered his head and her eyelashes fluttered. Zoe knew she should turn away but she remained motionless. She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed when she felt his lips brush along her forehead.

Her lips stung with anticipation as Nadir skimmed his mouth along her cheek. His warm breath wafted over her skin before he placed a trail of soft kisses on her jawline. His hands were tangled in the mass of her hair, and she felt his fingers tighten when she gave a small sigh of pleasure.

Zoe leaned in closer and immediately stopped. She’d almost given herself away. She was supposed to be a bashful virginal bride. She needed to shy away, not participate!

Why was she responding so eagerly? She shouldn’t soften from a few tender caresses. Was her body greedy for a man’s touch because it had been so long? Or did Nadir know how to touch a woman and make her forget her best intentions?

She wasn’t going to fall for this. Obviously he wanted her to become used to his touch. He wanted her to welcome his advances and not see him as a threat.

It was too late. Nadir had been a threat from the moment he touched her. She didn’t think she had ever longed for a man’s touch, hungered for a kiss, as much as she did at this moment.

Her defenses couldn’t crumble. She would not let him get too close. Her future depended on it.

Nadir cradled her face with his hands and covered her mouth with his.

Wild desire exploded inside her. It rushed through her veins and she melted against him. She had never been kissed like this before. Nadir’s kiss claimed. Dominated.

She couldn’t surrender to him. She couldn’t let him find out the truth about her. Zoe knew she shouldn’t let this seduction continue, but somehow she parted her lips and allowed him to thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. She returned the kiss and was instantly swept away.

Sensations overwhelmed her and she clung to Nadir’s shoulders. Her hands crushed the luxurious fabric of his dishdasha and she drew him closer. She wanted more, so much more.

Zoe ignored her growing sense of alarm until she heard Nadir’s groan. She couldn’t tame the instant attraction that had flared between them. Nadir was too sensual, too dangerous. She broke the kiss and turned her head away swiftly.

She felt Nadir shudder as he tried to harness his emotions and knew she was pressing her luck. The last thing she wanted to do was frustrate him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she looked away.

Zoe pressed her fingertips against her swollen lips. Her breasts felt heavy and there was a delicious ache low in her belly. She had to get out of this bed. Now.

As she battled back the hunger Zoe realized she had not anticipated this fatal flaw in her plan. She’d never thought she would desire the Sheikh. That he would tempt her to throw caution to the wind.

She had to be careful. This was becoming a very dangerous game. She had to hide her shameful attraction and she could not act on it. Under no circumstances could she allow him to get any closer. No more kissing!

“It’s all right,” he murmured. He slowly kissed down the length of her throat. “I want you to kiss me back.”

That was the problem: she wanted to do more than kiss. Only she had to appear untutored and modest, Zoe reminded herself as Nadir removed her necklaces one by one. And when she kissed him she felt untamed. How did he have that much power over her responses?

She felt his hands travel down her spine and her top sagged open. Zoe’s heart lurched. He had found the fasteners hidden under the beading in the back. This wedding night had gone further than she wanted and she wasn’t sure how to stop it. Nadir pushed her top down her shoulders, revealing a thin white chemise.

She felt his heated gaze on her. She shivered as a dangerous excitement swept along her body, but she knew she should be feeling exposed and uncertain. What would a virgin do? Zoe belatedly crossed her arms to hide herself, but Nadir grasped her wrists.

“Don’t,” he ordered in a gruff voice. He lowered her arms. “Never hide yourself for me. You are beautiful.”

Zoe wanted to believe that the compliment fell automatically from Nadir’s lips, that he said it to all his lovers, but she felt beautiful. Desirable. Wanted. She hadn’t felt like that for a long time. She had to be very careful and not follow her instincts, but the blood was roaring in her veins.

Nadir dipped his head and captured her mouth with his. This time he wasn’t as gentle. She fed off his aggression. His kiss was hard and hungry. He couldn’t hide how much he wanted and needed her.

Heat swirled inside her. She was caught up in the kiss as he slowly lowered her. She speared her hands into his thick hair as he laid her on the bed. She’d accept one more kiss and then she’ll pull away. One more …

She didn’t protest when Nadir stripped her heavy skirt from her hips. He tore his mouth from hers and knelt back. She watched dazedly as he yanked off his dishdasha and tossed it on the floor.

Zoe gasped when she saw his golden brown skin and muscular physique. Okay, new rule, she decided frantically. No more taking off clothes. This was as far as they could go.

Without thinking she reached out and stroked his chest. She rubbed her fingertips in the sprinkle of coarse hair. She enjoyed the rasp of friction and imagined his chest, hot and sweaty, pressed against her soft breast.

She bucked her hips as the ache in her pelvis intensified. Uh-oh. She shouldn’t have done that. Had Nadir read anything from that shameless move?

Zoe hesitated, her chest rising and falling. She needed to hide her bold responses—a virgin would be shy and uncertain. She couldn’t let Nadir know how much she enjoyed exploring his body.

“Touch me again,” Nadir said in a hoarse whisper. “Touch me as much as you want.”

He shouldn’t give her that kind of encouragement. If she touched him as much as she wanted she would not stop touching him. She would touch this legendary playboy in ways that would shock him.

But she shouldn’t refuse him. Okay, revised new rule. She wouldn’t go past his chest. That was safe. Zoe splayed her fingers and caressed his arms and shoulders. She smoothed her hands along his back before trailing her fingers back to his chest.

Nadir’s muscles bunched as she scored his nipple with her fingernail. She hid her smile as a sense of power poured over her. She drew her hands down to his rock-hard abdomen before she reached the waistband of his white boxer shorts.

There must be something in her eyes. Something that gave away how she felt. She saw Nadir’s expression tighten and the fire glow in his eyes before he swooped down and claimed her mouth again. The long, wet kiss took her breath away.

She didn’t mean to part her thighs when he nestled his hips between her legs. Zoe knew he was trying to go slow and she didn’t think she could slow him down further. His muscles shook with restraint as he caressed the length of her leg.

Nadir deepened their kiss and cupped her breast. Zoe was surprised by his possessive touch. It felt good. It felt right. It was all she could do not to arch into his hand. Her nipple tightened under his attention, her breasts full and heavy.

She shouldn’t allow this, Zoe thought dazedly. But she was still partly clothed. She wasn’t too close to the point of no return, but she was far away from her original plan. She should stop this now, no matter how much she wanted it.

Zoe gasped, the sound ringing out into the room, as he pinched her nipple between his fingers. Intense pleasure spread under her skin like wildfire. She wiggled under his body and demanded more from his kiss.

Nadir didn’t follow her insistent silent command. He pulled away and she whimpered. His gaze focused on her shoulder as he pushed down the chemise strap. She felt the tremor in his hand as he peeled the fabric from her small breast. She thought she heard a purr of satisfaction before he lowered his head and took her breast into his mouth.

Zoe’s moan staggered from her throat. It didn’t sound virginal at all. She tilted her head back as hot pleasure poured through her. She closed her eyes, unwilling to reveal how weak and needy she felt. Nadir seemed to know exactly what she wanted. She felt the strong pull all the way to her core.

She instinctively wrapped her legs around his lean waist and drew him closer. When she felt his rock-hard erection against her flesh she realized she was in the danger zone. She wanted him inside her so much, but he would find out the truth about her.

She quickly dropped her legs as panic swelled in her chest. She grabbed his wide shoulders and tried to push him away, but he was too strong. “We’ve gone far enough,” she blurted out. “I am not sleeping with you!”

She clapped her hand over her mouth. Taut silence pulsated in the room. Nadir didn’t move, but she felt the ripple of tension in his body.

Now she’d done it. Zoe hunched her shoulders and waited for the explosion that was sure to follow. There was virginal reluctance and then there was outright refusal. The Sheikh was going to cast her back to her family before the night was over.

Nadir shuddered as he tried to hold back. He wanted Zoe badly. He was willing to change her mind. Lie. Cajole. Beg. He needed to taste her, sink into her wet heat and make her his in the most basic, primitive way.

He didn’t understand this white-hot instant attraction, but he wasn’t going to question it. It was an unexpected bonus to be attracted to his arranged bride, and he was willing to make the most of his good fortune for a few nights before he sent her away.

But Zoe didn’t see it that way. Was she frightened by the unfamiliar sexual feelings or was it something else? He wondered if she had heard the rumors about him. They would send any bride into a panic.

“Zoe.” He reached out for her but stopped when she flinched. Did she think he was going to hit her?

“I’m sorry,” she said behind her splayed hand. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Yes, you did.” He watched her expression closely. She was thinking fast, as if considering her best option.

“Okay, I did,” she admitted as she dropped her hand. “But … But … you have to understand. I don’t know you.”

He braced his arms on the mattress and met her gaze. He sensed that wasn’t her main concern. There was something false about her behavior. “I’m your husband. That’s all you need to know.”

Her mouth drew into a firm line and he knew she was choosing her next words carefully. “I don’t know anything about you,” she clarified.

That wasn’t what she really wanted to say. Her eyes were very expressive. She had already made up her mind about him and it wasn’t favorable. “I don’t know anything about you, either,” he said, “but I’m okay with that.”

Zoe’s eyes narrowed. “Women are different that way.”

Nadir exhaled sharply. It was true. Sex wasn’t just sex with women. It was a connection. It was about intimacy. And with a virgin it was supposed to be a magical experience. A sacred rite of passage.

Damn these virgins. They had to make a simple pleasure so complicated.

“In all honesty,” she continued softly as she looked away, “I don’t know anything about you other than your name.”

Which she hadn’t used yet, he noted. He’d had visions of her crying out his name over and over, but that wasn’t going to happen tonight. Nadir reluctantly slid the delicate strap of her chemise up her arm and settled it securely on her shoulder.

“I don’t know your favorite color or your favorite drink.”

The words rushed past her reddened lips as she tried desperately to explain herself. But he didn’t believe a word of it. Zoe was trying to build barriers.

“I don’t know your pet peeves or your goals. It’s kind of hard to sleep with a stranger even if you are married to him.”

“Women have been in arranged marriages for centuries,” he argued as lust continued to scorch through his veins. “It’s normal. It’s natural.”

“Not for me!”

Nadir gritted his teeth. An American virgin was probably the worst of the lot.

In fact his bride was very American. How long would it take for her to see the same Western sensibilities and spirit in him? If she suspected that he wasn’t as conservative as he pretended she could use that against him. He needed to stay on guard around Zoe.

“Now I’ve made you angry,” she said as her bottom lip wobbled.

Was she going to cry? Nadir rubbed his face with his hand. He hadn’t even raised his voice. How would she react when he wasn’t on his best behavior?

He knew she wasn’t just a virgin whose expectations were different. He understood this was an emotional day for her. She was obviously coming to terms with the fact that she was married and in bed with The Beast.

That wasn’t good. She was too nervous to be seduced into a sensual honeymoon, and despite what she thought he wasn’t going to force her.

The last thing he needed was a bride who was scared of him. That would encourage more questions and rumors. He needed to show the tribe that he could tame this American wildcat into a traditional Jazaari woman. Once they left the village he would send her away. But for now it meant he had to be more attentive. Patient.

But he was not a patient man. He had got where he was today by being merciless, intimidating and unyielding. That strategy wouldn’t work on his trembling wife. He needed to romance her. Show his tender side.

If only he had a tender side.

“Zoe, I’m not angry. Just stop cowering.”

She inhaled sharply. “I don’t cower,” she shot back.

Ah, those tears were fake. She wasn’t above using that age-old feminine technique, Nadir realized as he rose to his knees. That was good to know.

“You make a valid point about how we are strangers. We need to learn about each other more.”

She nodded fiercely and relief shone brightly in her eyes. “Exactly.”

“But you’re still sharing a bed with me,” he announced. He saw the hunted look on her face as he settled onto the other side of the bed. “How else will we know each other more?”

“I—I—”

Her gaze shifted from one point of the room to another. He knew she was trying to come up with an argument.

They had to sleep in the same bed. All it would take was one servant to notice their separate sleeping arrangements for gossip to spread like wildfire. That was the last thing he needed the tribe elders to discover.

“I won’t touch you until you’re ready,” Nadir said.

Zoe’s jaw shut with a snap. She narrowed her eyes as if she was trying to find some hidden loophole in his words. That offended him. Why should she question his word? He was a sheikh. He was her husband.

“I don’t need to force myself on a woman,” he said with lethal softness.

Her face paled. “I n-never said …”

“I know.” She didn’t have to. The look in her eyes indicated that she thought he was the fabled beast who would devour her in her sleep. Nadir swallowed back another deep sigh and turned off the lamp. “Go to sleep, Zoe.”

She gave a huff, as if to say that it would be impossible. Nadir watched as she scooted off to the far edge of the bed. She lay on her side, facing him, as if she had to keep an eye on him.

“You flatter yourself,” he muttered, and reached for her. She protested with a squawk, her muscles locking as he curled her against his side. He tried to ignore how well she fit against him.

“You said you wouldn’t touch me until I was ready,” she said stiffly.

“I won’t have sex with you until you’re ready,” he amended. And they would have sex very soon. He would make certain. “But you’re not going to get to know me, be comfortable with me, if you’re hanging on the edge of the mattress.”

She didn’t fight out of his loose embrace, but he could tell she wanted to. Zoe would probably leave the bed the moment he fell asleep. He had to build a quicker rapport between them, but how could he do that without sex?

He looked up at the ceiling as he considered possible alternatives. He remembered what Zoe had said and he rolled his eyes. It was ridiculous, but he might as well give it a shot. “And it’s blue.”

“What is?” she asked.

“My favorite color,” he answered gruffly. “A deep sapphire-blue. The color of the desert sky right before night falls.”

The silence stretched between them. “Blue is my favorite color, too,” she reluctantly admitted.

“Imagine that.” Nadir didn’t know if she was saying it to please him or if it was the truth. It didn’t matter as long as she’d learned a little bit more about him. Tomorrow she would accept—no, welcome him in her bed. And then he would tame his wife with one night of exquisite pleasure before sending her away.

He closed his eyes, his body still hard, his blood racing as he inhaled Zoe’s scent. Her long hair spilled over his shoulder and her soft body pressed against his. They were skin to skin.

And he couldn’t do anything about it.

He hadn’t expected to suffer like this, but it was a hell of a lot better than his last wedding night.

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