Sheikhs: Rich, powerful desert kings and the women who bring them to their knees...

by Clare Connelly

  He shrugged, but he leaned in closer, so that his chest was pressed against her long legs.

  “Out with it, Tariq. What has made you look at me like that?”

  He captured her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Simply put, the idea of you as my captive prisoner holds some... appeal.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as he nipped at her thumb, then glided his lips along it, tasting her skin.

  His words were hoarse with sensual promise. “Would you like to be my prisoner, Rebecca?”

  Chapter Four

  A shiver ran along her spine. She couldn’t deny the idea held appeal for her, too. But she instinctively bucked against the idea of submitting to her desires when she knew he held such a low opinion of her.

  Unconsciously, she darted the tip of her tongue out of her mouth and traced it around the line of her lips, to moisten them. Tariq’s eyes were drawn to the small gesture and he felt a flare of need consume him from the inside out. This had not been planned. He should have been working on Assan’s infrastructure impasse, not flirting with the woman who had agreed to marry a total stranger for money.

  And though he knew he shouldn’t be pursuing this, her obvious hesitation infuriated him. His attraction to her had caught him off guard, but since their wedding night, he’d been able to think of little else. It was the reason he’d taken himself away from the palace for a period. To get his desires under control. His brain knew that getting involved with her was foolhardy. How could such a mercenary woman fail to bring grief and heartbreak to him? How could he ever trust her?

  Only, other parts of his anatomy were far less sensible.

  He thought he had mastered his self-control, but seeing Faisal intimidate her the night before had shown what a lie that was. He wanted her. Exclusively. And completely.

  And he wanted to know she felt the same.

  He pulled her forward in the chair so that he could kneel between her legs, feel her warmth surrounding him, and then he kissed her, hard on the lips. She relaxed into his arms instantly, her body pliant against his. The dress she wore fell to her ankles but beneath the cotton fabric was bare skin and he relished the sensation as his fingers took hold of her legs and slowly glided upwards.

  She moaned as his hands grazed her thighs and went higher still, until he could scoop them beneath her dress and press them against each curve of her bottom. He needled the soft skin there and used his chest to push her back gently into the chair, so that he was almost lying on top of her. He had never wanted a woman more, but he was not a horny high school boy. Where was his finesse, that he would have taken her right here, in a room that any servant could have walked into without warning?

  Reluctantly, he pulled his lips away from hers, and saw his own disappointment mirrored in her face. She lowered her eyes, quick to hide it. She hid so much as a matter of course, and it made him ache to know everything.

  “You are a virgin.” He said simply, brusquely rearranging her skirt so that it fell back modestly to her ankles, then standing to put some distance between them.

  She raised defiant eyes to him. “Yes.”

  He turned away from her, dragged a hand through his hair.

  “Does that bother you?” She intoned flatly, brushing away an invisible hair on her skirt.

  “Bother me!” He exclaimed, coming back to kneel in front of her. “Why do you think it would bother me?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose you are more experienced. A lot more experienced, I guess. Someone with my lack of know-how is probably a real turn off.”

  His eyes caressed her face. “Nothing could be further from the truth.” He exhaled slowly. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued. How does someone as beautiful as you remain so pure?”

  “Beautiful? Me?” She squeaked. “You need your eyes checked.”

  His frown was imperceptible. “There is nothing wrong with my vision.”

  She shook her head. “It’s just an expression.”

  “Answer my question, Rebecca. How?”

  “I would have thought the mechanics was pretty obvious.” She snapped tartly. “I simply failed to have sex. Hence, I remained a virgin.”

  He took care to control the wave of annoyance that her evasive responses were fanning. “You never had a boyfriend?”

  “You’re not going to let it go, are you?” She squirmed, toying with her hands in her lap.

  “No.” He responded simply. “We can always go back to option A until you start giving me straight answers.”

  “Option A?”

  “Imprisonment. At my mercy, completely.”

  Her sweetly shocked expression pleased him but he refused to let her see it.

  “Not necessary,” she promised, biting down on her lower lip. “It wasn’t a conscious decision. I was just made to feel uncertain of myself around the opposite sex. Although I have many male friends, I learned to shut off the...er... sexual side of myself. Until...” She paused, feeling indescribably awkward.

  “Until?” A smile had spread across his face at her admission that he was the first man who had made her feel sexual desire.

  “Never mind.” She huffed.

  He reached up and took a fistful of her hair in the palm of her hand. He ran his fingers through it, noting how like silk it felt against his skin.

  “You said you were made to feel uncertain around men. By whom?” He honed in on the phrasing of her admission and she cursed herself for being so indiscrete. The last thing she wanted was to give Winona and Greg any more power to affect her life. Talking about them gave them that power. She wouldn’t do it.

  “Just... something someone said once,” she made it sound breezy, and waved her hand through the air. “How about you, your highness?”

  “How about me?” He responded. He knew she was still being evasive but time would unlock her secrets, and they had a lifetime to look forward to.

  A very rare blush stole across her cheeks. “I understand you’re quite a ladies’ man. Are the reports on the internet to be believed?”

  He laughed. “No.”

  “Care to elaborate?” She prodded when he said no more.

  “Perhaps.” He narrowed his eyes. “Not now though. Regrettably, I have a delegation of very important business people waiting for me to continue a meeting.” He felt a pang of remorse as he stood, and in doing so, broke the spell of conversation that had wound around them. “Unless you have any more questions...” He teased, turning to walk away.

  “Just one.” Her imperious voice stopped him mid-step.

  “Oh?”

  “Why did you... stop ... what we were doing? Just now.” She looked away. She had to know. Was it because he couldn’t bring himself to sleep with a virgin?

  He grimaced. “You deserve your first time to be more special than that.” He answered truthfully.

  It had felt pretty special to her. He sighed. “Rebecca, this office is not private. Anyone could have interrupted us. And if I had kissed you for even a moment longer, I don’t know if I would have been capable of giving a damn.”

  “Oh.” Her blue eyes were saucer wide as she looked towards the door. “I didn’t realise.”

  “Of course not.” He nodded. “Later, Sheikha. We will talk again later.”

  She watched as he walked from the room, his tall, taught body confined in a powerful black suit that looked like it had been stitched to every line of his body. Talking was all well and good, but the fire between her legs needed something rather different altogether.

  Eight days as Queen of Assan and Rebecca knew as little about her role as she had before she’d married Tariq. She wanted to know more about the country, and more about the royal responsibilities. Particularly, she wanted to know what the Queen’s prerogatives and privileges were. How wide a scope did she have to get involved on pet projects? Monique had proved as helpful as a brick wall when it came to expanding her workload. “There is plenty of time for that, Rebecca. Right now, you only have to focus on
being Queen, and perhaps creating an heir.”

  It had caused her to blush, the oblique allusion to her sex life. Which was, of course, pretty non-existent, anyway. Besides, Rebecca wanted to make herself useful. A purely ceremonial role would bore her socks off; she needed something with grit. And yet, the most anyone seemed to expect of Rebecca was that she relax and beautify herself.

  And so, she took herself back to the library to borrow some reference books. She had been a brilliant student at university. She’d undertaken two degrees at once, throwing herself into the academic life to avoid the misery of home. If no one was going to tell her what she wanted to know, then she’d just have to learn it for herself.

  The Assanian constitution and a book on the political history seemed as good a starting point as any. Rebecca carried the heavy books back to her bedroom and set up to study on the small parapet balcony that overlooked the private royal pool. It was a stinking hot day, but from the small protruding alcove she had the benefit of a slight breeze. Hours passed as her knowledge grew. She scratched notes against the stark white paper of her notepad.

  She had known that the Kingdom of Assan was progressive, but the truth filled her with pleasure. The legal system was based on a rule of law. While the King and Queen were seen to have ultimate authority, there was a separate judiciary that operated throughout the land, and even the monarchs were subject to a sort of judicial procedure.

  Rebecca snapped shut the first volume and lifted the second. As she peered through the table of contents, a splash beneath her caused her attention to waver. She scanned the pool. A dark shape was gliding far beneath the water’s surface.

  Tariq.

  She watched, fascinated, as his powerful body pulled through the water. His arms, thickly muscled yet long and lean at the same time, tore the water apart as though it were simply air. Watching him swim was how dancing made her feel. Free, ethereal, and alive.

  He reached the end of the pool and kicked his legs against the beautifully mosaiced wall, so that he spun beneath the water. With effortless grace, he returned to the opposite end. Study forgotten, she leaned back in her chair and stared, as again and again he carved through the water. How much time passed, she couldn’t say.

  He paused at one end of the pool, in the shade thrown from the building beyond, and swiped his towel across his face.

  His eyes found hers. Pierced them with their swift focus. “Are you waiting for a written invitation?” He mused, just loud enough that his voice carried to her on the breeze.

  She stood and leaned against the ornately carved railing. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Instead of sitting there and staring, why don’t you come and join me?” He grinned rakishly up at her. Rebecca felt mortification uncurl in her stomach. He had known she was watching him. She looked behind her, to the cocoon of her bedroom, where three of her attendants were sitting, sorting through even more dresses that had arrived as wedding presents.

  She held a finger to her lips to urge him to speak quietly and his laugh drifted over to her. “Don’t be shy. We are husband and wife, after all, and I am only suggesting you join me for an afternoon swim on a very hot day.”

  Put like that, she did seem childish for hesitating. “What if I don’t feel like swimming?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Then come down here and watch me. Let me try to change your mind.”

  She bit down on her lower lip and then, with a small shake of her head, disappeared back inside.

  She told herself she was only going down there because it was hot. Not because he had demanded it. Not because she desired him so much she felt like she was going to explode. Not giving herself a chance to back out, she quickly changed into a black all in one swimsuit, and pulled a transparent kaftan on over the top.

  “Are you certain this is appropriate?” She asked Monique uncertainly.

  “Of course. Besides, no one will see you. Go down this staircase and you’ll open out straight into the pool. No servant will interrupt while the Emir is swimming.” She added.

  Rebecca nodded. “Thank you, Monique.”

  She walked down the narrow staircase, and with every step, felt her nerves tangling and multiplying. The staircase looked almost as though it had been carved out of stone. Each step was a little uneven, and the walls loomed inwards with slight bulges and variations as she went. As Monique had promised, the last step opened out onto a paved courtyard that skirted around the pool.

  She frowned. The pool was now empty. The water still. Perhaps he had tired of waiting for her.

  Just as she was about to call his name into the warm afternoon, two hands snaked around her waist and pulled her back into the shadows, hard against a wet, firm body. Ah. There he was.

  “You came.” He whispered against her neck, and the double entendre gave her a small thrill of anticipation.

  “You’re making me wet,” she replied in kind, earning a grin of acknowledgement from him.

  He pulled at the fabric of her robe and lifted it easily over her hips, and then her head, so that she was dressed in the simple black bathing costume.

  “You look... perfect.” He complimented as his eyes travelled the length of her body. “Almost a shame to have to do this.”

  “Do what?” She asked. He scooped her into his arms and carried her as though she weighed no more than a sparrow towards the edge of the pool. Guessing his intention, she wriggled against his torso, but he easily overpowered her. “No! Tariq, don’t do it!” She shrieked, and pummelled a fist against his naked chest.

  “Ah, don’t be a baby,” he chided gently, and without a second’s hesitation, leaped into the pool with her still in his arms.

  The water splashed all around her as she sank almost to the bottom, but two firm arms kept her close and made her feel safe. She kicked strongly and floated back to the surface. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” she promised, splashing water straight into his face.

  He laughed. “Is that a promise?”

  She laughed back, pushing hair out of her eyes. “Yep.”

  “Good. I look forward to it.”

  Her breath was shallow, but she didn’t know if it was because of the sudden submersion into the water, or the man still holding her tight.

  “How did your meeting go?” She changed the subject clumsily and slid out of his arms at the same time, putting some much needed space between them.

  Remembering his promise to go softly, softly with Rebecca, he allowed her to regain some distance. The force of their chemistry terrified even him. He couldn’t imagine what she, with her complete lack of experience, must be making of the overpowering spark that flew between them.

  “We made some headway. It will take time to stamp out the problem completely.”

  “What is the problem?” She asked, and he could see from her expression that she wasn’t simply humouring him.

  “Crime. We have had several transports mugged at gunpoint over the past twelve months. Several trucking companies have now changed their routes, and won’t go further north or south than what they deem to be a safe point. Meaning that our most regional areas are no longer well served for even basic essentials. It’s making life untenable for tens of thousands.” He sighed heavily. “The roads are good. But the risk is too high.”

  She nodded sympathetically. “And you think you have a solution?”

  “A few ideas. Checkpoints. Drivers carrying armed guards.”

  She frowned. “But you don’t like that idea.” She didn’t know how she knew it, but she just did.

  He shook his head. “Not exactly. Yet it makes sense.”

  “Hmm.” She nodded slowly. “But we’ve seen that experiment fail in other countries. Arming more and more people doesn’t defuse violence.”

  “Exactly.” His smile was so rich it made her body tingle with warmth. “Gun ownership in Assan is illegal. Only police and members of the military carry lethal weapons, and even then, it is strictly regulated and licences must be held. Havin
g private security contractors suddenly infiltrate our highways makes me... anxious.”

  “Understandably so. There must be better options.”

  He nodded. “I have been looking at getting an air service operational. The problem is that it is expensive, and it might drive the cost of goods up too quickly.”

  “You can’t subsidise it?”

  “I could.” He narrowed his gaze. “Does this really interest you?”

  She nodded emphatically. “Yes. I married you. I became Queen of Assan. I want to know everything about the country.”

  He felt pride swell in his chest. “Why don’t you accompany me to the meeting tomorrow?”

  “It wouldn’t be strange to have me there?”

  “Of course not. As you say, you are Queen of Assan.”

  She looked him in the eyes and smiled brightly. “Thank you, then. I’d be delighted.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be interested in the politics of the country,” he admitted, treading water right in front of her. His thigh brushed against hers and she instinctively pressed harder against the wall.

  “Now, why would you think that?” She wondered aloud.

  “You’re a teacher.” He shrugged.

  “Yes. But teachers can be interested in a great many things beyond the classroom,” she pointed out in chagrin.

  “I didn’t mean to cause offence.” His eyes narrowed. “You can be quite prickly sometimes.”

  “Prickly?” She laughed, but his observation cut her to the quick. Another byproduct of the way Winona and Greg had habitually berated her, growing up. She knew she was too sensitive.

  “Like you are expecting criticism. Waiting for it.”

  “I wonder why I would expect criticism from you, Tariq.” Her tone was filled with irony.

  He had kept a distance for too long. He pulled through the water with one firm breast stroke and put his hands on either side of the pool coping, effectively trapping her between his arms. He wrapped his legs around her waist and pulled her close, so that his penis was tantalisingly close to her core. He watched her face flicker with sexual heat and felt his own need stir. “I was wrong to speak to you as I did on our wedding night,” he said slowly, and he pressed his lips against her forehead. “I don’t apologise often, Rebecca, but I am truly sorry for the words I spoke.”