Susan Mallery - The Sheikh & the Princess In Waiting

by The Sheikh

  She’d wanted to look sexy and glamorous and enticing. All a challenge based on the contents of her suitcase. Not that her closet back home would have been that much help. She spent her workdays in scrub pants and brightly colored shirts and her evening attire pretty much consisted of khaki pants or long skirts and casual tops. Not exactly the fashion-forward clothing she would need to catch the eye of a prince.

  A prince very interested in divorcing her, she reminded herself as she smoothed the front of her skirt and smiled brightly. Reyhan had made it more than clear he was intent on getting her out of his life. Not exactly the actions of a man prepared to be overwhelmed by her modest charms.

  “What interests you most?” he asked as she stepped into the hallway and shut the door of her suite behind her. “There is an impressive display of centuries-old jewelry in a few of the public rooms.”

  “I’m sure it’s lovely,” she told him, “but I’m more of an antique furniture and tapestry kind of girl.”

  Reyhan raised one dark eyebrow, but didn’t comment on her statement. Maybe he didn’t believe her, which wasn’t her problem. Sure, she liked sparkling things as much as the next woman, but they weren’t her world.

  “Very well,” he said. “We’ll begin in the older section of the palace. The original structure was built in the late 900s. Since then, the pink palace has been updated and enlarged several times. Once, during the reign of Elizabeth the

  first, the daughter of a wealthy merchant was captured and held for ransom by the bastard son of the king. After a time, instead of returning her, he fell in love with her. They married and lived happily together. For their tenth anniversary, he presented her with a chapel—a miniature representation of a cathedral she’d seen once in France. We’ll begin there.”

  Emma walked next to him, trying not to get caught up in the heat his body generated. “Were many women captured and held against their will?”

  Reyhan smiled. “It is a time-honored tradition for sheiks to take that which they admire.”

  How comforting. “So there’s a harem here in the palace, too?”

  “Of course.”

  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to see it or not. Imagine a place where women were held simply to offer pleasure to one man. Of course there would be a lot of free time. She could catch up on her reading.

  She glanced at her estranged husband and wondered what it would be like to be captured by him. Would he be kind? Demanding? She shivered at the thought of either. The wanting that was always just below the surface when he was around, burst into life. Her body ached to be close to his. She wanted him to pull her against him, kiss her, caress her. Instead she had to be content with the occasional brush of his arm against hers.

  “Do men in Bahania have more than one wife?” she asked.

  “No. That practice died out long before it was outlawed. Men quickly came to realize that keeping one wife happy was a full-time job.”

  “I’ve never understood why the multiple-wife thing was so popular,” she said as they stepped out into a beautiful formal garden. She recognized it as the one she could see from her balcony. Where Cleo and her husband had come to be alone.

  “It would be easy for a woman to be with more than one man in an evening, but after men, um, have their way, they’re sort of out of it for a while.”

  Halfway through her sentence, she realized she’d stepped into some very dangerous territory. Did she really want to be having this conversation with Reyhan?

  He stared at her, his expression unreadable but not the least bit friendly. “You know this from personal experience?”

  “No. I’ve just…heard.”

  “It is not about pleasure,” he told her, his voice slightly strained. “It is about children. A woman is with child for nine months. In that time, a man can continue to impregnate other women, while she can only bear him one son at a time.”

  “Oh. That makes sense.” She spoke brightly, as if this conversation was no big deal. “Good point. What’s that?”

  She pointed at a large statue of a horse rearing. It was life-size and pure white.

  “A gift from the king of El Bahar some years ago. We have always had close ties with our neighbor.”

  “I remember hearing that.”

  Reyhan led the way down a narrow path. Lush plants grew on both sides and tall trees offered shade. It was early April and still pleasant but she was sure by mid-July the temperature, even in morning, would be unbearable.

  “Here we are,” he said, pointing to a small but exquisitely built chapel.

  Spires reached toward the heavens. All of the windows were stained glass and looked ancient. Stone steps led into a darkened and cool interior.

  Emma walked inside and instantly felt at peace. Half a dozen pews flanked a wide center aisle. In front, more stained-glass windows stretched up to the arched ceiling.

  “Master craftsmen were brought in from France,” Reyhan told her. “They worked for three years on the chapel, all in secret. While they were here, they trained many local masons who incorporated the designs in their own work.”

  Emma touched the carved wood pews. The finish was thick and glossy, obviously well cared for. What a private treasure, she thought.

  “Are services ever held here?” she asked.

  “On special holidays.”

  She fought a sudden longing to attend one, knowing she would be gone and forgotten before the next occasion.

  Reyhan led her back into the palace. They walked down several flights of stone stairs, until she was sure they were underground.

  “Long-lost treasures were recently returned to us,” he said, pushing opening a massive wooden door. “Tapestries and statues, along with jewels and pieces of furniture. Local experts are restoring our history to us.”

  He showed her a wall-size tapestry in a frame. Two women matched threads and carefully repaired a large tear. It took Emma a second to see the scene—four men galloping across the desert. Their expressions were intent and fierce, their faces slightly familiar.

  She glanced at Reyhan, noting the similarity in the shape of the eyes and build of the bodies.

  “Relatives?” she asked.

  “Ancestors. This dates back to the 1200s.”

  She wanted to touch the cloth, but knew too much handling could damage the delicate treasure.

  He showed her shelves of statues and stacks of carved furniture. “Pieces are moved around in the palace,” he said. “Some things are on display here in the city museum. Others are sent on tour around the world.”

  “I can’t imagine what it would have been like growing up here,” she said as they left the storage area and climbed stairs to the main level.

  “As a young child, I had little use for the past. It was simply information I needed to learn to please my tutors.”

  “I suppose. We never appreciate what we have when we’re young. Not unless we lose it.”

  He glanced at her. “What did you lose?”

  She thought of her childhood. Loving, if overly protective. “I’m not sure there was anything. I was speaking in general.” She glanced around at the city-size rooms they passed. “I think my entire house could have fit in there. You and your brothers must have had a good time playing hide-and-seek in here.”

  “We were not permitted to play games in the main rooms of the palace.”

  “Probably just as well. You could have gotten lost for days.”

  “Our tutors would have come looking for us.”

  Tutors. Not exactly a reference she could relate to. “You didn’t go to the local schools?”

  “No. When I was eleven I was sent to boarding school in Britain.”

  “It’s that whole prince thing, huh?”

  He glanced at her. One corner of his mouth curved up. “Prince thing?”

  She grinned. “You know. Being royal. It made you different.”

  “We were given many unique opportunities.”

  “I suppose you would have to
learn things regular kids didn’t. Like how to behave in certain situations, and rules about running a country. Of course I’ll bet each of you had your own horse. I guess it’s a tradeoff. There are advantages and disadvantages to most circumstances.”

  They walked into a huge reception room. The ceilings had to be three stories tall. There were carved poles and an intricately inlaid marble floor.

  Floor-to-ceiling beveled windows let in light. A raised stage stood at one end of the incredible room.

  “My apartment doesn’t even have a foyer,” she murmured, and wondered again why he’d bothered with her all those years ago. “I was little more than a country mouse.”

  “What?”

  She motioned to the gold light fixtures. “I’m going to guess that color isn’t just a really nice paint job. Those are real gold.”

  “Yes, but it is of little consequence.”

  “Perhaps to you.” She turned in a slow circle.

  Reyhan’s leaving her was for the best, she thought sadly. There was no way she could have fit in here then. No way she fit in now.

  “Is there another man?” he asked abruptly.

  She stared at him. “What? You mean am I seeing anyone?”

  He nodded.

  “No. I’m not dating anyone right now. I’ve never been very good at the whole boy-girl thing, but you would know that better than anyone.”

  Memories crept in of their three nights together after their wedding. How he had taken her over and over and how she’d been unable to be anything but afraid.

  Things would be different now, she thought with regret. She was sure she could respond, even hunger for him. But a man intent on getting a divorce was unlikely to be physically interested in the woman he was leaving behind—passionate kisses aside.

  “Once you are no longer married, you can change that,” he said.

  “As can you.”

  But she didn’t want to think about him being with another woman.

  “It’s scary to think what could have happened,” she said to distract herself. “I really didn’t know about the marriage being real. If I’d gotten serious about someone and we’d wanted to get married…” Would her parents have told her the truth? She would like to think so, but she was no longer sure about anything.

  “I would have been in touch to let you know we were still married.”

  “How would you have known?”

  He stared at her without speaking, and then realization sank in. “You’ve kept track of me.” It was a statement, not a question. She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or creeped out.

  “At first, I received monthly reports,” he told her. “Now, yearly. You are my wife. It is my duty to watch over you.”

  As he hadn’t known about her job, the last report must have been sometime last summer, after her graduation but before she’d started work at the hospital.

  “If I’d known we were still married, I would have contacted you,” she said. “I mean, being married all these years and being apart doesn’t make any sense.” She realized how that sounded. “Not that I’m suggesting we should have been together.”

  “I understand. Divorcing is the most sensible plan.”

  “Right.”

  Sure. It wasn’t as if she knew anything about Reyhan, save the fact that being within ten feet of him reduced her to a quivering mass.

  “I wonder what would have happened if I’d known you’d come back for me,” she said. “Would you have brought me here?”

  “Of course. As my wife, your place is at my side.”

  “What about my education? I wouldn’t have been able to go to college here.”

  “Should we argue about what never was?”

  “Probably not.”

  But everything would have been different. They would have had children by now.

  She’d always wanted children, she thought wistfully. And with Reyhan as their father, they would be stronger than her. More able to stand up for themselves.

  Would she have been able to keep him happy? Would their marriage have flourished or would her youth have worn on his affections?

  Had he loved her, even a little? More questions she wouldn’t be asking.

  “Reyhan…”

  She spoke his name, then paused, not sure what she wanted to say or ask.

  He stared at her, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Stop,” he ordered.

  “What?”

  Her chest tightened as it became difficult to breathe. Awareness flickered through her body, making her tremble. Her mouth went dry, her fingers tingled and wanting swelled until she thought she would burst.

  Then she was in his arms with no way to understand how she’d come to be there.

  He held her tightly, possessively and she reveled in belonging to him even for that single moment.

  She had less than a heartbeat to anticipate the kiss before he pressed his mouth against hers and claimed her.

  She parted instantly, wanting the intimacy, needing to make him desire her. The melting began, in her chest and between her thighs. At the first brush of his tongue against hers, she closed her eyes. At the second, she held in a sigh of contentment. Passion flooded every part of her body, making her squirm to get closer.

  She touched his shoulders, his arms, then ran her hands up and down his muscled back. His fingers tangled in her hair. Their tongues stroked and circled and danced before he pulled back slightly and kissed her jaw.

  He nibbled his way to her ear where he drew the lobe into his mouth and sucked gently. Her breath caught. He dropped his hands to her hips, then to her fanny where he cupped her curves before pulling her hard against him. As her stomach nestled against him, she felt a bulge.

  Fierce gladness flashed through her. Reyhan was aroused. She excited him as much as he excited her. The thought thrilled her then was lost as he licked the sensitive skin under her ear, and she was unable to think about anything other than the exquisite sensations he created.

  Heat was everywhere. His fingers burned, his body warmed. She found herself wanting to strip off clothing and bare herself. The large room and hard marble floors offered neither privacy nor comfort, but she didn’t care.

  She breathed his name, and when his mouth returned to hers, she was the one to slip her tongue against his lower lip before dipping inside.

  He tasted faintly of coffee, with a little sweetness she couldn’t explain. He continued to press against her, rubbing his arousal against her belly. She wanted to raise herself up on tiptoe so he could rub her there and pleasure them both.

  One of his hands moved from her rear to her hip, then traveled higher. Her breasts swelled in anticipation of his touch. She wrapped both arms around his neck and clung to him so that when he reached his destination, she would not collapse at his feet.

  Closer and closer and closer until she nearly begged him out loud. At last he cupped her right breast and brushed his thumb against her tight nipple.

  Pleasure jolted her like lightning. She gasped, then nipped at his lower lip while he continued to stroke her. She could feel tension building between her thighs, the dampness of her panties and the trembling in her legs.

  And then he was gone. He stepped back and stared at her. His breath came in rapid pants. Passion brightened his eyes and tightened the lines of his face.

  She didn’t have the courage to glance lower, to see that he wanted her, but she knew.

  They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Emma wished she knew what to say, or even how to ask why he’d stopped when they were both so obviously willing. But nothing in her life had prepared her for such a reaction, so she couldn’t find the words.

  “I must return to my office,” Reyhan said at last. “You will find your way back to your rooms.”

  It was a statement rather than a question, and Emma wasn’t sure she could speak, let alone argue. She watched him walk away, then she staggered a few feet to one of the columns and leaned against it until her
heartbeat slowed to normal.

  She didn’t understand what was happening with Reyhan. She hadn’t seen him in years. Why was he getting to her? And why did he have to be the only man who made her want with such incredible intensity?

  “Too many questions,” she whispered when she could finally think and breathe like a normal person. “No answers.” Just a man who made her burn and a ticking clock that reminded her it would soon be time to leave.

  Reyhan didn’t return to his office right away. He detoured through the far end of the palace, walking briskly in an attempt to burn off the passion and need that Emma had created.

  Nothing had changed. Emma’s pull over him remained absolute. She could bring him to his knees with just a glance. When she touched him—he would capture the moon if she so requested.

  He could never let her know the power she had over him, could never let her know his weakness for her. He paused by a window and stared uneasily out at the view.

  He would control this, he told himself. He would stay in control.

  In a few days she would be gone and there would be relief. But instead of anticipation, he felt only pain at the thought of his world without her. The ache inside of him deepened.

  So much time had passed, he’d hoped that he could face her and not care, not need. But he’d been wrong. Worse, she responded to him with the wants and desires of an experienced woman. She was no longer the frightened child he’d married.

  Who had taught her to kiss so expertly? he wondered grimly. What man had tutored the woman who belonged to him? Passion blended with rage as his hands curled into fists. Were that man here now, Reyhan would rip him apart.

  No! Control. He had to get control. Emma might be the color in his world, but she was also dangerous. Better to live in shades of gray than risk everything.

  Just a few more days. Then she would be gone and he would be free.

  Chapter 6

  The main marketplace was so filled with light and color, it was like stepping inside of a kaleidoscope. Emma didn’t know where to look first. Wooden stalls lined the wide stone street and everywhere she turned there were more wonders to be seen. Bright silks puddling like quivering gems, copper pots of every shape and size, fruits, vegetables and rich, supple leather goods tempted her to step closer and touch.