by Leslie North
“And I am most pleased to meet you.” He stepped closer and his scent—sandalwood and spice—washed over her. Christine's mind emptied. He was six feet of male that set off every alarm bell in her head. The strong nose left him looking arrogant, and that sharp, chiseled chin outlined by a trim beard was made for stubbornness. He was also staring at her like she was Christmas and Easter and the end of Ramadan all wrapped up in one.
What was it Tess had said about royal protocol? A dozen cousins stood in line to the throne of Zahkim after Sheikh Tarek, but was Sheikh Arif one of them? She should have spent a little more time reading up on modern history instead of her usual area of ancient texts.
Managing a smile, she put out her hand and prayed that shaking hands wasn't on the forbidden list. It seemed okay, since he took hold of her fingers, dropped a kiss on the back of her hand, and then turned over her hand and kissed her palm. A charge shot up her arm and headed straight to her stomach, which did a backflip.
Okay, girl, you have got to get out more often.
She'd been buried with her dissertation for way too long. And she was still buried in research. She was here to do even more, but right now Sheikh Arif still held her hand and was leading her out onto the dance floor. Short of making a scene, Christine had to follow.
Glancing back at Tess, Christine lifted her eyebrows high with a clear what the hell have you gotten me into message. Tess shooed her with both hands, making it equally clear Christine was supposed to dance and have fun. Christine made a face. It was just like back at the high school prom with Tess pushing her out to dance with Bobby Benson—Christine had had a mad crush on him and had been too shy to say anything. She glanced over now at Sheikh Arif. Okay, so he looked nothing like Bobby Benson, who'd been blond and full of himself. Sheikh Arif just seemed full of himself, dragging her onto the dance floor as if he owned her.
A small thrill jumped through her. She wasn't used to this much male possessiveness, but it was kind of nice and left her feeling dainty and…protected. Not that she needed that. She pushed out a breath and told herself to stay grounded.
You can do this—it's just a dance.
The music settled into another jazz classic, and Sheikh Arif pulled her into his arms—they did that in Zahkim? Christine searched for light conversation.
Weather? Too boring. My, what a nice country you have? Too dumb. She stared at his broad chest and the neat line of buttons that went up his sternum to his neck. Could she say, I'd love to dig into the palace archives as soon as I can? Okay—way too much to the point and too abrupt. His hand shifted from her waist to her lower back. He pulled her closer against an alarming amount of hard muscle. Heat seeped into her body through the thin silk of her dress. Her pulse kicked up again.
She glanced up—she wasn't that tall at only five-two—and he glanced down. That electrical charge she'd felt before seemed to jump between them, leaving her mouth dry. His eyes darkened, and she decided they had to be gray. As deep as the Atlantic and just as easy for a girl to drown in. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't do anything but stare up into those eyes and wonder what secrets they held.
And then he shocked her—and left her both pissed and pretty damn sure he was mocking her—by saying, "Christine Harper, will you marry me?"
Chapter Two
You're joking…right?"
Arif glanced around him. Four other couples had joined them on the dance floor, and this was not the place to make known his enchantment with this woman. The instant he had set eyes on her, he had realized she was meant for him. She was lovely. The red silk swirling around her hinted at lush curves. The low neckline of her dress promised them. The short hair, which had started to curl and held flashes of a deeper red, spoke of a practical woman. Long lashes framed deep, brown eyes that glittered with intelligence and perhaps just a touch of challenge. Which was good. He'd had enough of women willing to throw themselves at him simply because he was a sheikh of Zahkim.
She was still staring at him, her eyebrows flattening over those chocolate eyes of hers. Gripping her hand, he pulled her with him, out of the crowd and toward the nearest doorway. She hung back slightly, but he pulled her with him into the library. She gave a small gasp and became rooted to the carpet, so he glanced back to see what had halted her willingness to come with him.
Eyes huge in her oval face, her skin pale, she stared up at the books. Arif followed her gaze to the bookcases that lined the room, floor to ceiling. He had grown up in the palace, for his father had been an advisor to Tarek's father, the previous ruler. The library had been a favorite place to play, not just for the books, but also the vast number of hiding spots behind couches and leather chairs. Now, Christine's mouth fell open. It took all Arif's willpower not to pull her close and kiss those lush lips, but he had something else in mind. He tugged on her hand, and she followed, her steps still slow and her stare traveling over the bookcases.
"Is this part of the palace archives?" She said the words as if awed.
Arif huffed a small laugh. "This is the private library. The archives are much larger."
He could swear a tremor shook her down to her fingertips, but he stepped onto the terrace, which overlooked the desert. She came with him, her stare still locked on the books behind them. He had no trouble slipping an arm around her waist. He tugged her closer until her breasts flattened against his body and her hips nudged his growing erection.
"I have waited for you all my life, habibi."
She turned at last to look at him, her head tipped to one side and her breathing rapid. "Okay, didn't expect this." She gave a small laugh and rested her hands on her chest. "Is this the part where you sweep me away to your desert tent or something?"
"Something," he said. Bending over her, he paused long enough for her to voice a protest, then fixed his mouth to hers.
Ah, she tasted of peaches and something else even sweeter. Her lips parted on a sigh and he took in her breath, his grip tightening on her waist. She resisted only an instant—and then fit herself to him as if she belonged in his arms. And she did. He wanted to deepen the kiss, to strip her bare in the twilight and take her where they stood—but, no, a woman such as her deserved to be courted. He allowed the kiss to linger a moment longer, swept his tongue across hers, invaded her mouth so she would know he would soon take even more of her to be his own.
Reluctantly, he pulled back. She stood with her eyes closed, swaying slightly. He could see the pulse beating in her neck, the rhythm matching his own. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Then her eyes fluttered open.
He tightened his hold on her and told her, "I do not joke about such a thing. The heart knows what it wants—and my heart wants you."
She licked her lips. Arif bent and stole another kiss. This time she did push back against his chest with her palms, and he allowed her to put a small distance between them. Her words tumbled out with uneven breaths.
"This is not what I expected. If you've used this line before and had it work, you should know that I'm not the kind of woman who leaps into bed with any guy with a cute grin and a—"
"Ah, you think my grin is cute. That is a good start, for I find you to be adorable." She stiffened. Perhaps he had said the wrong thing, so he added, "Adorable and beautiful, and I cannot wait to see you spread naked on my bed. You were made to wear pearls whose luster would match your skin. Pearls and diamonds, and I shall see you draped in them and nothing else."
Light spilling from the library revealed her blush. She broke away from him and crossed her arms. "Okay, I know weddings are great places for pickups, but no. Just no. I came here because Tess asked me and because…well, I was hoping to get access to the palace archives, and if you really are this Hami Almaerifa, I thought that might be a good connection, but I draw the line at—"
"Of course I have access. Is that what you wish? But why? I could show you the wonders of Zahkim instead. The bright lights of Al Resab. The beauty of the desert." He reached for her. She took a
step back and turned to lean against the wrought iron railing of the terrace. Stepping next to her, he leaned close. "We have the crescent moon and the stars with us tonight. I could take you to an oasis where we can swim under the date palms."
She wet her lips again, and he almost wished she would stop doing that. Every sweep of her tongue over that sensual lower lip of hers sent a jolt of heat through him.
Chin lifting, she said, "That sounds…well…nice, but I'm not really a believer in love at first sight."
He pulled back. "Then what do you believe? In what you can see and touch and feel?" He touched his fingers to the back of her hand. Heat spread up his arm. She must feel that connection between them—the flare of attraction which would soon deepen.
She shook her head. "I don't know what Tess has told you about me, if anything. I just finished my PhD, and facts tend to impress me a lot more than feelings, which can be somewhat misleading and are subject to change. Now, about the archives…would I be able to present my credentials to you—or to whoever is in charge—and gain access? I tried writing letters, but all that got me was the runaround."
He ran a finger along her cheek. "Let us talk instead about our future together. Do you prefer long engagements or short? Myself, I think we need time to learn about each other—and I wish to discover how to please you in bed."
She had blushed before. Now her face flamed, but she stammered out in a rush of words, "I am far more interested in Zahkim's past. I did my thesis on the development of early Saharan nomadic tribes and the development of trade routes between Africa and the Arabian Peninsula. And I…well, I'm following up on my father’s theory about a group he named the 'Lion People,' whom he postulated to be the actual first settlers of Egypt and the true builders of the Sphinx. And I've come across sources referencing the history of Zahkim and early migration of tribes to this area that fits the timeline for the development of Egypt's early civilization."
Christine ran out of breath. There…she'd gotten it out. This was why she'd jumped at the chance to come to Zahkim. She wasn't here just for Tess's wedding. She was here for her dad, too. She was here to give him something to live for. She was here to find the proof to make his most daring theory something more than a joke in academia. And maybe this guy could help her. That is, if she could manage to keep him—and herself—under control.
He'd just about melted her into a pool of lust with that kiss of his. She had the feeling, too, that he wasn't half trying. What would he do to her if he put everything into another kiss? She'd wanted to moan. She wanted now to grab his robes, pull him to her, and kiss him again. But she wasn't sure where things would end if she did that.
And the raw truth was she wasn't that kind of girl. She thought of herself as a country girl from New Hampshire, a newly minted PhD who knew more about how to make parchment than she did about how to make out.
But this sheikh, with that soft beard that had tickled her cheek and that mouth that had set her on fire, almost made her wish she really was that kind of girl after all.
She swallowed and tried to manage what she hoped was a charming—but not too charming—smile. He'd brought her to the perfect spot for a romantic moment. Golden light spilled onto the stone terrace. The music had become a faint tune that was almost haunting. Beyond the wrought iron railing, a crescent moon spilled light across a starlit sky and edged the sand dunes with silver. Sheikh Arif's scent—that subtle spice with a hint of male underneath—left her dizzy. She could almost believe it to be a place where love at first sight was possible. But that just wasn't the world she lived in.
And she was here for the archives. She kept telling herself that.
Sheikh Arif studied her, his head tipped to one side and the ends of his keffiyeh fluttering in the breeze. Was he mad, to go around proposing like this to a total stranger? Or just accustomed to women falling into his arms at the mere hint of marriage? His eyes had narrowed, and she honestly couldn't make out from his expression what he was planning. To kiss her again?
Oh yes, please.
No…not that.
She frowned at herself. She wasn't usually this confused, but she also wasn't usually swept onto a balcony and kissed senseless.
Arif smiled, an insufferable, sure of himself smile that left her wishing she had some quip that would show him she was no man's toy. "You are not going to accept my proposal, are you?"
Pulling in a breath, she let it out slowly and said, "Thank you. But no, thank you. I didn't come here to become a sheikh's wife."
"What if I make you a bargain? You will stay in Zahkim for three months. In that time, you may research in the archives, and I will help you."
"That sounds…a little too good to be true. What's the other shoe you haven't dropped?"
He took her hand, holding her fingertips lightly within his palm. Even that touch set her heart pounding. "During that time, you will allow me to court you. To prove I adore you—and that instant attraction is more than possible."
"That's it? You want to court me. And for that I get three months’ access to the archives? Full access? Please tell me you really are serious this time. And just what happens if I don’t end up falling for you? You don't have dungeons in this palace still, do you?"
He grinned. Oh, no—that was worse than his smile. His teeth gleamed white in the darkness, contrasting with his dark skin and trim, black beard. That small crescent scar near the corner of his mouth disappeared into a dimple.
"I promise you, the next time I ask you to marry me, you will say yes."
Chapter Three
Okay, that did it. Christine had met some arrogant men in her time—academia was full of tenured professors who were sure they were God's gift to their university—and this guy topped the list. But she wasn't about to pass up an offer for exactly what she needed to prove her father's theories. She met his stare, pulled her hand from his, and then stuck it out again. "Deal."
He smiled, but instead of just shaking her hand, he pulled her into his arms. "No. We will seal this bargain with a kiss."
She braced herself for…well, for him. But he simply brushed his lips over hers, a teasing, tempting touch that left her ready to growl with frustration and wanting to pull him back in for something more than a taste. He stepped back at once and smiled. "Now, shall we dance?"
Christine got a stiff upturn of her lips in place. Okay, maybe it was going to be harder than she'd thought to manage both her research and this too-sexy sheikh. He already had her off balance and distracted. The cure for that was to keep thinking about access to the palace archives. That was going to be hard, however, with his arm around her waist and all that masculine goodness so close to her.
Arif strolled into Tarek's office. He'd dressed in casual Western clothing—trousers and a loose, white linen shirt. He had no need to be formal today, but he wondered why Tarek had sent for him. His cousin would be madly busy getting everything in order so he could take three weeks away from his duties as ruler of Zahkim to spend time with his new wife on an official honeymoon.
Tarek's office lay in the newest part of the palace, built around the turn of the previous century, not long after Zahkim had first discovered oil and the riches it could bring in the modern world. After his father had died, Tarek had had the office modernized and expanded. Tarek had wanted to impress visiting ambassadors and heads of state, as well as the businessmen who came here with an interest in Zahkim's oil. Another update had been necessary to incorporate modern technology—a huge, hidden screen for video conferences, a long table for meetings. A small blue-and-white-mosaic fountain gave off a peaceful trickle of water, and a thick carpet covered most of the stone floor.
Sprawling into one of the high-backed chairs set in front of Tarek's mahogany desk, Arif listened to Tarek give orders to his assistant Farid as to how matters were to be handled while he was away. Arif thought Tarek already sounded reluctant, as if he wished he had not given in to the lovely Tess for time away from Zahkim for just the two of them.
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Finishing his orders, Tarek turned to Arif. "You and Nasim will have to manage without me for almost a month. Do you think you can?"
Arif grinned. "You mean without starting a coup to overthrow you? I can't speak for Nasim, but I have plans for the next few weeks."
Heading over to a sideboard built into the wall, Tarek poured two glasses of water into heavy, crystal glasses. He came over to Arif and handed him one glass.
"Yes, Tess mentioned you couldn't pull yourself away from her friend's side last night. I warn you, Tess may not be so much of an angel if you play with her friend and hurt the girl's feelings."
Arif leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and held the crystal glass between his palms. "This is the one, Tarek."
Pausing with his glass halfway to his mouth, Tarek studied his cousin. "The one? As in you mean—?"
"To marry her. Yes." Arif smiled and leaned back in his chair. "I have three months to convince her."
Tarek sipped his water and sat down opposite Arif. "How many other women have you fallen for, Arif? I can recall four without even thinking about it."
Arif waved away such an idea. "Those were all different. And you should be one to talk. How long did it take you to realize Tess was the only woman for you?"
"I had a prophecy to help guide me…in a way." Leaning forward, Tarek set his glass on a side table. Then he put a hand on Arif's arm. "I worry about you, cousin. You let your heart lead you all too often."
"And that is a bad thing? Tarek, my father once led me to the palace tower to show me all of Al Resab spread out before me."
Leaning back, Tarek groaned. "Not this old story again."
"Yes…and again and again. You're not listening to it. He told me—"
"Zahkim will only prosper with love in the marriages of the sheikhs. I have heard you tell this story a dozen times. And, yes, I had a prophecy about a falling angel, but there is far more to finding a wife than luck. We will not even begin to talk about what it takes to maintain a relationship. It took me longer than a week to get a wedding ring on Tess's finger."