by Leslie North
He took her in his arms, kissed her, stroked her. Every touch sent fire along her skin, sparked desire low in her belly, left her wanting and wanton. He teased with his lips and teeth, seemed to worship and adore her with every touch. She sighed, and when he rose to get a condom, she wanted to pull him back. But he was wise to be cautious, and she was crazy to think about abandoning herself to fate.
When he came back, she spread her legs wide, opened for him. With a smile, he knelt between her legs. He put his mouth on her first, licked into her, sucked on her clit, and sent her soaring. When she could bear no more, she touched his shoulder, and he rose to cover her body with his. He came into her slowly, carefully, sweetly. She smiled and rode the waves of pleasure, warm and safe and feeling utterly loved.
He came with a long breath pushed out and held utterly still. She hung onto him, felt his heart beating hard and fast against her, had his beard tickle her cheek. He rolled off her, onto his side and pulled her close. "Habibi."
Darling.
She propped herself up on an elbow and stared at him. Light from the gardens flooded the room through the windows. She could hear music, distant now, from the banquet. Her heart tightened in her chest. Stroking his beard, the sapphire ring glinting on her finger, she told him, "Arif, you call me habibi, you say all sorts of nice things, you talk about being in love, but not once have you said you actually love me. I think you're really more in love with the idea of being in love than you are actually ready to love someone."
Arif opened his mouth to reply, but his words seemed stuck somehow. She wondered why he couldn't say the words she wanted to hear. Christine's throat tightened. And then he said, his tone clipped, "You want what? Words?"
She pulled back. "Yes. Words are important."
Arif got out of bed, grabbed a pair of trousers off a chair and yanked them on. "Woman, you would drive any man to madness."
She frowned. What had she said wrong? She sat up. Arif spread his hands wide, but before he could say anything, someone pounded on the door, and a guard called out for him.
With a curse, Arif headed to the door. She heard the lock click and the hinges creak as Arif yanked the door open, muttering about people who thought to disturb him.
And then someone blurted out in a flow of rapid Arabic, "Sheikh, the books from the treasury are missing."
Christine went cold.
Chapter Fourteen
Arif's mouth dried, and his throat tightened. He glanced back into the bedroom but did not see Christine in his bed. He dragged a hand through his hair and looked at the guard. He almost asked if the man was certain, but of course he must be. He gave a nod.
"Did you search the entire suite?"
The guard nodded. He seemed to be resisting looking toward the bedroom door. Good man.
Arif glanced upward for Heaven's help, but he doubted it would come. This was a sign—this was a doomed relationship. He ought to have known that from the very first obstacle. Well, this was his fault for having given in to her pleading gaze. This was on his head, and Tarek would be justified in stripping Arif of his position, his wealth, and his place within the family.
He told the guard, "Search the palace. Every room." The guard's eyes widened. Arif knew why—the palace was huge, with a thousand hiding places for something as simple as two books. Straightening, the man gave a salute and went off to do his duty.
Closing the door, Arif turned to find Christine standing in the bedroom doorway dressed in one of his shirts, her arms folded over her chest and her face pale. "The books…Arif, I swear I left them in my room. They were on the desk. They can't just disappear."
He spread his hands out. A cold knot had settled in his heart. He had given up everything for this woman, who loved books more than she loved him. "They have. That man has no reason to lie. The palace guard is known for their honor."
She put a hand over her mouth and then dropped it. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have left them. I should have waited. I didn't think they'd be at risk in the palace."
He came over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up suddenly. "My notes? She ran for the door and slipped out before he could stop her. He started after her, glanced down at himself, went back to yank a shirt over his head and put on shoes. He found Christine in her sitting room, the door open behind her. She stood staring at an empty desk.
Turning, she wet her lips. Her voice came out ragged. "Gone…they're gone. I hadn't emailed anything to dad for a couple of days. It's all…I'm…" Lifting a hand, she bit down on a knuckle. Arif came to her, but she moved away from him, hugging herself. "It's all been a waste of time."
Arif winced. Ah, so she thought him not worth anything. Not even worth her time. The truth was a hard thing to bear, but it was best he open his eyes at last. Tarek had been right—he should have found out at once what was in Christine's heart.
She kept talking, her words pounding into him like spikes. "I should just go…I should never even have come. I can't even help you look for them. I'd have no idea where to start—I have no idea where they might be. Dammit. This is what I get for not staying focused on the work. It never goes right for me."
He had no idea what to do. She would not allow his touch—not allow him to console her. Not allow anything. She was still focused on her father and no one else. He gave a nod and turned to walk out the door, saying, "I will call a car to take you to the airport."
Chapter Fifteen
Christine packed with the nagging feeling she was missing something.
Yeah, all my notes.
But that wasn't it. That was a blow, but it was one to her mind. Something else battered at her heart, and she couldn't bring herself to see it fully.
Of course Arif had walked out the door, just as she’d known he eventually would. As he must. She should have gone after him, but what could she say? “Sorry I lost two priceless books, and now you’ll pay the price for it, but hey you still have me.” Her stomach soured and she pressed a hand to it. He'd never forgive her for such a horrible thing. She'd failed her father, herself—and Arif.
Once packed, she stared at the bags. One carry-on and one with wheels. She glanced at her hand—the damn ring was still stuck. She tugged on it, went to the bathroom, tried soap on it. It wouldn't slip over her knuckle. She needed a ring cutter, or to lose a chunk of skin. And maybe she should, but when she tried to drag it off again, tears stung her eyes. That damn ring wouldn't come over the knuckle. Holding her hand under the water to stop the pain and swelling, she wanted to cry. She wanted to go back in time and stay in her rooms until the guards arrived. She wanted never to have heard of Zahkim.
She'd made a mess of this. She had nothing else to do but go home where she belonged.
Drying her hands, she headed for the sitting room. She grabbed her bags and purse and started down the stairs. She'd get the ring cut off once she got home, have it fixed by a jeweler, and send it back in certified mail—or better yet, by a personal messenger, even if that cost her a fortune.
Why had she ever thought she could fix anything? Why had she thought she was smart enough to find the proof her dad needed? And why had she taken up the idea that she was a girl who would earn a happy ending? She was just a misfit who liked books and who belonged in a library where history was something that had already happened. And she knew from reading so much history that the end of most things generally came with tragedy.
Arif watches the car taking Christine to the airport pull away from the palace and head out the gates. She was leaving, and if she could do such a thing, it meant she did not love him.
He should have spoken his heart anyway. But he could not. He had his pride left to him—and two damn books to find.
Turning away from the window, he headed back downstairs. He would draft Sahl's help. He would pull in everyone from the palace. He would find those books. He must before Tarek returned.
In the main hallway, he saw Nasim headed toward him, something bulky under his arm, Aunt Bian wi
th him. His aunt had her chin up and her mouth pulled down, and even Nasim looked unusually grim.
Arif offered up a stiff smile. "Ah, just the man I need. The books from the treasury have gone missing."
Nasim stopped and pulled back the brown towel that covered the items he carried, revealing glittering jewels and gold. "I heard. And they are found." Turning to Bian, Nasim gestured for her to step forward.
She glanced at him, eyes narrowed and mouth pulling even deeper—she had never liked Nasim. She faced Arif.
"I took them. For…safekeeping."
Nasim shook his head. "You mean to drive away Arif's girlfriend."
Arif looked from Nasim to Aunt Bian, his head spinning as if someone had just kicked him in the head. He knew the feeling for that was how he'd gotten the scar near his mouth, a kick during a rugby match.
"What?" It was a stupid thing to say, but he could think of nothing else.
Speaking slowly, Nasim repeated, "She took them to drive Christine away. Or perhaps even get her arrested for their theft. Now, if you really love that woman, you will not let her go. You will certainly not let her go thinking she lost these books somehow."
Arif shook his head. "I cannot keep a woman who does not love me in return. However, she needs to know the books were found."
Grinning, Nasim nodded. He pushed the towel-covered books into Arif's hands. "That's not all she needs to know. Now go. I've got your car waiting at the front."
At the airport, Christine slumped into a seat by her gate and pulled out her cell phone. She'd booked her flight and had two hours to wait, so she called her father to let him know she was heading home.
"About time you came back, but you didn't mention this earlier. Oh, I forgot to tell you I've started some new medication—seems to be helping. I've also been waiting for your latest notes. Weren't you going to email them?"
Christine's throat tightened. "Yeah…about that. I lost the source material." The story came in disjointed, stumbling words with Christine sniffing back tears and tugging at the buttons on her shirt. When she ran out of breath, a long silence left her thinking the connection had flaked.
But her dad's voice came back on the line, low and serious. "What's up, hon? You don't usually get this emotional about the research."
"Didn't you hear? I lost the source material and my notes, and now Arif's going to take all the blame, and your theories are never going to get the credit they should, and—"
"Whoa there. Why are you trying to walk my same path and make the same mistakes?"
She sat upright. Wasn't that what the astrologer—and Arif—had said? A chill slid down her spine. "I'm not."
"Hon, I get you’re upset, but you've got a memory that's better than most. Put your mind to it, and you can recreate your notes. And when you do, you publish under your name. You do the work, you get the credit. This isn't about me."
She pressed a palm flat on her thigh. "But, Dad, I wanted to give you…you need…I mean, you should have…something to live for."
"Why don't you make that a happy daughter, hon? And you need to figure out what is it you want out of this deal."
She sat there, staring at the glass wall, the small planes sitting on the black tarmac, the bright lights, and the night sky over Zahkim.
What did she want in her heart? The words burst out. "I want to be happy with Arif."
"Well, good. Now who's this Arif guy?"
The story tumbled out even more disjointed than the one about the lost books. Once she got it out, her dad asked, "You tell him any of this? About how you feel?"
"No…no. And I should." Her pulse kicked up. "Knowledge doesn't do much good when it's kept back. Gotta go, Dad."
"Go get 'em, Tiger."
Ending the connection, she started back to the airport entrance. She'd take a taxi to the palace—could a taxi even get through the gates? Well, she'd call someone. Why had she never asked Arif for his cell phone number?
At this late hour, the airport wasn't crowded. A janitor looked up from moping the floor as she rushed past. A security guard watched her hurry down the concourse. She started out the door only to bump into Arif as he was trying to come inside.
He held out something wrapped in a brown cloth. "The books. Bian hid them, but Nasim discovered her trick. Take them for safekeeping for Zahkim. They are probably safer in your arms than anywhere else. I know I was…and I…" He stopped, pulled in a deep breath. "I love you, habibi. I don't want to say it. Even now, I feel as if I am tempting fate to take you from me, just as my parents were taken from me. But I've loved you from the moment I set eyes on you. You are my world—and I…ah, I've run out of words."
She clutched the books to her chest, her eyes stinging, her heart thudding. "I…I…you can make their loan to me a wedding gift. To me. To us."
"A what?" He stared at her.
The janitor had moved closer, and Christine was aware of the guard watching them. She wet her lips. "Ask me to marry you. Again. For the last time."
Arif's throat worked. She saw him gulp down a breath. Suddenly, she knew it mattered to him as it hadn't the first time he had asked. Fingers shaking, he took her right hand. The ring slipped off her finger as if it had never given her a problem. Arif slid it onto the third finger of her left hand. "Will you marry me, my maddening, sweet, troublesome, book-loving Christine? I fear it is the only way to keep these books in the kingdom, and for me to keep my head."
Standing on tiptoe, she wrapped one arm around his neck and kept the other tight around the books. "Oh, I lost mine long ago. But it's going to have to be on that auspicious day, and after my dad helps me publish on this."
Epilogue
Christine swayed to the smooth jazz playing. Her father twirled her once and then caught her. She frowned at him. "Dad, remember what the doctor said."
"Yeah, yeah, watch the exertion. But I am not missing the first dance at your wedding. Now tell me who is the old biddy glaring at us?" He swung her around so she could see Bian—now her Aunt Bian—sitting as far as she could from the reception in the garden, arms folded over her chest.
"That is Aunt Bian, and she thinks I'm not good enough for Arif—or for a royal bride." The breath hitched in Christine's chest. "Am I crazy?"
He kissed the tip of her nose. "Yep, that's how you know it's real love. I'm going to go over there to see if I can sweeten up the old sourpuss."
"Da-ad?"
"Come on, you know I was a hit with great-aunt Clemestra, and she didn't like anyone. Besides, your groom is headed this way, looking ready to behead me if I don't give you up." He twirled her again, then gave her hand to Arif.
Christine shook her head and let Arif put his arm around her. Next to the food, Nasim was trying to pick up one of her bridesmaids. Tess and Tarek joined them on the dance floor, Tess giving her a grin and wink. Arif's beard tickled Christine's ear, and she turned back to him.
"This dry climate is doing dad's respiratory problem a lot of good."
"I do not wish to talk about your father."
She tipped her head to one side. "Tarek and Tess look happy."
"I do not wish to talk about them either."
"My paper's kicked up a shitstorm back home—I've got a half-dozen defenders, and five times that many saying I'm following in my dad's footsteps with wild claims. And you know what? I don't care."
Arif grinned. "Nadira is already trying to forecast a date for us to conceive a child."
"Really, well, you can tell her we beat her to the punch."
His grin dropped, and Christine suddenly wished she hadn't said anything. But then he gave a whoop, spun her off her feet and set her down again. "You're pregnant?"
She glanced around. Only a few people watched them—most folks seemed too busy enjoying the food and the music. She leaned close and whispered, "That time in the pool."
He swept her back into the dance but kept his touch light on her. "You realize that means we married just in time."
Smiling up at
him, she shook her head. "No, we fell in love just in time."
"Ah, habibi—there is no falling. For me, my love for you is something that has always been and always will be. Now, shall we scandalize everyone except Nasim and run away from our own wedding?"
She gave a laugh and nodded, and they slipped away into the desert night.
End of The Sheikh's Determined Lover
Zahkim Sheikhs Series Book Two
Blurb
Sheikh Nasim Said is going through with his arranged marriage—it will be good for business, and his country Zahkim, even if his cousin Arif says it will be a disaster. But when his veil- shrouded bride faints halfway through the ceremony, he discovers he hasn’t married the daughter of a neighboring king, but the luscious Ginni Leeland. His wife is a stranger, but he can’t wait to get to know her better –in every way—even if her stunt has threatened Zahkim’s relationship with their neighbor.
Ginni is full of Southern charm, and she plans to put it to good use in Zahkim, proving to her daddy she’s ready to take over the family business by cementing a deal to transport Zahkim’s oil. Helping her friend elope by taking her place (temporarily!) in her wedding is the perfect ruse to get her close to Sheikh Nasim. But the marriage wasn’t supposed to be legally binding! Now she’s married to a sheikh, her daddy’s furious, and—worst of all—she’s falling in love with her new husband. Now Ginni has to prevent a war, seal the deal with Zahkim, and keep her heart from breaking—all in less than a week.
Chapter One
This is not a good day for you to marry. It will be a disaster."
Sheikh Nasim Said glanced at his cousin. "Arif, you may have had an astrologer pluck your wedding date from the stars, but I'd rather just get the ink on this deal. Where is the bloody girl?" He glanced around the palace gardens.