The Sheikh's Stolen Lover - A Second Chance Sweet Romance (The Sheikh's New Bride Book 5)

by Holly Rayner

  “Besides,” she said, “I grew up looking for constellations in California. You can see them so much better from here. It’s practically like looking for them in The Big Book of Constellations.”

  “Is that a real book?”

  “Yes. I had it when I was a kid.”

  He pulled her to him and she floated against his chest, turning her face to press against his neck. “I love you,” he murmured.

  “To the stars and back,” she replied.

  He dried his hands and massaged her shoulders, and she groaned happily under his touch. Soon they were kissing, their hands roaming each other’s bodies, mapping territory that had long since become familiar and yet still seemed fresh and exciting. She’s mine, Mahmoud though, feeling her against him, barely able to believe his good fortune. I’m hers and she’s mine.

  He lifted her from the pool easily and carried her across the deck and to bed, leaving the door open so the moon could shine in on them and the constellations could watch them make love.

  Ellie

  The bed was empty when Ellie woke up. She felt Mahmoud’s absence even before she opened her eyes, and rolled to his side of the bed to inhale the scent of him. She had nowhere to be today, so she pulled his pillow into her arms and snuggled it. He must have had an early meeting or something.

  As much as Ellie would have liked to have him all to herself, she was proud of his commitment to leading his country. She couldn’t wait until he came back from whatever he was working on; one of her favorite times with him was after meetings, when he would confide what was going on with the country and she would be invited to share her thoughts. Ellie had never felt so important.

  A soft rapping came from the door. Ellie sat up against her pillows, smoothing her blankets over her legs. “Come in.”

  Keziah entered, pulling a breakfast cart. “Good morning, Ellie.”

  “Hi, Keziah.” After a year of serving her, Keziah finally seemed comfortable with the idea of addressing Ellie informally. She’d even become something of a confidant. Ellie suspected, though she had never confirmed her guess, that Mahmoud had directed Keziah to serve her personally, and it seemed to be an ideal fit for both of them. Ellie liked having someone to talk to, and Keziah seemed more relaxed working for Ellie than she had when serving Mahmoud.

  Now she removed a tray from the breakfast cart and moved toward the bed. Ellie obligingly crossed her legs to make room for the tray. Keziah set it down and removed the lid.

  Ellie stared. She had grown used to extravagant breakfasts during her stay at the palace, but this one had once again managed to take her by surprise.

  On the tray sat a cup filled with sliced strawberries and a messy omelet. Beside the plate was a note, folded much more neatly than the eggs had been. She opened it and read:

  Ellie,

  Thank you for all the cooking lessons you have so patiently given me this past year. I look forward to learning much more from you in the years to come.

  I hope you enjoy this omelet, made with feta cheese, onions and ham. Please take your time and join me in the Lemon Tree Room when you’re finished.

  All my love,

  Mahmoud

  “He made it himself,” she told Keziah, who was watching, wide-eyed.

  “His Highness?”

  “Apparently! I didn’t know he’d been paying that much attention.”

  “He always was a quick study,” Keziah said.

  “How do you know? Aren’t you pretty new here?”

  “Yes, but my mother worked in the palace before me.”

  “Oh! So you knew Mahmoud when you were children?”

  Keziah looked appalled. “Oh, no. I would never have been allowed! But Mama told us things, sometimes.”

  Ellie took a bite of her omelet. “What did she tell you?”

  “That he was bright and witty. That he had a curiosity that pleased his teachers, but he frustrated them too, because he always had more questions than they had answers. Mama said he would be a great leader someday because he saw the world the way he wanted it to be. She said we were lucky to have him.”

  “I know how she felt,” Ellie said, smiling.

  Keziah reached under the cart and pulled something from the lower shelf. “I’ve been instructed to give you this.”

  “What is it?” Ellie asked, looking at the package, wrapped in paper and tied elegantly with twine.

  “I don’t know,” Keziah said. “His Highness asked that I deliver it with breakfast.”

  Ellie tore at the packaging. Inside was a salwar kameez, this one a rich purple with gold trim. The fabric was thick and heavy in her hands. Mahmoud had had her fitted for a full Al Fahadi wardrobe to complement her American clothes when she’d moved in, but he had never sent her a single outfit like this.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” Keziah asked.

  “He was gone when I woke up, I’m being served breakfast, and now the clothes. None of this is normal. Is everything all right?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about it,” Keziah admitted. “I’m just given instructions. There was a note, right? Did it explain anything?”

  “It just says I should meet him in the Lemon Tree Room when I’m done with breakfast.”

  “Then perhaps you’ll find your answers there,” Keziah suggested.

  Ellie laughed. “Keziah. What would I do without you?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You keep me from driving myself crazy, you know.”

  “I do my best,” Keziah said, utterly deadpan. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Ellie?”

  “Not at the moment. Thank you.”

  Keziah nodded and left the room.

  Pensive, Ellie nibbled at her omelet. She didn’t like surprises. Mahmoud knew that. Breaks in routine made her anxious, not excited. Whatever was going on today, she hoped it was nothing to be upset about.

  When her plate was clean, she stood and pulled on the salwar kameez. He had probably intended for her to wear it today, she figured, or he wouldn’t have sent it with breakfast. It was very unlike Mahmoud to choose an outfit for her, though. What could all this be about?

  Maybe there are visiting dignitaries in the palace!

  That would be exciting. Ellie ran to the mirror to check her appearance. If Mahmoud was entertaining heads of state—or better yet, royalty—in the Lemon Tree Room, she would want to look her best.

  She straightened her hair and applied a careful, perfect layer of makeup. Then she examined the salwar kameez, making sure it hung evenly and wasn’t wrinkled. She looked good, she decided, but did she look good enough to meet important people? It was hard to say. Since the salwar kameez wasn’t Ellie’s native dress, she always struggled evaluating whether she looked right in it.

  She would have to trust Mahmoud’s judgment.

  By the time she stepped out of her room, she was feeling a bit like a princess in a fairy tale. She ran her fingers over the gold embroidery in the salwar kameez, remembering the day she and Mahmoud had visited the tailors at the royal outfitters’. Since that day, Ellie had found a new appreciation for the custom-tailored outfits the palace provided her with; it was an honor to wear someone else’s art.

  She made her way to the Lemon Tree Room, pausing in the entrance hall to take in its grandeur and reflect on the history of the place. Generations of Mahmoud’s family had called this hall their home. Now Ellie almost felt as if it belonged to her too. She placed her hand on one of the tall marble columns that lined the hall. I live here, she thought. This is my entrance hall.

  Sometimes she still had to remind herself that it was all real.

  She stepped into the Lemon Tree Room and was immediately stunned. The main lamps had been lowered and fairy lights had been strung up on the trees, casting the place in a faint yellow glow that seemed to twinkle. Ellie didn’t see Mahmoud anywhere. She followed the stone pathway that led to the table where she’d drunk tea on her
first day at the palace, but he wasn’t there. She ran her hand over the table absently, wondering.

  “Ellie,” came a voice from behind.

  She turned.

  Mahmoud was there, dressed in a grey silk nehru jacket and black trousers. She had seen him in a formal outfit like this before, but never on her behalf. When he’d come to California for the reunion, he’d worn a three-piece suit. This was the outfit he wore when heads of state from other countries came to dinner.

  Had she been right to think they had a guest? “Is someone here?” she asked, looking around.

  “No,” Mahmoud said. “It’s just you and me.”

  “What’s going on?”

  He stepped forward and took her hands in his. She was suddenly forcibly reminded of the day they’d first met, how captivating she’d found his gaze. Now, as then, she found she couldn’t look away.

  “Ellie,” Mahmoud said, “when I brought you back to the palace with me, I told you that I wanted to dance with you for the rest of my life.”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  From somewhere, soft music started to play.

  “Where’s that music coming from?” Ellie asked.

  “I hired a cellist.”

  “You hired a—”

  “Ellie.” He gripped her chin gently.

  “Right. Sorry. What were you saying?”

  He took her hand in his and wrapped a muscular arm around her waist. “I was saying,” he repeated, “that I wanted to dance with you for the rest of my life.”

  “Oh,” Ellie smiled as he guided her into a slow waltz between the lemon trees. “I think I can agree to that.”

  “Can you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Would you be willing to make it official?”

  “What?”

  Mahmoud released her, stepped back, and dropped to one knee. From the pocket of his jacket, he produced a small box.

  “Ellie Mills, please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

  Ellie lost her breath as Mahmoud cracked open the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring, the huge central stone set between two glittering sapphires.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she whispered, afraid to reach out for it.

  “It was my mother’s,” Mahmoud said softly. “She would have loved you, Ellie. My father told me all about her, you know. About what she valued. He raised me to be a man she would be proud of. And with all that I know, I know she would have loved you as much as I do. She would have wanted you to have this.” He took her hand in his and slipped the ring on her finger. “It’s a perfect fit.”

  It was. Ellie held it out and admired the way the stones caught the light. She had never owned anything as beautiful—or as meaningful—in her life.

  “So?” Mahmoud was watching her expectantly. “Is it a yes?”

  Ellie smiled. What else could she say?

  “Of course it’s a yes.”

  Mahmoud let out a triumphant holler that was altogether un-sheikh-like, scooped her up in his arms, and spun her around. Ellie laughed, dizzy, happy, and in love. He set her down and kissed her. “Thank you. Thank you.”

  “Why are you thanking me?”

  He kissed her again. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”

  She laughed. “That’s such a cliché.”

  “No. I mean it. I truly believe no one could be happier than I am today,” he said. “I love my country and I get to help shape its future. I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. And now I have the woman of my dreams at my side.”

  He pulled her close. “Ellie Mills, you’re smart and funny and brave and you make me see the world in ways I never imagined I would. I can’t wait to live our lives together. I can’t wait to learn from all the experiences you’ve had that I never did. I can’t wait to raise the next generation together and watch them grow to be like you. I can’t wait to see the Sheikh after me, who will be part you, and how he will shape this country.”

  “Wow,” Ellie whispered. She hadn’t thought of that. By accepting Mahmoud’s proposal, she would be helping to raise the future leader of the country. It was an exciting idea.

  But for now, she thought, dancing all night sounds perfect. She wrapped her arms around Mahmoud, then, and pulled him close, as the sound of the cello swelled.

  The End

  The Sheikh’s Priceless Bride

  Time for a tease!

  Up next I’ve included the first few chapters of my recent book, The Sheikh’s Priceless Bride. It’s a sweet and gripping romance that I think you’ll just love!

  Copyright 2018 by Holly Rayner

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Prologue

  Bill Bauer studied the enormous diamond sitting in the middle of the table. It was perfect. It had been stunning when he found it, but now, it was even more so, having been polished and cut to perfection.

  Bill had found the diamond almost by accident. He’d been planning to shut down that part of the mine, since he was sure they’d taken everything from it that they could.

  His tradition was to walk through the mine each day, and when the day came that he decided that part of the mine was finished, he walked through again one more time. He took the time to thank whatever power in the universe that had created the process that crushed carbon under massive amounts of pressure to create the beautiful gems known as diamonds.

  Without that process, he would have probably been a lawyer or an accountant—someone stuck in an office working on computers and spreadsheets with boring people dressed in boring black suits. Instead, he traveled the world and got his hands dirty. He took raw potential and made it possible for artists to create sheer beauty.

  Bill had been wildly successful. Every year, he was listed among the richest men in the world, a designation that he could not have cared less about.

  His joy was in his work, in pulling beauty from the cold, hard earth.

  So, keeping to his tradition, he took the time to walk through the mine the day before he shut that area down. For some reason, he was thinking about his brother as he walked through the mine, occasionally reaching out to touch the dirt.

  If only Jack could see him now. He’d have to change his mind about his good-for-nothing brother. Bill worked hard and did right by his employees, and by any measure of the definition, he was successful. Even as he prepared to close this section of the mine down, he was opening another section up. All he had in his future was more wealth and more success.

  He stopped and looked up and down the mine. The earth here had been good to him. Bill sighed. It didn’t matter how good the ground had been to him. He didn’t have anyone to pass it on to.

  Maybe it was time to start thinking about that, too.

  Bill figured he’d never retire, not really. He’d just mine until one day the mine was stripped, and he had everything he could possibly want in this world. But he could do some good for others who didn’t have everything, too. He’d talk to his lawyers about setting up a way to give his fortune away to people who could use it.

  Bill turned around to head back out, when he noticed a slight glint in the dirt. Not even a shine, just a tiny wink of light caught his attention.

  He pulled out the trowel he usually carried with him and carefully carved out a line around the hunk of rock. He scraped away the dirt and then gently pushed the rock back and forth to work it free of the ground. There was more of it below than he’d thought at first, and it took a good half hour of cautious maneuveri
ng to work the gem free.

  As soon as he pulled it out of the dirt, he knew. This hunk of compressed carbon was something special, and when it was clean and polished, it would be something spectacular. Something like the world had never seen before.

  Bill took his time before showing his find to anyone. He decided this one gem wasn’t going into circulation with his regular inventory—it was unique, and he intended to treat it that way.

  He asked one of his closest business associates to cut and polish it, not trusting anyone else. The finished product was exquisite, one of the finest diamonds Bill had ever seen. He never set the diamond, preferring to leave it loose, not wanting to diminish its sparkle with something as mundane as metal wrapped around it.

  Eventually, word about his find got out. He refused to sell the diamond, even as the offers got bigger and wilder, knowing that if he ever needed money for something, this diamond would make his fortune again.

  For years, he kept the best security on this singular diamond. He eventually stopped showing it to people, and let it pass into legend. Then, he planned to hide it away until it was needed the most.

  Bill didn’t think he’d ever need the diamond, but there was someone else who would, sometime in the future. He’d already planned to give most of his fortune away, but it didn’t matter. This one thing would offer as much—if not more—financial security than the rest of his money.

  He’d never given a diamond to anyone, had never wanted to, but this diamond…this diamond was meant for his family.

  Bill wouldn’t disrupt the little girl’s life. It was clear to him, even from across the yard, that she was happy with her adopted parents. He’d had a private investigator look into the family; they weren’t wealthy, but they would give her a happy, stable life with everything she needed. Certainly much more than a crotchety old man could, even with all his riches.

  She didn’t know she had any living relatives, and he was fine with that. He would have adopted her, but she wouldn’t have been happy with him. He wouldn’t upset the girl by making her choose families.