Mistress of the Sheikh

by Sandra Marton

  “Dammit,” Amanda said, gritting her teeth and struggling against his grasp, “let go of me!”

  “When I’m good and ready.”

  “You have no right—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Nick and Amanda looked at Dawn. She was staring at the two of them as if she’d never seen them before. “What in hell is going on here?”

  “Don’t curse,” Nick said sharply.

  “Then don’t treat me like an imbecile.” Dawn slapped her hands on her hips and glared. “Yes, I invited Amanda here tonight.”

  “As my ‘gift’,” Nick said, his mouth twisting.

  “That’s right. I wanted to give you something special for your birthday.”

  “Did you really think I’d find it appealing to have you provide a woman for my entertainment?”

  “Holy hell,” Amanda snarled, “I was not provided for your entertainment! And don’t bother telling me not to curse, Your Dictatorship, because I don’t have to take orders from you.”

  “I can’t imagine what my sister was thinking when she made these arrangements.”

  “I’ll tell you what your sister was thinking. She thought—”

  Dawn slammed her fist against the top of the dresser. “Why not let me tell you what I was thinking?” she snapped.

  “Stay out of this,” Nick said.

  “This is unbelievable. All this fuss because I decided your apartment looked like an ad for the No-Taste Furniture Company!” Her mouth thinned as she glared at Nick. “What a mistake I made, fixing you up with the services of an interior designer.”

  Nick blinked. “A what?”

  “A designer. Someone trained to figure out how to turn this—this warehouse for overpriced, overdone, overvelveted garbage into a home.”

  “Oh, go on,” Nick said with a tight smile, “don’t hold back. Just tell me what you really think.”

  “You know it’s the truth.” Dawn waved her arms in the air. “This apartment looks more like a—a mortician’s showroom than a home. So I called Amanda, who just happens to be one of the city’s best-known designers. Isn’t that right, Amanda?”

  Amanda glanced at the sheikh. He was looking at her, and the expression on his face wasn’t encouraging.

  “And one of its most modest,” Dawn added hurriedly. “She was booked up to her eyeballs. The mayor’s mansion. The penthouse in that new building on the river. You know, the one that was written up in Citylights a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Dawn,” Amanda said, and cleared her throat, “I don’t think—”

  “No. No, you certainly didn’t. I didn’t think it, either. Who’d imagine my brother would want to turn down such a gift from his favorite sister?”

  “My only sister,” Nick said dryly.

  “The gift of a brilliant interior designer,” Dawn said, ignoring the interruption, “who made room in her incredibly busy schedule solely as a favor to an old friend…” She paused dramatically. “And what have you done to her, Nicky?”

  Color slashed Nick’s high cheekbones. “What kind of question is that?”

  “A logical one. Just look at her. Her dress is torn. Her hair’s a mess. She’s missing a shoe—”

  “Excuse me,” Amanda said. “There’s no need to take inventory.”

  “And you, Nicky.” Dawn huffed out a breath. “I had no idea my brother, the Lion of the Desert, was in the habit of conducting business with his shirt off.”

  Amanda shut her eyes, opened them and looked at the sheikh. The flush along his cheeks had gone from red to crimson.

  “I have no need to explain myself to anyone,” he said brusquely.

  “And a good thing, too, because how you could possibly explain this—”

  “But since you’re my sister, I’ll satisfy your curiosity. We fought over Ms. Benning’s spy camera.”

  “My what?” Amanda laughed. “Honestly, Dawn. This brother of yours—”

  Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Be careful,” he said softly, “before you push me too far.”

  “Well, you’ve already pushed me too far.” Dawn marched to Amanda’s side and took her hand. “We’ll be in my room, Nicky, when you’re ready to apologize.”

  The sheikh stiffened. The room went still. Even the distant sounds of the party—the strains of music, the buzz of conversation that had begun drifting up the stairs a little while before—seemed to stop.

  Amanda sensed that a line had been crossed.

  She looked at Dawn, who seemed perfectly calm—but the grip of her hand was almost crushing. The women’s eyes met. Hang on, Dawn’s seemed to say and we can get away with this.

  Together, they started for the door. It was like walking away from a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse. One step. Two. Just another few to go—

  “An admirable performance, little sister.”

  Dawn let out her breath. Amanda did, too. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it. Both of them turned around.

  “Nicky,” Dawn said softly, “Nicky, if you’d just calm down—”

  “Do as you suggested. Take Ms. Benning to your room.” His eyes swept over Amanda. She fought back the urge to smooth down her skirt, grasp her torn strap, fix her hair. Instead, she lifted her chin and met his look without blinking. “Give her something to wear. Let her make herself respectable and then bring her downstairs.”

  “I am not a package to be brought downstairs or anywhere else, for that matter. Who do you think you are, giving orders to your sister about me? If you have something to say to me—”

  “The matter is settled for the moment.”

  “The matter is settled permanently.” She tore her hand from Dawn’s tight grasp. “I wouldn’t so much as pick out the wallpaper for your kitchen, let alone—”

  “Get her out of here.” Nick waved an imperious hand. He knew he sounded like an ass, but what else was there to do? Dawn’s story had holes in it the size of the Grand Canyon. He was angry at her, angry at the Benning woman, but he was furious at himself for losing control in the bed that seemed to loom, stage center, a thousand times larger than life.

  What in hell had he been thinking, to have almost made love to her?

  He hadn’t been thinking, he decided grimly. That was the problem. His brain had gone on holiday, thanks to Amanda Benning’s clever machinations. A far more dangerous part of his anatomy had taken over.

  But his thought processes were clear now. He wasn’t about to let this situation deteriorate any further, nor was he about to permit Amanda to walk away before he was certain of what she’d been up to.

  “Go on,” he said to his sister. “Get her out of here and I’ll deal with you both when the night ends.”

  “Deal with us?” Amanda’s voice rose. “You’ll deal with us?”

  “Oh, he doesn’t really mean—”

  “Silence!”

  The command roared through the room. Amanda caught her breath. She’d never heard a man speak to a woman that way. Her own father had been strict, her stepfather could be crude, and her ex had specialized in sarcasm, but this was different. Nicholas al Rashid’s voice carried the ring of absolute authority. Shirtless and disheveled, there was still no mistaking the raw power that emanated from him.

  She looked at Dawn and waited for her to respond, to stand up to her brother and tell him that she didn’t have to take orders.

  To her horror Dawn bowed her head. “Yes, my lord,” she whispered.

  Amanda stepped in front of her friend. “Now wait just a minute—”

  “As for you,” Nick barked, “you will speak only when spoken to.”

  “Listen here, you—you pathetic stand-in for a real human being—”

  Nick grabbed her by the elbows and hoisted her to her toes. “Watch how you speak to me.”

  “Watch how you speak to me, Your Horribleness. You might have your sister bowing and scraping like a slave, but not me!”

  “Mandy,” Dawn pleaded, “stay out of this. Let me explain—”

&n
bsp; “Yes,” Nick said. He let go of Amanda and folded his arms. “Do that. Now that I think about it, why should I wait until later for an explanation? Explain to me why I found your so-called friend, your interior designer, taking photographs of my things with a spy camera.”

  “I told you, it wasn’t a spy camera.”

  “It was designed to be concealed.”

  “It was designed to fit inside a pocket or a purse!”

  Nick gave a cold smile. “Exactly.”

  “It was not a spy camera, and if you hadn’t stomped it into pieces, I could prove it!”

  “You will learn to speak when spoken to,” he growled. “And if you cannot manage that, I’ll lock you away until I’ve finished with my sister. Do you understand?”

  Amanda’s heart bounced into her throat. He would do it, too. She could see it in his eyes.

  “You’re despicable,” she said in a choked whisper. “How I could ever have let you—”

  Nick said something in a language she didn’t understand. She shrieked as he picked her up, slung her over his shoulder and strode toward a large walk-in closet.

  “Put me down. Damn you, put me—”

  He yanked the door open, dumped her inside the closet. She dived for the door, but she was too late. It shut in her face, and then she heard a scraping sound against the wood. Amanda rattled the knob, pounded her fist against the door until she was panting, but it was useless.

  The sheikh must have jammed a chair under the doorknob.

  She was trapped.

  All she could do was listen to the murmur of voices. The sheikh’s angry, Dawn’s apologetic. After a while, she couldn’t hear anything, not even a whisper. She could imagine Dawn, cowed into submission, while her abominable brother stood over her, glowering. Glowering was what he seemed to do best.

  “Bastard,” Amanda said softly.

  Tears welled in her eyes. Tears of anger.

  “Oh, hell,” she whispered. Who was she kidding? They were tears of shame. Her rage at the sheikh’s accusations, at what he’d done to her camera, at how he’d treated her, was nothing compared to the rage she felt at herself.

  How could she have kissed him? Because she had kissed him; she’d have done more than that if she hadn’t mercifully come to her senses just before Dawn came into the room. She’d lost control of herself in Nicholas al Rashid’s arms. Done things. Said things. Felt things…

  Let go, her husband used to say. What’s the matter with you? Why are you such a prude when it comes to sex?

  Well, she hadn’t been a prude tonight. She’d behaved as if she were exactly what the sheikh had accused her of being.

  “Oh, hell,” Amanda said again, and she leaned back, slid to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees and settled in to wait until His Royal Highness, the Despot of Quidar, deigned to set her free.

  It wasn’t a very long wait. But when the door opened, it wasn’t the despot who stood outside. It was Dawn.

  Amanda scrambled to her feet. “What happened?”

  “Nick is furious.”

  “Not half as furious as I am.” She peered past Dawn. “Where is he? I haven’t finished telling him what—”

  “He took his stuff and went to one of the guest rooms to change.” Dawn glanced at the diamond watch on her wrist. “By now, he’s probably downstairs.”

  “Yeah, well then, that’s where I’m—”

  “Mandy.” Dawn caught Amanda’s hand. “What happened before I got here?”

  Color swept into Amanda’s face. “Nothing happened,” she said, and wrenched her hand free. She smoothed down her dress, tugged uselessly at the torn strap and wished she knew what had happened to her other shoe. “Your brother caught me in here and jumped to all the wrong conclusions.”

  “Uh-huh.” Dawn managed a smile. “So he thought I’d arranged a gift for his, uh, for his pleasure?”

  “He most certainly did. As if I’d ever—”

  “I know. Sometimes it’s not easy dealing with Nicky.”

  “That’s because his head is as hard as a rock.”

  “Do us both a favor, okay? Don’t say things like that to him. You can’t call him names, not when he’s angry. It isn’t done.”

  “Maybe not in your country, but this is America.” Amanda hobbled past Dawn, eyes on the carpet as she searched for her shoe. “Freedom of speech, remember? The Bill of Rights? The Constitution? Ah. There it is.” She bent down, picked up her shoe and grimaced. “The heel is broken. Okay, okay, that’s it. Tell your brother he owes me for the camera and now for a pair of shoes.”

  “One dress, too, from the looks of it.” Dawn hesitated. “You guys must have really tussled over that camera.”

  Amanda was glad she had her back to Dawn. “Yes. Yes, we did.”

  “The thing is, I never figured you’d get caught alone in his bedroom. I was sure I’d get here before he came home.”

  “Well, you didn’t.” Amanda heard the sharpness in her own voice. She stopped, drew a breath and turned around. “Look, what happened isn’t your fault. Anyway, now that your brother knows the truth—”

  “Well, he’s not sure he does.”

  “You mean he still thinks you arranged for me to—”

  “No. No, not that.” Dawn sat down on the edge of the bed, sighed and crossed her legs. “Mandy, try to see things from his perspective. I mean, you saw that awful photograph on the cover of Gossip. People try to get close to him all the time just so they can find out personal stuff about his life.”

  “I’d sooner get close to a python.”

  “I know how you feel. But Nick is sensitive about invasions of his privacy.”

  “Your brother is about as sensitive as a mule. And you know damn well that I wasn’t invading anything.”

  “Of course. And he’ll know it, too.” Dawn blew out her breath. “Just as soon as the party is over.”

  “Yeah, well, you can explain it to him by yourself.” Amanda slung her evening purse over her shoulder and limped to the door. “Because I am out of here.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Oh, but I can.” She looked back as she curled her hand around the knob. “I feel sorry for you, Dawn. You’re trapped with His Arrogance, but I’m…Dammit! This—door—is—stuck!” Dawn said something so quietly that Amanda couldn’t hear it. “What?” she said, and rattled the knob again.

  “I said, the door isn’t stuck. It’s locked.”

  Amanda stood perfectly still. When she let go of the knob and looked around, her face was a study in disbelief. “From the outside?”

  “Uh-huh.” Dawn swung her foot back and forth. She seemed to be contemplating her black silk pump. “I guess some nutcase owned this penthouse before Nicky did. Lots of the doors have locks on the—”

  “I don’t care who owned it, dammit!”

  “I’m just explaining…” Dawn licked her lips. “Nicky locked the door.”

  “Nicky locked…” Amanda clamped her lips together. Be calm, she told herself, be very calm. “Let me understand this. Your brother locked this door the same way he locked me into the closet?”

  Dawn peered intently at her shoes. “Right.”

  “And you let him do it?”

  “I didn’t let him do anything.” Dawn looked up. “He just did it. He has the right.” Amanda laughed. Dawn’s face pinkened. “Mandy,” she said, “I know this seems strange to you—”

  “Strange? Strange, that a man I hardly know doesn’t think twice about locking me up?” Amanda grabbed for her dangling shoulder strap. “That he feels free to try to rip my clothes off? To tumble me into his bed?”

  A grin, a real one, curled across Dawn’s mouth. “Oh, wow,” she said softly. “So that wasn’t true, huh? Nicky’s little speech about losing his shirt when you were fighting over the camera.”

  “The truth,” Amanda said stiffly, “is that your dear, devoted brother is a lunatic. And so are you, for letting him lock that door.”

  Dawn shot to her f
eet. “I didn’t ‘let’ him. I told you that. Nobody ‘lets’ him, don’t you see? My brother is the future ruler of our kingdom. His word is law.”

  “For you, maybe. And for anybody else who’s willing to live in the Dark Ages.”

  “Now, you just wait a minute before you say—”

  The door suddenly swung open. Amanda spun around and glared at the man she despised.

  How calm and collected he looked. While she’d been cooling her heels behind locked doors, the Sheikh of the Universe had been readying himself for his party. His dark hair was still damp from the shower; his jaw was smooth. She could see a tiny cut in the shallow cleft in his chin.

  Good, she thought grimly. Maybe he wasn’t as calm as he looked. The son of a bitch had cut himself while he shaved. She only hoped she was the reason for his unsteady hand on the razor. From the way he’d looked at her before and from how he was looking at her now, it was pretty obvious that Nicholas al Rashid wasn’t accustomed to having anyone, especially a woman, talk back to him.

  Women probably told him lots of other things, though. That he was exciting. That he was gorgeous, especially in that tux and pleated white shirt. That he could make a woman forget everything, even the code she lived by, with one kiss….

  Amanda drew herself up. Snakes could be handsome, too. That didn’t make them any less repulsive.

  “You have one hell of a nerve,” she said, “locking us in this room.”

  Nick looked at his sister. “Dawn?”

  “This is the United States of America in case you haven’t—”

  “Dawn, our guests are here.”

  Amanda strode toward him. “Are you deaf?” Her words were rimed with ice. “I’m talking to you.”

  Nick ignored her. “Thanks to this unpleasant incident, I am not at the door to greet them.”

  Dawn cast her eyes down. “It’s my fault, Nicholas. I apologize.”

  “I’ve decided to forgive you.”

  A glowing smile lit Dawn’s face. “Thank you, Nicky.”

  Amanda made a little sound of disgust. Nick decided to go on pretending she was invisible.

  “But this is the last time. One more transgression and you return home.”

  “Oh, give me a break.”

  Dawn shot Amanda a horrified look. Nick merely tilted his head toward her. “Did you have something you wished to say, Ms. Benning?”