by Mel Teshco
“May I enquire as to whom I am addressing?” He kept his voice neutral. He had no wish for her to slam the door in his face or faint at his feet. Although the vision of scooping her pliant body into his arms and into the back of the limo was more than tempting.
She swallowed and the tip of her tongue peeked between her full lips. For a second her lips distracted him. How sweet she would taste when he made her his. His cock stirred, and for the first time the prospect of his arranged marriage didn’t seem the onerous duty he had always regarded it.
“I’m—my name is Sanura.”
Sanura. Now he considered it, hadn’t he heard that the princess went by an abbreviated version of her full name? Sanura wasn’t strictly part of her name but it wasn’t that much of a stretch from Sarah if she was attempting to delude him.
He had two options. To call her out on her attempt at subterfuge—something he knew his brothers would have no hesitation in doing—or allow her time to get used to him, without any additional pressure.
Strangely, the thought of getting to know her before disclosing he was her betrothed held a sense of appeal. He guessed it was the Gallic blood from his mother. Certainly neither of his brothers would find it intriguing should their intended bride lie to their faces.
He took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles without breaking eye contact. The startled expression on her face was oddly endearing. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Sanura.”
She didn’t attempt to pull her hand away, and he idly caressed his thumb across her fingers. For such a chaste touch he found it remarkably arousing.
Thank God he would have no reluctance in sharing the matrimonial bed with her. The prospect of siring sons to continue his father’s dynasty no longer loomed like a thundercloud on the horizon.
It would be a pleasure.
After an endless moment she tugged her hand free. Some of her color had returned to her cheeks and she no longer looked as though she wanted to flee to the ends of the earth. He smothered a smile at the irony. How many beautiful women had he taken who had wanted nothing more than to become his wife?
Yet his betrothed, apparently, wanted anything but.
He relished the thought of changing her mind.
“I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat and cast another furtive glance at the limo. “And you are?”
For once he silently thanked the interfering bureaucrats of his elder brother’s administration. By pre-empting his own wishes, they had provided him with a perfect cover.
Not that he intended to lie outright to her. That was beneath his dignity. But he could omit certain facts.
And allow her the rare privilege of calling him by the name his mother had given him.
“I am here on behalf of the Salah al Din family. My name is Andre.”
Chapter Two
Sanura knew she was staring at the mesmeric stranger—at Andre—but somehow she couldn’t stop herself. When she first opened the door to him, his masculine beauty had dazzled her senses. From his jet black hair, that just touched the collar of his shirt, to the designer stubble that covered his strong jaw, his face was surely that of a fallen angel.
But nothing compared to the breathtaking golden amber of his eyes. A girl could drown in those eyes.
What a way to go.
When she saw his lips curve into another of his irresistible smiles, she realized he knew she was staring and found it amusing. To her mortification her face heated. It wasn’t often—make that never—that a man caused her to dissolve into an inarticulate puddle on the floor. The fact that this one had, and he was the representative of May’s supposed fiancé, was something she was still trying to wrap her infatuated mind around.
When May had told her to feign ignorance of everything when the Omana officials turned up, she had imagined an ancient, stern patriarch in traditional black robes. Not the hottest guy she had ever encountered with a French accent that had caused a shocking tremor of lust between her thighs.
She took a deep breath to try and calm her chaotic thoughts. It didn’t matter if Andre was nothing like she had imagined the rep of Khalid Salah al Din would be. He had still come here to take May back to Omana against her will.
“I’m sorry you had a wasted journey, Andre.” She discovered she liked saying his name. A pang of regret burned through her breast at the knowledge she would never see him again once he discovered she couldn’t help him in his archaic quest.
“I wouldn’t say the journey was wasted.”
Her mouth dried at the smoky sound of his voice, and the way his accented words weaved into her senses like a heady aphrodisiac. Thank goodness she was still clutching onto the door. Because her knees were on the verge of collapsing.
“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” Had she really just invited him inside? It didn’t matter how gorgeous he was or that he was French. He worked for the Salah al Dins and therefore she should keep as much distance between them as possible.
“Merci. I would like that very much.”
Who knew the odd French word slipped into normal conversation could be so sexy? She stepped back to allow him to enter, and the evocative scent of his cologne sent another illicit tremor through her. She held her breath until he was safely out of range. How could she be so turned on, when they had barely even touched?
Admittedly, she didn’t have much experience in that area. She and May were both still virgins, even though her friend had often told her to enjoy a seductive encounter and tell her all about it. But the right guy had never come along, and with May’s conviction that she should remain untouched until her wedding night, despite her loathing of her father’s culture, the peer pressure to experiment had never really been there.
She closed the door and shut her eyes for a moment. What the hell was she thinking? That the right guy had finally come along? She certainly wasn’t going to fling caution to the wind and embark on a sizzling one night stand with this man. Even if he was everything she’d always dreamed about.
Tall, dark and with a dangerous aura of sexuality that fascinated her like nothing she had ever before encountered.
Get a grip. He was gorgeous, and his knowing smile was proof enough that he knew it. She had no idea why he wasn’t furious that his trip had been wasted, but maybe the Salah al Dins paid him so much for his services that runaway fiancées were merely a minor inconvenience.
“Are you alone in the house, Sanura?” Andre’s impossibly sexy voice sent shivers of need across her bare arms. She steeled her nerves and turned to look at him. And only then did the implication of his question hit her.
“No.” She said the word too quickly, if the gleam in his beautiful eyes was anything to go by. “There are other students upstairs.” No point in telling him about her aunt, who was probably having one of her lie-downs after her emotional upset. She wondered why she wasn’t more alarmed at the thought of being virtually alone in the house with him. Maybe it was because he was here on official business and there was a limo parked outside.
Whatever the reason, despite the way her body was a quivering mess of hormones, she didn’t actively fear this dark stranger.
After all, he was in the employ of the Salah al Dins, and if his designer clothes were anything to go by they didn’t pay him peanuts. He wouldn’t risk his job by attacking her, would he?
She swept her arm in the direction of the front room. Once, long ago, it had been a formal drawing room, but now only ghostly shadows and memories remained of its former glory.
“Go through. I’ll pop the kettle on.”
For a second she could have sworn confusion flashed across his aristocratic face. Had he expected she would ring a bell for tea, as though they were in Downtown Abbey or something?
“Allow me to assist. I don’t expect you to wait on me.” A smile quirked his lips. He clearly found the notion amusing although she wasn’t sure why. Making a cup of tea was only good manners. It wasn’t as if she planned to do anything els
e for him.
Not that she’d mind, if he offered.
For God’s sake. She hastily turned her back on him before he saw her incriminating blush. Clearly all her dormant hormones were making up for lost time, but why had they decided to come out to play with this particular man, when he was so obviously out of her league?
She led him into the kitchen and he lounged against a workbench, arms folded, as though he was perfectly at home. The kitchen wasn’t small but with Andre watching her every move, as though she was some kind of delectable prey, the room seemed to shrink around her.
This was crazy. She gripped a cup in a death hold before it had the chance to slip from her nerveless fingers and shatter on the floor. She’d never live that down. Maybe inviting him inside had been a mistake.
“I’m curious,” Andre said as she filled the kettle. She glanced over her shoulder. What had happened to his offer to help her? Not that she wanted his help. It was hard enough to concentrate with him in the same room as her. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to function if he got up close and personal.
“What about?”
He swept his gaze around the kitchen. She got the feeling he missed nothing, from the worn flagstone floor to the mismatched crockery in the glass display cabinet. But it wasn’t a condemning glance. It was more a glance as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“You attend university in the town, I believe?”
She stared at him. Why would he believe that? A shiver inched over her arms. Obviously May’s father knew all sorts of personal details about his daughter’s best friend, and had passed them onto the Salah al Dins. What else did Andre know about her?
Except he wasn’t quite right. Should she take comfort from the fact May’s father didn’t know everything?
*
Khalid saw the wary look flash over Sanura’s face. Maysarah, he corrected, but he knew she would forever be Sanura to him.
What she chose to call herself was the least of his concerns. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact the princess whom he had been led to believe was impossibly spoiled and petulant was anything but.
Then again he should have known better than to believe everything Abdel El Habib said. The man was an anachronistic throwback. Not that Khalid would ever voice such an opinion in public.
With the threat of the rebels, their two countries needed each other’s political alliance more than ever.
Of course, spoiled and petulant were not words the Sheikh had used to Khalid’s face when they had last spoken at his father’s state funeral. El Habib had gone to great pains to assure Khalid of Maysarah’s great beauty, dedication to duty and—naturally—her unblemished reputation.
But that was only to be expected. As the second son of the house of Salah al Din it was unthinkable his bride should be anything less than untouched by another man.
It would, after all, be grounds for dissolution of the betrothal contract.
Sanura hooked her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans. Despite the way she was dressed and the unconventional way she had lived while attending university, an intriguing innocence radiated from her.
He would enjoy teaching her the pleasures of the flesh. And he had no intention of waiting until their wedding night.
“I didn’t go to university.”
Sanura’s comment jarred his lascivious thoughts and he frowned, momentarily distracted. “Excuse me?”
“I go to the local art college. Is that what you meant?”
Had he? He trawled through his mind, but art college rang no bells. In fact he thought the princess had studied design.
“I believe I did,” he said graciously, since it wasn’t Sanura’s fault his information had been incorrect. At least now he knew why she had a smudge of paint on her cheek. “The art is something you enjoy?”
Her face lit up. “Oh I love it. I’m working all the hours I can on my first exhibition. It’s going to be tight but I can’t afford to miss the deadline.”
Why hadn’t he been informed of any of this? He’d been so sure he knew everything about his intended bride and yet she continued to surprise him.
He didn’t like being misinformed. But there was no denying it. He found Sanura far more intriguing with every passing moment.
“You’re exhibiting your artwork?” It appeared she was serious about her hobby. He would ensure she had her own studio outfitted in his palace. And if she wished to exhibit her work, he would arrange that for her too.
“Yes. The local gallery has a dedicated space that features new artists’ work. I was really lucky to get a place.”
A twinge of unease prickled through him. It appeared she hadn’t funded her own exhibition, as he had first assumed. She had gone through a selection process and been chosen on merit alone.
Was this the reason she attempted to delude him? Because she didn’t want to live the life she had been born to, but instead wanted to follow her dream?
Unfortunately, he could understand that. But it was irrelevant. Their birth dictated their destiny.
His cell rang and with a smothered curse he glanced at the screen. It was a reminder from his PA in the limo that they needed to leave for Khalid’s next appointment.
He hadn’t anticipated wishing to spend more time in his betrothed’s company this afternoon. They were, after all, having a formal dinner tonight where all the necessary arrangements for their immediate return to Omana would be finalized.
Except now a different plan formed in his mind. One far more intimate and enjoyable.
“Forgive me.” He took her hand and brushed another chaste kiss across her knuckles. She appeared in no hurry to reclaim her hand. “Duty calls. But I would be honored if you’d join me for dinner tonight. I’ll send my limo to collect you at seven.”
Chapter Three
Sanura frowned as she contemplated the half dozen dresses spread across May’s bed. Her friend had taken only the barest minimum with her, and told Sanura she didn’t want the rest of her clothes sent onto her.
May had some truly gorgeous clothes and Sanura had always borrowed something of May’s to wear when they’d gone out. They even had the same shoe size.
Sanura glanced at the range of shoes she’d lined up on the floor. May wouldn’t mind her borrowing her things for her date with Andre tonight. It wasn’t as though she was going to betray her friend’s location. Andre didn’t even seem that bothered about where May had gone, which was weird now she thought about it.
For a moment uncertainty gripped her. A part of her couldn’t help thinking she should have refused to see Andre again, simply because of his connection to Khalid. But there was no point trying to lie to herself. Andre was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. It wasn’t as though anything permanent would come of it. Tonight she was Cinderella and she was going to have her once-in-a-lifetime adventure. May would understand when she told her.
She sighed and fingered a particularly daring flame colored dress that neither of them had ever worn. She still couldn’t quite believe she was going to dinner with Andre. He hadn’t even asked her out properly. He’d kind of… commanded.
Was it wrong that every time she remembered the way he’d told her the limo would pick her up, a delicious tremor heated her blood?
He hadn’t even laughed at the paint splashed all over her face. Even now, hours later, she couldn’t believe she’d opened the door to him looking such a mess.
She slipped the flame dress on and stared at herself in the full-length mirror. The silk clung to her body, displaying more than a hint of cleavage and the layered, asymmetrical hem barely reached her knees.
She looked as though she had seduction on her mind.
So she wouldn’t have to watch the blush spread over her face, she hastily pushed her feet into the obscenely expensive stilettos that matched the dress and added another four inches to her height. Not that it would make much difference. Andre would still tower over her.
So
did she have seduction on her mind for tonight?
The lust in Andre’s eyes when he had left had been unmistakable. He wanted her. She had no doubt he would be a magnificent lover. The kind of mythical lover she and May had sighed over.
Sanura might not have experienced any peer pressure to sleep around, but just lately a sense of restlessness had seeped into her soul. May was a virgin because of her personal convictions, but Sanura held no such belief that a bride should be untouched on her wedding day. Especially if the groom had enjoyed numerous sexual encounters before deciding to settle down.
The truth was it was about time she lost her virginity. She’d be twenty-one in a couple of months and who wanted to be a twenty-one year old virgin?
But that wasn’t the real reason she couldn’t get the idea out of her mind. It was because she’d never met a man like Andre before and the chances of her ever meeting another one like him were remote. If she wanted an intimate adventure she’d remember for the rest of her life then tonight was her one and only chance.
She just hoped Andre had some condoms.
*
The interior of the limo was the last word in luxury. After the chauffeur closed the door a concealed panel slid open in the plush leather, and a crystal flute filled with something golden and bubbly was displayed before her bemused gaze.
Well, this was the life. Andre certainly didn’t mind using his employers’ wealth to his own advantage. For a moment that thought hovered; a discordant note of caution in the nervous excitement that coursed through her. Somehow she got the impression Khalid Salah al Din wouldn’t take kindly to an employee who took advantage of him.
Which meant Andre was more than merely an employee. If Khalid trusted him enough to collect May then it followed he trusted him enough to have carte blanche with his material possessions.
Sanura clutched her hands together on her lap as panic licked through her. What had she done? Suppose this was all a ruse to take her to some remote location and torture the information they wanted from her?