The Sheik and I

by Linda Winstead Jones

  No one.

  Without the sun to warm the rock and his body, the night very quickly turned cool. A breeze on his wet clothing made Kadir shudder. His life had not been entirely safe for the past fifteen years, but he had always had people around him he could trust completely. Zahid had not always been an immediate threat, and there had been moments of peace, and people he could rely upon without fail.

  But somehow, amidst his determination to bring about change and stop Zahid and his followers, Kadir had managed to separate himself from almost everyone, even those who had earned his trust. He was no longer close to his brothers; in truth, he barely knew them anymore. Their wives and children were strangers. Women came and went, none ever getting too close to his heart. For fifteen years he had kept a shield between him and everyone else in his life.

  Why did it seem, at this moment, that he was more alone than he had ever been? Why did it seem that he could trust no one but the dead? His parents. Amala. Everyone who had been on the yacht when it exploded.

  He grew so cold he was compelled to move off the rock and toward the road, though he had no destination in mind. Where does a man go when he can truly trust no one? He walked slowly, up the jagged rock and across a collection of loose pebbles, before finding himself on the narrow road. And there, directly before him, was Cassandra’s cottage.

  Her sister’s cottage, to be more precise. Illumination from inside warmed one window with yellowish light. Other windows were dark. Was she there, sitting in that one lighted room? Or was she in the darkened room, not alone but with a man? A lover. Zahid, perhaps. Had she been putting on an act for him all this time? Was Cassandra Klein one of Zahid Bin-Asfour’s converts? Maybe she was simply his mistress….

  Light-headed and more confused than he had ever been, Kadir closed his eyes tightly. No, he could trust Cassandra. She had nothing to gain by aligning herself with Zahid. And…she would not. She was a modern woman, a woman who valued her career and her independence. Cassandra was everything Zahid despised.

  Cassandra was everything Amala would’ve liked to have been, but Amala had not been given the same opportunities. If she had, would she be alive today?

  Kadir walked toward the lighted window. He must be cautious; he must always be cautious. But when the day arrived when he could truly trust no one in the world…he would just as soon be dead.

  Sleep was impossible. Maybe she would never sleep again.

  Cassandra sat on Lexie’s small couch, a light blanket wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the air. Two lamps burned in this main room. The rest of the cottage was dark.

  She’d telephoned her parents, before it got too late, to assure them that she was fine. If she didn’t call and they heard she was here, they’d jump in the car and drive overnight and be here by morning. She wasn’t ready for company—not even theirs—so she’d told them Ms. Dunn had offered to send someone to collect her and drive her back to Silverton. She didn’t bother to note that she’d declined the offer.

  A soft knock at the back door caught her so by surprise, she twitched sharply. At this time of night it could only be bad news. Maybe Lexie had returned because she and Stanley had had a fight and the vacation was over. Maybe the police had found Kadir’s body. That thought caused a bone-deep shiver. Maybe Ms. Dunn had ignored Cassandra’s insistence that she was going to stay here for a few days, and Tim Little was here to collect her.

  But why hadn’t she heard a car?

  Cassandra stood and dropped the blanket from her shoulders. Once again, the soft knock—a scraping, almost—came from the direction of the back door.

  Someone had killed Kadir. Did that same someone want her dead, too? Lexie kept a small, old revolver in the drawer of her desk. They had argued over that weapon on Cassandra’s last visit. Lexie said she needed some sort of protection in the remote house, even though nothing much ever happened in Leonia. Cassandra had argued that Lexie was more likely to accidentally shoot herself with that six-shooter.

  But now Cassandra rushed to the desk, opened the drawer and withdrew the weapon. She didn’t know much about guns. Was it even loaded? Was the safety on? She looked for a safety as she walked into the kitchen, but didn’t see one anywhere on the gun. Maybe all she had to do was point and shoot.

  That was the big question. Could she point this weapon at a human being and shoot to kill? The uncertainty didn’t last long. If the person who’d killed Kadir was on the other end of the gun, she’d have no trouble pulling the trigger.

  Again, the knock—which was not quite a knock, but was once again more of a scraping—sounded. Maybe what she heard on the other side of the door was an animal. If it was any of the people she’d first thought of, she would’ve heard a car. If it was a person planning to do her harm, they likely wouldn’t knock at all. It would be easy enough for an intruder to break the glass, reach inside and unlock the door. Yes, maybe what she heard was an animal who’d wandered onto the back porch.

  She kept the six-shooter in her hand, just in case.

  At the back door, Cassandra stood to one side and lifted the curtain that covered the four small window-panes. Even though the light in the kitchen was off, she saw nothing beyond the window but darkness. Maybe it had been an animal, after all—a wandering dog, perhaps—and the creature had already moved on. She’d almost relaxed when a hand shot out of the darkness and pressed against a pane of glass she’d unveiled. Her heart jumped, she raised the gun and then a soft voice said, “Cassandra?”

  She knew that voice. Hands trembling, she unlocked the door and opened it wide. Kadir stood there, leaning beside the door as if that was the only way he could continue to stand. He was wet, his eyes were strangely unfocused and his clothes were torn and bloody.

  But he wasn’t dead.

  She reached out and took his wrist in her hand, drawing him gently into the kitchen.

  Once he was inside the kitchen, she closed the door and placed the six-shooter on the counter. When she reached for the light switch, Kadir stopped her with a whispered, “Don’t. Someone might be watching.” Those words of caution reminded her to lock the door again, before leading Kadir into the main room and the light of two lamps, so she could study him more closely. Here the windows were tightly covered, so they didn’t need to worry about prying eyes.

  She supported him with an arm around his waist, as he walked slowly toward the couch where moments earlier she’d been grieving for him. His right arm was bleeding, she noted, and he shivered to the bone.

  When they reached the couch, he all but fell onto it. Cassandra put her panic aside and assessed what had to be done immediately, then she reached for the phone.

  Kadir moved quickly, much more quickly than she’d thought him capable of, and clamped his hand tightly around her wrist. “Don’t call anyone.”

  Obviously he wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d had quite a shock, and might be delirious. “You need a doctor. When that’s taken care of I’ll call Ms. Dunn, and she’ll contact the proper authorities in Kahani. Would you prefer to make that call yourself? Someone needs to get started with those calls right away. Everyone thinks you’re dead, Kadir. We need to let them know—”

  “No,” he said sharply. “No doctor. No phone calls.” His eyes met hers, and she saw in his gaze that while he was still not himself, he was thinking clearly. He was not delusional. “If everyone thinks I’m dead, this is a good thing. For now, at least. I don’t know who I can trust, Cassandra. Only you. Tonight I trust only you.”

  She returned the phone to its place on the end table and covered Kadir with the blanket. “Your arm is bleeding.”

  “Is it?” He glanced at the torn and bloody sleeve and the damaged flesh beneath as if he had not yet realized he was wounded. “So it is. You’ll have to bandage it for me.”

  “I’m not a doctor.”

  “No, but your medical care will suffice. It has to, for now. If word gets out that I’m alive, we will bo
th be in danger.” He reached out his left hand to caress her face. “I have always known that my life could be cut short by those who oppose me. But you—you should not be put in harm’s way because you’re with me. If you cannot keep my secret, if you must call someone and tell them I’m alive, then I’ll leave right now. By staying with you I could bring those who would kill a dozen people or more in order to get to me, those who murdered everyone on that yacht because they thought I was there, to your door. I won’t do that.”

  Cassandra leaned down and gave Kadir a quick kiss. She touched him, her fingers brushing against his damp shirt and then his too-cool hand. Her mind and her heart were still reeling with the knowledge that he was alive. That he was here. That he trusted her.

  “I won’t call anyone.” She’d doctor him as best she could, telling him again and again that she was relieved beyond belief to see him alive. She wanted to kiss him again, once his arm was bandaged and she dressed him in warm, dry clothes. And after that?

  Cassandra had no idea where they were headed or what would happen next. She did know that they had no choice but to deal with “after that” tomorrow.

  Chapter 8

  Kadir woke with a start, gasping as if reaching desperately for air.

  Unlike the last time he came to consciousness with such ferocity, he found himself warm and dry, lying in a soft bed, safe and secure—and not alone. He assessed the situation quickly. His arm had been cleaned and bandaged. He remembered Cassandra leaning over him and tending the wound with great care. She slept beside him now, her warm curves close to his body. Her slumber was deep, but one of her small feet was draped over one of his legs, as if she had arranged herself to awaken if he dared to leave the bed or even roll away from her.

  Morning was coming, after a night so long he could not fathom that twenty-four hours ago he had been sleeping at the Redmond Estate. A touch of light turned the sky beyond the bedroom window gray, as a new day approached.

  But morning had not yet arrived, and for the first time in a very long time Kadir relaxed completely. There were no bodyguards at the ready, no precautions to be taken, no danger waiting outside the bedroom door. Everyone but Cassandra thought he’d been on the yacht when it exploded. Zahid and whoever had betrayed Kadir thought he was dead.

  At the moment Kadir liked being dead. He liked it very much. As he reached for Cassandra, wanting only to stroke his fingers against her warm skin, sleep crept upon him, gently and completely.

  The jangling of the phone woke Cassandra, and she came awake with a start. The ringing woke Kadir, too. He sat up and looked at her, not yet fully alert. Cassandra took a deep breath and reached for the bedside phone, answering with a sleepy “Hello.”

  Cassandra relaxed as her greeting was returned. It was Ms. Dunn calling, asking if she’d changed her mind about being collected by Timothy Little and being brought back to Silverton. There was work to be done at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Ms. Dunn imparted sharply. Particularly so at this time as the Founder’s Day Gala was just two weeks away. Two weeks from yesterday, to be precise.

  Ms. Dunn was of the opinion that hard work was the proper cure for any ailment—including the shock of watching a yacht filled with innocents being blown out of the water.

  It was the older woman’s way of checking in with Cassandra and assuring herself that all was well in the cottage in Leonia. She would never come right out and ask, but Cassandra had worked with Ms. Dunn long enough to know what the intentions of the call really were.

  Cassandra assured her boss that she still wanted to take a few days off, and that she’d return to Silverton by the end of the week. She didn’t know if that was true or not—she had no idea when she’d return to Silverton—but it would do for now.

  With Ms. Dunn properly and completely dismissed, Cassandra turned her attention to Kadir. “How do you feel this morning?”

  “Better,” he said. “Much better.”

  He looked much better. In fact, he looked large and handsome and healthy and well-rested. There was some stubble around his usually well-trimmed beard and mustache, and his black hair was mussed. She imagined this was what he always looked like in the morning—stubbly and warm, with his longish hair slightly wild and very curly, and his eyes, his bedroom eyes, dark and sleepy and filled with a promise she did not entirely understand.

  Last night she had helped him dress in a pair of cotton pajama bottoms that likely belonged to Stanley. They had not seen much wear, and fit well enough. But his chest was bare, and it was the finely sculpted, slightly hairy chest of a real man. She should move away…but she didn’t.

  “How’s the arm?” Her eyes dropped to the bandage on his right biceps, and Kadir’s gaze traveled there, as well.

  “Fine. You’re a good doctor.” He actually managed a small smile, one she returned.

  She tried to sound as if she were completely unaffected to be sharing a bed with this man. “The cut wasn’t as bad as it looked at first, but we’ll have to keep an eye on it and make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

  Now that they were awake, she really should scramble out of the bed and put some distance between her and the man she’d slept with last night. It wasn’t entirely necessary that she be here. She could’ve retired to the other bedroom last night—but Kadir had still been mostly out of it when she’d put him to bed, and she’d been half-afraid that if she left him here alone, in the morning he’d be gone as if his appearance at the kitchen door last night had been nothing more than a dream, or the magical answer to a heartfelt wish.

  But this morning he remained very real.

  Kadir scooted closer to her, and she did not back away from the blatant advance. He wrapped one arm around her, and she took a deep breath that filled her lungs with his scent as she swayed very slightly in his direction. One of her hands settled against his bare midsection. Yes, he was warmer than he had been last night, fresh out of the sea and stunned by the explosion. He felt more solid, more real, more safe. Her hand remained there, pressed lightly to his muscled abdomen. It was a nice, comforting reminder that he was real and alive and here.

  “I thought you were dead,” she whispered. “I saw the yacht explode, and in my mind you were already on it and…” The rest caught in her throat. “What happened? Were you thrown clear?” She didn’t see how that was possible, but Kadir was here, so obviously something had happened.

  “I wasn’t on the yacht when it exploded,” he said, his mouth settling near her throat, there where shoulder curved into neck. A quiet quiver passed through her body in response to that contact. “I had a change of heart and was returning to you.”

  In order to try again to seduce her? In order to tell her again that she was not suitable as an aide? At the moment, she didn’t care what had made him turn around and come back to her. Turning back had saved his life, and she could only be glad.

  “I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t care about you,” he said softly. “Even though I knew it was best if you remained angry with me, even though I purposely pushed you away, I didn’t want to leave things between us unpleasant. I do care for you, Cassandra.”

  Was he saying that because they were in bed together, dressed in nothing more than skimpy nightclothes that could be easily discarded? Or was he sincere? At this moment she didn’t care why he said he cared for her. The words sounded true to her jaded ears, and so she accepted what he said. It was enough, for now.

  In trying so hard to be independent and carefree of heart, she’d thrown away a chance at knowing true passion. She wouldn’t throw it away again.

  She shifted her head and nuzzled Kadir. She tasted his neck, his jaw, and finally brought his mouth to hers and kissed him deeply. Her entire body shuddered, and she instinctively pressed herself more securely against him. This time there was nothing and no one to stop her. No second thoughts, no worry about her heart. It was impossible to guard the heart completely without shutting it down. Turning it off and denying moments like this, in order t
o remain free of heartbreak, also robbed her of a chance at knowing passion.

  She didn’t care if Kadir broke her heart, eventually. All she cared about was now. This moment, this touch, this celebration of the fact that he was alive.

  And so was she.

  The kiss was not desperate, but it was far from sweet. A depth she had never suspected was possible arose and grew in the meeting of two mouths. The kiss fused Kadir to her in a way that went beyond the physical, beyond the mere meeting of lips and teasing of tongues.

  Kadir’s hand held her head, fingers speared through her hair. His beard was rough, and at times she felt it scraping across her chin or her cheek, but she didn’t care. Their lips barely touched, and then fused together. The kiss was light for a moment, and then it deepened. Her heart beat hard, her blood raced, and as for the flutter…it grew swiftly to something well beyond a mere flutter. She had never wanted anything so much….

  “Cassandra,” Kadir whispered, pulling his mouth from hers for only a moment.

  If he asked her if she was sure about what was about to happen, she might falter, so she didn’t allow him to say more. She spread her fingers through his curls and pulled his mouth to hers, tight and firm. She slipped her tongue deep into his mouth and wrapped one leg over his hip. He was right there, with nothing but a few scraps of fabric between them. Was she sure? Yes, more sure than she had ever been.

  He slipped his fingers just barely into the waistband of the pajamas she’d borrowed from Lexie’s chest of drawers. Fingers brushed against skin no man had ever touched before, and she quivered. She quivered intensely, and a sound crept up her throat and escaped as something near a moan. It was a sound she had never made before.

  Kadir’s hand slipped lower, and she found herself arching slightly to bring him closer. Closer and closer…