by Kay Thorpe
‘Welcome to our new home,’ Tyler said as the Porsche slid to a halt.
‘You bought the house?’ She could hardly believe it. ‘Tyler…’ It wasn’t often she was speechless. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she managed at last. In a spontaneous gesture she captured his face, leant in and kissed him, then she eased back and brushed light fingers along his jaw. ‘I love you,’ she declared gently.
He released his seatbelt. ‘Let’s go inside, hmm?’
The large double doors swung open as they emerged from the car and Lily came down the few steps to greet them.
Lianne caught her mother close in a hug. ‘You were in on this?’
‘Isn’t it a lovely surprise?’
They entered the foyer, and Lianne stopped in her tracks. ‘The furniture.’ She turned towards Tyler. ‘It’s the same…’ A lump rose in her throat. He must have persuaded the previous owners to sell a few pieces.
‘I purchased it all.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Everything?’
‘Everything,’ he assured solemnly, and he gave a husky laugh as she launched herself into his arms.
Minutes later he gently disentangled her arms from around his neck and eased his mouth from hers. ‘I have a feeling we might be embarrassing your mother.’
‘Later,’ Lianne promised softly.
Tyler lifted a hand and brushed gentle fingers over her mouth. ‘There’s just one more thing.’
‘You mean there’s more?’
His lips curved into a warm smile. ‘Sharon and Zoe are waiting for you and Lily upstairs.’
She could drown in the depths of those dark eyes. ‘Why?’
‘To help you change and get ready.’
‘Get ready for what?’ She was paraphrasing his words, but she couldn’t help herself.
‘A reaffirmation of our wedding vows.’
An entire gamut of emotions passed fleetingly across her expressive features. ‘You’re kidding…aren’t you?’ she asked in a voice little above a whisper.
‘I’ve never been more serious in my life.’
Dear Lord in heaven. ‘I don’t have any clothes with me.’
‘There’s a complete outfit upstairs.’ He touched a light finger to the tip of her nose. ‘Go.’
Lianne turned towards her mother. ‘You knew and you didn’t tell me?’
Lily smiled and lifted both hands in defence. ‘I was sworn to secrecy.’
‘All of you?’
‘Darling,’ Lily chided as she took her daughter’s arm. ‘You’re wasting time.’
Together they ascended the wide curving staircase and made their way to the main bedroom.
‘Unbelievable,’ Lianne reiterated, as she took in the exquisite furnishings, the furniture…everything was exactly as it had been the day she’d viewed it with Tyler.
If the gesture overwhelmed her, the thought of reaffirming their wedding vows blew her away.
Sharon and Zoe took turns in enveloping Lianne in a hug as soon as she stepped into the main bedroom. ‘OK,’ Sharon directed with a warm smile. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’ She checked her watch. ‘Fifty minutes and counting.’
Lianne was ready with five minutes to spare. After taking the quickest shower on record, she slipped into lingerie, added an exquisite gown in ivory satin-edged silk chiffon and scalloped lace. Make-up was kept to a minimum, with emphasis on her eyes, and pink gloss colouring her lips. Her hair was swept into a careless twist and Sharon added a few strategically placed single crystal-bead clips. Next came a diamond pendant, matching ear-studs and bracelet.
A touch of perfume, then Lily, Sharon and Zoe stood back to admire their handiwork.
‘Thanks.’ Lianne hugged each of them. ‘You’re the best.’
‘Almost forgot,’ Sharon exclaimed as she crossed to the bed, caught up a single ivory rose and placed it in Lianne’s hand.
They walked to the head of the staircase and Lianne stood for a few seconds as she took in the scene below.
The spacious foyer held a small round table directly beneath the crystal chandelier, and three dark-suited men stood grouped together with a neatly attired grey-haired matron.
Tyler raised his head and Lianne felt her bones begin to melt as his mouth curved into a warm smile, just for her. It was if his soul merged with her own and everything faded from her vision.
There was only him, a recognition of the depth of his love…and the joy of knowing nothing, nothing, could ever come between them again. Whatever the future held, they were in it together.
Her answering smile held a radiance that tugged at his heart and sent it into a heavy beat. She was beautiful, inside and out, and the love of his life.
Lianne began descending the stairs and Tyler walked slowly to meet her. When she reached the final step he held out his hand and she placed her own on to his palm, felt his fingers close over hers, only to have the breath hitch in her throat as he lifted her hand to his lips.
His eyes were dark and so impossibly deep she could almost drown in them. Her mouth shook a little and he lifted his free hand to brush light fingers over the soft, tremulous curve.
‘If you cry I’m going to have to kiss you,’ he teased gently.
The faint shimmering moistness acquired a sparkle. ‘And shock the celebrant?’
Tyler’s eyes gleamed. ‘Everyone is waiting.’
It was a touching ceremony, brief, but meaningful, and Lianne looked in surprise as Tyler slid her wedding ring in place, followed it with her engagement ring, both of which she’d torn off almost five months ago. Then he added a magnificent diamond-studded band.
‘Eternity.’
Now she really was going to cry.
His mouth closed over hers in a lingering kiss that took hold of her senses and sent them soaring.
This, this was the happiest moment of her life, and she told him so. All the pain, the heartbreak, had dissolved and disappeared. In its place was love. The deep abiding kind.
‘You’re my life,’ Tyler said gently. ‘My love. Everything.’
It was Chris who broke open the champagne, Clive who made a toast to their future, and Lily who announced her love for them all.
The celebrant left at dusk. Lily and Sharon produced sufficient food for a banquet, and followed it with a small, beautifully iced cake.
There was more champagne, much happiness and laughter, and it was after nine when her parents, Chris and Sharon declared their intention to leave.
Shantel had been the perfect babe, sleeping in between feeds, then promptly settling again.
Zoe offered yet another hug and said quietly close to Lianne’s ear, ‘I’m so happy for you.’
Lianne stood with Tyler in the open doorway as the two cars eased towards the gates, and when the last set of tail-lights disappeared from view they closed the door and she turned and wrapped her arms round Tyler’s waist.
He’d discarded his jacket, removed his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. He felt warm, strong and wonderful.
Warmth flooded through her veins and her pulse picked up its beat at the thought of how the night would end.
‘I guess we should leave too.’
He pressed his lips to her hair. ‘We’re not going anywhere.’
‘We’re not?’
His eyes were incredibly warm. ‘No.’
She lifted her arms and wound them round his neck. ‘OK.’
Tyler lowered his head and brushed her lips with his own. ‘Easy to please, hmm?’
‘All I need is you,’ Lianne said gently and met his hungry mouth with a passion that dispensed everything except the sensual magic they shared.
Piercing sweetness arrowed through her body as she absorbed his leashed strength and sought to test it.
With a single fluid movement he swept her into his arms and ascended the stairs. She eased his shirt aside and buried her mouth against warm skin, nipped, and felt the reaction of his body.
‘You want to make it to the bedroom?�
� Tyler groaned close to her ear, and she trailed gentle fingers over his mouth.
She cast him an innocent look. ‘You want me to stop?’
He merely quickened his pace, and let her slide down to her feet when he reached the bed.
‘My dress—’
His fingers reached for the zip fastening, carefully lowering it until she could step out of it. The killer heels went while he removed each of the pins from her hair.
They took their time until the last vestige of clothing was removed, enjoying the anticipation, the myriad sensations that built until they could no longer be denied.
In one easy movement Tyler leant forward and tossed back the bedcovers, then he drew her down on to the bed, his kisses so hot, his hands so incredibly sensual as they slid over her skin in an erotic exploration that drove her wild.
Their lovemaking became a feasting of the senses, a pleasure trove that transcended anything they’d previously shared. A meshing of mind, body and soul they were both reluctant to have end.
Afterwards they lay together, sated in a post coital euphoria that had no need for words, then they showered and returned to bed.
Lianne drifted into a dreamless sleep and came slowly awake some time through the night to the slow glide of Tyler’s hand as it shaped her hip then slid down to her thigh and lingered there.
He sensed the change in her breathing, the quickened pulse-beat, and he stretched out and switched on the bedlamp, wanting, needing to see her as he sought her mouth with his own, savouring in a sensual exploration that melted her bones.
It was a while before he raised his head and she almost died at the wealth of emotion evident in his dark eyes. Everything he felt for her was there, laid bare, and it was almost too much.
He watched those glorious sapphire-blue depths shimmer then well as one tear spilled and slid slowly across her temple and disappeared into her hair.
‘I love you,’ Tyler vowed gently. ‘More than life itself.’
‘Same goes.’ Her voice was little more than a tremulous heartfelt whisper. There was one thing she needed to say. ‘You have my trust. Always.’
They were words from the heart, which he would forever treasure. ‘Thank you,’ he accepted simply, aware of what it took for her to gift them to him. ‘Believe you will never have cause for doubt.’
‘I know,’ Lianne said quietly, reaching for him, wanting, needing to show him he held her heart, her soul.
Maybe soon there would be a child. She fervently hoped so. It would be the ultimate gift.
The Sheikh’s Captive Bride
by Susan Stephens
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
PROLOGUE
THE royal council chamber in the Golden Palace of Abadan was drenched in light as Sheikh Kahlil ben Saeed Al-Sharif indicated his wish to move the meeting on.
‘Highness—’
Kahlil’s dark gaze switched to the face of his most trusted advisor, Abdul Hassan.
‘You have reached a decision regarding your new palace, Majesty?’
Kahlil saw anticipation flare behind the eyes of every man seated with him around the council table. Even amongst such an unimaginably wealthy group the rivalry was intense. Prestigious contracts always held an opportunity for someone. But his decision would disappoint them.
‘I shall not be building my new palace in Abadan.’ Kahlil allowed the murmurs of disappointment to settle. ‘I have identified a village in Europe—and an appropriate residence.’ His thoughts flew to the village of Westbury, and the Hall—which he intended to buy. Though there was a problem, small, but irritating none the less, he remembered, thinking of Lucy Benson.
When he’d settled upon Westbury, in amongst the pile of documents sent to help him make his choice he had seen a local magazine that contained the photograph of a young woman. She had a look in her eyes that drew his attention. The caption said Lucy Benson was an interior designer, and, lately, a property developer. And she had bought Westbury Hall, the very property he intended to own. Interior decorator to property developer was a quite a leap. Could she make it?
Kahlil’s mind drifted towards golden hair tumbling in exuberant waves around a heart-shaped face, and a simple summer dress clinging to voluptuous curves that made him despise the fashion to be thin. Her lips appeared red without artifice, and were parted sufficiently to reveal pearl-white teeth: teeth he could easily imagine nipping his flesh in the throes of passion. Picturing them naked together—Lucy Benson’s soft body yielding beneath his hard-muscled frame—called for every bit of his control.
But the camera had captured more than her likeness, Kahlil remembered. Her character was betrayed by the stubborn tilt of her chin, and the look of sheer determination in her midnight-blue eyes. As son of the ruling Sheikh, he had every material possession a man could desire, but he came from a warrior race, a passionate land; challenge was in his blood. And she was an independent woman who would fight him every inch of the way. He could hardly wait. Taming Lucy Benson would be an interesting bonus on top of wresting the Hall from her grasp.
‘The village of Westbury is well situated,’ he said, turning his attention to the council again. ‘It is close to the sea, so we can bring the yacht in, and only a short drive from the airport for the jet. It will be a novelty,’ he added, with a closing gesture of his hand.
Everyone understood this, and the tension around the table lifted. For men who had everything, novelty was the most valuable currency of all.
‘Westbury is a good choice, Majesty.’
Abdul Hassan spoke for the council, and Kahlil inclined his head in gracious acknowledgement of his approval.
‘The village is prosperous and full of character,’ Abdul Hassan continued, ‘though some areas are in need of improvement.’
‘Not all areas,’ Kahlil murmured, thinking of Lucy Benson.
‘Indeed, Majesty,’ Abdul Rachman agreed, dipping his head respectfully. ‘How may we assist you further in this matter?’
‘Make arrangements for a visit to Westbury,’ Kahlil instructed. ‘I’m going to make a thorough evaluation of the project for myself.’
CHAPTER ONE
SHE was alone again at last. Linking her hands behind her head, Lucy Benson stared at the ceiling and gave vent to her frustration with a desperate, angry sound. Losing Westbury Hall was awful; facing her creditors was worse. Letting everyone down at the last minute was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. Her plans to renovate the grand old house where she had grown up had collapsed for want of just a little more money. The builders had found some serious and costly structural faults, and then, quite suddenly, the bank had pulled out.
From housekeeper’s daughter to owner and developer had been a bit ambitious, Lucy knew, but for a few short months it had seemed achievable. She had risked everything to restore the Hall to its former glory, so that it could become a living tribute to the kindly old lady who had lived there. But she had failed Aunt Grace, Lucy thought as she took a last look around. And that hurt most of all.
She blinked back tears. She couldn’t cry, not with sunlight streaming optimistically through the domed stained glass cupola—rain would have been more appropriate. Some of the opposing plans had included knocking the old Hall down. But she couldn’t allow the elegant building to be supplanted by a featureless block of modern flats, she just couldn’t—
‘Excuse me.’
Lucy whirled on her heels, her heart thundering wildly. She had thought she was alone. The male voice was deep and slightly accented, and it took her a moment to see where it was coming fr
om. But then she saw the man standing half cloaked in shadows by the front door. He was tall, and dark, and casually dressed—like most of the other creditors. This was not an occasion for dressing to impress, she thought dryly.
‘I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
Lucy wasn’t convinced. There was something about the man that suggested he was accustomed to using his stature to best advantage; he was far too confident. ‘I thought everyone had gone,’ she said coolly.
‘Am I too late?’
‘No, of course not. Come in, and I’ll tell you what I told the others.’
‘The others?’
‘Creditors,’ Lucy said, retracing her steps across the black and white marble tiles. ‘Please, sit down,’ she added, opening the door to her improvised meeting room. There were some hard-backed chairs in the echoing dining room, and she had set up a decorator’s table for people to gather around. He followed her into the room. ‘Lucy Benson,’ Lucy said, turning to extend her hand in formal greeting.
‘Kahl,’ he said, enclosing her hand in a fist that seemed to contain an electric charge.
Lucy snatched it free. ‘Won’t you sit down?’ she said again, pointing to a chair at the far end of the table. She would feel a lot safer once he was seated.
‘After you,’ he said, drawing out a chair for her to sit on.
Lucy felt alert, and uneasy. All the other creditors had been up in arms, expressing their anger freely and paying no account to the fact that she was a woman. That was better. It was a language she understood. This man was too cool. He frightened her more than the others with their impassioned outbursts. Apart from confidence, he oozed sex appeal as the others had oozed sweat at the thought of losing money.
Dark flashing eyes smouldered like black coals in a face with features too harsh to be conventionally handsome. He made her think of a warrior, a man of action—yet he had the type of tan she associated with the super-rich. Lucy frowned. So who was he? Apart from being one of the most incredible-looking individuals she had ever seen. Was he Turkish? Armenian? Spanish? She couldn’t place the accent.