The Sultan's Choice

by Abby Green

  ‘How old was he?’ Samia asked.

  Yasmeena smiled sadly. ‘Just eight. His father sent him to school in England—told him it would toughen him up.’

  Samia’s eyes were drawn back to Sadiq. He looked so composed, so sure of himself. He caught her eye and a ghost of a smile flickered across his face, making a ridiculous glow spread through her. But then his gaze fell to his mother and his smile faded. Samia shivered inwardly.

  Sadiq’s mother patted Samia’s hand then, diverting her attention. ‘You’re a sensible girl. I wish I’d been so sensible at your age. I do want all the very best for you and my son.’ She stopped and then started again. ‘I just can’t help wishing that he wasn’t so cynical—’

  ‘Mother,’ came a clipped and cool voice, as a steel arm wrapped around Samia’s waist, making her breath hitch, ‘I need to steal my fiancée.’

  Yasmeena smiled faintly, seemingly unmoved by her son’s cool behaviour towards her, and then Samia was being shepherded away. She wondered why Sadiq seemed to shut his mother out, but then she was being introduced to members of Sadiq’s government and she forgot about everything but surviving.

  Much later Samia sent up a sigh of relief when Sadiq made excuses and led her from the room. He didn’t take her hand this time as he led the way, and she tried not to be bothered, or suspect that he’d laid on the charm before the function only so that she would look suitably besotted by him. She knew that no one there would expect this marriage to be anything but an arranged match, but clearly Sadiq had his pride and wouldn’t have wanted his betrothed scowling at his side.

  Sadiq was waiting at the top of the stairs, and, not noticing, Samia cannoned straight into him, pitching backwards with a small cry because she had nowhere to steady herself. Quick as lightning Sadiq caught her and pulled her into his chest. Heart hammering with the sudden rush of adrenalin, Samia looked up. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

  Sadiq shook his head mock sternly. ‘First you take off on a stallion, and now you’re trying to throw yourself down the stairs … If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re still trying to get out of this marriage.’

  Samia shook her head, mesmerised by the deep blue flecks in Sadiq’s eyes. His arms were wrapped around her so tight that she could feel the hard strength of his chest and belly. Her breasts seemed to swell against her snug bodice.

  Samia went to move back, and winced when a strand of hair caught in one of the many pins pulled sharply.

  Immediately Sadiq tensed. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s just my head … my hair. It’s aching.’

  ‘Come here.’ Sadiq pulled her farther along the corridor and stood her against a wall. And then he started to pull the pins out from her hair, loosening it so that it fell down around her shoulders.

  Samia groaned and closed her eyes as the tension was released. ‘That feels so good.’

  Sadiq’s voice was guttural. ‘I’ve been wanting to do this all night.’

  The last pins were out and Samia felt Sadiq’s hands move through the heavy strands to her skull, where he massaged back and forth. She felt like purring. A heavy langour invaded her bloodstream and unconsciously she swayed towards him. His hands left her head and came to cup her face.

  She opened heavy eyes and looked up. Her heart soared when she saw his head descend. She was ready for his kiss, mouth parted, aching to taste him again, already winding her arms around his neck and stretching up. On some level she still couldn’t recognise this person she’d become, or the fact that this man appeared to find her attractive, but with each kiss it was sinking in more and more.

  Sadiq gathered Samia into his arms as he drank in her sweetness. It had taken all of his restraint not to take her from that room much earlier. It had taken all of his restraint not to rip her away from perfectly banal conversations with the various men who seemed to have formed an orderly line to get to her all evening. For the first time in his life he’d been aware of only one woman in the room. This woman.

  When he’d seen her talking with his mother he’d felt incredibly exposed. As he always did when his mother looked at him with those sad eyes.

  As that realisation filtered through his consciousness Sadiq also realised that he was about to unzip Samia’s dress, and that they were in one of the main corridors of the castle. He felt disorientated. But alarm bells rang loud enough to slice through the haze of desire.

  Samia sensed the cool breeze of his mood-change when Sadiq pulled back. He was looking at her with something almost accusatory on his face and she quickly composed herself, hiding away her own horror at the fact that they’d been kissing like teenagers behind a bike shed. Once again she had the awful feeling that she’d thrown herself at him.

  Appearing utterly in control and calm, Sadiq stood back and said, as if nothing had happened, ‘I’ll escort you to your room.’

  Samia shook her head and tried to protest, but he was already leading the way and Samia had to trail after him. She noticed all her hairpins spread out on the floor where where they’d been standing and went crimson. She stopped and Sadiq looked back and saw them too. A muscle jumped in his jaw when he saw Samia bend to pick them up.

  ‘Leave them.’

  She looked up. ‘But—’

  ‘I said leave them. Someone will clear them up.’

  Sadiq looked so fierce for a moment that Samia quailed inside, and she straightened again, following Sadiq’s tall, forbidding figure. A servant passed them and Sadiq issued a command. Samia’s face burned when she thought of the state of her hair and what the servant would think when he did his master’s bidding.

  They reached her door and Sadiq opened it and stood back. Samia went through, childishly holding her breath as she passed Sadiq, so as not to breathe in that heady masculine scent. But it was no good, it was all around her.

  ‘Goodnight, Samia. You did well this evening.’

  She looked up at him and only saw that shuttered expression he did so well. He was a different man from the one who had been kissing her into oblivion two minutes before. She had the sensation that she was seeing tantalising glimpses of another side to Sadiq just before he clammed up again.

  She smiled ruefully. ‘It wasn’t as excruciatingly painful as I’d expected.’

  ‘See? I told you you’d have nothing to worry about.’

  Nothing to worry about. Samia let herself be moved into yet another contortion to make it easier for the women to paint the henna tattoos on her hands and feet. It was the day before the wedding and she’d been washed, waxed and buffed from head to toe. She’d also spent an hour studying Al-Omari wedding etiquette, and Sadiq’s chief aide had sat down with her to go through the exact sequence of events over the next three days. It was mind-boggling and immensely complicated.

  Tomorrow would be the civil ceremony, presided over by an official. Traditionally Samia should be kept apart from Sadiq during that ceremony, as they both declared their consent to marry, but he’d told her that they would do it together, and she appreciated that nod to a more modern custom. Afterwards there would be a huge celebratory banquet.

  The day after that there would be a series of appearances and lesser banquets to welcome all their guests. And the third day would be the most westernised part of the proceedings, in which she would publicly marry Sadiq in a lavish gown watched by the world’s media. Followed by another sumptuous banquet and a ball.

  Nothing to worry about. And yet Samia had to concede that her apprehension levels had diminished hugely since she’d weathered the function last night. She knew half of that was due in part to her preoccupation with the man she was marrying, and she shivered a little when she thought again of that kiss last night.

  Hours later it was dark outside, and Sadiq was sitting at his study desk with paperwork piled high as he attempted to clear it in preparation for the wedding and honeymoon. It was impossible, though. His thoughts kept straying to one person.

>   Sadiq had to concede that he could see how dynamic Samia might be as Queen. He’d seen her in action last night. After she’d let go of his arm with that death grip, she’d navigated the room with an innate ease which could only have come from her background and education. More than one person had come up to him and complimented him on his choice of bride, and he hadn’t been unaware of the surprise that he’d chosen someone so apparently modest and unassuming.

  He’d watched how she’d put people at ease instantly with a light comment, and he’d prided himself on his initial instincts being correct. But, more than that, he’d felt proud. He’d also felt incredibly protective, knowing how nervous she was. But in the end she’d been quite content without him by her side, and that had left a dark emotion swirling in Sadiq’s gut—to think that she didn’t need him.

  He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair, knowing he wouldn’t get anything else done tonight. Samia had been preparing all day for the wedding, and his mind automatically visualised her naked body stepping from a steaming perfumed bath. Cursing volubly because he was thinking of her again, Sadiq stood up to leave the room—but his eye fell on a box on his desk. He picked it up and, telling himself that he knew exactly what he was doing, went towards Samia’s rooms.

  Samia was securing her dressing gown around her when she heard a knock on the door. Alia had just left, after making sure that she had everything laid out for the morning, so Samia approached the door with a smile, assuming it was her.

  ‘Did you forget some—? Oh. It’s you.’

  Instantly a fine sweat seemed to break out over her skin when she saw Sadiq on the other side of the door, and she had to raise her eyeline. She felt extremely undressed in the flimsy silk night clothes.

  In the same instant Sadiq silently cursed himself for coming here as he took in Samia’s attire and saw how the silk moulded lovingly to the curve of her waist and breasts. He could see the dark shadow of her cleavage, the faint pink of her skin, and arousal was painfully instant. Had he really deluded himself that he would just come here and hand over what he had in his hand and then leave again?

  Something within him shifted, and mentally he stepped over a line. There was no going back now. He simply didn’t have it in him to walk away from this woman.

  Samia watched as some enigmatic expression crossed Sadiq’s face. She felt a flutter of excitement deep in the pit of her belly.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  Samia knew she should say no and close the door in his face—for all sorts of reasons. And for all sorts of reasons she didn’t. She stepped back, responding helplessly to the feral glitter in his eyes. Lord.

  The door shut behind him and Sadiq held out a distinctive red and gold box. The new perfume. She looked from it to him and had a sudden fear of opening it. She reached out to take it, hoping he wouldn’t wait for her reaction, but he lifted it high so she couldn’t reach it.

  Feeling utterly out of her depth, and trying to cling on to some sanity, fearing he was just toying with her, she said, ‘Sadiq, what do you want? I don’t think we’re meant to see each other the night before the wedding.’

  She was very self-conscious of the henna tattoo snaking up her hands, arms, over her feet and ankles. Sadiq’s mouth curved in that slightly mocking smile she was coming to know so well.

  ‘Those romantic notions don’t apply to us.’

  ‘Of course not.’ As if she needed to be reminded. She looked down, afraid he’d see the quick dart of hurt in her chest, and then looked up again determined to make sure he was under no illusions that she harboured any such notions. ‘Don’t worry—I don’t believe in love. I’ve seen how it causes bitterness and destruction.’

  ‘Good. We’re in complete agreement on that score,’ Sadiq replied lightly, no expression on that harshly handsome face. ‘I wanted to give you this perfume before tomorrow.’

  She quashed the lancing hurt that he’d agreed so readily with her, but she couldn’t focus on that now. Her voice was far too breathless. ‘So why won’t you just give it to me then?’

  His voice was like dark velvet. ‘Because I want to show you where to place it on your body to get the most potent effect.’

  ‘Sadiq …’ she protested weakly, watching as with one hand he reached out to untie the belt around her robe. Feeling drained of all energy but the one fizzing in her blood, she half-heartedly tried to stop him. He flicked her hands away. His long fingers moving against her belly made her sway slightly, as if drunk.

  With an economy of movement the belt was undone, and Sadiq gave her dressing gown a gentle pull so that it fell to the floor with a swishing sound. Now Samia was standing before him in nothing but the matching negligee, which clung like a second skin. She might as well have been naked. As she watched his eyes drift down over her body the atmosphere around them crackled with electricity. Her nipples tightened and chafed against the lace of the bodice.

  Sadiq lazily took the exquisite perfume bottle out of the box and put the box on a nearby table. Without taking his eyes from hers he opened the gold top and pulled her arm towards him, placing the open end of the bottle against the hammering pulse-point of her wrist. She felt the tiniest trickle of cool liquid and could imagine it turning to steam as it hit her hot skin.

  Huskily he said, ‘Only a tiny amount is needed because it’s so potent.’

  Before the smell even hit her nostrils she just knew. This time he’d got it exactly right. It was so light it was barely discernible, and yet within seconds of mingling with her skin and pulse it became headier—a faint rose scent, winding upwards around her body. It was like the late summers she remembered in England, when the air was saturated with luxurious scents. Samia nearly closed her eyes and groaned out loud.

  ‘I think this is more you … no?’

  Samia couldn’t speak. She just nodded, feeling very wobbly. Sadiq was placing some drops on the tip of his finger, and touching it to the pulse at the base of her neck, trailing that finger down over her breastbone and down farther to the cleavage between her breasts.

  Samia brought up her hand to cover his and looked up at him, feeling wild with a reckless abandon and yet also not sure at all if she was ready for this. ‘Sadiq, wait … we shouldn’t …’

  He arched that arrogant brow. ‘Who says? We’re our own masters, Samia. No one can tell us what to do. And I want you so badly it hurts.’

  Blue eyes glittering almost feverishly, he brought the hand that covered his down and placed it over the throbbing heat of his erection. Samia looked down and saw her hand captured by his, touching him so intimately. The henna tattoo stood out like a brand, calling to her, saying, Make this man yours.

  She lifted her gaze with an effort and it was as if nothing else outside this room mattered—only the heat between them right now. Her own voice husky, she said, ‘I don’t really want to stop … I want you too.’

  ‘Good. Because I don’t think I would have had the strength to turn around and walk out that door.’

  The evocative scent that he’d had made for her seemed to enhance the moment, and as if in a trance Samia watched Sadiq put the bottle down on a table. He came close to her, and somehow Samia realised that they’d moved nearer to the bed. The dim lights made Sadiq’s skin look golden olive. He was so beautiful he took her breath away. Completely on instinct she reached up and put her hand to his jaw, feeling the texture of his lightly stubbled skin.

  She felt a muscle tense against her palm, and then Sadiq took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, and said with such intensity that she melted all over, ‘Enough. ‘

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SADIQ brought her hand back down and placed it by her side. She saw him draw in a deep breath, and the thought that he had to exert control because of her made her blood sing. The thin spaghetti straps of her negligee felt incredibly flimsy as he pushed his finger under one and pulled it down her arm, and then did the same on the other side.

  The thin material sank lower and lower, until
it clung precariously to the fullest part of her breasts. With bated breath Samia watched Sadiq reach one finger to the valley of her cleavage to pull the material all the way down, wincing as it brushed over sensitive nipples.

  She saw how the flush in his cheeks deepened, how his eyes glittered brightly. His voice was rough. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

  For the first time Samia didn’t have an immediate reflex negative reaction. But the intensity of Sadiq’s expression made her come to her senses for a brief moment, and she knew she had to be honest with him before they went any further. He was reaching for her, and she stopped him by putting her hands on his. ‘There’s something I should tell you.’

  ‘Yes?’

  She took a breath. ‘I’m not experienced.’

  Sadiq smiled slightly. ‘I guessed as much when we were in London.’

  Samia shook her head, a little stung to think that despite her efforts to appear experienced he’d still thought her inexperienced. ‘No, I mean I’m really not experienced. At all.’

  Sadiq frowned. ‘What are you saying?’

  She cringed. He wasn’t making this easy for her. A tinge of bitterness crept into her voice. ‘I’m a virgin, Sadiq. A twenty-five-year-old virgin. Amazing as that might be to comprehend. Your analysis of my nunlike existence was accurate after all.’

  Suddenly self-conscious, she pulled her nightdress back up over her breasts and turned around.

  Sadiq looked at Samia’s back and reeled. A virgin. How was that even possible? But all he had to do was think back to how buttoned-up she’d been when he’d first met her and he had his answer. He suspected that somewhere along the way some idiot had added to the emotional decimation carried out by the person who had made her reluctant to look at herself in mirrors.

  ‘Who was he?’ he asked now.

  One of Samia’s slim shoulders shrugged slightly. ‘Some guy in college who’d been sent on a dare by his friends to seduce the Princess.’