Seduced by the Sultan

by Sharon Kendrick

  Snatching her hand away, she moved away from him again—as if they were both participants in some old-fashioned dance. ‘Do you get some kind of kick out of tormenting me?’ she gritted. ‘When we both know that I can’t be your bride.’

  ‘Oh, but you can,’ he argued and he was coming towards her once again. Like some persistent wave you saw at the edge of the ocean, he just kept on coming. ‘Sweet habibti of mine—you can. I wouldn’t dream of asking you something as important as this, unless it was possible.’

  His shadow loomed over her and she stared up into those night-dark eyes, searching for some sign that he was tricking her. Because she couldn’t risk believing him. She couldn’t risk having all her hopes raised heavenwards and then smashed down again.

  ‘How is it possible?’ She crossed her arms over her breasts. ‘How?’

  ‘I spoke to my brother-in-law, Gabe, who is one of the few men I trust. He knew of my dilemma. That I loved you but that my hands were tied. Because how could the Sultan possibly break the law of his own land? I told him about the things you’d said. Things which I’d previously refused to think about, only now I had a reason to think about them very seriously. About modern countries needing to move with the times. And Gabe agreed. He said that it was archaic and unrealistic to expect a law which had been written centuries ago to apply to a modern sultan in a modern age.

  ‘So I had my attorney general redraft the constitution,’ he continued. ‘It just took it a little time before it all became official. It was rubber-stamped yesterday. And that’s why I have brought you here, Cat. To tell you that I have had the law changed in order to marry you. But also to tell you something else, other than the fact I love you very much.’ He sucked in a deep breath. ‘And that is you have made me more of a man than I thought it was possible to be. You have made me feel things, my beauty. Things that sometimes make me feel almost scared but which at other times fill me with the kind of joy I didn’t believe existed. Most of all, they make me feel alive.’

  Her chest felt tight and she could hardly breathe, let alone speak, but that was okay because it seemed that Murat had not yet finished.

  ‘Shall I tell you what my life feels like without you?’ he questioned. ‘It’s cold and there’s no light any more, as if somebody has covered up the sun. I feel as if part of me is missing—and it’s the best part. I am empty without you, Cat, and I can’t imagine a future if you’re not a part of it. Which is why I am asking you to forgive me for some of my more outrageous behaviour of the past, and to be my wife and let me spend the rest of my life loving you as you should be loved.’

  Catrin felt her heart flare as if somebody had just warmed it with a naked flame. She thought about the kindness he’d shown to her mother and the gentleness with which he had treated her when she’d been sick. She saw the look of love in his eyes and it would have been so easy to have capitulated. To have fallen eagerly into his arms and told him that she would marry him, because he was the only man she would ever love.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said.

  At this he rocked back on his heels, black brows knitting together in disbelief as he stared at her and now Catrin could see a touch of his customary arrogance.

  ‘What do you mean, you can’t? You love me, don’t you, Cat? You may tell me that you don’t, but your eyes can’t hide the fact.’

  ‘Yes, I love you,’ she said. ‘But I can’t live the kind of life you’re offering me.’

  ‘You mean that you don’t want to live here? That you cannot bear the thought of being Sultana and bringing up our children in a desert palace?’

  The our children bit nearly made her buckle, but Catrin knew she had to be strong.

  ‘I can’t bear the thought of you having a harem,’ she said quietly. ‘Or keeping mistresses, as you once told me that your father had done.’

  ‘Mistresses?’ he roared. ‘Do you imagine that there is any woman I could bear to have near to me, unless she was you? Don’t you know how completely you have captured my heart and my body and my soul and made them all your own, my darling one?’

  ‘Murat—’

  ‘I love you, Catrin Thomas,’ he whispered. ‘Now, for ever and always. Exclusively. Let me tell you that I want you to be my wife and I will not rest until you have consented.’

  She was done then. She couldn’t keep fighting her heart’s desire, not when she wanted and needed him nearly as much as breath itself.

  ‘Oh, Murat,’ she said. ‘My darling Murat.’

  There were tears as she went into his arms but he kissed them all away until there were no tears left. And after a long while, he extinguished all the lamps and led her over to the low divan and it was there, on that warm night in the middle of the desert, that they came together, vowing to love and to cherish each other for the rest of their days.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘READY?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be.’ Catrin looked up into Murat’s eyes as he gave her hand a squeeze.

  ‘Scared?’ he questioned.

  She looped her arms around his neck, taking care not to crease the exquisite silk of her suit jacket. ‘With you by my side? Never in a million years. A bit nervous, yes, but that’s perfectly normal.’

  He ran his thumb along the edge of her jaw. ‘I guess you’ve already been through quite a lot,’ he said. ‘It’s been an action-packed year.’

  He could say that again.

  Their engagement had caused predictable excitement in the international press. A humble girl from the Welsh valleys marrying one of the world’s richest royals was always going to be a big story in the tabloids—but it had also spawned many thoughtful pieces in the broadsheets. Much had been made about the fact that Qurhah seemed to be embracing the modern world by admitting that ancient laws could and would be changed. Privately, Catrin thought they’d rather overplayed the Cinderella aspect of the story and—as Rachel had pointed out rather indignantly—the Sultana-to-be only had one sister, and she wasn’t in the least bit ugly!

  Then some enterprising journalist had ferreted out an old photo of her mother in an inebriated state, dancing on a table in a pub and doing something regrettable with a feather boa. But Murat had told her flatly that he didn’t care. Her mother was sober now and perhaps the picture might serve to remind her of how much better her life was today.

  Then he had surprised much of the desert community by announcing that many of the ancient laws of his land were to be reassessed, in order to keep pace with the modern world.

  A very grand Qurhahian wedding had followed the engagement. It had taken place in the beautiful royal palace in Simdahab and was attended by Sheikhs and Sultans; Prime Ministers and Kings, as well as various movers and shakers, and even a sprinkling of Hollywood. But Rachel was there, and several of the people Catrin had worked with in the hotel industry, including Stephen Le Saux, who was heard boasting that he had played matchmaker to the unlikely couple.

  Two of Murat’s oldest friends were there. Alekto Sarantos and Niccolo Da Conti were considered easily to be the best-looking guests in attendance, though the racing driver Luis Martinez had been forced to decline his invitation and there were all kinds of dark rumours swirling around as to why.

  And the mother of the bride shone—looking about twenty years younger and giggling at something Murat’s uncle was saying as he monopolised her during the glitzy reception afterwards. Ursula Thomas’s recovery had given Catrin and Rachel so much joy. She had returned from the Arizona clinic looking the picture of health and happiness. She had started training as a counsellor herself and there was talk that she might open up her own clinic in the beautiful mountains of Wales, with her new son-in-law’s assistance.

  Murat’s sister Leila was there, along with her husband, Gabe, who had been so instrumental in bringing together all the different parties necessary to change Qurhahian law. As h
e’d said, it was in his interests to do so, since his own son was half-Qurhahian.

  And Catrin had instantly fallen in love with her nephew, Hafez. Her nephew! Her family seemed to have multiplied overnight...and who knew where it would all end? A couple of days before the wedding she had been cuddling Hafez and had glanced up to find Murat looking at her with a wry expression on his face. And she had looked at him and smiled and he had smiled back and, in that moment, the world had seemed as perfect as it was possible to be.

  Sara was there too, with her husband Suleiman. And if Catrin had harboured any latent fears that Murat still hankered after the royal princess who had once been betrothed to him they were soon dispelled. Sara was so obviously deliriously happy with her oil-magnate husband, Suleiman, that their joy was infectious. And Catrin knew deep in her heart that Murat didn’t really see any other woman but her.

  Today was her first official engagement as the new Sultana, even though they had been married just over a year. But Catrin had thrown herself into preparation for her new role, not wanting to take on anything until she could do it justice. She didn’t want to let the people of Qurhah down. She wanted to be the best Sultana she possibly could.

  She loved Qurhah and had studied the history of her adopted homeland. She had also been diligent in learning the language—at which she had excelled. Apparently, having Welsh as a first language had helped her linguistic skills though, as Murat always said, she was a fast learner.

  Today, she was opening a new wing in her name at the children’s hospital, where Murat had once had his appendix removed. And after having afternoon tea with some of the young patients, the two of them were travelling for a short break at his summer palace.

  She loved it there. It was there that they came as close to freedom as a monarch and his wife ever could. It was where he had taught her to ride and they took every opportunity they could to gallop some of his prized Akhal-Teke horses across the desert plains.

  The landscape was magnificent—stark and stunning. Catrin thought that there was little to surpass the magnificence of the sun setting over the famous Mekathasinian Sands.

  Only her husband managed to do that.

  She touched her lips to his and met the smile in his eyes.

  Oh, yes.

  It was easy to see why they called him Murat the Magnificent.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from SHEIKH'S SCANDAL by Lucy Monroe.

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Presents title.

  You want the world! Harlequin Presents stories are all about intrigue and escape—glamorous settings, gorgeous women and the passionate, unforgettable men who want them.

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

  We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com

  Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Harlequin Presents welcomes you to the world of The Chatsfield, synonymous with style, spectacle...and scandal!

  Read on for an exclusive extract from Lucy Monroe’s stunning story SHEIKH’S SCANDAL

  The first in an exciting new 8-book series: THE CHATSFIELD.

  * * *

  THE GUEST ELEVATORS at The Chatsfield Hotel London were spacious by any definition, but the confined area felt small to Aaliyah Amari.

  ‘You’re not very western in your outlook,’ she said, trying to ignore the unfamiliar desires and emotions roiling through her.

  ‘I am the heart of Zeena Sahra, should my people and their ways not be the center of mine?’

  She didn’t like how much his answer touched her. To cover her reaction she waved her hand between the two of them and said, ‘This isn’t the way of Zeena Sahra.’

  ‘You are so sure?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  He laughed, the honest sound of genuine amusement more compelling than even the uninterrupted regard of the extremely handsome man.

  ‘You are not like other women.’

  ‘You’re the emir.’

  ‘You are saying other women are awed by me.’

  She gave him a wry look and said dryly, ‘You’re not conceited at all, are you?’

  ‘Is it conceit to recognize the truth?’

  She shook her head. Even arrogant, she found this man irresistible and had the terrible suspicion he knew it, too.

  Unsure how she got there, she felt the wall of the elevator at her back. Sayed’s body was so close his outer robes brushed her. Her breath came out on a shocked gasp.

  He brushed her lower lip with his fingertip. ‘Your mouth is luscious.’

  ‘This is a bad idea.’

  ‘Is it?’ he asked, his head dipping towards hers.

  ‘Yes. I’m not part of the amenities.’

  ‘I know.’ His tone rang with sincerity.

  ‘I don’t do elevator romps,’ she clarified, just in case he didn’t get it.

  Something flared in his dark gaze and Sayed stepped back, shaking his head. ‘I apologize, Miss Amari. I do not know what came over me.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re used to women falling all over you,’ she offered by way of an explanation.

  He frowned. ‘Is that meant to be a sop to my ego or a slam against it?’

  ‘Neither?’

  He shook his head again, as if trying to clear it.

  She wondered if it worked.

  She would be grateful for a technique that brought back her own usual way of thinking, unobscured by this unwelcome and unfamiliar desire.

  * * *

  Step into the gilded world of the Chatsfields!

  Where secrets and scandals lurk behind every door...

  Reserve your room in May 2014!

  Copyright © 2014 by Lilles Slawik

  ISBN-13: 9781460328774

  SEDUCED BY THE SULTAN

  Copyright © 2014 by Sharon Kendrick

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com