Taken by the Desert Sheikh

by Mel Teshco

  “You realize that’s not possible.” It wasn’t a question but nevertheless he tensed as he waited for her response.

  “Yes.”

  He couldn’t tell from that one word how she felt about it. “And are you still determined to fight your destiny?”

  She didn’t answer right away and his pride stung, although why his pride resided in the region of his heart he had no idea.

  “There’s so much I wanted to do with my life.” There was a wistful note in her voice, as though she truly believed her life was over.

  He rolled onto his side so that he faced her, their fingers still entwined. “Why do you think there’ll be nothing for you to do in Zanzar? You’re an educated woman. The perfect role model for the young girls in our country.”

  She frowned, as though she didn’t understand. “Are you really committed to the education and emancipation of girls and women?”

  “Of course. It’s a top priority for my brothers and me. But,” he paused. Should he confide? It was a political minefield but Sofia was, after all, his bride. “It’s also a source of conflict with those who follow the old ways. We need to balance tradition with modernity without creating chaos.”

  She rose, bracing her weight on her arm, and gazed down at him as though she’d never seen him before. “I thought it was all talk, Tariq. But you’re doing exactly what I’d dearly wish my father and half-brother would do in Bahmen.”

  “It won’t happen overnight. But you can be sure your role is of utmost importance.”

  Slowly she lowered her head and brushed a chaste kiss on his lips. He’d never been so electrified by such a simple touch before. Was it too soon to take his beautiful bride again? His intention to ride her all night long had vanished with the knowledge she’d never done this before.

  “I should like to work together with you for the betterment of our people.” There was a shy note in her voice, as though she wasn’t certain of his reaction. “I thought you wanted a baby machine, not an equal partner.”

  He rolled her onto her back and cradled her face. “You are exactly what I want for my wife, Sofia.” Hell, after she’d given him two heirs he’d hire all the tutors she needed if she still wanted to pursue her dream of passing the bar. But that was a conversation for another day. Right now he had far more pressing needs. “And now I’ll make love to you slowly and tenderly, the way a virgin bride deserves.”

  ***

  Sofia glanced out of the window of the private jet that was taking her and Tariq and their combined entourage to Zanzar. The plane was the last word in luxury, with huge leather seats and a bathroom that wouldn’t look out of place in a five star hotel. Although her father always insisted she travel by first class, it was nothing compared to this.

  Tariq spent half the time locked in talks with his advisers at the rear of the plane, but the rest of the flight he’d stayed with her. The perfect bridegroom. If she wasn’t careful she’d start to think he was falling for her.

  She propped her chin on her hand as the plane began to circle in preparation for landing. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get last night out of her head. Even now, hours later, her whole body hummed with a new awareness and she could deny it all she liked but the truth was obvious.

  She couldn’t get enough when it came to having sex with Tariq.

  Her face burned. She hoped none of the attentive staff who appeared to be there purely to anticipate her every need could guess her dirty thoughts. Would she share his room again tonight, or would they need to wait until after their official wedding?

  Surreptitiously she pressed her thighs together. Everything felt swollen and tender, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. Not when every move she made merely served to remind her of the masterful way Tariq had claimed her body.

  Again and again…

  Tariq sat beside her and fastened his seat belt. She turned to smile at him, because how could she not? He wasn’t simply the most gorgeous man she’d ever met; he truly wanted the same things that she did.

  He leaned toward her until his breath brushed her ear. “Do you have any idea how fuckable you look, my sweet princess?”

  She blushed; entranced by his coarse words that were such a breathless turn on. “I could say the same to you.”

  His grin was pure evil. “Say it.”

  She blinked, momentarily uncertain as to what he meant. “Excuse me?”

  He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over hers in a blatantly possessive manner. “Tell me how fuckable you find me.”

  “I can’t say that.” She glanced around, but no one was looking at them.

  “Yes, you can. I command it.”

  She looked back at him, at his eyes dark with lust and the irresistible smile that made her legs tremble. He’d said so many shockingly naughty things to her last night, but not once had she returned the favor. Why did he want her to now, when they were far from alone?

  And yet now he’d put the idea into her head, she realized she wanted to rise to his challenge.

  She licked her lips and gathered her courage. “You’re the most fuckable man I’ve ever met.”

  I really just said that out loud. It was astonishingly liberating.

  His eyes hooded and prickles of need raced over her skin as his slumberous glance stole over her. The breath stalled in her lungs and her fingers twitched within his grasp. All she wanted to do was wrap herself around him and experience more mind bending pleasure under his touch.

  “I’m honored you think so.” There was amusement as well as lust in his voice. “I look forward to you showing me how fuckable you find me when we’re alone tonight.”

  ***

  When the plane landed, Luisa appeared to help prepare Sofia before she faced the waiting crowd. Tariq left her with a heated smile, and she sighed as she turned to her surrogate aunt.

  “Hmm.” There was a knowing gleam in the older woman’s eyes. “It appears the prince is half in love with you already, Sofia.”

  “Of course he isn’t.” Was he? She couldn’t stop herself. “Do you really think so?”

  Luisa smiled as she unzipped the protective garment bag that held Sofia’s beautiful claret wine colored abaya. “He can’t take his eyes off you. Just like your dear mamma, you’ll have your husband wrapped around your little finger in no time.”

  I’m not sure I like the sound of that. She didn’t want Tariq wrapped around her finger, just so she could get her own way. She wanted him to treat her as his equal, not as an adorable plaything. At least, not outside the bedroom.

  Luisa draped the black hijab over Sofia’s head and across her chest, before helping her into the abaya, which hid her Western clothes down to the ankle. She was used to juggling her two cultures, but despite her father being quite the traditionalist he hadn’t insisted on any of his adult daughters abiding by a strict dress code when they were out of the public eye.

  She, of course, had always had more freedom in that respect than her half-sisters, since her mother was Italian and had never sacrificed her love of fashion after she married.

  Once she was suitably attired, Tariq once again entered the cabin. She’d expected him to have changed into the traditional white robe, but he still wore his Western designer suit. His hungry gaze devoured her, and she was vaguely aware of Luisa’s hasty exit.

  “You’re exquisite.” His tone was husky as he took her hand and kissed her fingers. “You’ll charm every official and all my people as soon as they lay eyes upon you.”

  “I hope I’ll earn their trust and loyalty also, in time.”

  “Of course.” He sounded like that was a foregone conclusion, which should have reassured her, but for some reason didn’t. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” He’d already warned her that the international press would be waiting for them, but as she stood at the open door of the plane, shock speared through her at just how many were gathered beyond the security barrier.

  Tariq released her hand and strode forward,
and for a moment she remained frozen in place, staring at his retreating back.

  So much for being equal partners.

  She tried to push the thought aside as she followed him. Of course it was protocol that she walk in his shadow but she’d expected more.

  She’d expected to walk by his side.

  An official materialized beside her and introduced her to the line of dignitaries standing on the tarmac waiting to greet Tariq and his bride. She smiled and inclined her head, and filed away each of their names, but still couldn’t rid herself of the niggle of disquiet at Tariq’s behavior.

  He paused in front of the press corp and turned to her with a smile that managed to fry her brain and all her uneasy thoughts. “My beautiful bride, Her Royal Highness the Princess Sofia Jemila al Jazad of Bahmen.”

  Once again he took her hand but this time he pulled her close and she smiled like the dutiful princess she was as the cameras flashed, blinding her. He answered a few questions—all the questions were directed to him—before ending the encounter and leading her to a limo.

  As soon as they were seated, the limo took off and Tariq shot her a satisfied smile. “They adore you.”

  She had the terrible urge to pull the hijab off her head. “I don’t see how. I didn’t say a word.”

  He laughed, as though she’d just said something amusing. “You didn’t need to. You’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

  Chapter Ten

  It was about a thirty minute drive to her future home. As they navigated through the streets of the capital, where curious locals peered at the tinted windows as though they hoped to catch a glimpse of their prince and his bride, she caught sight of the ancient fortification situated on an unforgiving cliff. Its majestic position overlooking the city was breathtaking, and the turreted walls were reminiscent of medieval British castles.

  “I guess I should warn you.” There was an odd note in Tariq’s voice and she turned to look at him. “The fort was an outpost for much of my father’s reign, and I haven’t spent a great deal of time here during the last couple of years. I intend to refurbish so it’s fit for a princess, but in the meantime you may find it somewhat basic.”

  “I’m sure it’s wonderful.” She smiled and squeezed his fingers, touched that he should be concerned for her comfort. “And I like the idea of us renovating our home together.”

  “Good.” He sounded relieved. “It’s fine structurally, even though parts of it date back to the eleventh century. But it’s not been used as a royal home in centuries, so there’s a hell of a lot of work involved.” He sighed. “I did suggest we solemnize our marriage at my brother Jamal’s palace in Qutum’s capital but the Grand Vizier was of the opinion we should start our life together here, in Zanzar.”

  Her stomach churned. Their marriage was the day after tomorrow. “Will the Grand Vizier be attending the ceremony?”

  Ahmet Khan’s influence in the El-Amin dynasty was legendary. Even her father and half-brother admired the man’s impeccable negotiation skills when it came to the precarious political intrigues of the region. Since he was also the pivotal reason why this marriage had been arranged, she wasn’t looking forward to meeting him.

  Not just because every feminine instinct she possessed wanted to challenge him on his anachronistic ideals and she’d have to bite her tongue. It was also because if it wasn’t for him, she and Tariq would never have met. And she couldn’t reconcile her anger at her future being ripped from under her, with the way Tariq had slipped so easily into her existence.

  It was messed up. She knew it. But she loved spending time with Tariq. She just wished, foolishly, they could have met under different circumstances.

  Would he have wanted her as his wife if he’d had the choice?

  “Yes. I doubt he’d miss it if he was on his deathbed.”

  Well, she hadn’t expected that response. “You don’t sound very enamored with him.”

  He sighed and frowned out of the window. “I acknowledge he wants what’s best for the country but it’s my elder brothers he’s invested in. I’m the pebble in the shoe.”

  He tossed her a sardonic grin, but she saw the grim truth in his eyes. He wasn’t joking.

  A strange, bittersweet pain wrapped around her heart. She never would’ve guessed her warrior prince had a vulnerable bone in his body. “I’m sure that’s not true, Tariq. You’ve given as much to your country as either of your brothers.”

  “Maybe.” He studied their entwined fingers for a moment. “I want to do what’s right by my people, Sofia.”

  She pressed their clasped hands against her heart. “You will. I know it.”

  He frowned, as though he was having second thoughts about confiding. She held her breath, willing him to continue. They’d been naked in each others arms all night long, but she had never felt closer to the real man until now. “The Grand Vizier arranged my parents wedding, too. It was a political alliance but my father never took another wife, even after her untimely death.”

  “They loved each other?” Her voice was hushed. Was it possible she and Tariq could have a marriage based on love, also?

  “The people of Qutum adored her. She was the perfect consort.” He dragged in a ragged breath and finally met her eyes again. “She was only your age when she died.”

  A shiver raked along her arms. Twenty was too young to think about such things as mortality.

  “I’m sorry you never had the chance to know her,” she whispered, and the pain in her chest sank deep into her soul as she imagined Tariq as a small boy who had never enjoyed the loving touch of his mother.

  “I don’t believe my father or Ahmet Khan ever forgave me for cutting short her life so prematurely.” His shifted his brooding gaze from her to the window, and shock stabbed through her.

  Was this the reason he’d been so adamant that she only need provide two heirs? Because he was riddled with misplaced guilt over his own mother’s death?

  Her lingering resentment over that archaic expectation for their union faded. They were both trying to find their way with this marriage. “It wasn’t your fault. Any more than my mother dying was mine.”

  His attention focused back on her. “You were close to your mother?”

  Did she imagine that wistful note in his voice?

  “Yes.” Her voice was husky, and not just because she still missed her mamma terribly. “It was a horrible, senseless accident.”

  No one had been found responsible during the lengthy investigation that had followed the fatal car accident, but she’d lost more than her mother that night. She’d lost her best friend and biggest cheerleader for her future career plans.

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded as though he really meant it, but as she smiled at him a shaft of guilt pierced her.

  What was she thinking, burdening him with her three year old sorrow? He’d lost his father just a few months ago.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, too.”

  “Thank you.” His tone was oddly formal, but then he sighed and his tense muscles relaxed. “At least I have my brothers. I can’t imagine growing up without them.”

  She nudged his arm and he grinned at her, and whatever defenses remained crumbled beneath the warmth in his eyes. “I always wanted a sister I could confide in.”

  “Ah yes.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she snuggled against him. “I hope your older half-siblings weren’t unkind to you.”

  “God, no.” She pulled back just enough so she could see his face. “I didn’t mean to imply anything like that. But Rashad is twenty-two years older than me, and even my half-sister closest in age to me was fifteen when I was born. Fortunately they all doted on me, but they were more like an uncle and aunts than my brother and sisters.”

  His smile faded a little. “It’s a pity all your family won’t be at the ceremony. I should like to meet them.”

  Her father’s health was too precarious to travel, and the short notice meant none of her sisters could be there on wh
at should be her happiest day. It will be happy. Tariq wasn’t at all like she’d expected, and she knew they’d find a good compromise to make their marriage work.

  “When I spoke to my father yesterday”—was it really only yesterday? It seemed like half a lifetime ago—“he told me Rashad would be attending.”

  “Yes.” He gave a faint smile and she berated herself. Of course Tariq would know her half-brother was attending. “Jamal and Zafar have the honor of having already met Prince Rashad, and I look forward to making his acquaintance.”

  The car pulled up outside the grand entrance to the fortress and Tariq waited on the red carpet until she reached his side. Soldiers flanked the carpet, and after smiling at her, Tariq once again strode forward, leaving her in his wake.

  ***

  It was hours later before they were finally alone again, in the grand master suite. It had obviously been hastily renovated during the last two weeks since it was the only room in the fortress she’d seen that wasn’t starkly minimalist. In fact, it was opulent to the point of obscenity.

  That’s a conversation for another time. Right now she had far more important issues to discuss.

  Throughout the tour of her new home, the countless introductions to people of importance and the sumptuous banquet that was held in her honor, one thought buzzed in the back of her brain.

  I won’t be treated like a second class citizen by my own husband.

  Tariq had assigned about a dozen servants for her personal use, although goodness knew why he thought she’d need so many. Even when she’d lived at her father’s palace she’d only ever had one or two. In any case, Luisa was all she needed.

  Right now though, Tariq obviously believed she needed no one but himself, since he’d dismissed her entire entourage. Not that she was complaining. She stepped out of her abaya and watched him finger the lavishly embroidered gold brocade that hung from the massive four poster bed. The expression on his face suggested the décor wasn’t to his taste, either.

  As she unwound her hijab, he turned to her. “You must be exhausted. It’s been a long day.” He came closer, slid the soft material from her fingers and dropped it over the end of the bed. “But I’m afraid my plans for you don’t include sleep for several hours yet.”