Breaking the Sheikh's Rules

by Abby Green

  His hands finally let go of her arms to snake around her back, and of their own volition Iseult’s hands went to the back of Nadim’s head, tangling in the surprisingly silky strands of his hair. The moment went on and on, suspending them in time and space. It was as if Iseult’s world had gone from zero to a thousand on a sensual voltage scale that she had no control over.

  Iseult’s mouth opened, instinctively seeking more, and Nadim groaned deep in his throat, his tongue meshing with hers in a hot dance. She could feel her hair being pulled free of her ponytail and falling in a heavy weight down her back. Nadim tugged on it gently, to force her head back, and she sucked in a gasp when she felt his mouth and lips trail hot kisses down her jaw and neck, finding where the pulse beat out of control and sucking there for a moment.

  One hand snaked up under her T-shirt and Iseult’s belly clenched in delicious anticipation when she felt him find and cup her breast. She groaned when she felt his impatience, and he snaked that hand around to open her tight sports bra, releasing her heavy breast into his hand.

  With her eyes still shut tight, as if opening them might make the spell break, Iseult let Nadim guide her head back to him, and his mouth slanted hotly over hers again, tongue stabbing deep as that hand cupped and moulded her unfettered breast. Between his thumb and forefinger he caught the hard nipple and teased it, squeezing and pulling. Iseult’s hands tightened around his skull—and in that moment she felt the shift in energy—as if they had both woken from the sensual spell at exactly the same time.

  Iseult opened heavy-lidded eyes and looked into deep dark pools full of recrimination. She was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, and Nadim still cupped her breast intimately.

  With an abrupt move he put his hands on her arms again and physically moved her back. Iseult’s legs felt so unsteady for a moment that she swayed and had to put out a hand to the back of a nearby chair.

  Nadim’s voice broke the taut silence. ‘That shouldn’t have happened.’

  Iseult winced inwardly to hear Nadim say the words so curtly, and cursed herself. What had she expected—that he would take her in his arms and profess that he couldn’t get her out of his head? That she was driving him mad with desire? And how had she gone from hating this man for taking a wrecking ball to her world less than three weeks ago to wanting him so badly right now that she shook all over?

  ‘No, it shouldn’t have happened,’ she agreed faintly. She couldn’t look up. Her shaking hands went behind her back to do up her bra, hiding her too voluptuous breasts from view once more. When she’d developed too early she’d got used to hiding her breasts, terrified that she’d get teased like other buxom girls at school. And then, with riding every day, it had been more practical to wear sports bras to contain them.

  She saw his shoes come into her vision, and then a hand tipped her chin up. Even her skin there burned at his touch.

  Nadim looked down into Iseult’s eyes and had to hold back the wave of need spiralling through him again. It made a mockery of the trip he’d just taken to Europe in a bid to restore some sanity to his lust-hazed brain. It hadn’t worked. Instead of forgetting about this witch he’d found himself waking in the night, aching all over with frustration. He hadn’t stood a chance as soon as he’d seen her again. It galled him even more to acknowledge that he’d gone to such lengths to avoid her effect on him.

  Iseult’s mouth was swollen and pink and still moist. His body was taut, tight and aching with hot arousal. With unfulfilled need. But it had been a mistake to kiss her. Even if he had wanted Iseult on sight, and every moment between them had led to this explosion of lust, it couldn’t happen again.

  She was an employee. And a wayward, unpredict able one at that. He was the ruler of Merkazad and had a reputation to maintain. He was forgetting that far too often when he came within mere feet of this woman. But he was finding it hard to think right now, when she was so close. When her delicate natural scent wound around his body like a siren call. He had to resist her. She was not a sophisticate, and here at his stables it was too close to home, too close to raw memories.

  He stepped back now, dropping his hand, but saw how Iseult’s chin stayed defiantly hitched, even though her big amber eyes were still dark and wary, full of swirling emotions. Seeing that made something hard solidify in his chest, and made it easy for him to regain some perspective.

  ‘It won’t happen again.’

  He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it dishevelled. ‘Despite your behaviour today at the training ground, I’m prepared to let you move there under Pierre’s tutelage once he’s back in a couple of days. Perhaps if you’re properly supervised in the area you seem to naturally gravitate towards, you’ll be less of a liability.’

  Before Iseult could reply Nadim had coolly walked out of the room. She sank back down into a chair behind her because her legs gave way. She heard muted tones outside and guessed that he was talking to Jamilah. A few minutes later there was silence, and then the sound of a Jeep starting up and driving away.

  Jamilah came in, and Iseult couldn’t look at her. She was too ashamed, and hated to think that perhaps Jamilah would suspect Nadim was moving her to work with Pierre because she’d manipulated him on purpose.

  She looked up to see Jamilah making something like tea; when she sent her a quick look to ask if she wanted some, Iseult just shook her head. ‘Jamilah, I—’

  The other woman turned around, and Iseult quailed at the stern look on her face. Her belly fell.

  ‘I know what Pierre’s guys are like. As soon as he leaves Merkazad they turn into pranksters. I know they probably set you up—they’ve done it before.’

  Iseult started to protest. ‘But I never said anything to Nadim—’

  ‘I know you didn’t.’ Jamilah was still grim, but then she smiled mischievously. ‘When Nadim told me what had happened I put two and two together. To be honest I’d love to have seen their faces when you got into that enclosure and did what they couldn’t do. It’ll serve them right. They also probably got the fright of their lives when they realised you weren’t wearing a hard hat…’ Jamilah sat down on a chair near Iseult and said, more seriously now, ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard anything yet about Nadim’s wife?’

  Iseult’s heart stopped dead. She could feel herself pale, and her hands gripped the chair. Nadim was married? And he’d just kissed her like that?

  Jamilah seemed to read her mind and shook her head. ‘He’s not married any more. His wife died nearly four years ago now. Sara was killed when she took one of the colts out to ride; she wasn’t a natural horsewoman. It threw her and kicked her in the head. She wasn’t wearing protective head gear and suffered massive brain trauma. She was three months pregnant at the time. She and the baby died.’

  Iseult went cold all over. ‘That’s horrendous.’

  Jamilah continued. ‘Nadim nearly closed the whole stables and stud down…only in the past couple of years has he shown an interest again. That’s why he went so berserk when he found you. He’s obsessive about staff wearing head protection.’

  Iseult bit her lip, something very dark gripping her at hearing the evidence of just how much he must have loved his wife. ‘I had no idea.’ She felt shaky all of a sudden. ‘Has Nadim told you—?’

  Jamilah quirked a brow. ‘That he’s moving you to Pierre? Yes. But anyone can see that training is where you should be. I told him that since you’ve been here you’ve put in more hours than anyone else, even though it’s obvious how over-qualified you are…’

  Iseult flushed, unaccustomed to being noticed for her work. She got up to go, protesting that Jamilah must have things to do. Jamilah stood too, and put a hand on Iseult’s arm.

  ‘I can see that there’s something between you and Nadim.’ Iseult blushed furiously, but Jamilah just continued gently, ‘It was obvious from the moment he brought you here with Devil’s Kiss himself.’ She smiled a little wryly. ‘And also while I was waiting outside just now there was an extremely long
silent moment when you stopped shouting at each other. That’s another thing—no one shouts at Nadim and gets away with it.’

  Iseult blushed even harder.

  Something tortured crossed Jamilah’s beautiful face then, and she said, ‘Just…be careful. The al Saqr men can be ruthless in their pursuit, and equally ruthless when they’re finished with you. I’d hate to see you get hurt…’

  Iseult frowned. ‘What are you saying? Did you—?’

  Jamilah shook her head. ‘No, nothing has ever been between me and Nadim. I don’t think about him like that. But his women didn’t last long before Sara, and they don’t last long now.’

  Jamilah took a breath. ‘He has a younger brother, Salman…’ Her mouth twisted. ‘Let’s just say I’ve experienced their ruthlessness first-hand.’

  Jamilah gave her a quick impetuous hug then, and Iseult felt tears prickle. She’d never had a close female friend before.

  Feeling uncharacteristically emotional for the rest of the evening kept Iseult in her rooms. She sat by the window of her bedroom with her knees drawn up under her chin and looked at the harsh, imposing castle in the distance. She shivered. When Nadim had kissed her earlier she’d become something, someone else. Some one feminine and delicate. Sensual. And it was hard to acknowledge that part of herself. It was so alien.

  That kiss had crystallised the feeling that had been born within her the very first moment she’d laid eyes on his image on the internet. It was the yearning of her long-buried femininity, wanting to unfurl like a flower and be allowed to breathe for the very first time.

  Iseult grimaced. Well, not the very first time. She had explored what it was to be a desirable woman once before, but it had ended in such humiliation that she’d locked it away deep down inside, where she wouldn’t have to look at it again.

  That was why she found it so easy to brush off the effusive flirtations of someone like Stevie Bourne, the over-friendly groom she’d seen on her first day. She had a well-developed wall of protection around her. But Nadim… Iseult quivered deep inside. With Nadim she had no protection…

  Thinking of this made the painful memory of her final year of school and the graduation dance surge back. As it had approached Iseult had fully expected not to be asked, as she’d always been too busy and too shy to flirt with the boys in her school. Losing her mum at a vulnerable age had made her feel awkward and self-conscious.

  The other girls had long given up on asking her along to their weekly shopping trips, or including her in endless conversations full of gossip—not that Iseult had really minded; she’d had bigger concerns. But still…some of the girls had seemed to take it personally, and had jeered that she thought she was better than them. Iseult had learnt to ignore them, which she knew had probably made things worse.

  But, to her absolute shock, as the dance had approached that last school year, the most handsome boy in the school had asked her out. She’d been too flattered and surprised to think logically about how unlikely it was, and hadn’t been able to stop the flare of purely feminine excitement to think that perhaps life wasn’t all about grief, work and responsibility.

  The boy, Luke Gallagher, had told her he’d meet her in their local town’s main square, under the clock, on the evening of the dance. Iseult’s father had dropped her off, clearly delighted that his daughter was doing something for herself for a change.

  With no spare money even then to splash out on a proper dress, Iseult had felt achingly self-conscious in an old dress of her mother’s that she’d adjusted to fit her. She’d hoped that she’d achieved the ‘vintage’ look, but had an awful suspicion it just looked hideously out of date. When her little sister Nessa had told her she looked like a princess she hadn’t had the heart to change.

  Iseult had waited for a long time, with people walking past her and staring, before she’d had to face up to the fact that she was being spectacularly stood up. It would have been glaringly obvious what she was waiting for, as practically everyone knew everyone’s business in the small town.

  It had only been when it started to rain that she’d finally stood up from the seat and started to walk the long three miles home. At least in the rain she’d been able to give in to tears of embarrassment and rage, taking her high-heeled shoes off to walk barefoot when they became too painful.

  Luke and some of the girls from school had passed her by in a flashy sports car then, blaring the horn, laughing and swigging from bottles of alcohol. But Iseult had just kept her head high and ignored them.

  Even when Luke Gallagher had bumped into her a year later in the local supermarket, and made a blushing, stumbling apology—saying something about a stupid dare—it hadn’t done much to assuage the deep hurt or her lingering mortification.

  Iseult’s focus came back into the room. Clearly Nadim had found her passably attractive for a brief moment, but it was crystal-clear that he’d regretted kissing her almost as soon as he had. The fact that he didn’t relish seducing an employee had been etched all over his face, and had made her feel cheap and grubby.

  That treacherous yearning to be found desirable and feminine would just have to be pushed back down to where it belonged. She couldn’t bear to be hurt like that again, so no way was she going to let Nadim know how he effortlessly connected with such a secret part of her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NADIM sat back in his chair in the informal dining area of his private suite at the castle. He held a glass of whisky in his hand and swirled the dark amber liquid around, but his body tightened with predictable inevitability when the colour of the liquid reminded him of Iseult’s eyes, and the way she’d looked at him after he’d kissed her to within an inch of their lives.

  Disgusted anew at his woeful lack of control, he swallowed back the liquid in one gulp, relishing the burn down his throat as if it could burn away the desire that still hummed through his body. Something caught his eye then, and familiar guilt gripped him like a vice when he saw the sweet face of his dead wife smiling out benignly from a photo on the table nearby.

  The pervading lingering guilt he felt at having been responsible for not only her death but their unborn child’s had prevented him from putting away reminders like photos. It was like an open wound—guilt mixed in with ineffectual anger. And it served as a reminder never to let another woman get close enough to be hurt by him again.

  In a reflex move Nadim surged to his feet and put the photo face-down. His hand was shaking. He’d never done that before. But then he’d never had to deal with such desire on his doorstep before…he’d always made sure to keep his affairs discreet and far away from Merkazad. Which was why this growing obsession with Iseult was so unwelcome. She was a world apart from the women he took as lovers now, and every instinct told him that she could be exactly the type to get hurt…

  Nadim’s hand tightened around the glass as he recalled the sheer panic that had gripped him when he’d seen her in that enclosure with the wild yearling, as blasé as anything.

  He’d seen red. He’d actually thought he might be ready to send Iseult home. Anything had to be better than having her torturous presence there, under his feet. But instead of telling her to pack her things he’d hauled her into his arms and kissed her, any resolve not to get involved dissolving in a wave of lust so strong he hadn’t been able to fight it.

  Just then his chief aide Hisham came into the room and bowed. ‘Sir, the conference call you requested has been set up in your private office.’

  Nadim turned. ‘Thank you.’ As he strode out behind Hisham it struck him as faintly ridiculous that he was allowing someone as unsophisticated as Iseult to get under his skin so easily.

  Clearly he needed a new mistress, that was all. And when he went to B’harani in two weeks’ time for the Sultan’s birthday party he’d find someone eminently suitable there. Polished, mature, acquiescent, invulnerable…not someone who dressed like an eighteen-year-old boy, wore too-tight sports bras to hide her breasts, and yet had the temerity to talk back
to him and kiss him like no woman had ever kissed him before.

  Two days later Iseult was still feeling skittish, jumping two feet in the air whenever anyone looked sideways at her. She’d seen Nadim from a distance earlier that day, for the first time in the traditional Merkazadi dress. In theory he should have looked ridiculous in the long flowing cream robes, with the distinctive turban on his head, but it had made an ache of gigantic proportions settle low in her belly. He’d looked even more exotic and regal, showing some guests around the stables. Iseult had had to use every ounce of her ability to stay focused on the job and listen to what Pierre was saying.

  She was walking Devil’s Kiss back to his stables later that evening and that ache was still in her belly, even though she hadn’t seen Nadim in hours. She felt wrung out. A curious tension was in the air, and she was glad to find the stableyard empty, all the other horses having been returned to their stalls. After hosing Devil’s Kiss down with cool water, and making sure he was settled, she turned around to leave and nearly jumped out of her skin to see Stevie Bourne lounging against the stable door, watching her.

  Iseult felt a little annoyed. Stevie had been becoming more and more persistent in the last few days. ‘Stevie, you scared me half to death.’

  Stevie came in and closed the stable door behind him.

  Immediately Iseult felt threatened. ‘I was just leaving. What are you doing here?’

  He came closer, his blue eyes glinting. Iseult knew that plenty of the other girls fancied him, but he held no appeal for her. She tried to step around him now. ‘Stevie, look, I’m tired and I need to get some dinner—’

  With surprising speed he blocked her, so that now Iseult was trapped between him and Devil’s Kiss. She knew that Devil’s Kiss could get antagonistic in small spaces, with too many people around him. He was already moving impatiently, as if he’d had enough of these humans taking up his space.