Breaking the Sheikh's Rules

by Abby Green

  Within seconds of Nadim kissing her out on the balcony everything had been forgotten as intense desire had taken over, obliterating anything but sating their physical needs. She had a strong suspicion that he regretted telling her all he had, but she was too lethargic right now to let that thought bother her.

  Iseult put her cheek onto Nadim’s chest and felt his heart beating, strong and steadily. She’d never felt so deeply sated in all her life, as if she was drunk and yet never more sober…a heady mix.

  Idly, she trailed her hand across Nadim’s chest, and then lifted her head and propped her chin on her hand. His eyes were like two dark pools, making her heart kick all over again and fresh tendrils of desire coil through her.

  ‘Do you know,’ she mused, ‘I’ve seen you in jeans and a T-shirt…and a suit and tie…and your traditional robes…’ She smiled and started to trail her free hand down Nadim’s chest, and lower, watching how his eyes darkened even more.

  ‘But I think I like you naked best of all…’ Her hand wrapped around him in an intimate caress, and she exulted when she felt him harden and swell under her touch.

  He brought his hands to her arms and with an easy strength flipped them, so that Iseult was under him. He hovered over her and between her legs, where his hair-roughened thighs made her move her hips.

  In an unconsciously sensual move Iseult bent one leg and ran her foot down the back of Nadim’s leg, the soft silky skin of her inner thigh against his hip.

  With a growl, he caught that leg and held it. He bent his head to hers and said, ‘Remember what I said, Iseult…don’t fall in love with me.’

  Iseult tried to stem the instant gush of pain, and in that second knew that it was already too late. Some where it had happened; it could have even been just now out on the balcony, when he’d told her so dispassionately about his turbulent history, or it could have been in that tent in the desert when he’d first made love to her, or it could have been that moment she’d first seen him in Ireland, but somewhere along the way she’d fallen irrevocably in love.

  She knew she couldn’t deny it, and that vulnerability made her say defiantly, ‘As long as you don’t fall in love with me.’

  He smiled, and to Iseult’s eyes in that moment he looked incredibly sad. He didn’t need to say it, but it was written all over his face: I won’t. And then his mouth met hers, and she twined her hands around his neck, feeling alternately angry with him and absurdly tender, and irritated that all he had to do was kiss her to scramble any rational thought.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘I’D LIKE you to come to the Sultan of Al-Omar’s birthday celebrations with me.’

  Iseult just looked at Nadim. He was leaning nonchalantly against the door of Devil’s Kiss’s stable, looking far too gorgeous for his own good in faded jeans and a T-shirt. Earlier she’d watched him break in a new yearling, and it had been sheer poetry in motion.

  She stood now, keeping a hand on Devil’s Kiss, as if he could keep her rooted in reality. The thought of leaving the cocoon of Merkazad was slightly threatening. ‘But…where is it? When?’

  Nadim hid the dart of irritation that she wasn’t more enthralled at the prospect. ‘It starts tomorrow night in B’harani, for family and close friends, and then the main celebration is on Saturday night, when the crème de la crème of world society will come to fawn and ogle, and women will vie with one another for the Sultan’s favour.’

  Iseult felt an equal mix of horror at the thought of such an event and a wild surge of excitement. She gave a little wry smile, hiding her trepidation. ‘Do I have a choice?’

  Nadim smiled too, and it was the smile of a wolf. ‘Of course not. I was merely allowing you the illusion of choice. If you say no then I’ll instruct Lina to do whatever is necessary to render you helpless, and merely carry you there over my shoulder.’

  A warm pool of desire settled in Iseult’s belly. A little breathlessly she said, ‘Well, in that case, I’d love to join you…’

  But then she bit her lip as all joking fled and old insecurities rose. It was one thing dressing up for Nadim in his own private rooms, but another thing entirely in public. ‘But, Nadim…I’m not…I’ve never been to anything fancier than a family wedding. I won’t know what to do or say…’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Nadim declared arrogantly. ‘You’ll be with me. That’s all you need to worry about.’

  But the following evening it felt as if Iseult had a lot to worry about. Lina had travelled ahead to B’harani with some of Nadim’s retinue early that afternoon, and now she and Nadim were getting into a helicopter which was going to fly them to the same airfield in Al-Omar that she’d flown into just a few weeks before.

  Feeling more and more apprehensive and tense, Iseult was silent for the journey, taking in the mountainous landscape below them, looking when Nadim pointed out various things. At the airfield a small private plane was waiting, and the disparity between how she’d flown in and her position now didn’t escape her, highlighting the impossible chasm between Nadim’s world and hers, and also the tenuous nature of their relationship. Just when would he lose interest? After this weekend? In a week? A month?

  After they’d boarded, and were sitting in plush seats, Nadim opened a laptop and became engrossed in what ever he was doing, so Iseult just looked out of the window, glad he wasn’t scrambling her brain. The flight was a relatively short thirty minutes, and she sucked in a deep breath when she saw the intricate glittering web of B’harani laid out below as they came in to land. She could make out soaring skyscrapers which glinted in the setting sun, and she could see the Arabian ocean in the distance, like a flat sheet of dark blue.

  She turned to Nadim, who had put the laptop away and was watching her. ‘I didn’t realise B’harani was so big…it’s a proper city.’

  She winced inwardly, hating that she sounded so gauche. But Nadim just nodded. ‘Yes, it’s got a population of nearly a million. It’s a thriving metropolis. Tourism is a huge industry here for the Sultan, along with the oil fields out in the desert… He too has stables and runs a stud.’

  Iseult smiled. ‘Ah…competition?’

  Nadim looked comically affronted. ‘No competition at all. He knows who the superior horseman is.’

  Iseult thought privately that from what she’d seen very few horse-breeders and trainers would be superior to Nadim.

  Just then the plane touched down with a minute bump and they landed.

  On disembarking, Iseult saw three limos waiting, all with tinted windows. The air was hot, acrid, and she could taste the salt from the sea. Dusk was turning the sky a bruised colour, and the skyscrapers in the distance made her feel as if she’d travelled to another planet. Merkazad was a world away. But Iseult had a feeling that this place wouldn’t lay claim to her the same way that Merkazad had from the moment she’d seen it.

  After speeding along a sleek highway that cut right through the towering skyscrapers they turned a corner and drove up what looked like a private road. Right in the centre of the city, a huge, imposing fortress loomed from behind giant walls. It was stunning, soaring and breathtaking.

  Nadim said, ‘This is the Hussein Palace. Sultan Sadiq’s ancestral home.’

  Iseult looked at him aghast. ‘We’re staying here?’

  Nadim nodded, obviously amused by Iseult’s awe. She made a face at him and looked out of the window again, to see that they were driving into a huge courtyard where what seemed like hundreds of staff in pristine white uniforms waited to greet them.

  Nadim was dressed formally in his robes, and Lina had left out a smart trouser suit for Iseult that morning. She was grateful now, as a flurry of activity burst around them and they were summarily ushered into the entrance of the palace.

  A huge archway dominated the entrance, and then staff were leading Nadim and Iseult further into the stunning complex, through another open-air courtyard and into a blissfully cool atrium with more soaring ceilings.

  Iseult gasped with delight when she saw
a multicoloured bird fly in and out again. One of the staff, a smiling girl who wore a long white abeyya but no veil, stopped outside a door and indicated for Iseult to enter.

  Nadim sent her a look, and she saw that he was being shown through another door just down the hall. Iseult went in and her eyes widened. The opulence she’d grown used to at Nadim’s castle should have inured her to luxury, but it hadn’t.

  The room was massive, dressed in cool, peaceful whites. There was an enormous four-poster bed, and a bathroom with a marble sunken bath which looked big enough for a rugby team. Floor-to-ceiling French doors led out to a private garden, complete with lush grass and blooming trees. She heard a door open and saw Nadim step out just a few feet away.

  ‘It’s a double suite…our rooms are adjoining.’

  ‘Oh…’ Iseult said faintly, the stunning surroundings paling into insignificance as she took in Nadim, his skin so exotically dark against the cream of his robes.

  He arched a brow. ‘I think a bath before dinner would be nice.’

  Iseult said immediately, ‘I showered just before we left…’ Then she saw the look in his eye and remembered the huge bath and blushed. ‘Oh…’

  Nadim held out a hand. ‘Yes, oh. Come here, Iseult…’

  A couple of hours later Iseult blushed again in the mirror, as Lina did up her dress at the back, just thinking about what had taken place in Nadim’s bath. She’d barely made it out in time to come and meet Lina in her room, and she blushed even harder now, when Lina said, ‘You’re so flushed, Miss Iseult. Is it the heat?’

  Iseult made some strangled reply and meekly followed Lina away from the mirror to sit down, so she could do her hair. After what seemed like an age of pulling and curling, with something that looked like an instrument of torture, Lina stood back and gestured for Iseult to look in the mirror.

  Immediate fear gripped Iseult’s insides as she approached the reflective glass as if she were walking the plank. How had she forgotten this for a moment? How could she be putting herself back in this position again? To be publicly humiliated? Because no matter what Lina had done, no matter how expensive the dress was, she was still tomboy Iseult O’Sullivan from a farm in Ireland.

  She stopped in front of the mirror and for a moment couldn’t look. And then she did. For a wild moment she didn’t recognise the girl in front of her. She wore a long, fitted satin strapless dress in a dark greeny-blue, with an ostrich feather detail over one shoulder. Her skin looked very white, and her breasts swelled enticingly over the bodice. Long glittering green earrings swung against her neck, and Lina had somehow curled her impossibly straight hair and lifted it up and away into a loose chignon. Amidst the glossy red waves a diamanté comb sparkled.

  Iseult felt tears burn the back of her eyes, a lump tighten her throat. Just then a knock came to the interconnecting door, and before Iseult could compose herself Nadim strolled in with proprietorial ease.

  In an instant he’d politely dismissed Lina, and all Iseult could do was look at him through the mirror. He came to stand behind her, stunning in a black tuxedo. His jaw was tight, and she saw a muscle clench.

  He noticed the sheen in her eyes and turned her around, frowning. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Iseult shook her head and looked down, desperately trying to stem the flood of incipient tears, mortified. ‘No…nothing…I just—I don’t think I can do this. I’m not made for this kind of thing.’

  He tipped up her chin. ‘You’re made for me, Iseult, and you will walk by my side. You are beautiful…do you not see how beautiful you are?’

  ‘I’m not beautiful. Really, I’m not. We’ll go into that room and you’ll see…and you’ll be embarrassed.’

  Nadim thought cynically for a moment that Iseult was just fishing for a compliment, but then he saw the genuine distress in her eyes. The genuine disbelief. He shook his head. ‘Someone has obviously made you feel that you aren’t beautiful. Who was it? Your father?’

  Iseult shook her head fiercely. ‘No. It was just…’ She sucked in a shuddering breath and tried to regain control, sure he wouldn’t want to hear of her schoolgirl humiliation. ‘I’ve never been the girly type. I’m not used to this. I’m more at home in a stables or in a field…’

  Nadim turned Iseult back to face the mirror, and with his hands on her shoulders bent his head and pressed a heart-meltingly sweet kiss to her cheek. ‘You can’t hide in the stables for ever,’ he said. ‘You are beautiful…stunning.’ He kissed her jaw. ‘Here…’ Then he kissed where her neck met her shoulder. ‘And here…and everywhere. You will be the envy of every other woman.’

  His eyes compelled hers to his in the mirror, until a very fledgling feeling started to burgeon within her—a feeling that felt scarily like belief. Nadim turned her around again and said, ‘I have something for you.’

  He handed her an ornate red box with gold edging. Iseult opened it to reveal a pure gold bottle nestled in white velvet. She looked up at Nadim. ‘What is it?’

  He quirked a smile. ‘Al-Omar is famous for its perfume. It’s one I had specially commissioned for you.’

  Iseult’s heart clenched at the sheer seduction of Nadim, and she wished he wasn’t charming her so easily. If he was more perfunctory she could cope; she could pack ice around her heart.

  She put the box down with a shaking hand and opened the bottle, taking a tentative sniff before spraying a tiny bit on her wrist. It smelled like an intoxicating mix of delicate roses, together with musk and a hint of tantalising spices.

  And as if reading her mind, Nadim said dryly, ‘I think it captures your personality. There’s amber in there too, because it reminded me of your eyes…’

  Speechless, Iseult let Nadim take the bottle out of her hand and spray a tiny bit on her neck, before rubbing it in with a finger. Then he held out her arm and found the delicate skin at her inner elbow and rubbed there. Then he sprayed another bit just above her cleavage. By the time he was finished Iseult was breathing unevenly and her legs were weak.

  Nadim put down the perfume and took her hand to lead her out. At the door Iseult stopped him and said huskily, ‘Thank you for the perfume… You didn’t have to get me anything, but I love it…’

  Nadim fought not to let the artlessness of her words grip him tight, like a vice. It only reminded him again of how different she was from other women, and of what a risk he was taking with her. But even so…he knew he couldn’t stop.

  He just tugged her along and said, ‘We’ll be late for dinner.’

  A couple of hours later Iseult was still in awe of the splendour around them. So much for a gathering for close family and friends. She smiled wryly. There had to be at least two hundred people there, and one or two A-list actors even she recognised.

  She’d met Sultan Sadiq Ibn Kamal Hussein before dinner. He was a man cut from the same cloth as Nadim. Tall, handsome and powerfully built. He was also dressed in a tuxedo, and his unusual light blue eyes stood out. He wore an air of jaded cynicism, though, and his forbidding looks to approaching women made Iseult feel sorry for them.

  When he’d bent low and taken her hand to press a kiss to the back of it Nadim had pulled her close with a possessive arm that had sent a thrill through her. She’d had to tell herself not to read anything into it. Nadim was no different from this man in many ways.

  She saw the tall, debonair Sultan in the distance now, surrounded by a fawning crowd, and wondered if he too had a mistress.

  Just then Iseult noticed someone else approaching them, and exclaimed happily, ‘Jamilah!’ She looked at Nadim. ‘I didn’t know Jamilah would be here. We could have come together.’

  Nadim frowned and said, ‘I didn’t know she was planning on coming…’

  They embraced when Jamilah reached them; she looked even more stunning than usual in a dark royal blue dress that fell in a swirl of silk from just above her bust. Her glossy black hair was tied up in an elaborate chignon, but her face was pale and strained-looking.

  Instantly Iseult fe
lt concerned. ‘Jamilah, what is it?’

  Jamilah smiled tightly. ‘Nothing at all.’

  But as Iseult watched Jamilah saw something or someone behind them, and went even more pale. Iseult turned around and saw a very tall, strikingly handsome man approaching. A jolt of recognition went through her, even though she’d never seen him before in her life.

  She sensed Nadim tense beside her too, and when the other man arrived—so like Nadim in many ways but so different—Nadim said, ‘Iseult, I’d like you to meet my brother Salman…’

  Iseult shook his hand, but even she could see that he wasn’t interested in her or Nadim. He had eyes only for Jamilah, who muttered something about finding someone and fled across the room. Salman watched her go, and Iseult thought she’d never seen anyone look so haunted in all her life. She’d heard gossip around the stables that he was known internationally as the Playboy Sheikh, and rarely came home, but now she could only think of what he and Nadim had been through as young boys.

  With the bare minimum of conversation Salman went to leave too, but Nadim stopped him for a moment and said fiercely, ‘Don’t you think you should leave her alone?’

  Salman looked at Nadim, his dark eyes flashing a warning that Iseult knew well as she’d seen it before. ‘Stay out of this, Nadim.’

  And then he was gone. Iseult took a deep breath and felt shaky all of a sudden. For a moment there she’d had a vision of how she was going to be reacting in the future, when Nadim had dumped her for his next mistress, or even a wife. At the thought of not being able to be a part of that, she felt a physical pain grip her belly.

  Iseult’s melancholic mood after witnessing Nadim’s exchange with his brother and Jamilah’s obvious distress had lingered through the rest of the evening and into the night, even when Nadim had made love to her with an almost fierce abandon, taking them both to a level of ecstasy that had left her shattered.