The Sheikh’s Stubborn Employee: Qadir Sheikhs Book Three

by North, Leslie

  The Baker history with the royal family, along with Cal’s charisma, had made it an easy choice. After a few conversations, he felt like he knew both the man and the horse. Now he had the sneaking suspicion that he’d lacked crucial details.

  Cal had been confident about Riah being a good match for the royal family. He’d sent Zaman photos and videos, and Zaman was enamored. Not only was she the ideal bay filly, but her parentage was second to none. She was the third generation in a line of champion horses. It had seemed meant to be. Cal had told him, again and again—maybe too many times—that the horse was ready and waiting. She would be waiting when the sheikh arrived, or Cal could come to Qadir and personally escort her there.

  And now Cal was gone, which was an unpleasant surprise. What had happened to him? And why weren’t his daughters honoring the sales he’d made? It was all off kilter in a way that made Zaman even more determined to follow through on this. That was what people did. They made agreements, and they followed through, and that was that.

  Pregnant. That likely meant that a fourth-generation champion horse was waiting in the wings. But that wouldn’t help him win this year’s race.

  What was he supposed to do now? The muscles in his lower back tensed at the uncertainty. He had definitely not expected this situation to slide out of his control. That just wasn’t the way of his life.

  Charlotte, who had the same sandy hair as her sister but brown eyes instead of Emily’s blue, leaned in close to her sister, and the two of them had a whispered conversation.

  He wanted to move closer—to see his horse—but Emily radiated a fear so pure and strong that it had set up an invisible boundary. Charlotte put a hand on her shoulder and turned her away from him. Their eyes snagged as she turned, her face white.

  “No.”

  “Emily—”

  “No.” Emily pushed her sister off. “Look.” She met Zaman’s eyes. “I’m…so sorry that my father made this mistake.”

  Part of him wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close until she no longer wore that stricken expression. The other part wanted the horse he’d paid for. Zaman couldn’t remember the last time someone had gone back on a deal with him. Had that ever happened? Not in a situation like this.

  “There is no mistake,” he insisted. “Your father sold me a racehorse. That racehorse. And I intend to take possession.”

  Emily took her hand from Riah’s neck and wrung her hands. “There’s no way she can race now.” The slight tremble in her voice called to him to fix it. “It will be at least two years before she’ll be ready.”

  The frustration that unfolded at the pit of his stomach was a two-sided beast. He wanted this to be simple—the end of a transaction. He’d fulfilled his end of the deal. And he also wanted to be close to Emily. The space between them was simply too large, though he couldn’t put his finger on why he felt that way.

  “A deal has been made.” He used his firmest, most royal tone. “Your father accepted payment. Are you going to dishonor your father by reneging?”

  “Can we offer you a different horse?” Emily went over to the horse her sister had ridden in on. “This is Majalun, or Maj for short. He’s spectacular. Young. He’s only seven years old, but he’s finished several endurance races. He’s known in the region.” Emily moved gracefully around the horse, patting his neck, running her hands over his mane, and beaming at him. She flicked her eyes to Zaman, her face still white despite the wide smile she wore. “He’ll need to adjust to the different climate, but he can be ready.”

  He took in the stallion with a practiced eye. It was true that Majalun was a fine specimen, but—

  “He’s a bit temperamental, but he’s fast,” said Emily. Majalun pawed at the ground, and a short breath huffed out through his nostrils. Emily leaned close and whispered in the horse’s ear, her hands moving with a quiet confidence over his nose and back.

  He couldn’t stop looking at those hands. There was something about Emily, he could see now. She looked like the kind of woman who could even soothe royal stresses, like the ones Zaman carried on both his shoulders. Not only was she stunning—those blue eyes, like sky and cloud all at once—but even in her fear she radiated calm. The closer she got to the horses, the more the air seemed to still. Even the breeze followed suit, dying down to a lightweight caress while Emily talked to Majalun. Home, he thought. Being near her felt like home.

  It also felt like a challenge. Zaman’s mind slipped from home to bedroom, and a vision of Emily spread out on his bed, her hair spilling over his pillow and the petite lines of her body spilling over his bedspread, flashed into the front of his mind.

  Zaman shook his head, trying to keep the movement discreet. Now was not the time to be having dirty thoughts about Cal Baker’s daughter. He did wonder what it would take to break through that calm and stoke a hot excitement…

  But it would probably never be the time to figure that out. Not if she was going to fight him tooth and nail over this horse. Not if the friction in the air between them burst into flame.

  “I’ll give you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” he said.

  Both the women whipped their heads toward him, and Emily’s hands froze on Maj’s reins. “For Maj? But I thought—” The flare of hope in her eyes was raw enough that he fought the urge to look away. “What about Riah?”

  “I’m taking both of them. And you.”

  Emily’s mouth dropped open, high color splashing itself across her cheeks. He wanted to run his thumb across that deep pink. He wanted to study it until he could name the flower it reminded him of. “What?”

  “Simple.” The plan knitted itself together in Zaman’s mind at lightning speed. “You’ll return to Qadir with me to train Majalun and monitor Riah. Once she foals and is ready to travel, you may return to the States with the foal.”

  It was a generous deal. More than generous. Cal had sold him the horse. Now that Emily had stepped out of the way, the pregnancy was abundantly obvious, which meant that it had been in process when the transaction had taken place. He would be within his rights to take the foal, too, especially for the extra money he’d put on the table.

  Emily bit her lip, and Zaman’s knees nearly went out from underneath him. Every movement she made captivated his attention more. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t stop himself. Every second brought a new detail to the forefront. The way the sun caught in her hair. The delicate shells of her ears. They way her T-shirt clung to her body, showing off the curve from her hips to her waist. He wanted to test that curve with the palm of his hand. He wanted to take her bottom lip between his own teeth and test it there before he kissed her.

  Emily’s lips parted, and his mind raced ahead. From the worry in her eyes, she was going to say no. She was going to dismiss the offer outright, and then what? Zaman would take his car back to the airport, get on his private plane, and fly back to Qadir empty-handed.

  “I just don’t think—”

  Charlotte stepped in front of Emily and stuck out her hand for Zaman to shake. Her jaw had a determined set, and her dark eyes bored into his. He braced himself for snark, for a handshake that ended in Charlotte kicking him off the farm, regardless of his royal status. He took her palm. Her grip was confident. Here it came.

  “You’ve got a deal,” said Charlotte.

  3

  Emily took Majalun for another turn around the training ring. She shifted her balance, years of habit aligning her with Maj’s stride. With every turn, her heart pounded harder.

  Because this ring wasn’t at Baker Farm, with the Kentucky hillsides surrounding them. This was Qadir, and the low hills she saw every time they turned toward the back fence weren’t the same.

  Of course they weren’t the same. The knowledge didn’t matter to her heart. Every time they came into view, it thumped in surprise. Even after the flight on Zaman’s private plane, and even after they’d been driven to the palace in a shining black SUV, it didn’t seem real.

  What ha
d she been thinking, going halfway around the world like this?

  And it was no small chunk of time, either. Six months in Qadir to train Majalun for the endurance race that Zaman had explained on the plane. Oh, she’d tried to pay attention, but all of it had seemed so surreal…

  She settled in the saddle and made another turn, this one back toward the palace. Another shock. Emily blew out a big breath. It would be better if she could get used to this, and fast.

  But it had been a long time since she’d been away from the farm, with the exception of their regular racing circuits and training events. Coming halfway around the world had not been on her radar.

  Her heart jerked in her chest.

  It was a bright afternoon, and Emily had to admit that the hills here were beautiful in their own way—rolling and green in a lighthearted shade, unique from the deep August greens in Kentucky. But the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her she’d made a terrible mistake.

  Charlotte needed her. They needed each other. And even if Charlotte told her that she would be fine—had insisted on it, actually—Emily couldn’t shake the feeling that she was abandoning her sister. It felt vaguely dirty that she was doing it for a hefty paycheck, even though she and her sister also needed to keep the farm running. It was like all that time soaring above the ocean had turned her feelings into a tangle of crossed wires.

  “Be cool,” she told herself out loud. Her sister was only a video chat away, and if something really terrible happened, she could get a commercial flight out of Qadir. But that would mean leaving Riah behind, and Maj. Both the horses needed her here.

  She slowed Maj to a trot, then a walk to cool him down, then dismounted and led him back to the stables. No stable on the planet smelled like a bed of roses, but the mixture of hay and horses inside settled her racing heart, and she’d chose that smell over roses any day.

  Emily hung her helmet on a handy hook between her two charges’ stalls and checked on Riah, who munched hay contentedly in a wide stall that had been meticulously prepared by the palace stable hands. She’d taken quite a bit of pride in how well they kept the stable at home, but a royal stable was on another level altogether. They didn’t just have Marie and a gaggle of teens—they had a full staff, working almost around the clock to care for the royal family’s horses.

  Riah was one of them now.

  Emily led Maj into his stall next to Riah’s, secured him with the built-in cross ties, and picked up a curry comb. Even the brushes were nicer here, the hard rubber back of the tool perfectly molded to her hand. Her heart did an odd little twist. The foal who was born would not know any different once she brought it back to the States.

  The steady motion of the rubdown brought her back to some semblance of balance. It was six months, not a lifetime. And this way, she could set them on their feet again. It wouldn’t be such a burden on her shoulders when she got home.

  Home. Her mom had loved to quote Jesse Stuart. “If these United States can be called a body, then Kentucky can be called its heart.” Kentucky was her heart. Everything she could want was right there, waiting for her.

  Except for Riah. A wave of tears caught her by surprise, and she rested her head against Majalun’s gray flank, flicking the tears away with one of her knuckles. “Damn it, Dad,” she whispered, the words strangled. “Why’d you have to sell her?”

  “Who are you?”

  The voice came from an old man outside the stall, his wrinkled hand wrapped around the handle of a cane. He was short and wiry, with gray eyes that caught all the available light in the stable. That brightness didn’t match the thin set of his mouth, or the flat tone of his voice.

  Emily swiped at the last of the tears. “Emily Baker. Sheikh Zaman hired me to train his horse for the endurance race,” she said.

  He said nothing in response, only walked into the stall, ducking under the cross tie. The man made a slow circuit around Majalun, one hand on the horse, the other on his cane. Maj shifted uneasily.

  “Careful. He’s not very good around strangers.”

  The man glanced at her, then leaned into Maj’s ear and crooned quietly to him.

  Maj settled.

  She’d never seen him settle so fast, holding perfectly still aside from his twitching ears. Not even for her.

  “Wow,” she breathed. “That’s amazing. I’m serious when I say he doesn’t like strangers.”

  Maj pawed the ground and chuffed. The old man calmed him with a stroke of his neck and a whisper in his ear, and Emily turned to see what the horse had been reacting to.

  Zaman strode through the stable, his presence filling the air around them. “You’ll have to excuse Daud,” he said, reaching the stall. “He’s not fond of strangers, but he’s yet to meet a horse he doesn’t like.” Out of the corner of her eye, Emily spotted Daud giving Maj a piece of peppermint. Daud must have felt her looking, because he backed away from the horse and gave Zaman a terse nod. “He’ll do.”

  Then he hobbled out of the stall.

  Emily watched him leave and felt Maj tug against the rope in her hand, snuffling. She raised a hand to soothe the horse, and Zaman took a step back. The fact of him in the stable had kicked the temperature up several notches, and she was more aware of the effect he had on her with every pounding heartbeat. He’d showered and changed since the plane had landed and now wore a suit that hugged the lines of his body so tightly it made her mouth water. Zaman had been almost unbearably sexy in his jeans and button-down, but the suit…well, she could understand why sheikh romances were so popular. He was absolutely gorgeous.

  He was grinning at her.

  He’d been talking to her, and she’d been absently stroking Maj’s neck and staring.

  Just great.

  A firecracker of heat sparked in her cheeks. “Beg your pardon.” It felt a little formal to say it, but then again, she was standing in front of a sheikh. Her initial assessment that he looked like a prince had been totally accurate.

  And that grin.

  “I was asking if you were settled yet.” Zaman stood as easily in the stables here, wearing his dark suit, as he had wearing his jeans on Baker Farm.

  She gave Maj’s neck another pat. “I was too concerned about the horses. I came straight to the stables with them and I’ve been here ever since.”

  “You’ve put in more than enough time out here. Let me escort you to your rooms.”

  Emily’s stomach growled. Not only had she not been anywhere except the stable, she hadn’t eaten, either. She smiled back at Zaman. “Is there a staff meal, or should I plan to find my own dinner?”

  He raised his eyebrows, eyes catching the golden light of the afternoon. “Emily Baker, do you think I’d leave you on your own for your first evening in Qadir?”

  She bit her lip. “You have to be a busy man.”

  “You have to be starving,” countered Zaman. “Come. Have a meal with me, so we can discuss training plans for the horses. How soon do you think he’ll be ready for me to ride?”

  “Maybe a week, if Maj—” At the sound of his name, Maj shook his mane. “If Maj settles in all right. Speaking of settling in, though, I need to finish his rubdown before I go anywhere.” She reached for a dandy brush and started working it over Maj’s coat, feeling as self-conscious as she ever had in her life. She searched for a neutral subject. “Tell me more about the race. How is the terrain?” She floated the question to him, and Zaman came to stand at the door of the stall.

  “It’s a mixed bag.” She felt his eyes on her, the heat relentless. “The first leg is mostly flat, and at sea level. The second leg goes over the foothills and through the smaller range of mountains, near the border.” His voice was so smooth. She wanted, weirdly, to wrap herself in it. Naked. “The last part is the most difficult, but also the shortest. A bit of rough desert terrain.”

  “Maj should find all that familiar.” She could feel Maj relaxing with every flick of the brush. “He’s completed similar races, but the climate was more hu
mid. I don’t like to tempt fate, but this should be a breeze for him. With the right rider, of course.” She stole a look at Zaman out of the corner of her eye and got a flash of that brilliant grin.

  “Do you have any ideas about who that rider might be?” he teased. “The right man would have to have the body for it.”

  She almost snorted with a laugh, avoiding it at the last possible second. “You might do,” she teased back.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I’ll have to watch you ride him. I was thinking I might take him out on the trails near the palace for his training, and then—if I think you’re up to it—we could ride out together.” Alone, under the clear blue sky.

  “If you’re going to train him solo, you should take a guard with you. Safety first,” Zaman intoned.

  While they talked, he’d slowly been inching forward. On the way, he grabbed another brush, and before Emily knew it he was in the stall on Maj’s other side, brushing along with her. The horse leaned toward him, just a little.

  “Wow,” breathed Emily. “You have a magic touch, too.”

  “Not only for horses,” said Zaman, and a sweet anticipation stole up her spine between her shoulder blades. She wouldn’t mind experiencing that touch for herself.

  They finished brushing Maj and made sure he and Riah were supplied with feed, and then Emily walked next to Zaman back to the palace proper. The sun wheeled toward the evening. Inside, the palace was lit by crystal sconces that cast a warm glow over everything. Even the light felt expensive. Zaman kept up the chatter about Maj and the training, and how eager he was to ride.

  “Everyone here is so good with the horses,” she mused as they went down the wide hall to the guest quarters.

  “It’s in our blood.” Zaman stopped, his eyes meeting hers. The blaze at the center of his dark gaze made her wonder what else was in his blood. Those eyes lingered on hers. It made her skin oversensitive, that look. His lips parted—she couldn’t look away…

  “This is you,” Zaman said, his voice low and sensual. This is me, Emily thought wildly. This is me, exactly as I am, rumpled from working with the horses, slightly sunburned… But then Zaman opened the door he was standing next to. “Your suite,” he said, and ushered her in.