Kitabı oku: «In The Sheikh's Marriage Bed», sayfa 3

Sharif cleared his throat. ‘Four weeks, Your Highness. Longer than the last four. I’m sorry to burden you with the problem when you have so many other matters to attend to, but while your sister-in-law is still travelling—’

Gallivanting around Europe, leaving her child in the hands of someone who was clearly not up to the job, Zak reflected grimly. The knowledge that her presence in Kazban created more tension than any reasonable man could be expected to tolerate had made him reluctant to intervene and order her return home.

Concerns for his little nephew warred with his natural desire to minimize his own exposure to his sister-in-law’s tricks.

Contemplating the facts with his customary cool, Zak decided that perhaps it really was time that he married. At least he could then put an end to Danielle’s scheming in that direction.

‘Surely there must be someone who can handle the child.’ Zak sighed and leaned back in his chair. ‘All right. I’ll speak to Jamal.’ He looked at Sharif expectantly and his eyes narrowed. ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’

Sharif looked uncomfortable. ‘It is now almost five years since your brother’s tragic death, Your Highness. His widow is—’ He broke off and licked dry lips. ‘There have been pictures—your father is asking questions. He is afraid that there will be another scandal.’ Sharif cleared his throat delicately. ‘It is no secret that your father hopes that you will wed your brother’s widow—’

Zak sat totally still, not a muscle flickered in his handsome face.

It was definitely time he married. And it wouldn’t be to his sister-in-law.

Any woman would be preferable to her.

To think that he’d once—

His jaw tightened as he contemplated the foolishness of youth. Although he was now firmly of the belief that love did not exist, he was convinced that he could do better in his choice of bride than a woman who put her own needs ahead of those of her child.

He would not be marrying Danielle.

Zak gave a sigh, the prospect of marriage leaving him profoundly depressed. There were many occasions when the duty and responsibility accorded to his role felt like an un-yielding block of concrete around his neck.

When he finally had his emotions back under control, he spoke. ‘I will deal with my late brother’s wife.’

With a wave of his hand he dismissed Sharif and lounged back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowed as he considered his next move.

Suddenly all he could think of was Emily Kingston.

He stared down at the pages of figures on his desk, but his mind was filled with disturbing images of honey-blonde hair and a soft, tempting mouth.

Doubtless she had done nothing to disguise that amazing blonde hair or those lush curves before making her bid for freedom. The knowledge that those charms were now on the streets of Kazban, visible to all, did nothing for his concentration.

With a rough exclamation he rose to his feet and stared at the sky, noting the deepening blue, acknowledging that Sharif was right. It would be dark in an hour. And Emily Kingston was alone.

Making an instant decision, he cursed softly and hit a series of buttons on his phone.

He’d sort out the problem with his nephew and his sister-in-law later. First he had to deal with Emily Kingston.

Unable to believe that she’d managed to leave the palace without being apprehended, Emily sneaked a glance over her shoulder, but there was no sign of anyone following her. Her heart was thudding and her palms were damp and she’d never felt such panic in her life before. She’d barely been able to breathe, choked with anticipation, expecting to feel a hand on her shoulder at any moment.

But there had been no hand. She’d done it.

Now all she had to do was find a car to take her to the airport.

Where on earth did one find a taxi in Kazban?

The initial panic fading, she was suddenly aware of just how hot it was away from the cool interior of the palace. Even though it was early evening, the sun hammered down on the dusty streets and the air was stifling.

Wishing that she had a hat and feeling more than a little vulnerable, she clutched her one small bag and walked as fast as she could in her one pair of ridiculous heels, trying to ignore the fact that she was boiling to death in her jacket. There was no way she was removing it. She had no wish to draw attention to herself and she knew that, although her dress fell to her ankles, it revealed far too much of her arms and shoulders to be considered decent in a country such as Kazban. So she gritted her teeth and kept the jacket on, promising herself that as soon as she was safely on the airplane she’d take it off and cool herself down.

She walked through the souk, wondering which direction to take, distracted by the colourful stalls and the wonderful smells.

Spices.

Intrigued, Emily paused by a stall heaped high with dune-like mountains of turmeric and many other spices that she didn’t recognize. Next to the spice stall someone was cooking, the clatter of pans and the sizzle of hot fat cutting through the dry, still air, the smells delicious and tempting.

She wandered on, past stalls where men dressed in traditional robes sold brightly coloured silks, past boxes and boxes of exotic nuts and sweets, fruits and vegetables.

Once she tried asking about a taxi and the man waved his arms vaguely. She tried to follow his directions but there were just more and more stalls and no sign of anything that even remotely resembled a taxi.

The light was fading fast and she realized that she was lost in the middle of Kazban, with absolutely no idea where she was.

Feeling decidedly uneasy, she turned back the way she’d come and looked at the maze of dusty streets, trying to remember her route.

When exactly had the bustle and activity ceased? The streets were eerily quiet, as if she were the only person inhabiting this corner of the planet.

Wishing that someone else would appear, she started to walk down the nearest street and then stopped dead as three men dressed in robes suddenly blocked her path.

Her heart gave a jolt of panic.

One of them spoke to her in a language that she didn’t understand and when she didn’t answer they circled around her, blocking her escape.

Instinctively Emily clutched at her bag even though there was virtually nothing in it and her passport was safely tucked into a pocket in her dress.

The tallest of them spoke again and this time he smiled, but it was such an unpleasant, threatening smile that Emily felt a shiver of fear.

Determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d frightened her, she lifted her chin boldly and tried to sidestep past the men, but they closed in more tightly, throwing remarks to each other that she didn’t understand.

One of them reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair, twisting it around his fingers as though he were considering a purchase.

‘Leave me alone!’ Heart galloping like a horse’s hooves, Emily jerked her head away from his touch and took a step backwards, but one of his friends was directly behind her, blocking her escape.

She had nowhere to go.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE was in huge trouble.

Emily glanced frantically around her, searching for an alternative escape route. But there was none. And already the men were closing in. Before she could move, one of them made a grab for her bag and another dragged her jacket from her shoulders.

Suddenly she was standing in the dusty streets wearing nothing but her thin cotton dress and a pair of ridiculous shoes.

For a moment she stood still, breathing rapidly, frozen with fear. And then some of the fear melted away to be replaced by anger. She was a visitor to a foreign country. She should be treated with respect and courtesy.

‘I’m English.’ She spoke slowly and clearly. ‘Give me my things back.’

They leered at her and, acting on a sudden impulse, she flew at the man who’d taken her bag, kicking him so hard with one of her shoes that he gave a yelp and doubled up in pain and surprise.

‘Finally I understand the origin of the term “killer heels”,’ Emily muttered, snatching at her bag and making a run for it.

Her triumph was short-lived. Temporarily stunned by her surprise attack, the man’s two comrades suddenly came to life and grabbed her bodily. Her dress tore, she lost the bag and crashed awkwardly to the ground, wincing as something cut into her ankle.

‘Ouch—!’ Gritting her teeth against the pain, she lifted her head, furious and ready to fight—and then she saw a fourth man striding towards them, his robes flowing back from his powerful frame.

He was taller and broader than the men who surrounded her and walked with a grim sense of purpose that made Emily shiver. His head was covered by the traditional gutra and she caught a glimpse of fierce black eyes before he strode forward and snapped something in a strange language, one bronzed hand resting ominously on the folds of his robes as he scanned the scene.

Friend or foe?

Emily held her breath, her eyes fixed on his hand. She knew instinctively that the folds of his robes concealed a weapon. Would there be a fight? But those long, strong fingers stayed still as his eyes flickered slowly over her attackers.

One by one they fell back, at first resentful and then visibly intimidated by the menace in that dark gaze and the physical power and authority that pulsed from his masculine frame.

And then they turned and ran, taking Emily’s bag and jacket with them.

Emily clutched the torn neck of her dress and started to shake, her eyes fixed on the man who had caused their flight.

Without uttering a word, her rescuer bent down and scooped her into his arms.

‘What are you doing?’ Taken by surprise, Emily thumped his shoulder with her fist and made contact with rock solid muscle. ‘Put me down!’

‘Be still!’ He tightened his grip on her, carrying her as if she weighed nothing, striding purposefully through a network of narrow, dusty streets until he finally came to a halt in a secluded doorway.

‘Are you hurt?’ He snapped the question in perfect English and to her horror Emily felt the mortifying burn of tears.

It was just the shock, she told herself, struggling to restrain the impulse to sob against his broad shoulder. Now that she was safe she suddenly realized just how close she’d been to real danger. If he hadn’t arrived when he had—

‘I’m fine,’ she lied, glancing around her dubiously. ‘You can put me down. Why have you brought me here? It looks more dangerous than the main street—’

‘You were drawing too much attention to yourself,’ the man said harshly, but he lowered her to the ground with surprising gentleness, muttering something under his breath as he glanced down.

‘You are bleeding.’

Emily followed his frowning gaze and suddenly realized why her leg was hurting so badly. Blood was pouring from a deep cut on her ankle.

‘Oh—I must have cut it on something when I was attacked.’

‘Which would not have happened had you not been walking in an unsafe area.’ He gave a sigh that spoke volumes and then squatted down so that he could take a closer look. In an impatient gesture he moved her skirt and slid strong fingers over her ankle. ‘No wonder you are injured,’ he growled. ‘These shoes are ridiculous.’

‘I totally agree, but they’re the only pair I brought with me,’ Emily protested, wincing as he slid the shoe off and examined her bruised ankle. ‘I wasn’t exactly planning on having to run for my life when I packed. Ouch, you’re hurting me!’

‘You should be thankful that it is only your ankle that is hurt,’ he said, his tone blisteringly unsympathetic as he finished his examination. ‘I don’t think it will need stitches. Next time you try to escape I suggest you select your foot-wear more carefully.’

Emily’s eyes widened and she looked at him closely for the first time. ‘How did you know that I was escaping—?’

With a jerk of his hand he removed something from his neck and bandaged her foot deftly, stemming the flow of blood. Then he lifted his gaze to hers and she fell into those fierce dark eyes. The breath jammed in her throat as she recognized him.

‘Oh—no—it’s you!’

He inclined his proud head, his mouth set in a hard line as he surveyed her. ‘Indeed. I trust my mode of dress meets with your satisfaction on this occasion, Miss Kingston.’

Staring up at him, Emily lost her ability to breathe normally. She’d thought he looked good in a suit, but it was nothing compared to his appearance in the traditional robes of his countrymen. How could she have failed to recognize him?

Even in the dusky light he was extravagantly handsome and he held himself with an arrogance that spoke of centuries of breeding.

No wonder the other men had run—

‘Clearly I should have locked you in my tower after all,’ he observed in a chilly tone, rising to his feet in a fluid movement and glancing left and right down the narrow street. ‘It would have been safer for everyone. You could do with forgetting your fairy stories while you are in Kazban, Miss Kingston. This particular prince is not about to play his part according to the book. If you’re expecting Prince Charming, then you are doomed to disappointment.’

‘I never went a bundle on Prince Charming,’ Emily confessed shakily, her eyes still stuck to his face, watching hopefully to see if there was some softening of his attitude towards her now that he knew that she was serious about escaping. There didn’t seem to be. He was grim-faced and furiously angry.

‘Then let’s take a look at reality. A large number of people have been put to a great deal of trouble on your behalf,’ he bit out, his dark eyes glittering with impatience as he stared down at her. ‘My presence was required in the palace this evening but because of your foolhardy activities I have been forced to risk giving offence to those whose good relations are essential for maintaining peace in this area.’

Emily looked up at him guiltily. ‘I didn’t ask anyone to follow me,’ she began, and Zak al-Farisi threw back his handsome head and muttered something incomprehensible under his breath. She didn’t need a translation to know that his words hadn’t been flattering.

‘Had we not followed you, Miss Kingston, you would now be at the mercy of those men who were showing such an interest in you when I arrived. The palace guards lost you for a moment and have been combing the streets for the last two hours and everywhere they went there was talk of a beautiful Western woman with hair like crushed silk.’ His mouth hardened and his black gaze mocked her. ‘Certain areas of Kazban are not safe for a Western woman to walk alone. From now on you would find it safer to remain at the palace. Step outside and there are any number of risks. The heat, the desert, hostile tribes—’

A drop-dead gorgeous prince…

Emily stared up at him, heart pounding, thinking that she was probably looking at the biggest risk of them all.

Him.

Feeling thoroughly confused and unsettled, she winced as pain shot through her ankle. ‘I just wanted to go home.’

He gazed at her with undiluted exasperation. ‘And how far did you think you’d get, dressed like that?’

She glanced down at herself and then gasped in horror as she realized that the torn neck of her dress was gaping, exposing an indecent amount of creamy flesh. Blushing furiously, she jerked the edges of her dress together and glared at him. ‘I was wearing a jacket until they stole it,’ she pointed out, ‘along with my bag.’

‘And all that golden hair was streaming down your back in a blatant invitation,’ he bit out impatiently and she sucked in a breath, indignation making her indifferent to protocol.

‘Well, that’s your fault! You dragged the clip out in the palace and I lost it,’ she croaked, wondering why there suddenly seemed to be no oxygen in the air. She was breathing in and out but her head was starting to swim. Telling herself that it had nothing to do with the fact that he was standing so close to her, she straightened up, her expression frosty. ‘And for your information, I looked for a hat in the souk but I couldn’t find one.’

‘Hats are for tourists and you were in the wrong part of the souk for such a purchase.’ He made an impatient gesture and then stiffened as they both heard shouts coming from nearby.

Emily gave a gasp of dismay and immediately he covered her mouth with the flat of his hand, plastering her back into the doorway with the force of his body, concealing her from view.

‘Quiet!’ His soft command made her aware of just how foolish she’d been to think she could find her own way through this unfamiliar city. If he hadn’t found her—

Emily closed her eyes and the shouts faded into the background. Suddenly all she was aware of was the pulsing heat of the late-evening sun and the hard muscle of his powerful thighs pressed against hers. She felt the strength of his body protecting hers, heard the harshness of his breathing as he concealed her with the folds of his robes. Lost in a world that she’d never entered before, she breathed in his tantalizing male scent and let the force and strength of his body wrap around her. A strange weakness spread through her limbs and her lips parted under the firm pressure of his hand. Suddenly the urge to taste him was overpowering and her tongue flickered over lean, bronzed fingers.

She heard his sharp intake of breath, heard him mutter something under his breath and then his hand shifted. Without warning, his fingers slid roughly into the silken mass of hair that tumbled over her shoulders, tilting her head, exposing her to the full impact of his savage black gaze.

She heard the ragged intake of his breath, saw anger and fire in his eyes and then his mouth came down on hers with punishing force, stifling her cry of shock with the heat of his kiss.

Excitement cascaded through her body and she melted against him, seduced by the erotic slide of his tongue in her mouth, the throb of his body pressed intimately against hers. She felt the warmth and strength of his hand as it moved down her spine and then she was hauled hard against him, the softness of her body merging with the hardness of his.

Drowning in sensation, Emily tried to struggle to the surface but the shocking press of his arousal and the lick of his tongue sent her spiralling out of control, dizzy and weak with an excitement so intense and unfamiliar that she didn’t know how to fight it. It was impossible to know where she ended and he began, their bodies locked together in a sensual combat so powerful that both seemed unable to halt the madness.

Another shout penetrated the fog of white-hot sexual desire, cutting through frenzied passion as effectively as the sharpest sword through the finest silk. Suddenly his mouth lifted from hers and she staggered slightly as he stepped away from her, his bronzed, handsome face set in an expression so grim that she stared at him in bemusement, her body still howling protest at the cessation of such delicious and previously undiscovered pleasures.

She ached all over. Ached for him to finish what he’d started.

And yet at the same time she was utterly horrified at her inability to control her response to him. She shouldn’t have felt that way. It made absolutely no sense. How was it possible to dislike a person and yet want to cling to him and learn every part of his body?

She should have slapped his face. She should have pushed him away. The fact that he’d been the one to end the contact left her shrinking with mortification. ‘That should not have happened,’ he ground out, taking another step backwards, as if not trusting himself to stand within touching distance. ‘In Kazban we do not indulge in such public displays.’

Emily stared at him, mute, wondering which one of them was most shocked.

Him, by displaying what accounted for a serious lapse in his legendary self-control, or her, by discovering that such a level of sexual excitement even existed. She’d always thought that the pleasures of sex were grossly exaggerated. Had never had any reason to think otherwise. Certainly the few kisses she’d indulged in since she’d reached adolescence had induced nothing but boredom. She’d assumed that perhaps she wasn’t a very sexual person.

But now she knew differently and the fact that it was this man who had made her discover that fact just appalled her.

Had she no taste?

‘We should leave,’ he said grimly, ‘before the situation deteriorates further.’

Which situation? Emily stared dizzily into his proud, arrogant face, wondering whether he was talking about the risk from the locals or the risk from her.

Clearly he was less than impressed by the kiss. But then the guy had a troop of women willing to amuse him, she thought wistfully. One kiss with her in a dark alleyway was hardly going to fire his blood, was it?

‘Where are your security guards?’

His dark gaze was enigmatic. ‘Nearby, should I require them. But I don’t. I am more than able to defend myself should the need arise. Which is more than can be said for you.’

She rallied slightly at his tone. ‘I could have rescued myself if I’d had to.’

‘With what?’ His voice was harsh and threaded with contempt and anger. ‘Apart from causing severe injury with the heels of your shoes, what other weapons are contained in that one small bag? Exploding lip gloss? A poisoned hair-brush?’

Emily glared back, her eyes sparking. ‘Stop mocking me.’

‘I’m trying to make you see the risks involved in wandering around the streets of Kazban unaccompanied. Those men were not playing games. And now we must leave.’

He lifted his fingers to his mouth and gave a low whistle. Emily heard the thunder of hooves and then gasped in astonishment as a black horse careered wildly towards them and shuddered to a halt next to Zak al-Farisi, snorting and tossing his handsome head as he stamped his hooves impatiently.

Emily caught her breath at the beauty of the animal.

Horses were her abiding love and with two of her own at home she could more than appreciate the value of the horse standing in front of her.

She gave a half-smile. In a way the animal reminded her of its master. Both were strong and powerful and decidedly dangerous.

Zak lifted a hand to the horse’s bridle and spoke softly to the stallion and then jerked his head to Emily.

‘Quickly.’

Realising that he was intending to take her back to the palace, she backed into the doorway and shook her head.

‘I’m not going with you! I’m not—oh—’ Before she could finish her protest, the prince had swung her onto the horse’s back as if she weighed nothing and vaulted on behind her, his hands clasping the reins lightly as he urged the stallion forward through the rapidly darkening streets.

Despite all her experience with horses she’d never been on such a wild ride, never known such speed and strength in an animal. With rippling muscles and a fiery flash of his eyes the stallion pulled on his bridle, fretting to be given his head as he galloped through the dusty streets.

But the prince was the one in control. He held the horse slightly in check, controlling the pace to suit him, using skill to contain the horse’s great strength and power. Man and horse at one.

At any other time Emily would have been awed by this spectacular display of horsemanship but all she could think was that she was being taken back to the palace, and that she was unlikely to be given the opportunity to escape again.

They swerved through a network of narrow streets and Emily clutched a handful of the horse’s mane, praying that no one would walk into their path. She felt the strength of Zak’s arm as he clamped her against him, felt the heat and hardness of his thighs pressing against hers as he propelled the horse forwards towards the safety of the palace.

She felt the ripple of muscle under her legs as the horse lengthened his stride, covering the ground with a speed that was nothing short of exhilarating.

Emily had expected to approach the Golden Palace from the magnificent front entrance, but instead the prince urged the horse around the walls that circuited the opulent building and finally turned down a narrow passageway. Guards saluted and fell back as they galloped past at a ridiculous pace and it occurred to Emily that everyone clearly recognized the prince, despite the fact that he’d been dressed like every other man in the souk.

Even inside the safety of the palace Zak didn’t reduce the speed and Emily closed her eyes briefly as they thundered down the narrow passageway and then slithered to a dusty halt in an enormous courtyard.

An army of servants sprang forward and Zak dismounted with athletic grace and then turned to lift Emily off the powerful stallion. Immediately her ankle gave way and with a soft curse Zak scooped her into his arms and barked something in a language that she didn’t understand. Several servants scurried off in the direction of the palace and Emily felt her face burn under the scrutiny of those who remained.

‘You don’t have to carry me,’ she muttered and he lifted a dark eyebrow in her direction.

‘You would prefer to lie in a heap in the courtyard for the rest of your stay?’ His tone was dry. ‘You are already the subject of considerable speculation among my people. It would be wise not to give them additional fodder for gossip.’

Emily chewed her lip. ‘I don’t want to stay at all—I want to go home.’

‘And that is not something for public discussion.’ He carried her across the courtyard, seemingly oblivious to the banks of staff who positively flattened themselves as he approached.

Zak strode down acres of marbled corridor until he finally reached the room she’d been in that morning and, without saying a word, he deposited her with surprising gentleness on the silk couch, among a pile of soft cushions.

‘A doctor will be with you shortly.’

She struggled to sit up. ‘A doctor?’

He glanced at her impatiently. ‘In case you have forgotten, your ill-conceived escape plan caused damage to your ankle. In the circumstances, you are fortunate that your injuries were so slight and that you are safe.’

Shivering with the memory of what might have happened, Emily closed her eyes briefly. ‘Well, for your information, I don’t exactly feel safe with you either. Why do you think I tried to escape in the first place?’

‘Then your instincts are more reliable than I gave you credit for,’ he drawled, his eyes glittering with an emotion that she couldn’t interpret. ‘I am most definitely not safe, Miss Kingston, but given the choice I think you might find my arms considerably warmer than the alternative. You should have planned your trip with more care,’ he returned, his features set in aggressive lines. ‘There was never even the slightest chance that you would be allowed to leave. Both you and your brother must have known that.’

‘Of course he didn’t know that! Peter would never send me into danger,’ she said hotly and his mouth curved into a mocking smile.

‘And yet you are here, Miss Kingston.’

She sucked in more air. ‘Well, neither of us knew what a totally unreasonable, ruthless, suspicious—’ She broke off and swallowed with horror as she remembered just whom she was speaking to ‘—er—Your Highness.’

‘Please.’ He spread bronzed hands in mocking invitation, his dark gaze sardonic as he surveyed her. ‘I think we have long moved beyond the realms of palace protocol.’

She lifted her chin. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just that you—you make me angry. I suppose now you’re going to clap me in irons and throw me in the dungeon.’

‘You are obsessed with towers and dungeons.’ With an impatient glance in her direction he paced over to the window and stared down into the courtyard. ‘If I had any sense then that is exactly what I would do with you,’ he muttered and Emily glared at him, stung by the injustice of his remark.

‘Well, maybe you should if I’m such a dangerous criminal.’

There was a long, pulsing silence and then he turned his head and their eyes clashed, the memory of that kiss throbbing between them.

Zak al-Farisi strode towards her and lifted her to her feet, brushing aside silken blonde hair from her burning face with a strong hand, his handsome face grim.

‘Do not provoke me, Miss Kingston,’ he warned softly, his eyes fierce as he stared down at her. ‘You are a walking temptation even for the most self-disciplined of men, and my needs are no less for knowing what you are.’

His mouth hovered above hers and Emily felt her heart bang against her ribs.

His features were strong and masculine, his jaw blue-black with stubble and his shoulders broad and powerful. It was no wonder the three men who’d attacked her had run, she thought weakly. He was more of a man than any man she’d ever met and she had an almost overwhelming urge to grab his robes and kiss him again.

Shocked by her own thoughts and feelings, Emily lifted a shaking hand to her throat.

She was going mad. This man was as harsh as the desert landscape she’d passed on her way to Kazban. He was her enemy. And she certainly didn’t want to kiss him again.

The last occasion had left her in a state of shock.

And perhaps he was thinking the same thing because he made an impatient sound and turned away from her, un-buckling something from the folds of his cloak and laying a sword on the desk in front of him.

Emily’s gaze followed his movements. ‘So you do carry a weapon—’

‘Be thankful that I did not have cause to use it,’ he said harshly, turning back to face her. ‘I would not have you add bloodshed to your list of crimes.’

‘That’s the second time you’ve mentioned crime and I haven’t done anything.’ Her eyes blazed into his. ‘I have never committed crime of any sort in my life.’ She stumbled over the words in her furious attempt to defend herself. ‘I am totally honest and if you’re such a lousy judge of character that you can’t see that then I feel sorry for you—’ She broke off, frozen into horrified stillness by the shock she saw in those dark eyes.