Promised to a Sheik (7 page)

“We can marry immediately and spend our wedding night here, then fly to Gaspar first thing tomorrow as husband and wife,” he said. He pulled her into his arms, his mouth mere inches from hers. “Say yes, Elizabeth. Don't make me wait any longer to make you mine.”

“Yes.” The word hissed out of her on a sigh, and before she could fully accept what she'd just agreed to his lips were on hers, sweeping any doubts, any hesitation away with the mastery and force of the kiss.

When the kiss ended, she wasn't sure if she had just taken the first step into seeing her every dream come true, or just made the biggest mistake of her life.

The next hour went by in a blur. One minute Omar was kissing her in his penthouse suite, the next minute they were standing in a small lobby, awaiting the justice of the peace who was going to marry them.

Things were moving too fast, way too fast, and Cara didn't know how to slow them down. Her handsome sheik was sweeping her off her feet, and she was allowing him to do so.

“Omar, before we do this I really need to tell you something,” she said with a touch of desperation.

At that moment Rashad burst through the door, his arms filled with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. “Ah, Rashad, I feared you wouldn't make it in time,” Omar said as he took the bouquet from his assistant's arms.

He held the lovely flowers out to Cara. “I could not have my bride getting married to me without a proper bridal bouquet.”

His voice was a warm, deep caress as he explained, “The violets stand for faithfulness, the daisies are for innocence, the lilies are for purity and, of course, the roses are for love.”

Cara looked at him, awed by the obvious thought that had gone into the bouquet. Tears burned her eyes. “Omar, I'm afraid,” she blurted out. “I'm not the woman you think I am.”

The look he gave her was one of infinite tenderness, and he reached up and stroked the side of her cheek in a gesture that was becoming achingly familiar. “You are exactly the woman I think you are,” he said. “Every moment I have spent with you has only made me more certain that you are the woman I want by my side.”

At that moment Justice of the Peace Jerrold Walker motioned them into his office. Panic swelled inside Cara's chest, and she knew she should call a halt to everything.

But at that moment Omar took her hand in his. In his dark, beautiful eyes she saw the promise of the future she'd always dreamed of. And even though she knew she should tell him the truth, she didn't. She couldn't.

It was all wrong, but she hoped and prayed that it would eventually turn out all right.

 

It had all been wrong, Omar thought as he and Elizabeth were pronounced man and wife. He gath
ered her into his arms to kiss her and saw the tears that shimmered in her eyes.

“We will marry again in Gaspar,” he said, believing he knew the reason for her tears. “And we will have your parents there, and your sister and brothers. It will be the wedding of your dreams, the wedding we didn't have time for today.” He gave her no opportunity to reply, but instead claimed her mouth with his.

“That isn't necessary,” she protested and with a small laugh of embarrassment she wiped away her tears. She was his now, bound to him through law and tradition. The woman who had bewitched him so long ago was now his bride, and the thought of possessing her completely filled him with a sweet rush of anticipation.

They left the justice of the peace and headed back to Omar's hotel. But as the car pulled up out front, she turned to him.

“Omar, I need to go home and speak with my parents. And I have to pack and prepare for the trip to Gaspar.” She appeared overwhelmed. She raked a hand through her dark brown wavy hair, and he noticed that her fingers shook slightly.

“Don't worry about packing too many things,” he told her and smiled. “You will discover that I am a generous, indulgent husband, and whatever you need or want, you will receive.”

“I still need to talk to my parents,” she said. “I
need to tell them what we've done before they hear it from anybody else.

He nodded. “Of course. We'll go directly to the ranch.”

“I know it sounds silly, but I'd like to speak with them alone.” Her gaze didn't quite meet his. “I would like some time to say goodbye.”

He realized how difficult this would be for her. “Are you sure you'll be all right?” he asked gently, and she nodded. “Then, the car will take you there and the driver will wait until you are ready to return here.”

He drew her small hand into his. “But don't take too long, my love.” He raised her hand to his lips. “Because I can't wait to make love to you.”

She laughed, a shaky, breathless sound that stirred him. “If you don't stop kissing my hand, we'll make love right here in the back of the limo—and that's not where I want to have my first experience.” Her cheeks grew pink.

The reminder of her innocence shot a burst of desire through him. He would be a good lover with her, gentle and patient, and he would hold his passion in check until she was ready to be an equal partner in that arena.

Moments later, as the car pulled away from the curb, Omar and Rashad returned to Omar's suite, where Rashad began the task of packing and Omar stood at the window and stared out, thinking of the woman he'd just made his bride.

“You look troubled, Your Highness,” Rashad observed.

Omar nodded. “I'm troubled about the negotiations and eager to return to Gaspar.” He smiled at Rashad. “And I guess I'm a bit homesick. I'd like to counsel with my father and be back where I belong.”

“Your father will be happy that you're returning a married man. I think he will approve of Elizabeth.”

Omar's smile widened. “My father didn't care whom I married, just that I got married.”

“He will consider it a bonus that you married a beautiful, intelligent, compassionate woman.”

Omar raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like somebody has a crush on my wife.” To his surprise, Rashad's face reddened.

“She is a nice lady,” he replied.

“Yes, she is.” Omar turned back to the window, a smile curving his lips as he thought of Elizabeth. She was different than he'd remembered her.

The woman he had met at the cotillion so long ago had seemed brazen, utterly fearless and a little bit spoiled. He was thankful that she had matured into a thoughtful, caring woman who would do him proud as his wife. He just hoped there was a touch of that brazen, adventurous woman still inside her. His blood heated as he thought of the night to come.

The phone rang, interrupting all thoughts of his wedding night. For the next two hours he was occupied with Gaspar business, taking first one phone call, then another.

“No more calls,” he said to Rashad when he fi
nally hung up. There were things he wanted to do to prepare the suite for tonight. But before he could call room service and order what he wanted, the phone rang once again.

“I said no more calls,” he said, as Rashad held the receiver out to him.

“Beg your pardon, Your Highness, but I think you'll want to take this one,” Rashad said. “It's your wife.”

Omar took the phone. “Elizabeth, where are you, darling?”

“I just left the ranch, and my parents insisted they wanted to do something special for us for our wedding. I hope you don't mind, Omar, but they got us the bridal suite at the Lone Star Country Club for the night. I'm here now, and I sent the car back to you. I didn't know what to tell them, Omar,” she said, obviously worried about his reaction.

“I hope you told them thank you,” he replied.

“I did. And, Omar, I've ordered the champagne and I'll be waiting for you in the hot tub.”

He grinned, his blood once again heating with anticipation. How could he have thought this woman was timid and not adventurous? “I'm on my way.”

T
he bridal suite at the Lone Star Country Club was sumptuous. The living-room area held an elegant white sofa, the material shot through with gold-colored thread. The glass-top coffee table held an arrangement of fresh-cut flowers that filled the air with their perfume.

In one corner of the room was a wet bar, completely stocked, and in the opposite corner was a large sunken hot tub, the hot water spiraling steam upward.

Cara's parents had initially been upset that she and Omar had sneaked off to the justice of the peace and gotten married. But they had quickly offered her their love and support, as she knew they would, and her father had made the arrangements for them to have this suite for the night.

Because she had no idea what Omar's plans were for returning to Gaspar the next day, she had shared a tearful goodbye with her parents, with promises to write often and to return home for Christmas in six weeks.

As she had been packing a couple of suitcases, her mother had sat on the edge of her bed, talking to her about marriage and the responsibilities of a wife.

“You won't even be here for Thanksgiving,” Grace exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears.

Cara sat on the edge of the bed next to her mother. “Mama, be happy that I'll be spending Thanksgiving in my new home with my new husband,” she replied. “Be happy that I've found the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“I am happy for you, Cara.” Her mother reached out and took Cara's hand in hers. “I just hope you didn't marry your sheik for the wrong reasons.”

Cara looked at her mother curiously. “What do you mean?”

Grace smiled at her, a smile of such unconditional love that Cara felt it flowing through her. “You suffered quite a trauma at the end of last year with that student, and I hope that hasn't affected your judgment.”

“It hasn't,” Cara replied quickly, not wanting to think of those terrifying hours.

“You can't go through something like that and not have it change you,” Grace observed.

“Still, that experience isn't what has made me jump into a marriage with Omar,” Cara said firmly.

“Then, I hope you haven't married Omar in order to be in a new place with a new group of people, to escape your sister's presence.” She held up a hand as Cara started to protest.

“I know you've always believed you live in Fiona's shadow, but the truth is, Cara, the only difference between you and your sister is that for some reason you lack Fiona's self-confidence. You are just
as bright, just as beautiful and just as charming, but you've never really believed that.”

Now, Cara shoved away thoughts of the conversation with her mother and went into the bedroom of the suite, where the sight of the king-size bed sent shivers of apprehension through her.

Tonight she and Omar would make love. Every nerve ending in her body tingled at the thought.

Omar would be here soon, and she had told him she'd be waiting for him in the hot tub. Her fingers trembled as she pulled her bathing suit from her suitcase.

If she was more like her sister, she'd be waiting in the hot tub naked, but she simply couldn't do that. She nearly jumped out of her skin when there was a knock on the door.

Surely it wasn't Omar already! She'd only just moments before called him to tell him she was here. She hurried to the door, opened it—and stared in shock at her sister.

“Fiona!” she exclaimed, and pulled her sister into the room. “What are you doing here?”

Fiona removed her oversize sunglasses. “I couldn't let you fly off tomorrow without saying goodbye.” She wrapped her arms around Cara and gave her a hard hug. “I got home a little early—and apparently just in time. Mom and Dad told me what's going on—that you were here and would be leaving for Gaspar tomorrow.”

Tears of joy burned in Cara's eyes. “I'm so glad
you're here. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye,” she exclaimed.

“I can't believe you married him, Cara!” Fiona released her and stepped back. “I told you to have fun with this, to enjoy being engaged to a sheik. But I didn't expect you to marry him.”

“I didn't expect to marry him, either,” Cara replied. “But I love him, Fiona, and I'm sure he loves me.”

“So, how did he take it when you told him the truth about you writing the letters instead of me?” Fiona asked.

Cara averted her gaze from her twin. “Oh my God, Cara, you haven't told him the truth?”

“I've tried,” Cara exclaimed fervently. “I've tried several times, but the timing was never right, or something happened and I lost my nerve.”

Fiona's eyes sparkled with amusement. “My devious sister, I never would have thought it of you.” Then the light in her eyes dimmed. “Oh God, Cara, I'm going to miss you terribly.”

This time it was Cara who reached for her sister, and again they hugged. “I'm going to miss you, too,” Cara said. “But I love him, Fiona, and I want to spend my life with him.”

“Let me see the ring.” Fiona grasped Cara's left hand and squealed at the sight of the lovely emerald. “Maybe I made a big mistake in not continuing to write him,” she teased. “And I guess I'd better get out of here before he shows up.” She stepped away from Cara. “You'll call me often?”

“You know I will,” Cara replied, her heart aching as she realized the path she'd chosen to follow was truly taking her away from her family and everything she'd known all her life.

Fiona opened the door to leave, then turned back to Cara with a smile. “If you really love him, and he loves you, then I envy you, Cara. I've always envied you, but now more than ever.” She leaned forward and kissed Cara's cheek. “Be happy,” she said, then before Cara could reply, she turned and hurried down the hallway.

Cara closed the door, tears once again stinging her eyes. She was going to miss her twin sister desperately. She was going to miss her parents, and her little cottage and her brothers and their wives.

She was going to miss it all, but it was time to put her past behind her and embrace her future. Her future with Omar.

She returned to the bathroom and once again grabbed her swimsuit. As she changed into the demure one-piece, her mother's words haunted her.

Had she married Omar for all the wrong reasons? Had it been a combination of wanting to escape Fiona's bright light and some sort of delayed reaction to being held at gunpoint by a distraught student?

And what had Fiona meant by telling her that she'd always been envious of her? Why on earth would Fiona have any reason to envy Cara? She dismissed the very idea from her mind. Then she thought of Fiona calling her “devious.”

She wasn't devious. She hadn't set out to deceive Omar. It had all just spun out of control.

When the brief marriage ceremony had ended, she'd held her breath when the justice of the peace gave Omar a copy of the marriage license. To her immense relief, Omar had instantly handed it to Rashad, without looking at the signature.

Omar might believe he'd married Elizabeth Fiona Carson, but on the marriage certificate she'd signed Elizabeth C. Carson, she thought as she pinned her hair up on top of her head.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. She'd married Omar under false pretenses and she truly didn't know if she'd married him for all the wrong reasons. She only knew she wanted to stay married to him for all the
right
reasons.

She left the bathroom and walked back into the living room. The champagne was on ice, and a tray of fresh fruit, cheese and crackers awaited their nibbling pleasure.

She thought of pouring herself a glass of champagne to ease some of the nervous tension that flowed through her, but dismissed the idea and instead slid into the hot tub.

The hot water instantly soothed her tight muscles, wrapping around her like a soothing massage. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, thinking of Omar.

He had mistaken her tears immediately after the marriage ceremony, believing that she was mourning the fairy-tale wedding she wasn't getting.

His response to her that he would see to it she had a dream wedding once they got settled in Gaspar had only made her feel worse about her deception.

One thing was certain, she vowed to be the wife he deserved. More than anything, she never wanted to give him a reason to think that he'd married the wrong sister.

She opened her eyes, tension peaking as she heard the sound of a key in the door.

Omar entered, closed the door behind him, then stood, his dark eyes blazing with passion. “What a vision you are,” he exclaimed, his voice low, husky and flowing over her as sensually as the water that surrounded her.

“Why don't you pour us a glass of champagne and join me?” It was the most brazen thing she'd ever said to a man, but she reminded herself that this wasn't just any man. This was her husband, the man with whom she intended to spend the rest of her life.

He dropped the small overnight bag he carried. “That sounds like a marvelous idea.” He took off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of the sofa. Then, his gaze still locked with hers, he began un-buttoning his shirt.

Cara's heart beat with a delicious rhythm as his broad, firmly muscled chest was revealed.

During the last week of his visit, they had indulged in heated kisses, and shared intimate meals and conversations, but she hadn't seem him when he wasn't impeccably and properly dressed.

The shirt fell to the floor, and her mouth grew dry
as he kicked off his shoes, then unzipped his pants. The water around her seemed to get hotter as his pants slid from his slender hips onto the floor, leaving him clad only in a pair of socks and black silk boxer shorts.

He was absolutely gorgeous. As he bent over to remove his socks, she drank in the beauty of his physical appearance. Not only was his chest muscled, but his stomach was lean, without an ounce of body fat. His hips were slim, but his legs were powerfully built.

Omar was a poster boy for physical fitness, and Cara couldn't believe he was really her husband. Nor could she fathom that within minutes he would possess her completely. She shivered despite the heat of the water.

After several days or weeks of marriage, after they had made love a dozen times or so, then she would tell him the truth about her identity. Surely by then it wouldn't matter to him. He would realize she was the woman he loved.

“There's cheese and crackers and fruit if you want any,” she said as she watched him pour the champagne into two fluted glasses. “I didn't order any dinner yet. I wasn't sure what you would want.”

“We can eat later,” he said as he walked toward the hot tub. He held one of the glasses out to her, then eased down into the water and sat next to her.

His shoulder pressed against hers, as did his hip and thigh, and as he took a sip of his champagne he put an arm around her, pulling her even closer against
his side. She tensed, unsure what to expect, afraid and excited of what was to come.

Cara took a deep swallow of the chilled champagne, as his fingers caressed her arm.

“Relax, my sweet,” he said softly. “I promise I don't intend to ravish you in the next few minutes.”

She smiled up at him. “I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous.”

“There's nothing to be nervous about.” His gaze was tender. “I promise I'll do everything in my power to make tonight the most wonderful night of your life.”

With the sweet heat flowing from his eyes and the promise on his lips, her tension dissipated. There was no reason to be nervous, she told herself.

This man was her husband, and she loved him. Making love to him would only complete the union that had begun the moment they said their vows to each other.

“This feels wonderful,” he said, and smiled at her. “A perfect way to unwind from the day. Were your parents angry with us?”

“Not angry, but definitely upset. I explained to them that things happened very fast, that you have to return to Gaspar in the morning and I wanted to go with you as your wife. I also reminded them that you have said I can return home for visits often.”

He nodded. “As often as you like. I would never do anything to keep you from your family.” He took a sip of his champagne, then set the glass on the tiled edge around the tub. He scooted deeper into the wa
ter, his leg rubbing sensually against hers, then reached out and took her glass from her.

Cara's heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. He placed her glass next to his, then gathered her into his arms. The water made her body buoyant, as he pulled her between his outstretched legs. He held her more tightly against him, and she felt the evidence of his arousal. Her heart renewed its frantic beating.

“You look pretty with your hair up,” he said, his lips mere inches from hers. His hands moved up and down her back, electrifying her through the thin material of her bathing suit.

“I feel as if I've been waiting for this night, for you, for a very long time.”

Cara wondered if he was thinking of the young woman he'd flirted with at the cotillion so long ago or the woman whose letters had touched his heart.

It didn't matter, for at that moment his lips met hers, and she was overwhelmed with the taste of him, the mastery of his kiss and the sensations of his hands stroking her back.

His mouth ravished hers, his tongue swirling with hers in erotic play. The sensations that flooded her were intoxicating. The hot water surrounding them, the feel of his powerful arousal against her, and the hot wonder of his mouth against hers—all combined to create in her a desire she'd never experienced before.

When his lips left hers, they blazed a trail down the side of her neck, nibbled lightly on her earlobe, then moved down across her collarbone.

Cara tightened her grip on his shoulders, gasping with pleasure at each touch of his lips.