Sheikh's Purchased Princess (19 page)

“I love you, and sometimes I think it happened when you rescued me, and sometimes I think it happened when I first laid eyes on you all those years ago. I love you, and perhaps you think I am just a…a foolish girl, but it is true. It is the truest thing I have ever felt, and it doesn't matter what you do or do not feel for me. I love you.”

Throughout her confession, he had not released her hand. In the dimness, she could still see the light shine in his dark eyes. For a moment, Emily thought he would simply start the car, too overwhelmed with her neediness to speak to her again.

“You are so young—”

“I'm not!”

“Let me finish. You are so young, and when I first had you, you were a virgin. I look at you, and I see some kind of fantasy, a kind of love that they have only spoken about in fairytales, do you understand? When I am with you, I feel as if my entire life has opened up. You know who I am, and what kind of life I lead for the good of my country. There are responsibilities that wear me down, but when I met you, it felt like they were lifted up. This wasn't a responsibility I wanted to place on you, not when you were so unsure.”

“I'm not unsure,” Emily insisted, gazing at him desperately, but he continued.

“I know you're not. And that is why I love you. I love you, Emily. I love you with everything I have in me. I do not know when it started, but I know that it will continue until the day I die, and if the world is just, it will continue long after that. Emily…will you stay in Nahr? Will you be my wife?”

“Yes,” Emily breathed. “Oh yes, yes, yes…”

She found herself half-lifted out of her seat as he caught her up in his arms. Tears rose in her eyes as he kissed her, but when she pulled back, there was an enormous grin on her face.

“I want to hear it again,” she said softly. “I need to hear it. I have thought the words for so long…”

Adnan did not have to ask her what she meant.

“I love you,” he said solemnly. “I will say it every day for the rest of our lives together. I love you, I love you…”

Epilogue

Six Months Later

The coffee shop broke into applause as she finished her song. Emily bowed her head, grateful for the acknowledgment, but grateful as well that she did not have to live off tips anymore.

Adnan waited until she had pulled away from the crowd, and then he walked up, offering her his arm. In jeans and a gray T-shirt that stretched tight over his chest, he could not have looked less like the sheikh of Nahr. In the warm, fall evening, he looked like any other New Yorker on his way to enjoy the night, his wife on his arm.

“So how much did you make?” he asked, when they were on the street.

When Emily told him, he made a face. “Artists in your country are significantly underpaid,” he complained. “That's not even a living wage.”

“I call it a win whenever no one propositions me after my set,” she said with a shrug.

They walked down the street, taking in the sights and sounds of the city she had once called home. Was it really still home? She and Adnan had come for a month-long break from Nahr. Parliament was in recess, and they had decided that it would be the best time to see a bit of the United States.

When she looked at these buildings and at the people who surrounded her, she felt almost as if she were watching them through a pane of glass. They were there, and she could see them with such sharpness, but when she reached to touch them, they felt far away and foreign.

Perhaps Nahr would be her home someday, with its splendid mix of ancient and modern all around, but she wasn't there yet. In many ways, she still felt like a foreigner there, and she suspected that feeling would be permanent, even if it became fleeting in the years to come.

“Penny for your thoughts, my love?” Adnan asked, glancing down at her. She took a tighter grip on his arm.

“I was thinking about home,” she said. “And I look around, and I don't know if New York is home anymore.”

“Oh?”

She snuggled close. On the eve of their trip, he had confessed to her that he was a little worried.

“What if you go to New York and realize that you should never have left?” he’d said. “It has been your home for years, and sometimes, I think you miss it.”

At the time, she had reassured him that it wasn't possible, but now she thought she could understand his fear. New York still had a certain hold on her, but it was weaker now.

She smiled up at him. “I think what I've discovered is that home isn't a place for me. It's a person, and that person is you.”

He pulled her out of the stream of people to stand next to a building, and in that somewhat sheltered spot, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and she reached up to touch his face.

“You know, after we came back from Mirago, I ran away from you. Three times I left the apartment alone, and three times you came after me.”

“Yes, and the last time, I made you mine.”

“Or you could say that I made you mine, maybe?” she asked, looking up at him with a grin.

“We belong with each other,” he said finally. “There is no other way for it to turn out.”

“I am glad,” she said, and then she hesitated. “This is forever, isn't it?” Emily asked. “You and I, no matter where we go or what we do, this is forever?”

He drew back enough so that she could see his face. His expression was utterly serious, but there were stars in his eyes.

“Forever,” he agreed. “For you and me, this is just the beginning.”

“Not just for you and me, either,” she said softly, and for a moment, he simply looked down at her, confused.

“What do you…”

“I mean,” she said, touching her stomach lightly, “that I don't think it will be just the two of us for much longer.”

When she saw the realization hit him, she began to laugh, and then, as Adnan folded her into his arms, he started to laugh as well.

“Yes, forever,” he said, just before kissing her. “Forever, and the songs you write about us will carry on in my heart.”

THE END

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Sheikh's Kidnapped Bride

By: Sophia Lynn

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Sheikh's Kidnapped Bride

By: Sophia Lynn

All Rights Reserved.
Copyright 2015-2016 Sophia Lynn

Chapter One

Irene took a deep breath, and then another one. No matter how many times she did it, no matter how many times she tried to visualize a pure white light or count deliberately and carefully to ten, she couldn’t make her heart beat more slowly or her pulse stop fluttering.

Instead, all she could do was plant her feet squarely on the airport floor, hang on to her bag even more tightly, and reflect on what had happened two days ago.

Two days ago, she had been just another graduate student at the University of Khanour, going to class, texting her friends, and enjoying her time researching in a foreign university. Khanour, one of the wealthy but isolated members of the UAE, was a treasure trove of material for her thesis on pre-Islamic art, and she knew that she would leave the country well-prepared to finish her thesis.

Two days ago, she had been thinking about the symbolism of water in certain ancient portraits, when suddenly, two large men had appeared on either side of her. They were dressed plainly, but there was something menacing about them, something deeply frightening about the way they watched her.

“Are you Irene Bellingham?” one asked.

Before she could think to lie, she nodded, and they came even closer. A quick look up and down the street revealed that she was quite alone, and it occurred to her the men knew that was the case before they had approached her.

“All right, you need to come with us,” the other said, and he moved his jacket aside just enough so she could see the butt of the gun he carried hidden in a shoulder holster.

Irene had frozen. There was no choice here, nothing that she could do. Instead, she allowed herself to be pushed into the waiting car, wondering what in the world was going to become of her. She had heard of girls getting kidnapped in other parts of the world, but Khanour was known for being quite safe. They had asked for her by name—what was this supposed to mean?

She got her answer half an hour later when the men escorted her to a small house in what looked like quite a nice suburb. The men seemed courteous enough, but they would brook no nonsense. They led her to a small office with a single high window and pointed to a chair.

She waited for almost fifteen minutes before a short man with just a small fringe of hair around his head appeared. He looked for all the world like a harried accountant, but there was something about him that made her prickle with fear.

“What am I doing here?” she asked.

The man frowned petulantly at her. Instead of answering, he gestured to one of the men standing behind her. Before Irene could react, the man’s hand shot out, latching on to the tip of Irene’s ear and twisting viciously. She cried out in shock and pain, clutching the smarting ear when he let go. It was hot to the touch, and she looked at the small man on the other side of the desk, her eyes wide and filled with tears.

“That was meant to teach you a lesson,” the man said mildly. “But perhaps it can serve as an introduction as well. We are people who know very well how to hurt you, but we also know how to do it so that no one ever sees. I could have let my associate there all but yank that ear off, and it would hurt as if he had, but it would never be visible.

“Now, I am going to talk, and you are going to listen, yes?”

Irene’s breath came quick and fast. She knew that she had to get out of here as soon as she could. That meant agreeing with her captors, and so she nodded fearfully.

The man’s face broke into a smile, something that felt far more terrifying in some ways than his scowl had been.

“Good. Now to business. We are a business concerned with a need, and it is best if you help us. Ideally you will help us, and then you will never see us again. Wouldn’t that be a pleasant thing?”

She swallowed hard. There had to be more to the story than just what she was hearing. Why had they rolled up to find her at the university? How had they known her name?

“Of course, if you help us with what we need, we can be very kind and very friendly,” the man said, his voice still unnervingly calm. “After all, a friend of yours is a friend of ours. We do not hurt our friends.”

For a moment, the man confused her by fiddling with his phone. Then, obviously finding what it was he wanted, he turned it to face her.

There was a video cued up, and with a tentative finger, she pressed the Play arrow.

The camera zoomed in on what looked like a white cement room with a man bound to a chair in the center of it. The cameraperson zoomed in a little closer, and Irene gasped when she realized that she recognized the man in the chair.

Her twin brother, with whom she shared the same wavy hair, pale skin, and blue eyes, looked up at her, smiling tiredly.

“Hey, Irene,” he said, speaking to the camera. “As you can see, I’ve gotten myself into a bit of trouble. These people are not to be trifled with, sis. Do what they want. However, though they are dangerous, they are also reasonable. Once you clear us both, we can walk away free and easy…”

Peter tried to smile at her, but that seemed to break something inside him. 

“Please, Irene. Help me. Please. I need your help…”

The video cut off, and the man behind the desk shook his head sadly.

“It is a terrible thing when family goes astray,” he said with every indication of regret. “He says that you are twins, but surely one of you must be the older…”

“That would be me,” she said, her mouth dry. She wanted to reach for the phone again, to play the video one more time, allowing her to verify that her brother was alive.

“Ah, of course. Then the younger brother is your responsibility,” the man said, nodding with understanding. “You are well used to this.”

She could have told him that he was precisely right. She had been bailing Peter out throughout their lives together, whether it was hiding evidence that would have gotten him into trouble or simply outright taking the blame whenever he had erred. However, those incidents had involved stolen pie and broken windows, not whatever was happening here. 

“What are you going to do with my brother?” she asked, her voice hollow. She was prepared for the man to pinch her ear again, but she had to know. Instead, the man behind the desk smiled beatifically, as if she had pleased him.

“If you help us, we will do nothing to him. We will return him to his apartment and tell him that he should start a new and better life, thanking his elder sister every day for her part in helping him survive.”