The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride (19 page)

She should be accustomed to his touch after all they’d done together. But there was something so proprietorial about the way his long fingers caressed her sensitive skin and splayed knowingly over her hipbone. Suddenly she felt very small and defenseless, pressed against his formidable strength.

`Who knows?’ he continued, his voice a low burr. Èven now the miracle of creation may be taking place. I may have planted the seed that will grow into the heir to the throne of Q’ aroum.’

His words extinguished the tentative flare of excitement in the pit of her stomach.

She’d felt a trembling anticipation at the idea of carrying a baby, Rafiq’s child, inside her, despite the fact that she’d previously had no plans for motherhood. It had felt so right, the possibility of being pregnant by him. And his initial words had deepened her secretly burgeoning hope. For an instant she’d been blinded by a vision of them, together, loving parents of an adorable dark haired baby.

But now she saw that image for what it was: pure fantasy. She’d thought of a child born of love. Rafiq had his sights set only on securing the throne of Q’ aroum for another generation. Royal succession. Male primogeniture. That was all it meant to him.

It wasn’t the idea of their child that thrilled him. It was the possibility of his royal heir that filled his voice with smug satisfaction. The legitimate child of the reigning monarch. That was what Rafiq wanted.

She squeezed her eyes tight against the burning hot flood of tears.

She would not cry. Not here and now, at any rate. She needed privacy to come to. terms with the terrible, ridiculous disappointment that filled her.

Belle began to slide off his big body, intending to curl up on the edge of the massive bed. Even Rafiq, with his obviously virile nature, would understand her need for rest.

But she’d barely moved when his arms wrapped round her, clamping her securely against him.

Ì need to sleep,’ she lied. She needed to think, to regain some measure of control over her wayward emotions.

`Sleep then.’ He sounded like a large cat, purring deep in his throat.

She felt the vibration of his yawn deep in his chest. Ì‘ll just move over-‘

`No. Stay where you are. I like having you close against me.’

Despite everything Belle knew a moment of pure delight. But self-preservation was more important. Ì‘m too heavy,’ she protested.

This time it was his laugh that she felt rippling through his torso.

`Too heavy!’ He chuckled. `You’re just perfect, Belle. Now, close your eyes and go to sleep right where you are.’

‘But-‘

Òr I’ll think you’re not quite as exhausted as you should be,’ he warned, dipping his hand to stroke the side of her breast.

The tingle that spread across her nerve endings told her everything she needed to know about his dominance over her. She drew a sharp breath and concentrated all her might on not responding to his feather light caress.

He settled his palm, spreading his fingers wide over her ribs. She heard the heavy thud of his heartbeat, slowly returning to normal, his even breathing, and wondered how long it would be before he slept.

Unbidden, her mind circled back to his words, his satisfaction as he’d spoken of planting his seed, of the all important heir to his kingdom.

She shouldn’t be surprised, she told herself sternly. She’d gone into this marriage with her eyes open. There’d been no pretence that it was anything other than a convenience until the security forces could locate the would-be coup leaders. And Rafiq had made it plain that he saw no need to abstain from the perks of marriage, even though his heart wasn’t engaged. They were married, he’d said, so of course they would sleep together. And, went his irrefutable logic, if they slept together it was natural that pregnancy would be the outcome.

She couldn’t blame him, much as she wanted to. He’d married her for the sake of his country. He was an honorable man. He’d even risked his own life to save hers, and had courted the scorn of his people by paying that stupefying ransom. He hadn’t lied or made promises he wouldn’t keep.

And what could she expect, after all? He was the Royal Prince in a largely traditional state, reared from birth to believe in his own superior authority. Of course he’d see nothing wrong in bedding his own wife. Or finding pleasure when it was so freely available.

The fault lay with her. For being swept up against her better judgment into a situation she should have avoided. For walking right into this mess.

She’d talked herself into it. She’d pretended it was for the sake of Q’aroum, and the people she’d come to like so much in her weeks here. For the sake of Rafiq, fearlessly facing terrorist threats in his attempt to retain peace in his country. For the sake of her debt to him. She owed him her life. If he hadn’t arrived on the island when he had she knew both she and Duncan would have died, either of dehydration or of injuries in the cyclone.

But the truth was simpler. She’d married him for love. Despite the logic that told her it would be a recipe for disaster, she’d given herself to the man she adored. The strong, honorable, protective, determined man who’d completely stolen her common sense. She’d foolishly hoped that, once married, he’d come to reciprocate that love.

She’d wanted a fairytale ending.

Just now, in the throes of passion, she’d almost admitted out loud her feelings for him. She cringed at how close she’d come to total embarrassment. In her stupid, lovesick way, she’d even imagined he returned her feelings, that what they’d shared was possible only because it was love they felt, not lust.

And because of her stupidity she hadn’t considered the possibility of a child born of this union. A child whose parents were linked only by legalities, not love.

Rafiq waited till he was sure Belle slept, then rolled her onto her side and drew a light cover over her. She must be exhausted, so deeply did she sleep. He reached out a hand and stroked the fine honey gold strands of hair back from her face. There was a red mark on her neck, and another near her collarbone. He’d been too rough. He hadn’t considered how easily her soft skin might bruise.

His gaze moved from the mark up to her mouth. Her lips were swollen, heavy from the pressure of his. He’d need to be careful in future, more restrained. When he’d finally taken her he’d simply lost control, absorbed in the wondrous exhilaration of making love to her.

His body stirred with the knowledge that she was his now, irrevocably. There would be many more times like this. A lifetime in which to try and sate his desire for her.

He clenched his hand against the need to reach out and touch her, caress her awake and make love to her again. His gaze roved her features. Her cool, classical beauty might tempt a man into believing she was distant and controlled. But her mouth gave her away, he decided smugly, remembering the feel of her lips against his as she gasped her fulfillment. She had a mouth that told its own story of her hot-blooded, passionate nature.

And she was all his. This delicate, vibrant, adorable woman who had the determination and sheer guts of ten men. Who took natural disasters and kidnap in her stride. Who was unfazed by the vast pomp of a Q’aroumi royal wedding with its throng of onlookers.

She’d treated his people just as she should, with a restrained but real welcome that had already endeared her to many, as had her halting but effective greetings in their own language.

She’d even faced down Dawud with his own dagger!

Rafiq felt his chest swell with pride as he looked down at her. She would make Q’aroum a perfect queen.

She would make him the perfect wife.

He slid out of bed and padded across the carpet, searching for discarded clothes. She needed rest, and if he stayed here any longer it was all too possible he’d throw his good intentions to the winds and wake her for more sex.

The trouble was that once the idea had surfaced of her being pregnant with his child the possibility had consumed him. He imagined her belly swollen with their baby. He’d developed a covetous streak a mile wide since meeting her, and he knew that bearing his child would bind her to him more securely than even the legal and moral promises that joined them. And he wanted that.

Wanted the certainty of having her forever at his side.

He’d been so caught up in the thrill of the moment he hadn’t spared a thought for the fact that she might not feel ready for motherhood.

That it would have been wiser to bide his time and sound her out on the subject.

Rafiq pulled on his trousers and pushed the hair back from his face. He’d have to be more cautious in future.

He strolled to the tent’s entrance and stood in the cool shadows, staring out at the view he knew and loved so well. It felt absolutely right to be here with Belle. For a moment he allowed himself to wish that his grandfather were still alive, to meet her and see what a wonderful prize his grandson had won for himself.

He stretched, satisfied and pleasantly relaxed. His gaze followed the flight of a falcon, wheeling high over the edge of the desert.

Below it a hill of sand curved steeply down to the oasis, its pristine slope marred by the tracks of several horses.

Immediately Rafiq tensed, his mind racing. He and Belle had ridden in from the north, not the east, and when they’d arrived there had been no other tracks. The security check this morning had been by air, with the helicopter landing in its usual spot, just behind where the tent now stood.

The hairs on his neck stood on end as the implications struck him, and instantly he moved into the shadows, away from the opening.

The armed forces’ security personnel assigned to guard him and Belle were out there, of course. With Selim still at large he wouldn’t have taken her into the desert alone. The soldiers had come by four wheel drive and were stationed at strategic locations around the oasis, so as not to disturb the privacy of their sheikh.

Fleetingly he wondered about the fate of those guards assigned to protection duty. None of them would have willingly admitted intruders.

Whoever had come by horse had somehow passed through that security cordon. His jaw hardened at the sure knowledge of who they must be.

At any other time he’d welcome the opportunity to get his hands on Selim’s fat neck. But not now. Not with Belle here. If anything should happen to her…

`BELLE.’ For an instant his lips met hers, coaxing her out of sleep.

Then his voice came, soft yet urgent in her ear, his hand warm on her cheek. `Quickly and quietly. You must get up. There’s danger.’

Her eyes snapped open at his compelling tone. She blinked dazedly into his eyes, but already he’d drawn back, pulling her into a sitting position.

Before she could open her mouth to question, his palm slid to cover her mouth. `Not a sound,’ he whispered. `We’re in danger, and you must do as I say. Do you understand?’

She read the grim lines bracketing his mouth, the steely determination in his gaze, and knew with an instant plummeting sensation of dread that her worst nightmare had come true. Fear prickled her neck as she thought of the merciless men who’d abducted her and left her to die. Who’d set off a bomb in a crowded city.

Shakily she nodded.

For a moment longer his eyes held hers, the unguarded emotion she saw there stealing her breath, making her pulse race. Then it was gone as his face settled into a mask of formidable purpose.

`Here.’ He pressed something into her hands as he moved away.

`Cover yourself.’

Her legs trembled as she slid off the bed, her hands fumbling nerveless as she struggled with the garment, eventually identifying it as Rafiq’s discarded shirt. Ridiculous to feel such relief as the fine cotton drifted down around her, covering her to her thighs.

Mere cloth was no barrier against the pain those renegades could inflict. But she drew it gratefully round herself, as if the fact that it was Rafiq’s could protect her.

She’d only managed to do up a few buttons when she heard it. A muted sound from just outside.

Her head jerked round and she met Rafiq’s steady gaze. He was whispering into what looked like a walkie-talkie, and as she watched he stooped and hid it under a corner of carpet.

Then he was striding across to her, taking her shoulders in his hands.

`Help is on its way, little one. No matter what happens, remember that. Meanwhile, we must play for time.’

`Rafiq,’ she whispered, suddenly desperate at the knowledge that they might not survive whatever lurked outside the tent. That all she felt for him was still unsaid. Ì-‘

A burst of guttural Arabic from the doorway cut her off as a crowd of armed men burst in. Rafiq stepped in front of her, shielding her, and she realized with a horror that paralyzed her vocal cords that she knew them.

The scrawny one with the malicious smile. And the towering giant, with his brawny hand grasping a long bladed knife. She’d never forget him. He was the one who’d broken Duncan’s leg as easily as snapping a twig. She stared up into his cold eyes and shivered as a flood of nausea swamped her. She pressed a trembling hand against Raflq’s back, as if she could absorb some of his strength.

`What do you want, Selim?’ Rafiq cut across whatever their leader was saying. `Have you come to pay your respects to your sheikh?’

The man he addressed gaped for a moment, eyes wide in his pudgy face. Then he drew his lips into a snarling line and took a step closer. His entourage crowded beside him. Belle realized now that there were only four of them. Still enough to overpower Rafiq and herself far too easily. Especially as they were unarmed.

Selim spoke again, a belligerent flow of words she had no hope of understanding. But there was no need for translation. Their situation was clear, and all too hopeless. This had to be Rafiq’s kinsman, the man who’d masterminded her kidnap and the other recent acts of violence in the hope of destabilizing Q’aroum’s government and grabbing power for himself.

She looked at his smug expression, the signs of dissipation on his fleshy countenance, and shivered. Here was a man who’d be utterly ruthless in pursuit of his own ends.