The Sheikh's Reluctant Bride

In his palace suite, she paced back and forth in front of the French doors that opened to a balcony overlooking the Arabian Sea while she waited for him to return and tell her it was all a big mistake. They’d have a laugh, then she could get on with the reason she’d come here.

At least she had a great view for her pacing and his suite wasn’t bad, either. Not bad was a gross understatement. It was big. And while she was tempted to explore, she didn’t want to lose her way and get caught snooping. What she could see right here was pretty awesome. Celery-green sofas done in a suedelike fabric faced each other in front of a white brick fireplace. Pictures, each with their own lighting, hung on the walls throughout the spacious living and dining rooms. She didn’t know a darn thing about art but would bet each one cost more money than she made in a month because they were filled with difficult to identify body parts. And they were difficult to identify because they weren’t where they were supposed to be. Kind of like the mess she now found herself in.

How could she be married and not know it? What about the white dress, flowers, rings and vows—preferably of the verbal kind. Her low-heeled pumps clicked on the mosaic tiles in the suite’s foyer as she checked the door to make certain it wasn’t locked, then peeked outside to see if anyone was standing guard there. No and no, she thought, closing the door.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t a victim in some bizarre sex slave ring. She’d seen stories. Granted it was far-fetched. When the royal family had taken her under their wing, she’d never suspected another agenda, but what did she know? She thought proxy marriages had gone out with horse-drawn buggies and hoop skirts.

While she was trying to decide whether or not her luggage would slow her down too much when she made a run for it, the door opened and Kardahl joined her in the living room.

“I have news,” he said.

She tried to read his expression and when she couldn’t, made a hopeful guess. “We’re not married.”

“On the contrary.” He held out a piece of paper. “Is this your signature?”

She took it from him and stared at the familiar scrawl beneath the foreign words. “It looks like mine, but—”

“Were you coerced?” he interrupted.

“No. But I remember a stack of paperwork taller than me and—”

“Not such a very great stack of paperwork then,” he interrupted, looking her over from head to toe.

She was going to ignore that. “Not being fluent in the Bha’Kharian language, I couldn’t read this. The man who was supposed to be helping me said it was nothing important. That I was simply giving my permission to open records that would unite me with my family.”

Kardahl nodded as he took the paper she handed back and set it on the glass-topped coffee table. “In his overzealous desire to serve the king, he may have stretched the truth.”

“He lied?”

“Not exactly. Your signature gives your permission to access records, but it also bears witness to your agreement to the marriage by proxy.”

“That’s absurd. This is 2007. No one gets married by proxy.”

“I assure you it is quite real and legal.”

As yet, she wasn’t outraged to the point where she missed the irony of being this man’s bride. Nine out of ten women would be alternately doing the dance of joy and counting their lucky stars. But Kardahl got reluctant woman number ten. But irony worked both ways. She was apparently legally married to her worst nightmare. That kicked her outrage into overdrive.

She put her hands on her hips. “How do you know I’m not already married?”

“Do you not think someone would have checked that?”

“I never thought I’d be in a proxy-marriage situation. How did this happen?” she asked, pacing again. “Why did I draw the short straw?” At his blank look she translated, “Why me?”

“Your mother’s lineage can be traced back to royalty and there is a long friendship between our families. Many years ago it was decided that her offspring would become the bride of the king’s second son—”

“What if she’d had a boy?” Jess demanded.

“But she didn’t,” he pointed out, far too calmly as his gaze lingered on her breasts. “So when your attorney made inquiries and you were located, plans for the union proceeded.”

This was wrong in so many ways, she didn’t know where to start. Actually that wasn’t entirely accurate. “Did you sign one of those papers, too?”

“Yes.”

“Voluntarily?”

“Yes,” he answered far too patiently.

The playboy prince signed a marriage agreement without a gun to his head? “Why?”

“It is my destiny. The spare heir is required to marry and produce children.”

Since when was he the poster boy for following the rules? “What if I’d never been found?” When he opened his mouth, she held up a finger to stop him. “Don’t you dare say ‘but you were.’”

The corners of his mouth curved up. “It is not necessary since you have said it for me.”

“Then I’ll rephrase—What prevented you from getting married before this? If I’d never turned up, would you never have married?”

“A suitable bride would have been selected.” He shrugged. “When the time was right.”

“So the time was right now? Because I was located?”

“That—and other things.” He looked like a naughty little boy caught red-handed.

The expression was cute, she thought, before her outraged self scratched the observation and replaced it. He was no boy. The girly parts of her recognized and responded to his masculinity against her will and better judgment.

“What did you do?” she managed to ask.

“Why do you assume that I am at fault without really knowing me?”

She folded her arms over her chest and looked up. “How can you ask that with a straight face. This is you we’re talking about. The whole world knows about your romantic escapades. Of course you did something. What was it this time? I’m sure a woman is involved,” she guessed.

“She left her husband, although the separation is not yet legal.”

“That would make her a married woman. I guess the king wasn’t too happy with you.”

“Not me so much as it is the pictures of myself and the lady taken with the telephoto lens.” He shrugged, but his eyes narrowed. “My father and his advisers made it clear that this was an opportune time to—what is the expression—kill two birds with one stone.”

“Squash the scandal and do your duty?”

“Exactly,” he agreed.

So the king had one nerve left and Kardahl had gotten on it—and dragged her along with him. She put her hands on her hips. “There’s just one problem. I don’t want to be married.”

“May I ask why?”

“So many reasons, so little time,” she said. “And if I did decide to walk down the aisle—and I mean walk down the aisle, not sign a piece of paper and presto you’re hitched—you’re the last man on the face of the earth I would choose.”

Instead of irritation, amusement sparkled in his eyes. “Is that so?”

“Your behavior proves you’re not capable of commitment.” She waited for his expression to change and when it didn’t, she said, “Feel free to deny it and set the record straight. The basis for that opinion comes directly from the tabloids.”

“There is no need to deny it. You are correct.”

“Then why didn’t you refuse to go through with this proxy thing?”

The amusement finally disappeared, replaced by a dark look that made his eyes hard as granite. “It is the price of royal birth. This marriage is about duty.”

“That’s the thing. There is no marriage because I didn’t knowingly give my consent.” She never would have given it, especially if she’d known who she was marrying. “In case there’s any question, I am not happy about this.”

“That is understandable. You have been ill used.”

He was agreeing with her again. Why did he keep doing that?

“Come again?”

“You should have been apprised of all the facts of the situation. The aide responsible for this will be severely disciplined.”

“That’s a start. How severely?” she asked cautiously.

“How severely would you like?”

Good question. How did you chastise someone responsible for marrying you to the kind of man you’d avoided like the stomach flu?

She looked at him. “If the punishment were to fit the crime, he should be forced into a marriage with the last person on the planet he would choose.”

“He is already married.”

Laughter slid into Kardahl’s eyes indicating he got her drift and didn’t care that she’d slighted him. Why should he when the world was his playground and all the women in it his adoring toys.

“I see. And does he also have children?” she asked.

“Three.”

Ouch. She didn’t want to be responsible for the man losing his job when he had a wife and kids depending on him. “Maybe a severe talking to would be enough. Along with a warning not to play with people’s lives.”

“I will arrange it,” he said. He bowed slightly and smiled.

“Don’t do that.”

“It is a gesture of respect,” he explained.

“Not the bow. Don’t smile at me.”

He tilted his head as he studied her. “You would rather I frown?”

Yes, she thought. For many reasons. Not the least of which was the way his smile made breathing a challenge and threatened her equilibrium. “How can you smile when we still have a big problem? How are you going to get me out of this marriage?”

“It is possible to obtain an annulment,” he said.

“Okay,” she said nodding. “I’m almost smiling. What do I have to do?”

“You must not consummate the marriage.”

This must be hopeless romantic hell. She was discussing sex as if it were a business deal. So much for being swept away. “Okay then, start the paperwork. I promise not to seduce you and I’m quite sure you can’t seduce me.”

“Are you so very certain?” There was a gleam in his eyes. The glitter of competition, a challenge issued.

“Oh, please. I’m looking for a man who can put his heart and soul into a relationship. You’re not that man and we both know it.”

“Do we?” He looked at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “If you wish it, I will begin the process of dissolution.”

“I wish it very much.” Clearly he was being so agreeable because he didn’t want to be married. Then a thought struck her. “Is this going to get you in more trouble?”

“Do not worry about me. I will explain to the king and queen.”

“There won’t be more scandal?” she asked.

“My public relations staff will issue appropriate statements. But—”

“What?”

“If I could prevail upon you to play the part of my wife—only in public,” he added, “until any hint of scandal has faded away. You would have my gratitude. And although my family has caused you some distress, they would be forever in your debt as well. And in the meantime, I will give you every possible assistance in meeting your family.”

Family. It’s why she’d come halfway around the world. Because she’d had no one after her mother died, she’d always longed to have the problems with relatives that others moaned about. She would cherish interference, being judged and unwanted advice if she gained unconditional love.

“It’s a deal,” she agreed. “As long as no one expects me to produce children.”

His only response was a smile and a look that reminded her of a large hunting cat selecting his prey.

As the limousine drove past the colorful booths of the open marketplace and continued toward the heart of Bha’Khar’s capital city, Jessica stared out the window shaking her head.

“Something is not to your liking?” Kardahl asked.

“Everything is fine.”

And that was an understatement. True to his promise, he had shown her to her own room and she’d spent the night—alone—in the most beautiful bedroom she’d ever seen with a closet as big as her whole apartment in L.A. The bed was so high, she’d half expected her nose to bleed. The bathroom vanity was marble and all the fixtures were gold. After a pleasant breakfast, Kardahl had told her his staff was contacting her family and while they were waiting for a response he offered to take her on a tour of the city. It was very sweet, but probably part of his scandal-suppressing charade. And she was okay with that.

What saddened her in a soul-deep way was that this lovely, graceful city with its white and pink stucco buildings and red-tile roofs had been her mother’s birthplace and Jessica had never known. It was part of who she was and made her feel as if pieces of her heart were missing.

“Tell me what troubles you,” he said, his voice deep and gentle.

The gentleness got her. That and the fact that he’d read her so right and wouldn’t let her brush him off. “I can’t believe that my mother never talked about her country and her family.”

“It must have been a bitterly unhappy time for her.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It is a reasonable assumption. One tries to forget unhappy times. Talking of them would simply keep the pain fresh. In addition, the burden would be heavy enough without weighing down a child.”

So he thought her mother was protecting her. He looked sincere and it made sense, although she hadn’t expected such a depth of understanding from a man with his reputation for superficiality.

She smiled at him. “Whether or not you’re right, I find that very comforting.” When his cell phone rang, she looked out the window at the Arabian Sea. The sparkling blue expanse disappeared as they drove down a narrow street with fashionable shops on both sides.

He folded shut his phone and said, “That was my secretary.”

He looked at her. “I waited until your arrival to confirm a visit to your family.”

“When can I meet them?” she asked eagerly. “I don’t know much about them.”

“You have two aunts—”

“My mother had two sisters?” Duh. He’d just told her as much. What she’d meant was, she’d always wanted a sister, or a brother. She’d desperately wished for someone so she wouldn’t be alone. Her mother had sisters and she’d walked away from that, never looking back. Why?

“One of your aunts,” he continued, “is married to the ruler of Bha’Khar’s desert people. The other is a doctor who lives in a city to the north of the capital. I have arranged for you to meet them both.”

“That would be wonderful.” She was almost afraid to ask. “And my grandparents?”

“They are on an extended diplomatic assignment at the request of the foreign service minister. They’ve been informed of your arrival and will return as soon as possible.”

“I see.” She sighed.

He frowned. “What is it?”

“I’m disappointed that I have to wait,” she admitted. “I’d hoped to spend as much time as possible getting to know them before I have to return to my job.”

“Can you not extend your leave of absence?”

“I suppose I’ll have to, but I hate to do that to the kids.”

“They are not being cared for while you are gone?”

“It’s not that simple. Getting kids to trust when they’ve lost everyone isn’t easy.” She knew from personal experience. In fact, she still never let herself believe in anyone with her whole heart. “It’s a leave of absence for me, but to them it’s one more rejection. One more person who abandoned them.”

“They must learn not to put their trust in a single person,” he said. “It is a lesson that will serve them well. Would they not be better off without you?”

She shook her head. “Everybody needs somebody sometime. If they don’t engage emotionally, they become isolated and antisocial.”

“Is not detachment more uncomplicated?”

She stared at him. “This from a man who attaches himself to anything in a skirt—” She pressed her lips together and sighed. “Never mind.”

“Do not misunderstand. I have great admiration for your devotion and the conviction that you can make a difference.” His tone said it was a waste of time.

“The world would be in sadder shape than it already is if no one tried.”

“I wish you luck in your efforts.”

This attitude was what she’d expected based on what she’d read about him. And if not for his insight moments ago she never would have questioned it. But she wondered how he could be so understanding and so jaded at the same time.

She was about to ask when she glanced out the window and realized they’d stopped. “Is the tour over?”

His smile was mysterious. “Yes. And now I have a surprise.” When the driver opened the door, Kardahl slid out, then held a hand out for her. She took it and he closed his fingers around hers, drawing her to her feet on the sidewalk in front of a dress shop. Then he slipped her hand into the bend of his arm and said, “Come with me.”

Inside, the perimeter of the store was lined with women’s clothes—dresses, suits, full-length gowns. If one couldn’t have a fairy godmother with a magic wand, shopping was the next best thing. But there was nothing magic about her budget and she was pretty sure it wouldn’t withstand the prices in this place.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

Before he could answer, a saleswoman appeared, smiling broadly when she recognized Kardahl. “Your Highness, I was delighted when you called. Please give the queen my regards. As you can see, I have canceled all other appointments and closed to the public as you requested. So this is your wife?”

“Jessica,” he said.

“She is quite lovely. My congratulations on your marriage.”

“Thank you,” he said, glancing down at her. “My wife is in need of some clothes. And there is a reception tomorrow night.”

“There is—” Jess stopped, not wanting to blow his cover. But it would be helpful if he didn’t spring stuff like that on her in public.

The next thing she knew, the woman had whipped out her tape measure and after taking measurements said, “She is a perfect size two. I have some lovely things that will be most flattering to Her Highness.”

Jess wasn’t anyone’s “Highness,” but she didn’t quite know how to phrase it even if she could persuade someone to listen. Not to mention outing their marriage for the sham it was. The woman bustled around the room plucking a sage-green suit, black silk slacks and several coordinating blouses before disappearing, presumably to a fitting room. When she returned, Kardahl pointed to a slender, black evening gown. “I wish to see her in this.”

The saleswoman smiled. “It is fortunate that the gown is her size. And Your Highness has excellent taste.”

As well he should, Jess thought. His Highness was a notorious flirt and playboy who no doubt had intimate experience sizing up women as he removed their clothes. The thought made her shiver and that was a problem. Jess’s mind was saying no, no, no, while her body grew more curious. And her heart was telling her she’d have to be six feet under to not salivate at the chance to at least try on these clothes. But how could she tell the woman she was wasting her time?

When she disappeared with the evening gown, Jess turned to Kardahl. “Listen up. This isn’t necessary. I don’t need anything. We both know the annulment is coming. And—”

“And until then, the world will be watching my wife. There is the matter of the reception tomorrow evening.” He smiled. “I saw your eyes light up as you looked at everything. It would please me to do this and the least I can do for the inconvenience imposed on you. At least try the things on. The woman would be disappointed if you do not.”

“So you’re playing the disappointment card again.” She sighed. “Is that a royal order?”

“Would you like it to be?”

She sighed. “Yes. It has to be wrong to defy a royal order.”

“Indeed,” he said.

She heard the smile in his voice as she turned away and left to find the saleswoman. Around the corner was a fitting room with the clothes she recognized hanging on various hooks. Jessica figured she was probably a spineless slug, but what the heck? She was stuck and might as well enjoy the experience.

Everything fit as if made for her and her female heart was full to bursting at the prospect of wearing such exquisite styles, such delicate, shiny fabrics that rustled when she moved. The saleswoman, Jasmine, bustled in and out, removing items as she brought in more. The black dress Kardahl had picked out was the last thing she tried on.

Jessica looked at herself in the full-length mirror and her eyes went wide. The neck was high and the sleeves long but the soft satin clung to every curve and revealed as much as it concealed. She turned and gasped at the flesh-baring back.

“It is perfect for you.” The woman ran her hands over the hips and waist. “His Royal Highness requested only to see you in this.”

“He did?”

The woman nodded. “He said to tell you it is a royal order.”

The downside of orders were the ones you didn’t want to obey. But her choices were to either suck it up, or cause a scene. As she left the dressing room, Jess held the skirt of the gown up to keep from tripping on the long hem. When she walked into the room where Kardahl waited, she held her breath. He stood and took her hand, helping her onto the dais in front of a bank of mirrors before stepping behind her.

Jess could see him in the mirror, the smoldering look in his eyes as his gaze took in every inch of her. Her feet had been on solid ground for twenty-four hours, but her stomach dropped as if she were taking off in the royal jet. The only explanation was emotional drought, she thought. She wasn’t used to men looking at her the way he was and it was like setting fire to the dry brush of her romantic heart.

“I don’t think this suits me,” she said breathlessly.

“It suits me,” he said, his voice as deep and appealing as sin. “We will take it with us,” he informed the saleswoman.

Jess said nothing because she wouldn’t embarrass the royal family in public. But elegant and costly clothes wouldn’t change anything. She might have been chosen for a prince, but she wasn’t raised as a princess. All she wanted to do was get to know her family, then go back to her life.

By the time she was dressed in her off-the-rack slacks and shirt, the dress was in a protective bag and Kardahl had arranged for the rest of the clothes to be delivered to the palace. When they stepped out of the store, the crowd gathered outside suddenly surged forward, flashbulbs exploding from every direction.

“Who’s the lady, Your Highness?” asked one reporter.

“Is she married, Your Highness?”

Someone shoved a microphone in Jessica’s face. “How did you and Prince Kardahl meet?”

Without comment, Kardahl pulled her to him, using his body to shield her from the cameras. Then he thrust her into the waiting limousine.

As she struggled to control her hammering heart, Jess looked at Kardahl. The expression of fury on his face was completely and utterly shocking. Something told her this reaction wasn’t about unauthorized pictures or unflattering photo angles. This was a deeply emotional response.

She wondered where the easygoing, charming flirt had gone when she didn’t want to wonder about him at all.

CHAPTER THREE

HOW ironic to have a skirmish with the paparazzi only hours before this meeting with the king and queen. Kardahl had once hoped the woman he would be presenting to his parents as his wife would be another, but thanks to his father, that was never to be. Still, the time had come for introductions.

Now he sat beside Jessica on the sofa in his parents’ living room. Faline and Amahl Hourani, made the side by side overstuffed chairs look like thrones as they studied their “daughter-in-law.” They had once scrutinized the woman of his choice and found her wanting, but tonight they looked pleased. At least someone was, he thought.

His father’s dark hair was flecked with gray on the sides, giving him what most thought a distinguished look. Kardahl had no feeling one way or the other. He only knew the king was a rigid and uncompromising man, difficult to please and stubborn. Kardahl would never forgive him for refusing to waive tradition so that he could marry the woman he wanted.