The Sheikh's Bartered Bride

“I too like the outdoors, but prefer the desert to the woods.”

“Please tell me about it.”

And he did, but he deftly directed the conversation back to her on several occasions and they spent the long drive talking about subjects she rarely discussed with anyone but her sister. Hakim seemed to understand her shyness and was not bothered by it, which made it easier for her to be open with him.

He also never dismissed her views as her father was so adept at doing. Hakim listened and as he listened, Catherine found herself falling under the spell of his personality.

He took her to lunch at a restaurant that overlooked the Willamette River. The food was superb, the view of the river amazing and his company overwhelming to her heart and her senses. She was very much afraid that she was falling deeply and irrevocably in love with a man that was far out of her league.

When they’d settled into their seats at the theater, Hakim slipped his arm over Catherine’s shoulders, smiling to himself when she stiffened, but did not pull away. She was not used to a man’s touch, but her body gave all the signals of being ready for a sexual awakening. The latent and untapped passion he sensed in her would play to his advantage, making it easy for him to seduce her into marriage and fulfill his duty.

His specialized training had made it possible to save himself from the recent assassination attempt, but his parents had not been so lucky. He had been unable to save them and the knowledge still haunted him.

The fact that he had been ten years old at the time did nothing to assuage his need to protect his family now, whatever the cost.

He could still remember the sound of his mother’s scream as she watched her husband shot before her eyes, a scream cut short by another gunshot. His little sister had whimpered beside him and he’d taken her hand, leading her out of the palace via the secret passage known only to members of the royal family and their most trusted servants.

Days of grueling heat in the desert sun had followed as Hakim had used the knowledge taught him by his Bedouin grandfather to seek shelter in the wild for him and his small sister. He had eventually found his grandfather’s tribe. He and his sister had survived, but Hakim would never forget the cost.

A small sound from Catherine brought him back to the present. He realized he had been caressing her neck with his thumb. Her eyes were fixed on the huge screen, but her body was wholly attuned to him and hummed with sexual excitement.

A month of seducing her toward marriage might very well be overkill.

Catherine reveled in the feel of Hakim’s arms around her and pretended it meant more than it did. It was only natural that he ask her to dance with him. After all, he was her escort for the evening and everyone else was dancing.

The black-tie charity ball was to raise money for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. She’d invited Hakim to be her escort, half expecting him to say no, but he hadn’t. He’d agreed to bring her and even to have dinner with her family beforehand.

Her mother and sister were completely charmed by his exotic charisma and enigmatic presence. Even in a business suit and tie, the man exuded sheikhness.

“Your sister is very kind.”

She let her body move infinitesimally closer to his and fought the urge to lay her head on his shoulder and just breathe in his essence. “Yes. She and I are very close.”

“This is good.”

“I think so.” She smiled up at him.

His expression remained serious. “Family is very important.”

“Yes, it is.”

She wasn’t sure where this was headed.

“Having children, passing one’s heritage from one generation to the next is also important.”

“I agree. I can’t imagine a married couple not wanting children.”

Finally he smiled. “Perhaps there are those that have their reasons, but you would never be one of them.”

She thought longingly of marriage and family, specifically with this man and it was all she could do to keep her smile pasted in place. “No, I’d never be one of them.”

She was unlikely ever to be married at all, but why bring up that depressing thought?

His thumb started a caressing rotation in the small of her back and her thoughts scattered, even the depressing ones.

Closing her eyes, she gave into the urge to let her cheek rest against his chest. He’d probably never ask her to dance again, but she just couldn’t help herself.

Instead of acting offended by her forwardness, Hakim settled her more fully against him and danced with her until the music changed to a faster beat.

He didn’t ask her to dance again that evening, but he didn’t neglect her, either. Using his easy sophistication to deflect the interest of other women who approached them with the intention of flirting with him, he kept his interest fixed firmly on her and her heart gave up the battle.

She was in love.

Hopelessly.

Helplessly.

Completely.

Catherine opened the card attached to the flowers. It read, “For a woman whose inner beauty blooms with more loveliness than a rose.”

Tears filled her eyes and it was all she could do not to cry. She and Hakim had spent the night before at a benefit concert. Catherine had gotten up and spoken on behalf of the children and their hopes and dreams. She’d been shaking with nerves, but she’d felt compelled to make a plea on the foundation’s behalf.

Afterward, Hakim had told her that her obvious love of children and compassion for them had shown through even her nervousness. She’d been warmed by the compliment, but the long-stemmed red roses totally overwhelmed her.

She put the vase on the corner of her desk where both she and the rest of the librarians could see them easily.

Picking up a pile of papers that needed filing, she contemplated the crimson blooms. He made her feel so special, even if they were just friends. Sometimes it felt like more than friendship and her hopes would soar, but what else could it be when he never so much as kissed her?

They spent a lot of time together and her attraction for him grew with each occasion, but he appeared unaffected on a physical level by her.

She wasn’t surprised.

She was hardly the type to inspire unbridled lust in a man like Hakim, but her desire for him continued unabated. Growing with each successive meeting, both it and the desire to be in his company became gnawing needs within her.

Her thoughts stilled along with the rest of her as Hakim walked into the library. She should be used to his arrival by now, it happened often enough and every time since the first, he’d made it clear he had come specifically to see her.

He walked toward her with an unconscious arrogance that she found rather endearing. He was just so sure of himself, but then he was rich, gorgeous and had been raised a prince. Why wouldn’t he be?

She remembered the papers in her hand just as he reached her desk and leaned over to put them away quickly.

Hakim stopped in front of Catherine’s desk, just as she bent to put something away in the lowest drawer.

“Catherine…”

Her body straightened and her intense blue gaze met with his, her mouth twisted in a rueful grimace. “Sorry, I just remembered I had to file these—” she waved a sheaf of papers in her hand “—when I saw you.”

“And it could not wait until you had greeted me?” he asked with some amusement.

“I might have forgotten easily.”

Did she realize what she was giving away with that admission? He already knew he had a definite impact on her ability to concentrate, but a more sophisticated woman would not have admitted it.

“Then I shall have to content myself conversing with the top of your head while you finish.”

“Sometimes, you sound so formal. Is that because the Arabic language is a more formal language, or is it because English is your second language and therefore you don’t slip into slang as easily?”

Not for the first time, her rapid change in topic left him slightly disorientated. “French is my second language,” he said in answer to her question, “I did not learn English until I had mastered it.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Oh. I’ve always thought French would be a lovely language to learn. I studied German and Spanish in school, but I have to admit I don’t have a facility for it.”

“I did not come to discuss my fluency in other languages.”

“Of course you didn’t.” She smiled. “Why did you come?”

“To see my friend.”

Something flickered in her eyes at the word “friend”, but was gone too quickly for him to interpret.

“Oh,” she said again. “How many are you?”

“How many what, little kitten?”

Her face heated to rose red as he knew it would at the small endearment. Such words were common in his culture between a man and the woman he intended to marry. They were nothing more than an admission of his intent, but they flustered Catherine a great deal.

“How many languages are you fluent in?” Her voice was breathless and he had the not so shocking urge to steal her breath completely with a kiss.

He could not do it of course. Not here and not yet, but soon. He smiled in anticipation, causing her eyes to widen.

“I’m fluent in French, English, Arabic and all the dialects of my people, little kitten.” He repeated the phrase on purpose just to watch the effect it had on her, which was perhaps unfair of him.

It was startling. She sucked in air, grimaced and then whispered, “Hardly little.”

While she was maybe an inch above average in height for a woman, she often made comments as if she saw herself as some kind of Amazon. He stepped toward her until he stood only a few inches from her and reached out to brush the smooth curve of her neck with one fingertip. “To me, very little.”

She trembled and he smiled.

Very soon she would be his.

Her head tilted back and she eyed his six-foot two-inch frame with unmistakable longing. “I suppose so.”

He wanted to kiss her. It took every bit of the self-discipline developed in his training with the elite guard to step back and drop his hand.

“I came to see if you would like to join me for dinner tonight.”

Her mouth opened and closed with no sound issuing forth. They had known each other for three weeks now and eaten numerous meals together, as well as attending several formal functions. Yet she acted shocked every time he asked her out.

“Come, this is not such a surprise. We had lunch together only yesterday.”

She smiled whimsically. “That’s why I’m surprised. I thought you’d want to spend time with…”

Her voice trailed off, but her eyes told him what she had been about to say. Other women. She had so little concept of her own value. While he should be relieved his duty would be so easy to see through, it made him angry she dismissed herself so easily.

“I want to spend time with no other woman.”

He had no difficulty reading her expression now. Her eyes were filled with both joy and hope. Yes. She was ready. He had courted her long enough.

“I would love to have dinner with you.”

“Then I shall see you this evening.” He turned to go.

“Hakim.”

He stopped.

“You could have called. It would have saved you an hour of driving here and back to Seattle.”

“Then I would have foregone the pleasure of seeing you.”

She looked ready to melt at that assurance and he smiled before walking away. His duty would be fulfilled very soon.

CHAPTER THREE

HAKIM took Catherine to his favorite restaurant on the waterfront for dinner. The ambiance was quiet and elegant. Perfect for proposing to his future wife.

He’d thought about taking her to the restaurant at the top of the Space Needle. He’d been told it was considered the height of romance, but sharing a noisy elevator with tourists on the way up held no appeal. At least not for tonight.

She smiled at him as he held her chair for her at the table. She’d worn a black dress with long sleeves, a peasant neckline and gathered waist. The full skirt swirled around her legs as she sat down. He let his fingers trail along the exposed skin of her shoulders above the wide neckline and she shivered. Satisfaction that his mission would soon be accomplished settled over him as he dropped his hand, moved around the table and took his own seat.

Even in the dim light of the restaurant, he could tell she was blushing again.

“Surely such a small touch is not cause for embarrassment?”

She smoothed her already perfectly coiffed hair. She’d worn it up again. Though he liked the view it gave him of her slender neck, one day soon, he would remove the clip and see what the dark honey strands looked like tumbling against her shoulders.

“I’m not embarrassed. Not exactly.” Her sigh lifted her breasts against the soft fabric of her bodice, revealing the source of her blush.

His little virgin was excited. Two unmistakable ridges under the black material gave her away. They also apprised Hakim of the fact she was not wearing a bra. The knowledge had a by now predictable effect on him.

“What are you exactly?” he asked, wondering if she would admit anywhere close to the truth.

“Stupid.”

He shook his head. Little did she know, but her desire for him would soon be fulfilled. “Jewel of my heart, you must not say such things.”

She dropped her focus to her lap, where she straightened her burgundy napkin against the black fabric of her skirt. “You shouldn’t call me things like that. I know you’re just saying it because it’s the way you talk, but…”

He reached across the table to tip her chin up with his finger. “It is not merely the way I speak. Do I use such terms with other women in your hearing?”

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and her eyes reflected confusion. “No.” It was a bare whisper.

He wanted to kiss those trembling lips. Her vulnerability called to primitive instincts inside him.

“They are words meant for you alone.”

It was as if she stopped breathing and she went utterly still, the look in her eyes a revelation of emotions so volatile he was shocked by them. Then her eyelashes lowered and she sucked in air too quickly, choking.

He offered her a glass of water as she sought to get the small coughing fit under control.

“Thank you.” She drank the water and he watched as her throat convulsed gracefully with each swallow.

“You have a beautiful neck.”

The water glass tumbled and only the quick action of a nearby waiter saved her dress from a drenching. Considering her reaction to his last statement, Hakim decided it would be best to wait until after dinner to propose.

By the time Hakim pulled his black car to a halt in the parking garage of her apartment building, Catherine’s nerves were stretched tighter than an overtuned violin string. They wound one notch tighter when he insisted on seeing her inside.

She watched his dark hands as they unlocked her door and turned the knob to open it. Such masculine hands and yet so fluid in their movement, she desperately wanted them on her.

He pushed the door open and ushered her inside, one of the hands she found so fascinating secured around her waist. Her lungs stopped working while her heart went into overdrive. He closed the door and locked it, indicating he wasn’t leaving any time soon and her already racing heart went turbocharged.

He led her toward the living room and she was surprised when her legs were able to move. She felt like her bones had all melted to jelly.

When they reached her bright yellow couch, he gently pushed her down onto the overstuffed cushions and then sat beside her. So close beside her that her shoulder was pressed against the hard wall of his chest. “I wish to speak with you.”

“Oh,” she squeaked.

He laid the hand that was not attached to her waist on her thigh, succeeding in surrounding her completely with his body and putting her on the verge of hyperventilating.

What would he do if she turned to him and did what she’d been longing to do for so long, touch the black silkiness of his hair and kiss the sensual line of his mouth? She clasped her hands firmly together in her lap to stop them from taking liberties that might end in her humiliated rejection.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke, the rush of air going in and out of her lungs at such a rapid rate the only sound in the room. He started to draw small circles on her thigh with his forefinger, sending awareness arcing up her leg and to the center of her being. She stifled a gasp of pleasure. She couldn’t move. Nor could she look at him. Her attention was firmly fixed on that darkly tanned hand as it moved lazily against the black knit of her skirt.

Still he said nothing.

The quiet became unbearable. “Hakim?”

His silence beat against her and she sensed he wanted something from her, but she did not know what. Finally, when she could not tolerate one more second of the tortuous anticipation, she raised her head and tilted it backward to look at his face.

It was what he’d been waiting for. Eye contact.

Dark ebony bored into her. “You have enjoyed these past weeks in my company, have you not?”

“Yes.”

“Am I a fool to believe you would like our association to continue?”

“No.” She had to clear her throat before she could get more words out. Necessary words. “You could never be a fool.”

“Then I would also not be out of bounds to hope you might want to deepen our relationship?”

He wanted to be her boyfriend? Her mind couldn’t quite grasp the concept, but she nodded her head in agreement anyway.

“Yes, I would be out of bounds, or yes you want to deepen our relationship?”

“I want…” She forced her halted lungs to pull in a breath of air. “I want to deepen our relationship.”

Would he kiss her now? The mere thought sent her pulse on a ride like a runaway stagecoach.

“Marry me.”

She was daydreaming. She had to be.

But there was something wrong with the fantasy. “But you’ve never even kissed me.”

“I have not had the right.”

“What do you mean? Were you… Were you attached to someone else?”

“No, not that, but I was not as you put it attached to you, either. It would not have been right for me to kiss you before formal declarations were made.”

Did he mean declarations of love? No. He’d said formal declarations. “Do you mean you have to be engaged in your country to kiss?”

His hand moved from her thigh to her cheek and he cupped it, his expression almost tender. “To kiss a virgin, yes.”

Was her lack of experience so obvious? She supposed it was. “But this is not Jawhar.”

“Nevertheless, I will treat you with the respect due you.”

That was nice. “If I say I’ll marry you, will you kiss me then?” This was by far the strangest daydream she had ever indulged in, only she knew on some level it was all too real.

A distinctly predatory light entered his obsidian eyes. “Yes.”

“Yes,” she repeated, not ready for the fantasy to end.

“You will marry me?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t really mean it and she would say just about anything to experience his mouth on hers. “Now you can kiss me.”

He lowered his head, until his lips were centimeters from hers. “I can?”

“Yes.” When he didn’t close the gap, she said, “Please.”

The kiss was as soft and fleeting as a butterfly flitting from one flower to another, but he did not move his head away and their breath continued to mingle.

The scent of his cologne mixed with a fragrance that could only be him. Male. It called to the primordial woman in her. She wanted to claim this man.

“Are you teasing me?” she asked, wondering why he had not kissed her again, more thoroughly.

“I am teasing myself.”

His admission was flint to the gunpowder of her self-control. To say such a thing implied he wanted her and that was as exciting as having his body so close she could feel his heartbeat. She closed the gap of those few centimeters, her mouth locking to his with enthusiasm, if not skill.

He didn’t seem to mind. His grip on her tightened and he took control of the kiss almost immediately. His mouth moved against hers, his tongue running along the seam of her lips. She opened her mouth on a small rush of air and he took possession of the interior. She’d thought of kissing like this before of course, but it had seemed messy.

It felt wonderful.

He tasted like the tiramisu he’d had for dessert at the restaurant. He also tasted like Hakim and it was a flavor she could not get enough of.

She moaned and sucked on his tongue.

He growled, his grip on her going painfully tight now and she found herself in his lap, her breasts pressed against his chest.

She wanted to touch him. She had to touch him. Her hands landed against his shoulders and stayed there for a full five seconds while the kiss went on and on. But just feeling the heat of him under her fingers was not enough. She wanted to explore.

First she let her fingers trail through his hair. It felt soft, almost like silk and she explored the shape of his head through it. He was so male, even his head felt a particularly masculine way to her searching fingers.

A sense of desperation, laced with fear that this would end soon and she would miss having touched the rest of his body, she brought her hands down on either side of his face, slowly sliding them toward his neck, then shoulders. With each centimeter of movement, she memorized the feel of his warm skin against the pads of her fingertips.

Sliding her hands down the polished cotton of his shirt, under his jacket, she outlined each muscle, each ridge and valley on the masculine torso so close to her own.

He shuddered and she rejoiced that she could affect him.

His hands were kneading her backside and she could feel a growing ridge of hardness under her hip.

In the back of her mind, she registered that meant he was getting excited which sent her emotions careening out of control and the impossible feelings she harbored for this magnificent man poured out through her lips and fingertips.

As if the release of her emotions had freed something in him, his ardor increased and the kiss went nuclear.

His tongue dueled with hers, demanding a submission she was only too willing to give. While he conquered her mouth, she tore at the buttons on his shirt, getting enough undone to slip her hand inside and feel the smooth, hot flesh of his naked chest. It was at that point that she accepted this was not a waking dream. No fantasy could possibly be this good.

And somehow because it was real, it was more. More intense. More feeling. More excitement. Almost too much.

She broke her mouth from his and sucked in air, trying to breath as her world spun around her in a kaleidoscope of feelings she had never experienced, but nonetheless recognized.

She wanted him.

Desperately.

“Do engaged people get to make love?” Her own boldness shocked her, but she waited tensely for his answer.

The kneading action on her bottom stopped and his forehead fell against hers. “No.”

“Is it because I’m a virgin?” she asked, feeling tears of frustration already burning at the back of her eyes.

Hakim was going to wake up to whatever insanity had prompted his proposal and withdraw. And she would still be a virgin. Life was so unfair.

“It is true. This is part of it.”

“But I don’t want to be a virgin,” she wailed and then felt mortified color drench her face, neck and even the breasts achingly aware of the proximity of his body.

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. He kissed her, hard and quick against her mouth. “We must wait.”

“I can’t.”

He groaned like a drowning man going under for the last time. The hardness under her thigh twitched and his mouth locked with hers again, this time not waiting for her to open her lips, but forcing them apart for the entrance of his tongue.