Sheik Protector (3 page)

“You will find that in Beharrain, Beharrainian laws are given a priority over ideals of foreign countries thousands of miles away.”

Was there a hint of threat in his steely voice?

She kept moving, but he still didn’t follow. Not even when she reached the hallway and ran to the left, not knowing which way the exit was, but wanting to get away from him and the nightmare this trip was turning into.

Before long she’d reached a palatial marble foyer. The front door was open, but there were armed guards at the wrought-iron gate that led to the street.

“Excuse me,” she said when they wouldn’t move out of her way. Maybe they didn’t speak English.

Step aside. Please, step aside
. She wanted to get out before Karim decided to come after her. She didn’t think he would let her go this easily. She glanced behind her, then back at the men who looked as unmovable as the seven-foot-tall brick walls that surrounded the property.

“I need to leave,” she said slower and louder, knowing that was unlikely to make a difference. “Please.” She pointed toward the gate. They had to know what she wanted.

“You are to leave the palace only in the company of Sheik Abdullah,” one of them said after a moment, without looking at her.

So the language barrier wasn’t an issue.

Her breath caught. Desperation rose inside her—desperation, fear and anger. She shouldn’t have come. She had thought she would be able to keep her child safe while giving her or him the kind of large family she never had. But she understood now that wasn’t possible. To keep her baby safe and with her meant that she had to escape far, far away from here. She would
never
give up control of her baby.

There had to be a way. She refused to accept that she, along with her unborn child, was a prisoner in a foreign land, held at the will of the Dark Sheik.

She was fighting a losing battle. Sheik Karim Abullah’s palace was better guarded than the Pentagon. But Julia wasn’t the type to give up.

Since she had resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn’t be able to escape on the ground level, she went up, sneaking through the night. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for, perhaps a large tree that came near one of the balconies. Trying something—anything—had to be better than sitting in her gilded prison of a room and crying her eyes out like she had done for the first half of the night.

She hated how weepy her overactive mommy hormones made her. This was not the time to give in to weakness. But she was emotionally exhausted and ravenously hungry. Hungry to the point that she was afraid her growling stomach would be heard.

She stole down the second-floor hallway, pausing in front of the first door. She pushed it open a fraction of an inch at a time and glanced around the lavishly appointed living room she discovered. Some sort of a suite. Other doors opened from here. The furniture was exquisitely made—all ornately carved wood—and was breathtaking even without her being able to make out the true colors of the luxurious fabrics in the moonlight.

Her gaze settled on a phone on a small, octagonal table. Her U.S. cell phone didn’t work here and there wasn’t a phone in her room. She wished she knew the number of the U.S. embassy by heart, and dialed zero, hoping to get directory assistance. Nothing happened.

She tried zero-zero, her stomach continuing to growl. No ringing on the other end. Zero-one. Just one. One-one. A disembodied voice said something in Arabic then the line went dead again. She gritted her teeth with frustration and took a banana from the fruit bowl next to the phone. An apple’s crunching might give her away. She peeled it then bit in, and nearly moaned at the soft sweetness that diffused on her tongue. Heaven.

Her food tray had been removed that afternoon on her request when the smell of food had made her nauseous. She had refused dinner on principle—not the smartest thing, in hindsight.

She grabbed another banana and was stuffing it down the front of her shirt when a small noise came from behind one of the doors opposite her. She froze, nearly ran, but stopped herself. She needed to find a balcony, a way out.

She picked a door that was half-open, figuring she would make the least noise that way, and found herself in a large bedroom. The space was dominated by a sprawling bed, draped in black sheets, that didn’t look slept in. A handful of papers lay tossed on the nightstand, next to a book.

Then her gaze was drawn to the source of the noise she’d heard before. A bathroom off the bedroom, lights on, the water running. She was facing a full-size, gilded mirror on the bathroom wall that was angled away from her. The picture it presented made her mouth go dry and her feet freeze to the tile floor. She swallowed the chunk of fruit in her mouth with some trouble.

Karim stood in an open shower with black mosaic tile and one of those drenching, foot-wide showerheads, water sluicing down his tanned skin. He stood with his back to her, so she had an unobstructed view of the scars that ran down his back, breaking up the otherwise perfect lines of the most incredible male body she had ever seen. He had his hands up, bracing himself on the wall, his head hanging as if deep in thought, tension evident in his corded muscles.

Shadows stretched across his back. She couldn’t tell from this distance whether they were scars or some sort of tribal markings.

Another person might have looked vulnerable naked, but not the Dark Sheik. Strength radiated off him, and danger.

He reached to the side and turned off the water with one sinuous movement.

Okay, so Mr. I’m-Lord-of-All-I-Survey was sexy. Very.

She couldn’t care less. She was leaving. Now.

He wrapped a black towel around his waist then turned, his dark gaze finding hers unerringly in the mirror. He didn’t show surprise. Somehow he’d known she’d be there, staring.

How humiliating.

“Is there anything you wanted from me, Julia?” His voice was low and measured, full of innuendo and contempt.

She wanted to turn and run, but his gaze wouldn’t release her. When he strode closer, she backed away without looking where she was going, hoping she was backing out the door. Instead, in a few steps, her back bumped against the wall.

He was a short foot from her, looming dangerous in the semidarkness of the room, his wide shoulders outlined in the light that came from the bathroom. Drops of water glistened on his dark skin. He smelled like soap and sandalwood. He was the most erotic and intimidating sight she’d ever seen.

“Looking for a substitute sheik for your plan?” He put his right hand to the wall next to her head. His hand being higher than his shoulder, droplets of water ran backward, along his carved granite biceps.

Her heart jumped to her throat. He thought she’d come here to seduce him. She moved the other way, but that arm came down, too, and boxed her in. She didn’t feel panicked as much as mesmerized. Blinked her eyes.
Snap out of it
. How dare he?

“Don’t touch me.” She shoved with her free hand, indignation giving her strength. She tried not to notice the hard muscles of his warm—and still wet—chest under her fingers. Her limbs were shaky. From exhaustion, no doubt. She was likely still jet-lagged, too.

He didn’t budge a millimeter, but a dark eyebrow slid up his forehead. “Changed your mind? Scare you, do I?”

Maybe. Okay, more so with every passing moment
. He was large and powerful and utterly overwhelming after a hellish day. She was well aware that he could kill her, and with his title and station in the country, there probably wouldn’t even be a questioning.

Tears threatened to fill her eyes. She gritted her teeth and held them back. This was not the time for a hormonal moment. “Go to hell.” She lifted her head and stuck her chin out. “You want to intimidate me? Congratulations, you succeeded. That’s what turns people like you on, isn’t it? Scared women.”

A muscle jumped in his face, just beneath the four-inch scar on the right side that started above the eye socket and ran straight down. And then she realized the eye didn’t move along with the other one. He was blind on that side. Not that his left eye wasn’t lethal enough on its own.

He took his time to look her over from her bare feet to the top of her head, returning to linger on her breasts, which had grown already during the pregnancy and were stupidly sensitive to smoldering looks from half-naked men. More misery to blame on hormones.

“The same things turn me on as any other healthy man, I suppose,” he said, his voice a notch lower than before.

The space between them was insanely small. Without warning, the adrenaline that had been pumping through her already was metamorphosing into primal heat, making her fingertips tingle.

He had masculine lips, what some old-fashioned novels might have defined as cruel. Heathcliff lips. Incredibly sexy. She got a little woozy from looking at them this close.

The sharp sense of desire was insane, but perhaps understandable, considering that her body was hormonally unbalanced and out of her control.

His voice was a soft whisper when he spoke. “Why are you here, Julia? Why are you in my bedroom in the middle of the night?” He lowered his head as if wanting to carefully listen to her response.

If he came any closer, he was going to feel the banana she’d hid down the front of her shirt.

Her pulse sped, and not just from the danger of being discovered as a fruit thief. “Looking for a glass of water,” she croaked out with effort. Her mouth did feel extraordinarily dry. She looked into his good eye.

His Heathcliff mouth tightened, but he didn’t back away an inch. “Excuses?” He examined her. “Interesting. You’re bold enough to come to me like this, yet you feel the need to come up with a pretext for seeking my bed.”

Outrage quickly overcame awakening desire. Of all the conceited—“You know what I’m doing?” she asked sharply, and ducked to the right from the circle of his arms. “I was trying to get out of this stupid place. You have no right to keep me here. This is kidnapping.” She darted toward the door.

If she thought the lack of sight in the right eye was a weakness, she was quickly disabused of the notion. He caught her easily.

“You will stay for as long as I see necessary,” he said. “If I catch you trying to run—I’ve given you some freedom, Julia. Freedom that can be taken away.”

What freedom? Her room? Meaning he could be keeping her closer to him? How close? His bed sprawled imposingly in her peripheral vision. She didn’t want to know. Or maybe he’d meant he had some dungeons in the basement. That would be more likely. Nothing would have surprised her at this point.

Fear spiked her pulse. “I was wrong,” she told him with all the contempt she felt. “You are nothing like your brother.”

“And what do you know about Aziz?” His gaze slid to her abdomen. “My brother wasn’t an irresponsible man.”

A moment passed before she understood what he meant.

“He wasn’t.” And that was all she was prepared to say on the subject of birth control, which obviously was not as reliable as she’d thought.

His gaze journeyed back up, slowly, to her face.

The warning system in her brain was screaming that she should run for her life. “This baby has nothing to do with you and your family.” She was desperate to escape his palace.

He didn’t respond.

“You don’t believe me.”

More silence, just his dark gaze searching her face.

“And if I said the child
was
Aziz’s? Would you believe
that?
” she said, testing him.

“No.”

“So you’re determined to think me a liar.” Which, God help her, she was quickly becoming. But yes, she would do even that. She would lie, cheat and very possibly kill for her unborn child.

The question was, how far was Karim Abdullah willing to go for his niece or nephew?

“I’m just questioning your motives,” he said.

“Is that what you call it?” She braved a sneer. “In my country this would be called kidnapping.”

His masculine lips pressed into a tight line.

Her heart drummed against her rib cage. She tugged her arm. “You have to let me go.”

And this time, he released her at last. “Get some sleep. I made an appointment for you for tomorrow morning. You’ll get the full workup. You had a fall today. I arranged for an ultrasound.”

Not one for minding his own business, was he?

Her initial instinct was to protest, but she hadn’t had an ultrasound yet. Her first was scheduled for the week after her planned return to the States. She desperately wanted to see her baby. And she was no longer sure when exactly she would be back in Baltimore. Or if she could afford even the most basic medical care.

She did have that fall. And despite feeling fine, she did worry. And it wasn’t as if he was going to give her a choice about going. “Fine. But don’t think you’re coming with me. Absolutely not.”

“And I looked into testing,” he said. “There’s something called amniocentesis that can be done during pregnancy. They can obtain DNA and determine paternity.”

She didn’t know how she felt about that. The test would prove that the father was Aziz. That would bind her even tighter to Karim, an outcome she wanted to avoid at all cost. Could she refuse? What would that gain her?
Time
.

She turned from him and marched out with the half-eaten banana in her hand, calling a “Go to hell” over her shoulder on principle.

As she sped her steps, the banana under her top dislodged and fell to the floor. She picked it up, glad he didn’t see her. But a glance back at his bedroom door revealed that, in fact, he had.

He’d come after her and was leaning against the door frame, watching her with a superior smirk on his face. “You may take the whole fruit bowl if you’d like.”

T
HE RADIOLOGIST
asked him no questions, one of the privileges of being sheik. Karim stared at the staticky-looking black-and-white screen, at the blurry outline of what seemed like a head and part of the abdomen. He kept his gaze studiously on the screen, ignoring the creamy expanse of skin in his peripheral vision.

He had come in with her because despite the blood test, he still half believed there might not even be a baby. Tests could be wrong. Tests could be altered for the right amount of money. She could have had it all set up at the hospital.

And if she were pregnant, he had half hoped that the ultrasound would reveal that she was lying about the child being Aziz’s. The time of conception could have been wrong. Or the kid could have had stark red hair and looked obviously Irish, or whatever. What did he know? He’d never seen an ultrasound before.

But the date of conception was right on the money, during the time that Aziz had been in Baltimore. And, although the gray blob on the screen bore no resemblance to Aziz, Karim could hardly hold that against it. It barely looked human.

But here was the funny part, the thing he hadn’t seen coming: the longer he looked at the kid, the more he wanted to believe the woman who lay on the hospital bed with her eyes glued to the screen and tears misting her fine eyes.

“Nice, strong heartbeat. See that?” the radiologist asked him.

And he could. The heart pulsed rapidly in the middle of the screen. The image was mesmerizing. He didn’t like the softening it brought out in him.

Most likely, the woman was a money-hungry scammer.

The report he had received on her last night certainly pointed in that direction. Her family had been anything but upstanding and responsible. Her father left early on. Her mother dumped her and her siblings into the foster-care system. Julia floundered around for a while after that, then went to college on some sort of government program. Ended up with a nonprofit organization where she seemed tolerably successful.

He considered her alluring beauty, the crown of hair that to his disappointment she wore up today, that light in her eyes as she stared at the screen.

Hell, who wouldn’t have fallen for that? Maybe she’d done so well because she could flirt successful businessmen into large donations. But her track record hadn’t been enough. Her organization was downsizing and she was let go a month ago.