The Sheikh’s Reluctant Bride (4 page)

“It is time to—” He swallowed and willed indifference into his tone. Dropping his hands as if she had suddenly burned him, he said, “I will take you back inside.”

“G-good idea.”

Kardahl was careful not to touch her as they walked back. For two years he had lived with the ghosts of what would never be. Since meeting Jessica, the ghosts had receded for a time, which was unexpected. And unfortunate.

He was comfortable with the pain he carried and did not wish for more. He would not add to his burden by caring again and this bewildering attraction made him grateful that his wife wished to pursue an annulment. He had allowed himself to want women, but this woman could be dangerous to the indifference he had so carefully cultivated.

Knowing she would meet the press, Jessica had thought she was prepared for the reception. She’d been wrong. The black designer gown didn’t help. The diamond tiara in the upswept hairdo crafted by the queen’s personal hairdresser didn’t help. And the professionally applied makeup didn’t help. The only thing that kept her from full and humiliating retreat was Kardahl’s presence beside her.

He looked pretty spectacular in his black tux and snow-white shirt. But she hadn’t had time to fully appreciate that either before this command performance when the announcement of her marriage to His Royal Highness Kardahl Hourani had been made. After a silence that hadn’t lasted nearly long enough, the press started firing questions. Kardahl had fielded them easily.

“How did you meet?” someone shouted.

“Are female hearts breaking around the world?”

“Are you really settling down?”

That question brought back memories of the harem where the royal men had gone in years past to satisfy needs. Needs she understood a little better after Kardahl’s kiss—a kiss that had come dangerously close to sweeping her away. The feel of his muscular body against hers had ignited a yearning she hadn’t known was there.

“Where are you from, Princess?”

The called out question jarred her back to the far less pleasant present.

“How do you feel about landing the playboy prince?”

“You make him sound like a fish,” she said. The bright lights made her squint and she resisted the urge to raise a hand and shield her eyes from the constant flashes of light. It was blinding; it was disorienting. It was weird not to be able to see who you were answering.

“What do you do?”

“Will you keep working?”

“When are you going to have a baby?”

“Are you already pregnant?”

The personal questions shouted out so indifferently, so publicly, felt like a personal violation. The last one made her gasp as if she’d been slapped.

Kardahl put his arm around her waist and drew her to his side. “Enough. This interview is over.”

The next thing she knew, he was escorting her from the room. After he’d guided her through several doors and shut each one after them, the noise finally receded. He took her hand and led her through a set of French doors and outside onto a balcony with a view of the city lights in the distance. Blessed quiet embraced her along with the pleasantly warm night air.

She breathed in deeply. “I take it back.”

“What?”

“When I said you wouldn’t be the right person to advise me about dealing with the media. I was wrong. That escape was well done.”

He bowed slightly. “I am pleased that you approve.”

This knight-in-shining-armor impersonation didn’t fit her formed opinion of him. Was it flawed along with her family sensibilities? Her only legacy from her mother was caution toward men. And this man’s exploits chronicled in publications around the world had proven that he wouldn’t know commitment if it walked up and shook his hand. So was she wrong about that, too? Or was he a heroic rogue? Was that an oxymoron? Or was she simply a moron for giving this situation more thought than it warranted.

She stood on the tiled balcony in a puddle of moonlight. The last time she’d been outside with him alone, he’d kissed her. The memory made her mouth tingle and she needed to say something to take the edge off her tension.

“You’re good at handling the press.”

“I have had much practice. As a member of the royal family, I was born into the life of public servant. It is my duty to serve the people of Bha’Khar.”

“Female people?” she couldn’t help asking. Apparently the tension still had an edge. The words popped out before she could stop them. She didn’t mean to be abrupt, opinionated and abrasive. She wasn’t normally like this. But he, and more to the point his kiss, had brought out the worst in her. Maybe it was her defense mechanism.

With the French doors behind him, he was backlit and his facial expression concealed in shadow. But the statement had barely left her mouth when his body went rigid with tension.

“I am the minister of Finance and Defense.” The words were clipped and precise.

“I’m surprised you have the time, what with pursuing women all over the world.” There was the legacy of caution rearing its ugly head again.

“Is it so hard for you to believe that I can put my responsibilities before personal pleasure?”

“In a word? Yes.”

“Little fool.” His tone made her shiver even though the evening was far from cold. “I am not an unfeeling man.”

“Then the scandalous photos are misleading? And everything I’ve read about you is wrong?”

“You should not believe everything you read in anything but an approved interview.”

“So, in spite of what they print, you are open to love?”

He slid his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo pants, marring the perfect line of the matching black jacket. When he turned to the side, light from inside revealed the muscle tensing in his jaw. She thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“No,” he said. “I am not open to love.”

She was surprised he would admit it. “Have you ever been in love?”

She hoped her voice was calm because the rest of her was anything but. His answer shouldn’t matter to her but she found every one of her senses finely tuned as she waited for his response.

“Yes,” he finally bit out. “I have loved. And she is dead.”

I
F THERE
had been anything in the press about this, Jessica had missed it, but that wasn’t surprising. Between college and part-time jobs, the world went by and she’d missed everything until after graduation. But everything she’d said to him and the raw pain on Kardahl’s face now made her feel lower than a slug. Whatever life-form that was, she was worse. Her only defense was that nothing like this had crossed her mind. Death didn’t touch the fabulously wealthy and famous.

She realized that was stupid and knew she tended to romanticize. Everyone got sick; fatal diseases didn’t discriminate between old and young, rich and poor.

She needed to say something, but all she could think of was, “What happened?”

His jaw was rigid and edgy anger rolled off him in waves. “It was two years ago,” he started, his voice even and low and all the more dangerous for its softness. “An accident.”

Not an illness? “How?”

“We were chased relentlessly by reporters who wanted a picture, a story, a word that could be made into a story.” He walked to the low balcony wall and looked out into the distance where the lights of the city on the coast twinkled brightly. “Antonia was upset that we were followed, as we had taken great pains to be alone. She absolutely insisted the driver attempt to outrun the horde of photographers although both of us tried to calm her. The roads were wet. The car flipped. She died instantly. Unfortunately I did not.”

Now it was the lack of anger in his voice that frightened her. She moved beside him and settled her hand on his arm. When he met her gaze, light caught the scars on his lip and cheek. She reached up and started to touch them, but he ducked away.

“Is that how you got those?” she asked.

“What does it matter?”

That would be yes. Oh God. An apology would be in order, but she didn’t even know where to start. “Kardahl, I didn’t know. If I had, I’d never have brought up such a painful subject. I’m very sorry. Please accept my deepest condolences on the loss of your wife—”

“Not my wife,” he bit out, the anger spontaneous and underlining each word.

“But if you loved her—I don’t—”

“The king held tightly to tradition and I was betrothed to another.”

He’d been betrothed to her, Jessica realized.

She’d stood between him and the woman he’d desperately wanted and couldn’t have—now he would never have his Antonia. She felt responsible, which was stupid since she’d known nothing about him, Bha’Khar or the tradition that was responsible for her being duped into this marriage. But the resentment and lingering pain in his eyes told her he wouldn’t want to hear any of that.

“I think now I understand the animosity between you and your father. Under the circumstances, why did you agree to go through with the proxy marriage?”

The hard expression in his eyes made her flinch when he turned his gaze on her. “Because it ceased to matter.”

As in he disregarded all women equally because he’d cared too much about one. Jessica was shocked and ashamed in equal parts. She’d misjudged him horribly and insulted him to his face even though he’d been unfailingly polite to her. This rage and resentment were emotions he’d kept well hidden.

From her own experience she knew that the bitterest of tears shed over a grave were for words left unsaid or things left undone. What was it that Kardahl had not been able to say or do?

“I have arranged for you to have riding lessons,” Kardahl said the morning after the reception.

During breakfast, he was still trying to understand why he had told Jessica of Antonia. Perhaps because Jessica had provoked him. Or he’d grown weary of her low opinion. Either way, she’d caused him to feel something and he did not like it. All the more reason to facilitate the meetings with her family and send her back to America.

He had instructed Jessica to put on jeans, then escorted her from the palace to the extensive equestrian area where he would personally instruct her. They were standing just outside the stable and the mount he’d chosen for her was saddled and waiting by the fence beside them. “Have you any experience with horses?”

“Why do I need to learn to ride?”

“I was under the impression that you wished to meet your family.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Call me dense, but I don’t see what one has to do with the other.”

“You will need to learn basic riding skills if you are to meet your aunt.”

“I can hardly wait,” she said eagerly. Her joyous expression turned to puzzlement. “But why do I need to learn to ride?”

“The desert wanderers have settled into their summer encampment in the hills. Horseback is the favored mode of transportation.”

She took a step back and looked up at him. “Why can’t we take the helicopter? You’ve got one, right? Your brother was telling me about the royal yacht and I’ve already seen the plane. Surely there’s a chopper in the family.”

“There is. But the terrain is too mountainous.” He folded his arms over his chest and struggled not to smile. She had a way about her that reduced the monumental to mundane. “So—I must know what you know about horses.”

“I’ve seen them in the movies and on TV. Does that count?” When the animal beside them shook its head and snorted, she laughed and said, “Busted.”

But the look of wariness on her face answered his question more completely than her impudent reply. Kardahl watched the sunlight pick out the gold in Jessica’s hair.

He decided she was much like that precious metal—gold—there was a richness to her spirit that was only uncovered when one searched deeper.

As she continued to study the horse, she caught her top lip between her teeth. He was unwillingly reminded of the unfamiliar kind of need her kiss had unleashed inside him. It was a weakness he could not repeat. She thought him shallow and unfeeling, but he would prove that he was trustworthy and would not break his promise. Another kiss would sorely test that resolve.

“Only hands-on experience counts,” he said and winced.

“Okay. If that’s the only way, then point me in the direction of whoever’s going to show me what to do.”

“I am going to teach you.”

“You?”

He could have assigned one of the eminently qualified grooms, but he’d been unwilling to do so. As to his motivation? It was a decision for which he had no answer.

“Yes. I am an expert rider—” When she opened her mouth to say something, he touched his finger to her lips to silence her, and hated himself for wishing to use his mouth instead. “Do not say you have read of my exploits.”

“I wasn’t going to.” The pink on her cheeks made it appear that she was blushing. A decidedly innocent and refreshing reaction. “I was going to say that you’ve been very generous with your time since I arrived and I’m feeling guilty about that.” She looked down at the red dirt where they stood then backed up.

Traces of guilt lingered in her eyes, but he was certain that had more to do with what he’d revealed to her on the balcony last night. That was less important than why he’d revealed the tragedy. Perhaps her uneasiness at the barrage of media curiosity had unleashed his instinct to protect her along with some deeply buried feelings of grief.

He nudged her chin up with his knuckle as he wished to really see into her eyes. “I do not believe it is my time that is the source of your guilt.”

“What other reason could there be?” The question was a diversion but couldn’t hide the truth.

“Perhaps you feel that you have misjudged me?”

Her gaze skittered away again. “I’ll admit that I was wrong in believing you incapable of sincere feeling. But the fact is your name is linked to many women.”

So, she still thought him a womanizer. That was good. He had nothing to give any woman and her poor opinion would keep her at arm’s length.

“There have been many women,” he said. “But now I am married to only one,” he reminded her.

“Temporarily.”

“Agreed. But for the duration, you will have my undivided attention.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” she muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll show you what I’m made of,” she amended.

He smiled. “In return, I will make certain you are prepared for the journey and I will accompany you myself to see that no harm comes to you.”

“Again—Don’t you have more important things to do?”

“I have made arrangements. Besides, I promised to help you meet with your family. Despite what you have read about me, I am a man of my word.”

“Okay.” Then she looked at the horse and caught her top lip between her teeth again. “So…Where do we start?”

“As with any relationship, you must begin by making friends.”

Her look was wry. “There are so many things I could say, but it would be too easy. I’m holding back.”

“A wise decision.” He took her hand and placed it on the animal’s neck. “Stroke her and let her become accustomed to your touch and your scent.”

As Jessica obeyed his command, he observed her small white hand move hypnotically up and down the chestnut nose and neck of the animal. The scent of this woman invaded
his
senses and he was suddenly and acutely aroused.

“If you are ready,” he said, wondering if she heard the rasp in his voice, “It is time to mount.”

She let out a breath. “Okay.”

Fortunately she did not look at him. “Put your left foot in the stirrup, your hand on the saddle. Then push yourself up and swing your right leg over the horse’s rump.”

Her movements were slow, awkward, and his fingers itched to reach out and help. But he did not—for two reasons. She needed to learn. And the white cotton shirt and worn jeans that hugged her body intrigued him. He did not trust himself to touch her.

When she was securely sitting atop the animal, she smiled down at him. “Mission accomplished.”

“Hardly.” He laughed as he handed her the reins. “Mission begun.”

He explained how to control the horse by right and left movements with the reins. Then he guided the animal into the corral and with a gentle pat on the rump, it started to walk in a circle. As with all beginners, her backside slapped the leather of the saddle as she bounced up and down.

“Grip with your inner thighs to go with the animal’s gait.”

Her face wore a look of fierce concentration and he knew she was trying to comply. But Kardahl pictured twisted sheets and her legs around him and the vision produced an intense state of sexual frustration. Forcing away the images, he said, “Don’t bounce.”

“It’s not my fault. The horse is bouncing and I’m just going along for the ride. No pun intended,” she said breathlessly.

She continued to bobble like a rag doll and he knew the best and fastest way to get his point across was hands on instruction. Against his better judgment, he swung up behind her and put his hands on her thighs. “Press with your inner thighs. Use your legs or your backside will be most unhappy.”

“That makes two of us,” she snapped. “I’m trying to use my legs.”

And he was trying not to picture them around his waist.

He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Pressing against her, he used his body to help her get the feel of controlling the animal. For the next hour, he tortured himself, feeling her close. Touching her. Smelling the floral scent of her hair. With every ounce of his will, he attempted to douse the fire she started inside him, but was less than successful. That was unfortunate, because he’d given his word that he would not seduce her.

But it had been easy to give his word before he’d begun to want her.

Anger welled up inside him, like it had last night on the balcony. But now he understood why. He’d forced himself to feel nothing for the last two years, and Jessica was changing that.

Kardahl had promised not to touch her and he would keep his word even though her kiss had told him it was possible to have her despite her denial. He would keep his word because he had no wish to hurt her. He would keep his word because fate had taken from him what he cherished most. At night when he closed his eyes, he remembered the sounds—the screech of brakes, the crash and grinding of metal. Antonia’s terrified scream—the last sound he ever heard from her.

He had not been able to stop the reeling and rolling vehicle. In the dark he had not been able to find her. He had been able to do nothing to change the fact that he had lost the woman he loved and the child she carried that he had only just begun to love. He never wanted to feel so out of control again and since then had learned to control the only thing he could—his feelings. He ruled them with an iron will because the only way he could be sure he would never go through such agony again was to never again let himself feel.