The Sheikh’s Reluctant Bride (5 page)

A
S HER
horse skittered and danced on the mountain trail, Jessica wasn’t so much worried about pain in her backside as she was about keeping her backside in the saddle. Riding beside her, Kardahl reined in then reached over and patted her horse’s neck as he spoke soothingly. He had worked with her every day for a week and finally pronounced her skills limited, but adequate for the trip.

“You must relax,” he said to her. When she opened her mouth to deny it, he simply cocked his head and stared.

“All right. It’s my own fault. When you said we’d be there soon, I got excited.”

“Your mount senses this and reacted.”

“Even though I’m excited in a good way?”

His serious expression turned wry. “She is smart, but incapable of discerning the fine distinctions of your mood. She knows only that you are not relaxed and this makes her afraid.”

“She’s not the only one.”

“I told you that I would let no harm come to you.”

His look was ultrasincere, identical to the one he’d worn when he’d first made that promise and insisted he accompany her on this trip. She’d tried to talk him out of it without revealing the real reason she was reluctant for him to come along. She didn’t want to spend time with him.

Since he’d told her about losing his love, she could feel her attitude slipping and she was counting on it to defend her against his three-pronged assault: charm, humor and looks. She needed time to reassert her neutrality, but he hadn’t given it to her. Because, she realized glancing around the isolation of the mountains, she figured he was using the time, too, time to let the news of his marriage settle in with the press.

She glanced at him beside her, and her heart gave a little lurch. Although she wanted to blame it on the horse, it was all about the dashing figure he cut in the saddle. Sitting tall and proud, he looked every inch a prince of the desert. High polished boots covered his muscular calves. She’d have thought snug riding breeches would make a man look like a sissy, but not this man. And the loose cotton shirt with wide sleeves that caught the wind was buttoned to a vee that revealed just a hint of dark chest hair, making her want to see more. So much for shoring up her attitude.

“I’m not afraid of falling off my horse,” she explained. “At least that’s not the only thing.”

“What else troubles you?”

Scanning the grass and trees of the hills, she wondered at a country with such diversity of terrain. This was so different from the sand and rocks in the desert below. With a security detail discreetly in attendance, they’d driven from the palace as far as possible, then climbed on horses for the part not accessible to even the sturdiest vehicle—or the family helicopter. Now she could see why. The path was narrow and wouldn’t accommodate anything wider than the hips of her trusty mood-sensing mount. And of course Kardahl’s.

The thing was, in thirty minutes she might get a family, something she’d wanted for as long as she could remember and thought she would never have. Or, they might shun her because she was the result of her mother’s affair with a married man. They’d agreed to meet and that boded well, but she knew nothing about her family. Maybe her mother had good reason for running away and never contacting them again. Jess had always wondered and wanted family, but now that there was a chance, if it didn’t work out she knew the fall would be bad. A bruised backside was nothing compared to the bruising her soul would take.

“What if they don’t like me?” she blurted out. She sounded like a kid and knew her insecurity was showing. And she wished anyone but Kardahl had seen it, but he was the only one here.

He put his hand over hers. “If they don’t like you, then they are stupid and the loss is theirs.”

The words pushed the lump of emotion from her chest into her throat and she swallowed once. “I’m sorry. Were you being funny?”

“No.”

“Just checking.” Her voice cracked and she wished he wouldn’t be nice. Although, with the exception of that kiss, he’d been unfailingly nice. And she couldn’t blame him for her own wicked streak that made her want him to be less polite and give her another chance to kiss him.

She looked away from the sensual curve of his mouth, at the sun descending toward the top of a distant peak. She didn’t want him to see that her tension went deeper than humor could hide. She’d already let him see too much and blamed it on the fact that he’d shown her deep feelings of which she hadn’t thought him capable. It just made everything more complicated and would have been so much easier if he’d stayed back at the palace like any self-respecting playboy prince.

They rode in silence for a while and when she felt her nerves pull tight again, she decided it was in her best interest to let him take her mind off things so her horse wouldn’t spook.

“Tell me about the desert people,” she asked.

He glanced over, then back at the path. “They are wanderers.”

“Why? If anyone knows the value in putting down roots, it’s me.”

“Tradition is their roots. Two hundred years ago a son of the king challenged the rightful heir to the throne.” He looked at her. “That is when the bloodlines split.”

“So there’s a rebellious streak in my family tree.”

His only answer was a smile that turned her insides to liquid smoke. “The rebel and his followers were turned away and took refuge in the far reaches of the desert, far from the capital. Since then, they have protected Bha’Khar’s borders from invading enemies. Now they maintain the customs of their ancestors and live off the land. They raise cattle, sheep and some of the finest horses in the world. To escape the heat and find grazing land for the stock, they take to the mountains as the summer months approach.”

“When I was a little girl, my mother told me stories at bedtime, about the mountains and skilled riders. But I thought it was something she made up.”

As Jessica watched the sun disappear behind the mountain, she felt a connection. Maybe she’d inherited a little of that skill and it’s what made horseback riding come easily to her. The downside of inherited traits were the less positive ones—like attraction to what you knew was bad for you. Like Kardahl, she thought, glancing over as the wind blew his black hair and highlighted the noble brow and strong jaw. He might be capable of deep feeling once. But now he went from woman to woman on a regular basis, just like every man in her mother’s life.

But as they reached the top of the mountain and a village came into view, she was awfully grateful for his presence. His brief history of her people had taken her mind off her anxiety. His steady voice and presence had kept her calm when fear washed over her, the same fear she’d felt when her plane landed in Bha’Khar. She looked at him and realized it wasn’t the same fear at all because she’d been alone in that plane and she wasn’t now.

As they rode into camp, women and children lined the dirt road, smiling shyly. Kardahl reined in his horse when they reached the center of the village. Jess could see now that the buildings were wooden frames, and semipermanent, but the walls were canvas that could be rolled up for easy transport.

By the time her horse stopped, Kardahl had dismounted. When she prepared to slide down, he reached up and lifted her to the ground. The feel of his strong hands as he let her body graze his own sent tingles of awareness arrowing through her and she realized she was feeling a fear like she’d never felt before.

She’d grown up believing she was alone and had come halfway around the world to meet someone who shared her DNA. It was about to happen. Not only had he facilitated this moment, Kardahl hadn’t left her alone. And it was wonderful.

Impulsively she threw her arms around his neck in a hug. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“Had I known such a sweet reward awaited, I would have increased the pace,” he said, pulling her tight against him.

The seductive humor in his voice brought a flush to her cheeks as she stepped out of his sheltering embrace. This was just part of their deal and so far he’d been her sheikh-in-shining-armor. But it wasn’t something she could count on; it was a temporary truce. When she was alone again, and there was no doubt in her mind she would be, unlike her mother she wouldn’t be devastated—for two important reasons.

Jessica wasn’t expecting romance. And she would be the one to walk away.

She turned and saw a woman with dark hair and eyes coming toward them. “Jessica?”

“Yes.”

“I am Aminah. Your mother Maram was my older sister. It is my pleasure to meet you.” She smiled her mother’s smile.

Jess’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t have the words to tell you what it means to me to meet you—” Her voice cracked and she pressed a hand over her mouth as emotion swamped her.

Arms enveloped her again, this time maternal. It was her mother’s sister holding her and patting her back and hair as she whispered words that were nothing—and everything.

“Do not weep, little one. This is a joyous occasion.”

“I know.” Jess pulled back a little then hugged her aunt again. After all, she had twenty-three years of hugs to make up for. Beside her, the horses snorted and pawed their hooves across the dirt. She glanced at Kardahl. “This is His Royal Highness Kardahl Hourani. My husband,” she added. She met his gaze. “This is my aunt Aminah.”

Her insides lit up like a Christmas tree at being able to introduce a family member, other than her mother, for the first time in her life.

Aminah nodded. “Your Highness, welcome.”

“Thank you.”

“We received word of your impending arrival and my husband regrets that he could not be here to greet you. He is overseeing the birth of a prized foal. It is unexpected and he sends his apologies to you and the niece he is most anxious to meet.”

She had an uncle, too, Jess thought. Along with her inner-Christmas tree, she felt like the kid who’d just opened the gift she’d asked Santa for.

“Please come inside. Rest after your journey.”

Her aunt turned away and Jess noticed that the dress she wore was a colorful fabric made of interwoven blue and gold strands. Inside the house propane-fueled lanterns illuminated the interior. In the corner, a wooden frame piled with pillows and blankets served as the bed. There were more pillows grouped around a table in the living area and a small wooden table and chairs sat off to the side.

“Please sit,” her aunt instructed.

When they did, she poured water into glasses and set out bread and cheese.

Jessica was too excited to eat. “Now that I’m here, I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

“Nor I. Although there is much to catch up on.”

“Kardahl said that you—my family—searched after my mother left.”

She nodded sadly. “That is true. Maram—”

“To me she was Mary,” Jess explained. “I’m not sure where the name Sterling came from.”

Her aunt looked puzzled. “It was not your father’s surname.”

“You know him?” Jess asked.

“I know who he was. And that he betrayed my sister’s trust.” Her aunt sat and took Jess’s hands into her own. “Do not feel shame, my niece. There is none for you. Sadly my sister—I wish, as do my parents that she had come to us. But pride prevented it and we cannot change the past.” She smiled at Kardahl. “Tradition has found a way and your betrothed returned. It pleases my family.”

“Mine as well,” he said.

Jessica couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his tone was polite, although when his gaze collided with hers the gleam there told her he was thinking of their nonconsummation pact. Then she was distracted when her aunt asked questions about her mother and growing up in America. Jess decided to keep the painful details of her mother’s illness to herself, but her aunt was distressed about the fact that she’d grown up in a state home.

Her eyes filled with tears. “Had we but known, you would have been brought to your family. That I was not there for you is a regret that I will carry all the days of my life.”

“You had no way of knowing,” Jess said. But it was as if the good intentions started closing up the hole in her heart. “It’s all right.”

“It is not. I know how swiftly the years pass and what I have missed. My own children have grown so quickly—”

“I have cousins?”

Her aunt nodded. “Three. All girls.”

“I want to meet them.”

Her aunt smiled, but it was a little sad. “They are at school in the city. Because we are herders, our life is not permanent and their father and I insist on their receiving a level of education they could not otherwise have if they traveled with us. I miss them terribly.”

“What about the school-age children we saw when we rode in?”

“I teach them. But we have not many resources to offer when they become teenagers.”

“So you’re separated for months?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Her aunt sighed, then shook off her sadness. “But you must be weary from your journey. I will show you and your husband to the place I have prepared for your stay.”

Jessica had a bad feeling that it wouldn’t be as big as Kardahl’s palace suite. In fact it was probably a single room like this. And that would reduce the wide-open spaces to not-so-wide, not-so-open and space? Not so much. She’d appreciated having him there, but hadn’t thought through the fact that he would be
there
24/7.

Jessica looked around the little house, tent, cabin—she didn’t know what to call it—where her aunt had left them alone for the night.

“It’s a little isolated from the rest of the village,” she said.

“We are on our honeymoon,” he reminded her. “Your aunt is most considerate.”

“I suppose it’s not a good idea to clue her in that there won’t be any horizontal hokeypokey because of the annulment.”

“No,” he agreed. “Even as isolated as we are, that kind of information has a way of being given to the press before it is expedient to do so. For such news to get out too soon would be counterproductive to what we are trying to accomplish.”

“That’s what I thought.” She kept her back to him, hoping the dim lantern light hid the flush creeping up her neck into her cheeks. Glancing around at the place that was the mirror image of her aunt’s she said, “This is nice.”