The Sheik's Kidnapped Bride (4 page)

But when he walked to the door and pulled it open, he didn’t see a uniform-clad waiter holding a tray. Instead a petite, dark-haired young woman with the face of an angel stared at him.

“Hello,
Khalil
.”

Her voice was little more than a low purr. She entered the room, moving with the grace of a cat. A deep blue sequined gown outlined every perfect curve of her siren’s body, makeup accentuated lovely features, especially her full, pouty mouth, and a cloud of sensual perfume settled around her. The light in the parlor flashed against the diamonds glittering at her ears, her neck, and her wrists. Her hands were small, her nails long. She was, on the outside at least, the most lovely female ever born.

She made his skin crawl.

Khalil
took a step back to avoid her brushing against him. She caught the involuntary gesture and smiled at him. “Are we to play that game again?” she asked as she moved into the room and draped her fur wrap over one of the chairs. “Am I to be the hunter while you are the frightened prey?” She moved close, neatly trapping him against a pillar. “I like that game.”

Sexual desire glinted in her almond-shaped eyes. She pressed her hands to his chest. “Kiss me,
Khalil
. Kiss me, and make love with me.”

Swallowing his repugnance, he pushed her away, then stalked to the window. “Get out,” he said, his voice low and controlled only by a supreme act of will. What he wanted to do was toss her out the window, or perhaps find a less violent way to keep her out of his life.

She closed the front door of the suite, then gave a low laugh. “But, darling, I’m the one who’s angry with you. Not the other way around. You’ve been in the city for nearly two weeks, yet you’ve not once called me or asked me to visit. I’m quite put out.” She pouted. The sexy movement of her mouth did little to arouse him.

“We have nothing to say to each other, Amber. I didn’t call you because I had no desire to spend time in your company.”

She waved her left hand at him. The large diamond there glittered like a dime-store bauble. But he knew the oversize solitaire was very real. He should know. He’d paid for it.

“You’re going to have to change your mind about me, my love,” she said. “After all, we are engaged.”

Khalil
turned away from her and stared out the window. As much as he wanted to ignore her words, he could not. “I don’t want to marry you,” he growled. “I’ve never wanted you.”

“But you are a prince, and therefore marry for duty and country, rather than personal feelings. I’m your duty,
Khalil
. I’m your destiny.”

He spun back to face her. Rage boiled inside of him. Rage and anger and frustration because there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to fix the problem.

Amber leaned against the sofa and smiled at him, her lovely cat smile exposing small, white, straight teeth. Behind those perfect features and that incredible body lay the heart and soul of a snake.

He knew the truth about her—that when she was in El
Bahar
she played the dutiful daughter, but when she left her country and family behind, she transformed. Out in the world, Amber was a hedonist. She’d taken her first man when she was thirteen. Since then her conquests had grown in number. He’d heard her called a beautiful whore, and he wasn’t sure he could find it in himself to disagree with the assessment.

She pushed away from the sofa and walked toward him. “I will have you,” she whispered. “You will marry me, and then you will bed me. I will be your wife.”

“Never.”

She laughed. “Break the engagement? I think not. After all, you’d have to give a reason. What would you say?”

“The truth.”

She laughed again. “Ah, that. You would go to my father, the prime minister of El
Bahar
, and offer him proof of my wild ways. You would taunt him with the facts, telling him that his favorite daughter, the very jewel of his life, was a great seducer of men? I don’t think so.”

Her brown eyes twinkled at the thought. “How sad he would be. That great statesman, a true leader and advocate of the people brought down by a wayward child.”

Khalil
ground his teeth together. He wanted to deny all that she said, but he could not. Amber was right—
lif
he,
Khalil
, told her father the truth about his daughter, the man would be destroyed. Ancient El
Baharian
custom demanded that the father take responsibility for the sins of his children.
Aleser
would resign as prime minister, and El
Bahar
would lose a great man. The choice was simple—his silence for his country’s future.

“I have money,” he said.

She dismissed him with a wave. “I have money, too,
Khalil
. What I don’t have is a title. I wish to be a princess.”

“What about queen?” he asked. “I would have thought that was more to your liking.”

She looked thoughtful. “It’s something I’ve considered, but I’m afraid that’s not an option. You see, I’ve already been with your brother.”

He froze. Not out of anger—at this point he didn’t give a damn about Amber’s bedmates—but in shock.
Malik
?

“It was after he lost his wife,” she said. She put her hands on her slender waist, then ran them down her hips. “He was so very sad, and he’d been drinking. I was alone, and one night I thought we could make each other feel better. He was very impressive.” Her gaze dropped to his crotch. “I’m hoping it’s a family attribute. Shall we see if we are as well-matched?”

Disgust with her curled in his stomach.

She moved closer. “Why wait? We will be married soon enough. In time I’ll have sons,
Khalil
. Your sons. And then you can deny me nothing.”

Coldness swept through him. It chilled him to his bones, then froze his soul. Resolve steeled his spine. He would not marry this woman. Somehow he would find a way to keep
Aleser
in office and avoid bedding this witch of a woman.

“Get out,” he told her. “I have no use for a whore this night.”

Her expression of good humor slipped a little. “Be careful,” she warned. “I’m a formidable enemy.”

“As am I, Amber. You believe you can say or do as you wish because I am trapped, but you are wrong. Know this.” He took a step toward her. “I will face down the devil himself before I marry you.”

“Yes, but will you destroy El
Bahar
?” she asked as she moved to the chair by the front door and retrieved her wrap. “You see,
Khalil
, the devil isn’t the problem. You are your own worst enemy in this. You’re a dutiful prince. You adore your people and your country. You would die for them.” She laughed. “You would even marry me for them. So you see, I have nothing to fear.”

She gave him a mocking bow, then left. Even as she closed the door, he could hear the light sound of her laughter.

He swore long and loud into the silence. Anger, no rage, raced through him, propelling him back to the window. He curled his hands into useless fists and wished to be anywhere but here.

He would not marry her. He swore by his honor as his father’s son he would find a way out of this dilemma. But how? Did Amber have him so neatly trapped that there was no escape?

He paced to the door, then returned to the window. Frustration built inside of him. Could he tell his father privately? Would the king believe him without proof?
Khalil
shook his head. If he had proof of Amber’s true nature, the king would feel obligated to go to his good friend,
Aleser
, and tell him about his daughter. As far as
Khalil
could see, all roads led to disaster.

He had paced for nearly an hour when the phone rang. The sharp sound startled him. He crossed to the instrument on the desk in the corner and picked up the receiver. As he did so, he heard Dora’s voice.

“Hello?”

Khalil
was about to hang up when a man said, “Dora, it’s Gerald. Where the hell have you been?”

Khalil
heard Dora’s sharp gasp over the phone. He had the brief thought that he shouldn’t listen, then dismissed the idea of hanging up. He was curious about Gerald. The man had behaved inappropriately and was a fool. Dora wasn’t especially beautiful, but she was a good worker and he,
Khalil
, liked her.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“When you canceled the caterer, you left them a phone number. Now tell me what the hell you think you’re doing? You’ve completely canceled the wedding. How dare you do that without speaking with me first?”

“How dare I cancel the wedding? You’re the one who had his hand up a married woman’s skirt, and you want to know how I dare anything? You’re an insensitive cad, Gerald. Do you even know what time it is here?”

“It’s a little after ten. What of it?”

“It’s after one in the morning. I’m in
New York
. But as you never dial your own phone, you probably wouldn’t recognize the area code.” She sighed. “Not that any of this matters.”

“You’re damn right it doesn’t matter,” Gerald growled. “I don’t care if you’re in
New York
or
Zimbabwe
. You get your fat ass back here by the end of the week. Do you hear me?”

Khalil
tightened his grip on the phone. Dora’s cry of pain was barely audible, but he heard it.

“No,” she managed, although her voice was a little shaky. “The engagement is over. I can’t believe I was so stupid about you. You’re nothing but a faithless jerk, and I was a moron to think you were more. I’m glad you’re out of my life.”

“You don’t know how I wish I could stay out of it, Dora, but I can’t. Mr. Greene wants to know where you are. However much either of us would like to end it right now, we can’t.”

She sniffed. “That’s where you’re wrong. I have ended it.”

“The hell you have. What am I supposed to tell Greene?”

“How about the truth? How about telling him the only reason you said we were getting married was that you’d gotten caught? Why don’t you tell him that in addition to trying to sleep with me, you’ve also been doing it with Glenda and Lord only knows who else?”

“I will not lose my job because some dried-up old virgin gets cold feet.”

Khalil
found himself wondering how Gerald would look after several encounters with a horsewhip.

“You always were an expert at sweet talk,” she said sarcastically. “Go to hell, Gerald. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“I’ve been to hell,” he countered. “I went there every time I thought about having to make love with you. Did you ever wonder why I never tried? I was actually grateful old man Greene caught us that first night because there was no way I was going to do anything with you. You’re already an old woman, and you’re barely thirty. You were born a virgin, and you’re going to die one. No man in his right mind is ever going to want you. I’d like to—”

Khalil
heard a click and knew that Dora had hung up the phone. He replaced his receiver as well, then stood in the silence of the living room. From there he could hear the faint sounds of Dora’s sobs. Her pain was as tangible as the furniture in the room.

He shifted uncomfortably. Until this moment, he’d not thought of his temporary assistant as a real person. She was efficient, intelligent and humorous. He’d enjoyed working with her. He’d known she was alive, but he’d not realized she was someone with hopes and dreams, someone with a spirit, someone now bleeding from the inside.

“We’ve both had a hell of an evening,” he muttered. He’d had to deal with Amber’s threats while she’d been tormented by Gerald. A grim smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Perhaps he would fix Gerald up with Amber—the two deserved each other.

He crossed to the bar at the far end of the room. He needed a drink. But instead of pouring cognac into the snifter, he paused. An idea formed. It was ridiculous and insane, as was he for even thinking it, but once the idea formed, it wouldn’t go away. He set the bottle back on the bar and moved toward the hallway.

There, the semidarkness swallowed him. As he walked, the sounds of Dora’s cries were more audible. Gerald hadn’t just rejected her, he’d stripped her of the last of her woman’s pride. Perhaps he’d tapped into some secret fear she had of not being pretty, or desirable, or whatever it was that worried thirty-year-old virgins.

He paused outside her door. The idea circled in his brain. He had to find a way to break off his engagement with Amber and do so without endangering her father’s position in his country’s government. He,
Khalil
, insisted on marrying a virgin. His bride-to-be would be a princess, which was more than license to be ornamental. She had to be intelligent and committed to the betterment of El
Bahar
. He wanted someone sensible, deferential and even-tempered, yet he wanted to enjoy her company. While marrying for passion would be nice, finding a woman who would be a good mother was more important.

He pictured Dora—her soft brown eyes and easy smile. Her body was harder to imagine, mostly because he’d not paid much attention to it. She had broad hips—childbearing hips. Unlike Amber’s slender frame, Dora had been built to give a man strong sons.

She was not deferential, nor was she likely to allow her will to bend to his, but she had nearly all the other qualities he sought in a wife, and she was a virgin.

He hesitated in the hallway, sorting through the information. His father would be furious. It would be some time before
Khalil
would be forgiven for such an impulsive act. Turning his back on his engagement with Amber would bring momentary dishonor to his family, and the king would not forget.
Khalil
drew in a deep breath. Perhaps in time he could explain why, but in the short-term, he would have to accept his father’s displeasure.

He turned the handle, and the door opened silently. Dora lay curled up on the bed like a child. She’d pulled her knees to her chest, and her hands covered her face. Her sobs had quieted, but her shoulders shook. Once again he could feel her pain and knew that she’d been stabbed down to her very soul. Perhaps she was not whom he would have chosen, but she was better than many others. A man could do much worse.

That decided, he crossed to her bed and sat on the mattress. She jumped and half sat up, then cried out and jerked the covers to her shoulders.

“
Khalil
, I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”

Tears covered her face. Her eyes and mouth were swollen. She was not at her most attractive, yet
Khalil
found himself strangely drawn to her. He reached out and cupped her cheek, then used his thumb to wipe away her tears. Her skin was soft and damp, and oddly appealing.

“I couldn’t stand it,” he said. “To hear your pain. Sweet, sweet Dora.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Her shock was a tangible presence in the room. He suspected that if he hadn’t caught her so off guard, she would never have allowed herself to be drawn against him.

She held herself stiffly. Instead of hugging him back, her arms hung limply at her sides. Yet the feel of her this close was not unpleasant. Until now he’d never noticed the feminine scent of her body. Instinctively he knew the smell didn’t come from any expensive store, but was instead her own private perfume. The heady fragrance made him think of warm sunlight and laughter. An odd combination considering it was the dead of night and she was in tears.

“I don’t…You can’t…” She sniffed. “
Khalil
?”

“I understand,” he told her, again cupping her face, but this time with the intent of kissing her. With the light spilling in from the hall, he could see the outline of her breasts under the cotton gown she wore. How innocent was she? Had any man seen those curves, touched them, tasted them?

He found himself aroused, not just at the thought of her innocence, but by the feel of her womanly body against his. He could already feel the heat of his own growing desire. Making love with Dora was going to be surprisingly easy. In one single act of possession, he was going to solve both their problems.

Dora fought against the emotional fog that clouded her brain. She couldn’t think clearly. Obviously she was caught up in some dream—or was it a nightmare—brought on by her own exhaustion and Gerald’s phone call. Because there was no other explanation. No way was
Khalil
actually in her bedroom, sitting next to her and holding her close.

Except her dream was far too real. She could feel the hard planes of his chest, the strength of his arms, and the fiery heat of his body. Long, male fingers stroked her face, brushing away tears she hadn’t realized still spilled from the corners of her eyes.

“
Khalil
?”

“Hush, my love. Hush.”

She couldn’t be quiet. There were too many questions. “What are you doing here?” she asked again, trying to ignore the fact that he’d called her “love.” She looked at him. “Are you drunk?”

For a second, something hot and wild tightened his expression. She had the oddest sensation that he wasn’t going to say a word, but instead pull her close and kiss her. Rather than being horrified, she found herself leaning toward him, wanting his kiss, regardless of whether or not this was a dream.

“Of course not,” he told her. He rose to his feet and crossed to her door. A protest formed in the back of her throat. Was he going to leave her? But he didn’t. He pulled the door shut, then flipped on the light switch. Instantly the lamp on her nightstand came on and flooded the room with light.

Dora briefly closed her eyes in horror at the thought of what she must look like. No doubt her skin was red and blotchy from her crying, while her hair was a mess, and she was curled up in bed like an invalid. What must
Khalil
think of her?

Before she could come up with an answer, or even speak the question aloud, her brain reasserted itself, and she realized she still didn’t know what he was doing in her room in the middle of the night.

“
Khalil
?”

She’d thought he might turn on his heel and leave. She’d thought he might start speaking. She even imagined him beginning a detailed conversation on crop management. But she never expected him to cross to the bed, sink back onto the mattress, take her hands in his and begin kissing her fingers.

She blinked several times, wondering if the blood flow to her brain had been interrupted by her crying jag. Or maybe she’d had a small stroke or seizure. There was no way she was really staring at Prince
Khalil
Khan of El
Bahar
sitting on her bed, holding her hands and deliberately, passionately kissing her skin.

But even as she doubted her eyes, she couldn’t doubt her senses. Shivers rippled up her arms as heat flooded her. He pressed his mouth to each sensitive fingertip, then nibbled on the pad of her thumbs. Sounds collected in the back of her throat, but she could not speak. Air filled her lungs, but she could not exhale. Her legs stirred restlessly as her brain jumped from sensation to sensation, not sure which to settle upon. Between her thighs she felt an unfamiliar pressure, a heaviness and warmth. Her breasts seemed to swell, her nipples ached. Was this really happening to her?

“I will destroy him,” he murmured against her skin. “I will have him shot.”

“What?” she breathed. “Shot? Who?”

“That son of a jackal. That eater of camel dung. Gerald.” He practically spat out the name.

She jumped. “Gerald?”

He raised his head and looked at her. His thick dark hair was no longer perfect and several strands fell over his forehead. His eyes burned with anger and possession. She blinked. Possession? Of her? Impossible.

“I heard you on the phone with him. He is a disgusting excuse for a man. How dare he treat you so badly? He is stupid and worthless. You, sweet Dora, you are a prize. Lovely and intelligent, you are all that a man could want in a woman. I swear I will have him shot, or if you won’t agree to that, I’ll at least have him horsewhipped.”

They’d fallen into an alternate universe. It was the only possible explanation for what was happening. Because this sure wasn’t her life. Men did not profess her to be a prize, and if one were to do that, he wouldn’t be someone like
Khalil
.

“I d-don’t understand,” she managed to say, her voice trembling.

“You’re better off without him,” he said. “Gerald doesn’t deserve you. Be happy that you’re free of him.” He gripped her hands more tightly. “I want you,” he told her hoarsely. “I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you at the airport. It’s been as torturous as the fires of hell working with you these past two weeks, playing the employer when the role I truly sought was that of your lover.”

His hot, dark gaze held her captive. She wanted to look away, but she could not. She also wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t do that, either. Maybe he’d overheard part of her conversation with Gerald and felt sorry for her. While the sentiment was admirable, she wasn’t interested in anyone’s pity.

“I don’t understand what you think you’re doing,” she began. “It’s very nice of you to be concerned, but I’m fine.” She thought about her tears, then shrugged. “Okay, saying I’m fine is pushing it, but I will be fine, eventually. You don’t have to pretend that you—”