The Sheik's Kidnapped Bride (8 page)

She shrugged. At least it felt like she was shrugging on the inside, even if she didn’t feel any movement on the outside. “I was afraid of what might happen. I didn’t want to go through that again. Except for when Gerald left me in that airport in
Kansas
, it was the most alone I’ve ever felt.”

Khalil
leaned close and took her glass from her, which was a good thing. When had her fingers gotten so stiff? She could barely bend them.

“You, my desert rose, tell a very sad story,” he murmured. “But all that is about to change.”

She desperately wanted to believe him. “Do you promise?”

“Yes.” He moved next to her and took her in his arms. “Nothing is going to hurt you ever again.”

“Not even you?”

“Least of all me.”

Then he kissed her. Those wonderful warm, firm lips settled on hers. Her eyes drifted slowly closed as a lethargy filled her body. She was drifting, drifting, drifting…And then there was only darkness.

The redheaded model strolled down the center of the showroom, her lithe, insanely slender body barely making any movement under the burnt umber silk of her column dress. Dora stared at the garment and tried to ignore the skinny eighteen-year-old beneath. While she adored the color, the style would never work on her. She shifted uncomfortably on the gilded chair in the exclusive salon
Khalil
had brought her to this morning. He’d wanted to buy her a new wardrobe before they left for El
Bahar
later that afternoon.

She told herself to be happy with his generosity. She told herself that he was being kind and attentive, and she very nearly bought into her own story. The only thing holding her back was the fact that she’d awakened alone in her bed that morning, and there hadn’t been any evidence that
Khalil
had ever joined her. But she wasn’t sure she had the right to be upset, either, because most of the previous evening was a blur.

She remembered bits of the wedding, and she remembered afterward, when she and
Khalil
had sat together talking. She certainly remembered the champagne. She pressed two fingers to her temple. Even now her head pounded in a not-so-gentle reminder that too much liquor on an empty stomach did not leave her feeling her best.

At some point she must have fallen asleep—she didn’t dare even think the phrase “passed out”—and
Khalil
had put her to bed. It’s not as if she wanted her husband to make love with her while she wasn’t conscious, so she shouldn’t be upset that she woke up alone. Technically nothing was wrong. Even so she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t exactly right, either. After all, she’d spent her wedding night alone.

Babette
, the owner of the fashion salon, fingered the delicate silk of the column dress. “The fabric is quite extraordinary,” she said. “And the color would be fabulous on madam.”

Oh, right, Dora thought glumly. And wouldn’t madam look amazing with her hips pulling at the seams and completely destroying the line of the dress. But she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything. The exclusive establishment left her feeling out of place and more than a little inadequate. All the saleswomen looked like former models.
Babette
was petite and incredibly well-dressed. Despite wearing her new favorite blue dress, Dora felt frumpy and fat by comparison.

Babette
regarded her thoughtfully. “However, I’m not sure the style is going to flatter madam.”

What insight, Dora thought sarcastically. Give that lady a prize. Then she sighed and reminded herself that her defensive attitude came more from fear than because she felt slighted. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong back in
Los Angeles
, either. She was homeless and confused and to make matters even more stressful, she’d just married a prince.

Khalil
had stationed himself at the rear of the viewing room, close to the entrance of the salon. As soon as Dora had been settled, he’d started making calls on his cellular phone. Now he dropped his phone into his jacket pocket and crossed to stand beside her. His gaze raked over the model who had paused to turn in front of him. Her pouty mouth curved up in what was an invitation to look…and maybe more. Dora wanted to slap the teenager and tell her to go back to high school. Instead she told herself that the shopping trip wasn’t going to last forever.

Khalil
turned to
Babette
. “The girl looks as if she hasn’t eaten in a month. Don’t you pay your models?”

Babette’s
perfectly made-up face blanched. “Your Highness, I assure you—”

He cut her off with a glance. “My wife has a wonderful womanly shape. I not only desire her, I am fortunate to have her as the future mother of my sons. She is a princess, madam. You would do well to remember that.”

Babette
managed to look both composed and stunned at the same time, while Dora was sure she only looked shocked.
Khalil
then bent down and pressed his mouth to her cheek. “I still have calls to make. Are you all right?” he asked quietly, his breath tickling her ear.

“I’m fine,” she managed to answer.

“Good. Let me know if they give you any trouble.”

With that he returned to the counter by the door and reached for his phone.
Babette
gave her an appraising glance. “He must love you very much, Your Highness. You are a fortunate woman.”

Dora didn’t have a response, so she just smiled. She was willing to admit to fortunate, but she was also confused. Did
Khalil
, as
Babette
suggested, love her? Dora wanted to believe that was so, but she wasn’t sure. Everything had happened so quickly.

She glanced up in time to see the redheaded model disappearing around a screen. Three more models appeared, each in a different type of clothing. One wore a short nightgown that barely skimmed her knees. The light green silk reflected the light, while side slits emphasized thighs, not hips. The second model sashayed along in a hunter-green velvet evening gown that was so beautiful, it made Dora’s mouth water. The shoulders were wide and padded, the neckline plunging, while the lightweight velvet skimmed over the lower half of the body. Dora thought she just might have a shot at wearing that dress and looking decent.

The final model had been attired for business, in a navy pin-striped coatdress with a wide collar. Behind the models, three more women appeared, each carrying several outfits.

“We will start with the basics,”
Babette
said, turning to her. “These are all in your size. Why don’t you see what you like, and then we can start with the fittings. Marie—” She pointed to a tall, young blonde. “We’ll need shoes.”
Babette
looked at Dora. “Your Highness, what size shoes? Oh, and may I offer you some coffee, or perhaps a light snack?”

Three hours later all Dora wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep for a week. She hadn’t realized that trying on clothes could be so exhausting. She stood in the center of a large dressing room with two fitters working on the dress she wore.

She’d lost track of how many outfits she’d already chosen.
Babette
had a master list, but for Dora it was all too confusing. There were the clothes themselves and the shoes.
Babette
had chosen hats for some of the dresses, as well as pins and scarves. There were wraps for evening gowns and a casual coat for her slacks. One clerk had brought out a tray of costume jewelry, but
Babette
had cast a meaningful glance at Dora’s impressive wedding band all the while murmuring that “Her Highness will not bother with artificial stones,” and the tray had been whisked away.

The two fitters finished their work. Dora took the moment of freedom to step out of the changing room and go find
Khalil
. What had he been doing all this time?

She made her way into the front of the showroom and saw him speaking with a young woman. At first Dora thought she was one of the salespeople—she was too short to be a model. Then Dora realized their conversation wasn’t the least bit casual.

As she watched, her controlled, elegant husband put his hand on the woman’s shoulder and pushed her away from him. The woman, her long, dark hair swaying down to the middle of her back, glared at him and spoke. Dora was too far away to hear their words, but she read the anger in the woman’s body language. Rage surrounded her like a venomous cloud.

Khalil
gestured. The woman shook her head, then, as if she’d just caught the scent of something unpleasant, she froze and turned.

Instinctively Dora took a step back. But it wasn’t enough. The young woman stared at her. She was so beautiful that Dora’s breath caught in her throat. Her perfect features were marred only by the look of pure hatred in her large, expressive eyes. For a moment, Dora thought her life was in danger. Then
Khalil
took the woman’s arm and led her out of the boutique. Dora moved toward them, wanting to ask him who the woman was, but before she got close enough,
Babette
had cornered her.

“Your Highness, you must try on the rest of the shoes.”

Dora nodded, but promised herself she wouldn’t forget to speak with
Khalil
later.

“
Khalil
, who was that woman in the store?” Dora asked as the limo drove them from the hotel to the airport where
Khalil’s
private jet waited. “The pretty one you were speaking with so intently.”

Khalil
thought about pretending he didn’t know what she meant, but he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t be easily distracted.

The pretty one, he thought with faint humor. Amber would be most insulted by the inadequate description. She wasn’t merely pretty—she was a goddess…and a snake.

“She is of no importance,” he told her with a smile. “A friend of the family. Her father works in government. I told her about our marriage.”

“She didn’t seem very happy about it.”

Khalil
thought of Amber’s shriek of rage and her threats to both him and Dora. “She was surprised, nothing more.”

He spoke easily because the lies were all Dora needed to know. The fact that Amber had gone for his eyes, then had called him names even he hadn’t realized she’d known wasn’t anything his wife needed to hear.

His wife. He looked over at the quiet stranger he’d married. She might not be as lovely as Amber, but in every other way she was Amber’s superior. If he’d had any doubts, the chance—or perhaps not-so-chance—encounter with his ex-fiancée in the salon had taken care of them. Dora would learn the duties of her new position quickly. She would be loyal, loving, and would never cause a scandal. If he were lucky, she might even grow to be more pliable with time.

He reached over and took her hand. “I’m happy to have married you,” he told her.

She gave him a slightly shaky smile. “I’m glad.”

He squeezed her fingers, then released her. Yes, he’d been fortunate to find a way out of his dilemma, and he’d found an adequate substitute as well. It had been a very successful trip.

Dora stared out the window of
Khalil’s
jet, but the terrain below was as unfamiliar as a moonscape. She didn’t know enough about the region to be able to tell where one country ended and another began, and unlike her school atlas, the different areas weren’t neatly color-coded. She could only stare and wonder if they’d crossed into El
Bahar
yet.

The trip was too long, she thought, trying to hold panic at bay. She’d had too much time to think, especially when
Khalil
had dimmed the cabin lights, stretched out in his comfortable seat and fallen asleep. Now they were within a few minutes of landing, and she desperately wanted to tell him that she’d changed her mind.

She glanced to her left and saw
Khalil
lost in a report on waste management. He’d slept for most of the eleven-hour flight, then had awakened in time to eat breakfast, shave and change into a clean shirt. She looked at her own wrinkled dress and wished she’d thought to bring something to put on before they landed, but she hadn’t and all her luggage was stowed in the belly of the jet.

I’m fine, she told herself, even though she didn’t believe the words or the sentiment behind them. She wasn’t fine, she was terrified. What on earth was she doing here?

In a panic, she reached for the air phone tucked neatly into her armrest. Then she paused. Who was she going to call? She hadn’t seen her father in twenty years, and her mother had passed away the year Dora had turned twenty-five. There weren’t any other relatives. As for friends, most of them were more acquaintances than people she would feel comfortable confiding in. Besides, what was she going to say? That in day two of her marriage, she was having serious second thoughts? That she was terrified about leaving her country behind and moving to El
Bahar
?

She dropped her hand back to her lap and sighed. She was going to have to get through the next few days without doing anything rash. In time, the situation would settle down, and she wouldn’t feel so lost in unfamiliar territory.

She looked at
Khalil
again and saw that he was still reading the same page of his report. Was he distracted as well? Was he having doubts? She desperately wanted to ask him, but then she decided she was afraid of the answer. What would she do if he said yes, that he wasn’t sure, either?

If only they’d had one more night in
New York
before leaving for El
Bahar
. If only she hadn’t gotten so drunk the night of their marriage so they could have talked more and made love. If he could have held her one more time and told her that he cared about her, she would have felt better about everything. But they hadn’t. Instead they’d boarded his private jet, repaired at last. There were not only the pilots, but two stewards who had seen to their every need and not given them a moment’s privacy.

Pressure built at her ears, and she instinctively swallowed. They were descending. Dora looked out the window and saw that they’d left the vast desert behind. Below them was a sprawling city with wide streets and hundreds of buildings, including modern glass towers. She caught a glimpse of glittering blue.