Cinderella and the Sheikh (Hot Contemporary Romance)

by Teresa Morgan

  Her face softened to a smile. "Rasyn. It's you. You worried me there."

  "I worried you?" He clenched his teeth. "Where have you been?"

  Libby folded a silk headscarf in her hands. "I went to an orphanage with Jarah."

  "Who the hell is Jarah?" Imaran's voice had an angry edge.

  Libby narrowed her eyes. "He's the servant you fired because I tripped him. Completely unfair, by the way. I think he's happier working with the kids, though."

  Jealousy slashed through Rasyn, but his cousin beat him to bringing it up. "You went off with a man, unchaperoned?"

  "I would have if I wanted to." Libby crossed her arms. "But Umm Tariq went with us. I think she likes the kids. We all played soccer with this ball that was half-flat. Rasyn, could we send them a new soccer ball?"

  Imaran interrupted them, his eyes flashing on Libby. "I had hoped you’d displayed the wisdom to leave the country. The Prince of Damali has been insulted.”

  "Imaran." Rasyn tamped down on a flare of anger. "I will handle this."

  "You had better teach her the Arabic for 'I'm sorry'," Imaran said. "The Prince of Damali arrives in two days. We cannot risk another incident."

  The color, and the defiant expression, drained from Libby's face. She actually trembled in his arms. Five minutes ago, he had wanted to shake some sense into her. Now, all he wanted to do was hold her and tell her everything would be all right.

  Libby's stomach churned inside her as Imaran strode down the hall, his blue-striped robe billowing behind him as if he were some kind of desert bandit. The prince was coming, and he wanted to speak to her. Waves of sick dread threatened to knock her from her feet.

  She faced Rasyn, uncertain what to say. Imaran saw the truth that he was blind to; she was the worst possible woman for him. Maybe Imaran's problem was that he was right.

  "Libby." The commanding tone of his voice painted a picture of the ruler he would be someday. As long as he didn't marry her. "Come."

  She followed him. There wasn't any other choice—this entire situation was her fault. Whatever fate awaited her, she deserved it.

  His crisp footsteps echoed off the high ceiling of the corridor, setting a pace that made her rush to keep up. She stared at the hem of his untucked white shirt, trying to think of something to say to make this all better.

  The punishing pace had her breathless by the time they arrived at Rasyn's apartment.

  He slammed the door behind her, granting them privacy. He bore down on her, his dark eyes half-lidded and filled with a dangerous gleam she'd never seen before. She'd thought Imaran looked like a bandit? Wildness radiated from Rasyn like a man possessed by a desert demon. A thrill of fear made Libby step backward, but the demon inside Rasyn wouldn't permit escape.

  In the space of a thought, he whisked her off her feet and up against the carved wooden door. He pressed himself against her, his broad chest as solid as the door at her back. She gasped in shock. He was so close she could barely breathe.

  He forced his mouth on hers, delving deeply with his hot tongue. She stiffened in surprise, too off-kilter to do anything but cling to his strong shoulders for support. His hands moved over her thighs, ribs, arms, as if needing the reassurance of every part of her.

  But something was wrong. There was no trace of the smile that usually lurked in his eyes. Beneath the surface of his outward passion, she sensed a tinge of a darker emotion she couldn’t identify.

  She put her hands on his to still them and broke the kiss. "Rasyn, what are you doing?"

  He drew back and raised a midnight-black eyebrow at her. "This is an old Middle Eastern custom called 'making love to you.' It is best to put up with it so you do not offend me," he said, his tone amused. "I would tell you that it would be over soon, but that would be lying."

  He bent to resume nibbling on the sensitive spot behind her ear, but she put up a hand to stop him, despite the sensual promise of his last words.

  "What's wrong?" She fought the heat of her own desire and the distraction of his strong hands on her hips. "Why are you doing this?"

  "We have been apart all day. I want you."

  The deep black of his eyes and flare of his nostrils told her it was true, but there was something else... She'd seen it before, in the hall.

  "I do have an ulterior motive." A roguish smile twitched his lips, but somehow she didn't trust that, either. "I thought to distract you from the meeting with Prince Hani."

  Her stomach clenched at the thought of the upcoming disaster. She managed to ignore it. "That's not it. I'm getting to know you, Rasyn. You're hiding something from your cousin, aren't you? I've seen it in your eyes."

  Instantly, his grip on her hips tightened nearly to the point of pain and she knew she'd hit the mark. The air around her seemed to thicken with tension. For a man who claimed to love her, Rasyn didn’t seem to want to share anything with her. Maybe that was how it was in his culture, but she could never live like that. Her parents hadn't only been in love, they'd been a team, each depending on the other's unique strengths.

  She looked away, lowering her gaze to the intricate mosaic floor. If there was no possibility of that with Rasyn, she thought, we're wasting each other's time. And I’m poisoning his chance to rule Abbas.

  Would he feel the same? Would he let her go? On the other hand, if she gave in to him, how long before he came to his senses and blamed her for the loss of his kingdom?

  Rasyn captured her face with his hands and forced her to look into the shadowed depth of his eyes. The raw honesty she saw there shocked her to her core.

  "I thought you had left me without saying goodbye."

  Her throat went desert dry. She could barely force a single word out of it. "No."

  "Promise me you will not."

  "Leave without saying goodbye?"

  "Leave," he said. "At all."

  The weight of his request nearly made her knees buckle. It would be too easy to give in, to let him persuade her. From some unknown core of strength, she managed to shake her head.

  His jaw hardened. "Then swear you will say goodbye. One last kiss."

  Despite the afternoon heat, a chill dropped over her. "I'm sorry. I have to be as honest with you as you've been with me. I can't promise that. If I do, you'll use that silver tongue of yours to get me to stay. We have to stop this. I have to leave. You're throwing away your future for me and I'm not worth it."

  A darkness fell over his face. "What do you imagine you know of my future?"

  "I know that the entire country wants you to succeed your uncle and that you're sabotaging yourself."

  "Do you call love 'sabotage'? My cousin will be an excellent ruler. He spent six years at university studying international relations. Two years ago he took a bullet defending our borders. An ideal king."

  "This doesn't explain why you don’t want it."

  At Rasyn's abrupt release, she nearly slid down the door. Somehow, she managed to keep her feet under her.

  "You do not know Imaran the way I do. He nearly died to do it."

  "I'm not sure him getting shot means he'll be a good king."

  "I was referring to another incident." Rasyn exhaled a long breath and sat himself on the sofa.

  She moved beside him, aware that her skirt, still grimy from playing with the orphans, left dust on his pants where they touched. "Tell me."

  "Everything has always come easily to me. Imaran has had to struggle and overcome. We went to Cambridge together, you know. While I was out having a good time, he was always home studying. He even..."

  Her nerves were electrified. Rasyn never spoke of his past. Of course she never asked. She was too busy pushing him away. "What did he do?"

  He looked down at his hands. "We always competed as children. I thought it was for fun. He took too many caffeine pills one night before a test, trying to beat my grade. He suffered a heart attack. A minor one."

  She touched his leg, trying to lend him what strength she could. "That's not your fault."
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br />   "It is. I did not even notice how hard he had been working. He could have died. He has been as a brother to me."

  Her chest ached for him, this proud man who showed the world the face of a playboy, but privately took on responsibilities that weren't his own. "That was a long time ago. You've learned your lesson and Imaran is okay now."

  "'Learned my lesson?'" The wildness in Rasyn's eyes shocked her. "What about today? I left you alone. Do you know what could have happened to you?"

  She'd never seen Rasyn look so... tired. He'd always been so strong. She hadn't imagined he had chinks in his armor.

  It would be so easy to throw her arms around him and pour out her support. Kiss him or try to make him laugh. Anything to make him feel better.

  But no. She couldn't get close to him. He had his armor—and she had hers.

  "I'm an adult," she said. "It was my choice, just like what Imaran did was his."

  Heartsore, she went to shower the day's dust from herself.

  ***

  Rasyn cursed himself as he walked the corridor. Even the night air couldn't cool his irritation with himself.

  What had possessed him to reveal Imaran's secrets to her? He had even kept the truth from his uncle. She watched him too closely, paid too much attention to him.

  It had been a surprising relief to talk about the past he had never discussed with anyone, though, and he trusted her with every cell in his body. She would never betray his confidence. She had a servant's loyalty. Still, he had to be more guarded.

  "Your Highness." The voice came from behind him.

  Rasyn turned to see a tall man in the robes of the Berber tribes native to the desert of western Abbas. He must be one of their leaders to be in the palace this late. Rasyn greeted him politely.

  "My name is Waseem, Your Highness. I have been waiting to speak to you alone," he said. "I will be blunt. We do not support your cousin. If your uncle should pass without identifying his heir, the Sharatin are at your command."

  The Sharatin. Rasyn's mind whirled. A large tribe, known for their fighting skills. He was proposing war against Imaran.

  "That will not be necessary," he told Waseem.

  "Let us hope that it is not." Waseem melted back into the darkness.

  Chapter Nine

  Rasyn drove down a road half-covered in shifting sand while Libby stared out the side window.

  She had no clue how much her life was about to change. In a few hours, she was going to be his wife. Whether she agreed or not.

  As distasteful as he found it, deceiving Libby into marrying him was the best option.

  It was unfortunate that there wasn't more time. He was confident he would have been able to overcome her doubts and convince her to marry him of her own free will. But there was no time for that now. Last night's encounter with Waseem and Uncle Anwar's rapid decline forced Rasyn's hand. The threat was too great, the danger too close.

  It was best for her as well. Prince Hani wouldn't be able to touch her if she was under the protection of a prince of Abbas.

  "You are so quiet, love. It's not like you."

  Libby gave him a smile, but it disappeared quickly.

  When he had told her that she had to stay in Abbas for another couple of days to meet Prince Hani, she'd gone uncharacteristically silent. It had taken all his persuasive powers to convince her. This time, he hadn't been forced to lie. If she didn’t keep the appointment, Prince Hani might take it as a personal insult.

  Seeing her deflate like a soccer ball with a leak had left him with a sour taste in his mouth. At least it had reminded him to send a crate of balls to the orphanage she'd mentioned, in Imaran's name. If he could have spared both of them the public display with the prince of Damali, he would have, but there was no escape.

  He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. "If I could spare you the meeting with Prince Hani, I would. You must trust me when I tell you I will not allow anything to happen to you."

  "Coming to Abbas was a bad idea. I should be home looking for a job."

  He attempted to convince her one more time. "Stay with me and you will never have to worry about a job again."

  "You don't get it," she said. "I'd go nuts without one. Besides, I like serving people."

  The marriage agreement in his pocket seemed to pulse, threatening to burn his skin.

  For the people of Abbas, Libby was about to do the ultimate service, preventing a war that would cost hundreds of lives.

  And if all went to plan, she would never know it.

  ***

  Libby frowned into the close-packed trunk of the Range Rover, grateful to have a task to take her mind off the dark hatred she'd seen on Prince Hani's face at the reception. A look she remembered too well; it appeared every time she closed her eyes.

  "Rasyn, where's the tent?"

  He set down the basket of supplies he'd been carrying and crossed over to her with long strides. He stood beside her, and frowned into the car over-dramatically, making fun of her.

  "Hmm. I may have forgotten it."

  She looked up at him, trying to figure out if he was serious. No luck. The setting sun cast a scarlet glow over his handsome features, but she couldn't read him at all.

  "By the way, I forgot something else. There's been a problem with your visa."

  "Can I be deported? Please? Before tomorrow?"

  "You have to sign this." He pulled a folded sheet of paper from the breast pocket of his loose white shirt and handed it to her, along with a gold pen.

  Libby unfolded it and scanned the page, which was covered in intricate, but undecipherable, script. "It's in Arabic. What am I signing?"

  "It ends the problem. You will be able to stay in Abbas for as long as you like. You will practically be a citizen."

  Despite the warning prickles on the back of her neck, she smoothed out the paper as best she could and signed her name, using the side of the truck as a flat surface. Rasyn took it and signed his own. Probably as a witness to her signature.

  "Now about this tent—"

  Rasyn interrupted, pulling her tight against his solid chest and tilting her chin up with one hand. The explosive meeting of their mouths sent shivers through every nerve in her body.

  "What was that for?" she asked, when she got her breath back.

  He shrugged. "It seemed appropriate."

  Libby ignored his confusing reply and tried to return to the job at hand, despite the fact that Rasyn kept her trapped in his arms. "Where's the tent?"

  "Why do you think we need one?" He put out a hand and looked up at a sky painted gold and ginger by the setting sun. "Does it look like rain?"

  "Be serious."

  She let Rasyn pull her over to the campsite, where she saw that he'd made a cozy nest of blankets and pillows directly on the sand. "It is just you, me and the stars. As it should be. Nothing else matters."

  As he said these last words, he lay down on the pile of blankets, and tugged on her hand to show her she should join him. Libby couldn’t resist. After her meeting with the Prince of Damali, she would leave Abbas and carefully guard her memories of Rasyn.

  His preparations reminded her of their first night, back in Hotel Scheherazade. From an ice-filled cooler, he pulled a bottle of champagne and poured her a glass. He fed her cheese and grapes and she licked the juice from his fingers as she leaned against his chest and watched the fiery sunset.

  "You're wrong." She watched the last dregs of light disappeared from the sky. "Something else matters. Your country. I heard about the law that parliament passed. If you marry me, you can't inherit the kingdom when your uncle dies."

  She felt Rasyn shrug. "It's too late."

  She whipped around to face him. He stared past her, at the stars winking into life in the indigo sky. Laying one hand against the raspy stubble of his chin, she turned his face toward her own. "It's not."

  "It was too late the moment I saw you. I won't let anything part us now."

  "But Abbas—"

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sp; "Heaven will see that things work out right." His tone exuded a confidence that Libby didn't share. "I love you. That is all that matters."

  He loved her. It hit her with a stabbing pain.

  She leaned against him, feeling his strength supporting her. He was an incredible man, standing with her when no one else would. When the world seemed aligned against her, Rasyn took her hand and defied everyone.

  Maybe he was right. If his love let him do all this, maybe it was all that mattered. Maybe time would solve everything between them.

  She imagined it, a life with Rasyn. A life with this extraordinary man constantly at her side. Maybe time would even let her fall in love with him...

  Libby felt the armor around her heart begin to crack.

  No. She couldn't let that happen. Immediately she summoned all her internal strength to reinforce the barriers against him. There was no way she could let him in.

  "What if I don’t love you?" The words came out in a rush. She looked away so that she wouldn't have to see the pain on his handsome face, drawing her knees tight to her chest.

  She felt Rasyn slip his hand under her shirt and begin to stroke the column of her spine. The heat of his touch contrasted with the rapidly cooling night.

  "Do you feel nothing for me?"

  Libby swallowed. What she felt for him, it definitely wasn't nothing. It wasn't love, either. It seemed insane that she didn't love him. But it was probably for the best. If she did love him, would she be able to walk away for his own good?

  "I care for you."

  His laugh made her turn. The sexy smile that she loved so much was back. With the night and the shadow of a beard on his face, she'd never seen him so tempting.

  "A few days ago, you could barely tolerate me. A week more and you'll be asking me to marry you, Princess."

  Heat flashed in her chest, sending her heart rate soaring. "I asked you not to call me that." She slapped his hand away from her back.

  "But that's what you are, to me."

  Suddenly, that smile seemed more sinister than sexy. A tool that he used to manipulate her. Without knowing where she could run, Libby started to stand, only to feel her wrist caught in his grip.