A Christmas Bride for the King

by Abby Green

  ‘Look at me, Charlotte.’

  Her name rolled off his tongue as if he’d been saying it all his life. He could recognise now that he’d been using Miss McQuillan to keep her at a distance. There would be no more distance, he vowed now.

  It seemed to take an age for her to open her eyes, and when she did they were dark green, like Scottish moss after a rain shower. She looked as dazed as he felt.

  Without taking his gaze off hers he let his fingers find the buttons on her shirt and he started to undo them, slipping them through the holes with gratifying ease, the silky material providing no resistance.

  When her shirt was open to just below her breasts Salim looked down, and the breath hissed through his teeth at the provocative sight of the voluptuous bounty. Pale swells rising from dark grey lace.

  He moved her shirt aside and, feeling rough and uncouth, tugged one lace cup down. Her breast popped free, revealing the sharp point of a pink nipple.

  Salim’s mouth watered. He’d never felt so turned on after little more than heavy petting. He cupped her breast and flicked his thumb back and forth across her nipple, seeing how it tightened even more, the aureole beading around it.

  He looked at her. ‘You like that?’

  Charlotte’s hands were gripping his arms and the need on her face was stark enough to render words superfluous. She looked stunned.

  ‘I’ve wanted to see you like this,’ he heard himself say hoarsely, ‘undone...since the moment I walked into my office and found you waiting like a stern headmistress. All buttoned up and disapproving.’

  Unable to resist tasting her again, he closed his hand around her breast. Her nipple stabbed his palm and he claimed her mouth again...greedy, desperate...and she opened up under him like a flower, arching her body into his and pushing her breast deeper into his palm.

  Salim was oblivious to everything but the raging need in his body to embed himself deep in her silky heat until finally, finally, he might feel a sense of peace that had eluded him for as long as he could remember.

  Charlotte had had the briefest moment of sanity when she’d tried her best to resist Salim after he’d started kissing her, but her resistance and that moment of sanity had been pathetically weak and illusory.

  From the moment his mouth had touched hers it had been as if he’d reached inside her and lit a fire that was only his to light. A fire she’d hadn’t even known could exist, consuming her to the point that all rational thought was burnt away.

  This is what desire feels like...whispered a voice.

  No one had ever made her feel like this before. She’d been on dates, she’d kissed men, but she’d always felt unmoved. As if she was standing outside herself and watching. It had reinforced her belief that keeping her distance was a good thing.

  But right here, right now, with this man...distance was the last thing she wanted. She was fully in her body for the first time, and the sensations were so acute that it was almost painful.

  Salim’s tongue stroked hers with a sure mastery that she could only follow, and mimic blindly. His hand gripped her breast hard, but she wanted it even harder. She wanted him to pinch her nipple again, inducing that sting of shock followed by intense pleasure.

  The fact that there was a room full of strangers just feet beyond where they stood, suspended in time, was something Charlotte was only very dimly aware of. The fact that she hated everything this man represented had also receded to some shadowy place she’d weakly turned her mind from.

  The stubble of Salim’s short beard scratched at her jaw as his mouth trailed from the corner of her mouth and down. Even that was erotic, sending shockwaves down deep into her core. Her head fell back, too heavy, and he pressed a hot open-mouthed kiss to her neck. She felt the sting of teeth and then his tongue, soothing. She was being held up only by his arm and the wall of shelves behind her.

  It took a few moments for a rhythmic noise to break through the fog in her brain. She thought it was her heartbeat, but it wasn’t, and when it registered properly she froze.

  Someone was knocking on the door and she heard a panicky voice, ‘Sire...? Sire...are you in there? Please?’

  The door handle rattled and Salim’s head came up. His hair was mussed and his eyes were heavy-lidded. His cheeks were flushed. He looked exactly how she imagined a fallen angel would look. Wicked and sexy and innocent all at once.

  But as reality seeped back a chill wind skated over Charlotte’s skin. She looked down to see her blouse hanging open and one breast bared, her nipple pink and hard. There were marks on her pale skin—marks from his fingers.

  Mortification drenched her as the full enormity of what had just happened sank in.

  Salim finally stepped back and jerkily she pulled up her bra.

  She could still feel the press of his arousal against her belly, long and hard. It was small comfort, though, to know he’d been as turned on as her...it only made her feel even more confused.

  She sent up silent thanks that her hands weren’t shaking as she did up her shirt buttons. The lace of her bra chafed against her sensitised nipples and the betraying damp heat between her legs told of just how seismic this man’s effect on her had been.

  Charlotte risked a look at Salim. His mouth was open, as if he was about to say something, but just then the doorknob rattled again and Charlotte had never felt so relieved. She did not want to discuss what had just happened. Not when she felt so raw.

  The panicked-sounding voice floated through. ‘Please, sire...’

  Salim was still looking at her, and Charlotte said with rising panic, ‘Shouldn’t you see who that is?’

  Finally Salim issued an Arabic curse under his breath and turned around and strode to the door, his movements lacking their customary grace.

  When he opened the door she heard Rafa’s anxious voice say, ‘Sire, there is something of utmost importance I need to tell you.’

  Charlotte walked over to the door on wobbly legs, and when Rafa saw her his eyes widened, telling her in no uncertain terms that she wore the marks of Salim’s lovemaking like a gauche teenager. Mortified all over again, Charlotte used the opportunity to escape, sliding around Salim, careful not to come into contact with him or meet his eyes.

  She muttered something incomprehensible, and didn’t look left or right as she left the revellers in the ballroom behind her.

  When Charlotte reached the sanctuary of her rooms, she went straight into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror—and gasped. It was worse than she’d thought.

  Her eyes were huge and dark green. Her lips were swollen. Her cheeks were flushed and her jaw was pink from Salim’s stubble. Where her jaw met her neck there was a distinctive mark and she touched it now, remembering the nipping of teeth, the soothing of a tongue. His tongue.

  With trembling hands she undid her shirt again and opened it, pulling down her bra to look at her breast. The marks of his hand were still on her pale flesh, but fading. Between her legs a pulse throbbed when she thought of the firm pressure of his hand on her flesh, her nipple trapped between two fingers.

  She looked back at herself and almost didn’t recognise the person reflected in the mirror. This was so far removed from the sane responsible person she thought she was—not given to whims or vagaries. Or spontaneous combustion.

  Her legs were still dangerously wobbly and she put her hands on the sink in order to stay upright. She had memories of seeing her parents kissing, before they’d divorced, and they had always frightened her because there had been something so animalistic about it. But when she thought of how she’d behaved just now she realised that their impulses were hers too, in spite of everything. Genes will out, no matter what.

  And yet how he’d made her feel for those few moments had been the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.

  Her fingers were curled so tight around the rim of the sink that she had to uncurl them for fear of cracking the porcelain.

  There was a peremptory knock on her do
or and immediately she felt ridiculous, mooning at herself in the mirror. She did up her shirt and tried to smooth her hair, hoping the mark on her neck wasn’t too visible.

  Assuming it would probably be the nice girl who was her obligatory maid—Assa—she opened the door to find her eye level not on the face of a pretty dark-eyed girl but on a very broad chest. A very familiar chest. A chest that not long ago she’d been rubbing her breasts against like a hungry little kitten.

  She looked up to see Salim, his expression stern. Immediately she asked, ‘What is it?’

  ‘May I come in?’

  Charlotte would have bet money on the fact that Salim was regretting what had just happened even more than her, so she stood back and tried not to notice how her body immediately hummed in close proximity to his again.

  As he walked into the room she noticed that he’d lost his jacket and bow-tie. The top button of his shirt was open. He turned around to face her while she stayed close to the door, feeling like a coward.

  Charlotte desperately wanted to say something before he had a chance to let her know how much he regretted what had to be a momentary lapse in judgement.

  ‘What happened just now...it shouldn’t have. It wasn’t appropriate.’

  Something flickered in Salim’s piercing eyes, but it was gone before she could figure out what it meant. Probably relief that she wasn’t making the most of an opportunity to embed herself in his life.

  But then he said, ‘Is that your professional opinion?’

  Charlotte swallowed. ‘Personal. And professional.’

  Liar.

  Salim raked a hand through his hair, making it even messier. ‘We’ll discuss that another time, but there are more important matters to deal with first.’

  Charlotte’s heart flipped over at the fact that he wasn’t immediately agreeing with her about the kiss, and then she registered what else he’d said. ‘What matters?’

  Salim’s mouth firmed. ‘The reason Rafa was looking for me is because he’s been informed that some of the bigger tribes are planning on marching into Tabat City in a bid to assert their dominance over each other before I am crowned king. They seek to curry favour, hoping for preferential treatment once I’m in power.’

  Charlotte watched Salim pace back and forth, her gaze drawn helplessly to the fluid athletic grace of his body. She struggled to keep her eyes up.

  She said quietly, ‘They’ve been waiting for a long time for a leader. Without someone to unite and guide them any rifts and grievances between the tribes will have grown bigger and more entrenched.’

  ‘Yes.’ He stopped pacing and looked at her. ‘So what I have to do is go and meet them before they can come to me—do my best to unite them and inform them that there will be no preferential treatment.’

  At first Charlotte thought this was the most selfless thing she’d heard him say to date, but then she thought it through. ‘But when you abdicate they’ll doubt any assurances you’ve given them.’

  Salim’s mouth tightened. ‘I’m meeting them all separately, and then I’ll invite each tribal leader to the city to negotiate an agreement before the coronation. They’ll be bound by that no matter what happens. A tribe’s word is very important in this country.’

  Charlotte cursed herself for being naive. He wasn’t doing this because he cared about his people. Clearly this was all merely a means to an end—to make sure his own agenda succeeded. His agenda to pursue a life of independence and freedom, amassing more wealth than any one person could possibly know what to do with.

  She said coolly, ‘Well, as you’ve made it very clear that I’m of no use to you, I fail to see why you’re telling me about your plans.’

  Salim’s face was carefully expressionless. ‘The last thing I want to do is stir up any trouble while I’m visiting the tribes by unwittingly insulting anyone, so it looks as if I’ll have need of your expertise after all—if you’ll accompany me.’

  Charlotte felt no sense of triumph at this volte face, only a rising panic at the thought of going anywhere with him. And yet how could she refuse when this was her reason for being there?

  ‘Very well. I’ll come with you.’

  His expression was inscrutable. No more teasing or mocking. She wasn’t sure how to deal with this far more serious Salim.

  He nodded briefly in acknowledgement of her acquiescence. ‘We’ll leave tomorrow morning—early—and travel to the three main tribes over the next week.’

  His gaze swept her up and down then, and she had to stop herself from folding her arms defensively, hoping she’d buttoned her shirt all the way up.

  ‘Where we’re going is a lot more traditional than the city, so I’ll have Assa ensure you have the right clothes.’ His blue gaze seemed to pierce right through her. ‘It’ll be very rustic, if you think you can handle that.’

  Charlotte bristled at the tone in his voice, which cast doubt on her ability to endure a trip into the wild desert regions.

  ‘Of course I can handle it. I’ve travelled extensively, and in my experience nomadic tribes often offer better hospitality than some five-star hotels.’

  For the first time she thought she saw a flash of humour in his eyes, but he just said, ‘Good. I won’t have to worry that you’ll run screaming from using an outdoor latrine, then.’

  ‘No,’ Charlotte said tightly, perversely liking the fact that she was so obviously nothing like the women he was used to and yet also irritated by it.

  A moment stretched between them, and then Salim moved, walking towards her, back to the door. Charlotte stepped out of his way, her whole body tingling as he got close.

  He had his hand on the knob when he looked at her again. ‘About what happened...’

  She looked at him and wished she had something to hold on to. She held on to her words. ‘I told you—it shouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘And yet it did, and we both enjoyed it. And if you know anything about me by now, Charlotte, it’s that I’m not in the habit of denying myself things that make me feel good.’

  He’d turned and walked out before Charlotte could come back with some pithy response.

  She tried to drum up some sense of outrage at his arrogance, but how could she when only minutes ago she’d been opening up underneath his touch like a flower unfurling for the sun?

  She turned from the door and ignored the vivid splash of green silk on the bed in her peripheral vision, reminding her of the man’s ability to get to her. She assured herself that his interest in her was fleeting, at best, and that once they went into the desert she would there in a professional role, on much firmer ground.

  She kept assuring herself of this as she finally fell into a fitful sleep that night, beset by dreams of ominous shifting sands.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘IT SHOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED.’ Salim waited impatiently for Charlotte to appear the following morning as dawn broke over Tabat. Her words, delivered in those cut-glass tones, still reverberated in his head. Irritating him intensely.

  He was not used to women expressing regret after sharing intimacies with him. And certainly not after a kiss as explosive as the one they’d shared... But then he couldn’t actually remember such an explosive moment with any woman.

  Salim also had to admit—reluctantly—that he really didn’t think it was a game, or a bluff designed to pique his interest. She’d meant it. In spite of the electric current that had sparked between them again as soon as he’d stepped into her room.

  Her hair had still been deliciously tousled. Her lips swollen. Her shirt buttons had been done up wrong. He’d caught a glimpse of grey lace and just like that he’d become aroused all over again.

  He’d resented the fact that she was the one inducing this crazy lust when he had a room full of beautiful uncomplicated women under his very roof, waiting for his attention.

  But when he’d returned to the party, and been surrounded by sycophants and stunning women within minutes, he hadn’t wanted any of them. And when he’d
looked around and seen the elegant sheen on his guests wearing thin, he’d suddenly felt jaded and weary.

  His conscience had tugged hard, and so he’d given instructions to his staff to start winding things down. He would have invited his cousin Riad to stay, but when he’d tried to call him he’d found a text message on his phone to say that Riad had already left with his mistress—something had come up at home that he had to attend to urgently.

  There was movement in Salim’s peripheral vision and he turned to see Charlotte approaching. His eyes widened as she came closer. She was wearing a long cream kaftan with gold edging that came to just below her knees, and beneath that she wore slim-fitting trousers in the same material. On her feet she wore low-heeled sandals.

  He looked up and felt a spurt of something very disturbing when he saw that her hair was covered with a loose scarf, giving only a hint of that strawberry-blonde underneath.

  He wanted to rip off the scarf, while at the same time feeling a possessive sense of satisfaction that her bright hair was hidden from other men. Impulses Salim had never ever experienced before.

  There was something about her cool reserve and fresh-faced beauty that had sunk a hook inside him from the moment he’d seen her, and he knew it wouldn’t let go until he’d had her.

  Suddenly it was quite simple to Salim: he would bed her and she would lose her mystique, like every other woman he’d bedded.

  She came to a stop a couple of feet away and put a hand to her head. ‘What is it?’

  Salim’s voice was gruff when he said, ‘You don’t have to cover your head here.’

  She pulled the scarf back and let it drop to her shoulders. Seeing the shining smooth cap of her hair made him remember what it had looked like after they’d kissed and his blood leapt. He had to restrain himself from perversely demanding that she cover it up again.

  ‘Assa told me it’s customary among most of the tribes for women to cover their heads.’

  ‘Yes, and you can do it there.’

  Salim’s voice was curt and he saw how she flinched minutely. He cursed silently. He was on edge because of his unprecedented reaction to her, but also because he hadn’t really acknowledged the possibility of meeting with the desert people of Tabat.