The Sheikh's Jewel

by Melissa James

  ‘They said you showed no sign of fear.’ She looked up, her eyes as bright as they’d been before, when they’d made a connection over their shared love of archaeology. It seemed his bride wanted to know about him at last. ‘Everyone says you fought like a man possessed.’

  Everyone says… Did that mean she’d been asking about him, or drinking in every story? What had she been thinking and hoping in those years he’d ignored her?

  ‘I had to lead my men.’ He wondered what she’d think if he told her the truth: he’d fought his own demons on that battlefield, and every man had Alim’s face. Where his brother was concerned, the love and the resentment had always been so closely entwined he didn’t know how to separate them—and never more so than when he discovered his bride wanted Alim. And he was paying for that ambivalence now, in spades. If Alim had been taken, or God forbid, was dead…

  ‘Everyone said you took the lead wherever you were.’ She sounded sweet, breathless.

  But though something deep inside felt more than gratified that she wanted to know about him, had been thinking of him, he sobered. ‘Even killing a man you perceive as your enemy has its cost for every soldier, Amber. The el-Shabbats had reason for what they did. I knew that—and Alim had left the country leaderless; he clearly wasn’t interested in coming home. I wondered what I was doing when I took the mantle.’

  ‘So why did you fight?’ she murmured, her head on his shoulder now.

  He wanted to shrug off the question, to freeze her out—but his personal need for space and silence had to come second now. Amber’s and Alim’s lives were on the line because he’d put his feelings before the needs of the nation. ‘When the el-Shabbats chose Mahmud el-Shabbat for their leader, a man with no conscience, who was neither stable nor interested in what was best for anyone but his own family, they forced the war on me.’

  ‘You became a hero,’ she murmured, and he heard the frown in her voice. Wondering why he wasn’t happy about it.

  Harun felt the air in his lungs stick there. He wanted to breathe, but he had to say it first. ‘I can still see the faces of the men whose lives I took, Amber,’ he said jerkily. ‘War isn’t glorious when you live it. That’s a pretty story for old men to tell to young boys. War’s an undignified, angry, bloody mess.’

  ‘I saw you coming in on the float,’ she said quietly. ‘I thought you looked as if you wanted to be anywhere but there.’

  He almost started at her perception. ‘All the glory I received on coming back felt wrong. I’d taken fathers from children, sons from parents, made widows and orphans, all to retain power that was never mine to keep.’

  At that she looked up. ‘That’s why you gave it back to Alim without a qualm?’

  Slowly, he nodded. ‘That, and the fact that the power wasn’t mine to give. I was only the custodian until his return.’

  ‘You related to the people you fought against.’ It wasn’t a question; her eyes shimmered with understanding. Her arms were still tightly locked around his neck, and he ached to lean down an inch, to kiss her. His yearning was erotic, yes, but beneath that some small, stupid part of him still ached to know he wasn’t alone. Where Amber was concerned, he was still fighting inevitability after all these years.

  ‘To their families,’ he replied, struggling against giving the uncaring shrug that always seemed to annoy her. ‘I became an orphan at eight years old. I lost both my brothers almost at once.’ He held back the final words, unwilling to break this tentative trust budding between them.

  ‘And you lost your wife even before the wedding day.’ She filled in the words, her voice dark with shame even as she kept her head on his shoulder. ‘You were forced to fight for your family, your country while you were still grieving. You gave everything to your country and your family—then you were abandoned by Fadi, by Alim, and, last, by me. I’m sorry, Harun. You were alone. I could have, should have tried to help you more.’

  How could she say those things? It was as if she stared through him to see what even he didn’t. She seemed to think he was something far more special than he was. ‘No, Amber. I never told you. I shut you out.’ Tipping her face up to his, he tried to smile at her, to keep the connection going. ‘All of it was my fault.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t, and we both know that—but blame won’t help us in our current situation,’ she retorted, quoting his words back to him with a cheeky light in her eyes, and her dimples quivering.

  He grinned. ‘Someone’s feeling feisty.’

  She winked. ‘I told you I’d feel better in a minute. Or maybe five,’ she amended, laughing.

  ‘Then let’s begin the search,’ he suggested, not sure if he was relieved or resentful for the intervention. Her lips glistened like ripe pomegranates in the rose-hued rays of the falling sun through the window, and he was dying to taste them. And when she wriggled off his lap, he couldn’t move for a few moments—so blinded by white-hot need for her, all he could see was the vision of them together in bed as they could have been for years now.

  What sort of fool had he been? Within a day of giving her some attention her eyes were alight with desire when she looked at him, or when he was close. If he took her to bed right now, he doubted she’d even want to argue.

  ‘Wrong time, wrong place—and Alim could die,’ he muttered fiercely beneath his breath, feeling the frozen nails of fear put the coffin lid on his selfish wants.

  Keeping Alim’s face in his mind, Harun fell to his knees, looking for loose boards in the floor with ferocious determination. He wouldn’t look at her again until his blood began to cool; but whenever he heard her husky voice announcing she still hadn’t found anything, he looked up, and with every sight of her wiggling along the floor in that shimmering satin the fight began over. Hot and cold, fire and ice—Amber and Alim…

  The suite of rooms was small. Amber unconsciously followed the path he’d taken while she slept, knocking softly on walls, checking bricks for secret passages. But then she hung so far out of the window he grabbed her by the waist to anchor her, and had to twist his body so she wouldn’t know how much she affected him. Fighting also against the burning fury that those men with assault rifles would be looking at her luscious body, he pulled her back inside with a mumbled half-lie about her safety.

  She sighed as she came back into the room. ‘We’re so far up, even if we tied the sheets and bedcover together, we’d have a two-storey drop or more.’ She glanced at him. ‘You could probably make it to the ground, but I’d probably break my legs, and then they’d just take us again.’ Biting her lip, she mumbled, ‘I wish I’d had the same kind of war training as you—dropping out of planes, martial arts and the like. I wish I could say I was a heroine like my great-grandmother, but the thought of breaking my legs makes me sick with fear.’ She looked him in the eyes as she said, ‘You should go without me. You have to save Alim.’

  Hearing the self-sacrifice in her voice, remembering how she’d been so furious when he’d run himself down earlier, even if it was an act, he felt something warm spread across him. After all these years where he’d ignored her, did she really think so much of him?

  Or so little, that she could even suggest he’d go without her, put his brother first, and abandon her to her captors?

  Quietly, he said, ‘I dropped out of planes with a parachute and spare. And even if I could use a sheet as a makeshift parachute, and jump in the darkest part of the night, I’d still have to outrun the guards, and find a place of safety or a phone, and all without water or food—and wearing only these stupid things.’ And there was no way he’d leave Amber alone to face the consequences of his escape.

  He was taken aback by the success of his diversion when Amber giggled. ‘Oh, the visions I’m having now—the oh-so-serious Sheikh Harun el-Kanar escaping abduction, but found only in his boxer shorts!’

  Though he laughed with her—because it was a funny thought—right now he wasn’t in the mood to laugh. ‘I would never leave you, Amber. That probably seems hard to beli
eve—’

  Her eyes, glowing with life and joy, a smile filled with gratitude, stopped him. She did believe him, though he’d done nothing to earn her trust. That smile pierced him in places he didn’t want to remember existed. The places he’d thought had died years ago…trust, faith, and that blasted, unconquerable hope.

  Trust had died even before his parents, and, though he still prayed, a lot of his faith had eroded through the years. And hope—the last shards of it had smashed to bits when he’d heard her agree to marry him, despite loving his brother.

  Or so he’d thought, until today.

  ‘Let’s check the bathroom again,’ she suggested. ‘Sometimes there’s a loose tile on the floor that is the way out—or even in the bath itself. My great-grandmother had one egress made through the base of the tap in the bath, after the war ended. We should check it out thoroughly.’

  Grateful for the reprieve from his dark thoughts, he followed her in and got down on hands and knees beside her, but turned to search in the opposite direction. Anything rather than endure the torture of memory—or of watching her lovely body wiggling with every movement.

  This time he forced his eyes to stay away. If she held a shadow of desire for him now, it was just through enforced proximity and her need for human closeness. She’d never shown a single sign of wanting him, or even wanting to know him better, until now. He’d never seen anything from her but cold duty and contemptuous anger until the day she’d heard Alim was back.

  That was the way his life would be. How many times did he have to convince himself over and over that duty and supporting family was his only destiny? How many times had his parents told him that he’d be useless for anything else? How many times in the twenty-two years since they’d died had Fadi enforced his belief that duty was first, last and everything for him, that he was born to be the supportive brother? Yet here he was, no wiser. At thirty years old, he still hadn’t learned the lesson.

  Was it the after-effects of the drugs that had weakened his resolve, or was it just a case of too many years of denial? But the desire in her eyes, the curve of her smile, the music of her laughter—and everything that was almost clear to see beneath that peignoir—were killing him to resist. Even the sight of her bare feet was a temptation beyond him right now.

  This was the exact reason he’d avoided her so long before. But now he couldn’t make himself avoid her, even if he could parachute out of here with that stupid sheet. He couldn’t leave her alone…and so here they were, only the two of them and that delicious bed…and with every moment that passed, it became more impossible to resist her. How long could he last before he made a fool of himself?

  But that was exactly what the kidnappers wanted, and damned if he’d give it to them.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BY NIGHTFALL, they had covered almost every inch of both rooms, and found no way out. All her hopes dashed, she sat on the ground, slumping against the cool bath tiles in despair. ‘We’re not getting out of here, are we?’

  ‘Not until they let us out.’ There was a strange inflection in his voice.

  Arrested, she turned to look at him. ‘What is it?’

  Harun didn’t reply.

  ‘I’m not a child, Harun, or an idiot. I’m in this with you, like it or not, and there’s nowhere for you to conveniently disappear to here, no excuse or official or quiet room for you to get away from me. So you might as well share what you’re thinking with me.’

  After a moment that seemed to last a full minute, he said, ‘I think your father may be our abductor.’

  ‘What?’ They were the last words she’d expected. Gasping, she choked on her breath and got lost in a coughing fit to be able to breathe again. Harun began using the heel of his hand in rhythmic upward motions, and the choking feeling subsided. Then she pushed him away, glaring at him. ‘Why would he do that? What would be the benefit to him, and to Araba Numara? How could you even think that? How dare you accuse my father of this?’

  Harun was on his haunches in front of her, his face had that cold, withdrawn look she hated.

  ‘For a daughter who doesn’t share my suspicions, a daughter who believes implicitly in her father’s innocence, I notice you put the two most natural questions last. Instead, you asked the most important questions first—why, and what benefit to him in abducting his own child. You believe it’s possible at the very least, Amber. Everything makes sense with that one answer. Why there have been no demands or threats as yet, why we were left in this kind of room dressed this way, and why we’re alone most of the time. Your father has probably endured some ridicule and speculation over our not producing an heir, and he wants it to end.’ He gave her a hard look. ‘He has no son, and you’re the eldest daughter. He hasn’t named his brother, or his nephews or male cousins as his heir. Any son we have will be qualified to become the hereditary sheikh for Araba Numara, so long as he takes his grandfather’s name…and I assume that keeping the line going is important to him.’

  Every suspicion he’d voiced could be exactly right. And it all fitted her father too well. Though he came from a very small state in the Emirates—or maybe because of that—he enjoyed manipulating people until they bent to his will. And yes, he’d want a grandson to take his name and the rule of Araba Numara.

  ‘If you’re right, and I’m not saying you are, I will never, never forgive him for this.’ Then she shot to her feet, and cried, ‘Hasn’t he done enough to me? Three years of being his pawn, left in a foreign country and shuffled from one man to another, none of whom wanted me! Can’t he just leave me be?’

  The echoes of her voice in the tiled bathroom were her only answer. The silence was complete, just as it had always been when she’d tried to defy her father’s will, and she slid back down the tiles. ‘I hate this, I hate it. Why can’t he let me have my life?’

  Harun’s eyes gleamed with sadness. ‘I don’t know, Amber. I’m no expert on family life. I barely remember my father, or mother.’ As he slid down beside her, the feeling of abandonment fled along with her outrage—and, as natural as if she’d done it for years, she laid her head on his shoulder. ‘It’s probably best not to think about it,’ he said quietly, wrapping his arm over her shoulder, drawing her closer. ‘And remember I could be wrong.’

  ‘We both know you’re not. It makes too much sense.’

  ‘There is the other solution I told you before,’ he said very quietly.

  She nodded.

  ‘If they won’t let us out until you’re pregnant, we may have little choice but to comply.’

  A tiny frisson of shock ran through her. ‘B-but what if we are wrong—wouldn’t that risk Alim’s life?’ she stammered.

  ‘Only if he has been taken. We just don’t know.’ His eyes hardened. ‘I can’t keep living my life for honour alone, Amber. Alim’s the one who left his family and his nation too many times to count—and why did he finally return? For the sake of a woman he can’t even marry. I’ve done everything for him for ten years, and it’s time I did something I want to do.’

  Softly, she murmured, ‘And now you want me?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, just as soft.

  His mouth curved; his eyes softened. And he brushed his mouth against hers.

  With the first touch, it was as if he’d pulled a string inside her, releasing warmth and joy and need and—and yes, a power she hadn’t known existed, the power of being a woman with her man, the man for her. She made a smothered sound and moved into him as her lips moved of their own will, craving more. She turned into him, her hands seeking his skin, pulling him against her. Eager fingers wound into his hair, splayed across his back, explored his shoulders and arms, and the kiss grew deeper and deeper. They slowly fell back until they lay entangled on the floor. Amber barely noticed its cold hard surface. Harun was touching her at last, he was fully aroused, and she moaned in joy.

  ‘As far as first kisses go, that was fairly sensational,’ he said in a shaky voice. ‘But we’re only a few hours out of the
drugs. Today hasn’t been the easiest for either of us. Maybe we should rest. If we feel the same tomorrow…’

  Bewildered by the constant changes in his conversation, she sighed. ‘Yes, I think I need to sleep again. But I really should have a bath.’

  After a short silence, Harun said quietly, ‘No, sleep first. Come, I’ll help you to bed.’ He swept her up again, as though she weighed nothing, and carried her back out to the main room. He could have taken her to bed and made love to her all night and she’d have loved it.

  Reaching the bed, he laid her down. ‘Rest now, Amber. I swear I won’t leave you,’ he whispered, his voice tender, so protective. Had the habib numara become her very own tiger—at least for now?

  She ought to know better than to think this way. They barely knew each other, and he’d never shown any interest in touching her until today.

  She ought to feel grateful to their abductors. For the first time Harun was looking at her as a person. For a captive, she felt happier than she had in a very long time.

  Too tired to work through the confusion, she allowed her heavy eyes and hurting heart to dictate to her. She needed temporary oblivion from the events of the past day, to blank it all out. But even as she slid towards sleep, she felt Harun’s presence in the chair he’d drawn up beside the bed. Touched that he was standing guard over her, keeping her safe without presuming to share the bed, she wanted to take his hand in hers and cradle it against her face, to thank him for all he’d done today. But he’d done so much for her; she couldn’t demand more than he’d already given. She sighed again, and drifted into dreams.

  And shaken far beyond anything she knew, too aroused to sleep, Harun sat beside her the whole night. He didn’t get on the bed—he didn’t dare—but he remained on guard, ready to protect her if there should be a need.

  * * *

  She’s a stubborn, rebellious daughter, with no regard for law or tradition. I wouldn’t pay a single dinar for her return. Let Sheikh el-Kanar pay it, if he’s worried about her at all, but I doubt it. He ran from her in the first place, didn’t he?