Hired to Wear the Sheikh's Ring

by Rachael Thomas

  ‘There must be a cause which is close to your heart.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ she said, suddenly shy, which only enhanced that innocence he found so appealing. ‘I’d like to help women who for whatever reason are struggling to bring up children on their own.’

  The fact that she didn’t have to think about it spoke volumes about the kind of woman she was and he questioned his earlier opinion of her. When he and Niesha had had a similar conversation, many years ago when he’d thought his future would be very different, she’d been unable to instantly come up with anything. That should have been all the warning he needed that she hadn’t been suitable princess material, let alone queen, that despite all her so-called suitability she was far from capable of the role.

  ‘A very worthy cause.’ He knew it was her sister’s plight that had instigated the suggestion, but it made him see her in a different light. She hadn’t accepted the deal because it was going to financially benefit her directly. She’d accepted in order to help her sister. ‘I shall have my aide put things in motion for you, so that you can take over once the honeymoon is over.’

  ‘I didn’t expect us to have a honeymoon.’ He watched her swallow, watched the movement of her throat and wanted nothing more than to kiss her there, to feel the softness of her skin.

  ‘It is tradition in my kingdom that a bride and groom spend seven days alone, with only each other for company after the wedding feast.’

  ‘Seven days,’ she exclaimed loudly, a little too loudly if the turn of other diners’ heads was anything to go by.

  ‘We will be expected to be on our own for the duration of the honeymoon, after which there will be another feast and guests will bring gifts.’ He sensed her nerves once again. Why did she not want to be alone with him? Was it because he’d misread the signals, misinterpreted the desire in her eyes? Did she really dislike him?

  ‘It all seems very drawn out. Do we really need to adhere to all that tradition?’

  ‘The tradition comes from the need to ensure the arrival of an heir and as we are taking on the role of lovers wanting to marry, then I am afraid it will have to be observed.’

  She sat back, her delicate brows pulled together. ‘What about an heir? Will your sister’s child really be accepted as your heir?’

  She doubted what he’d told her and a flurry of irritation rushed over him. ‘I didn’t ever want to rule Shamsumara but fate has decreed that I should and I will not let my brother down or turn away from my duty. However, being a father is not something I have ever envisaged for myself and my sister’s child will be accepted by the people of my kingdom. I will ensure that.’

  ‘So let me get this straight.’ She sat forward, confidence suddenly oozing from her. ‘We have to spend seven days locked away, pretending to be newly-wed lovers? How are we going to achieve that?’

  Did she not feel the increasing sexual tension between them? Right now he would give anything for her to want him as much as he wanted her. He slammed the idea aside. He could not truly make this woman his wife. If he did, all he’d grown up believing in, the honour and tradition that went with the position of ruler of Shamsumara, would mean that he would be going against it all by divorcing her. He could only do that knowing he’d never consummated the marriage. His beliefs were everything to him.

  He was already in turmoil just by going through with the deal with Tiffany but he couldn’t stand by and allow Simdan to claim his title, his throne. Just as he couldn’t ever drag a woman into the situation of his kingdom by letting her think the marriage meant anything to him. At least Tiffany was well aware of what was expected of her and she’d signed a contract to that effect.

  ‘Our palace quarters will be vast. You will have your own rooms.’ He dragged his mind back to the conversation. ‘That will ensure the ease of your departure once my sister’s baby is born.’

  ‘And what will you tell your people, your officials?’ There was accusation in her voice.

  ‘I will state how unhappy you were, how homesick and unsettled. It will be merely a formality.’

  ‘Good,’ she replied officiously. ‘I have no intention of making this marriage any harder to get out of than it already is.’

  ‘In that case, we understand one another well.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  FOR THE LAST six days Tiffany had tried to avoid being with Jafar as much as possible, which had been far easier than she’d ever imagined, as he too seemed to have had the same idea, especially when they were alone. If they had been together, it was in public, and when they were in the suite it was so big she could easily hide herself away. It was also exactly how she hoped it would be once they were in Shamsumara and not at all like her recent dreams, which had been full of images of Jafar in the desert, white robes blowing in the warm wind. He was fast becoming her fantasy and that was the last thing she wanted or needed right now.

  To counteract these sensual dreams, during the day, when she had been on her own, she’d thought back to his almost callous use of his sister and her child. The fact that he’d calmly told her his sister’s child would be his heir made her view him in a different light. He was powerful and more than prepared to exert that power to get what he wanted. No matter how outrageously sexy he had been in her dreams, by day he was the epitome of all she hated in a man—just wrapped up in a very sexy package. And it was this sexy packaging that was causing her the most concern. She’d never been so affected by a man before. She felt trapped in a web of desire she had no idea how to escape from and was totally unprepared for how to deal with a man like the Sheikh of Shamsumara.

  On her finger was the biggest diamond she’d ever seen and in her mind Bethany’s words of shock continued to play.

  ‘He is hiring you as his bride? Why are you agreeing to it? Why are you going off to some far-flung country? Please don’t do it—not for us.’

  Tiffany had remained firm, knowing that there was no other way she or Bethany could ever find enough money to keep a roof over their heads. It wasn’t just for Bethany and her daughter now, it was for herself too after she’d given up renting her apartment and moved in with her sister to help out with loan payments. It had been enough to keep the wolf from howling at the door, but it wouldn’t last long. Jafar’s offer had come at the right time and there was no way she was going to let it pass.

  With a sigh of regret for all that had happened over the last few years she looked out over the city of Paris, the glow of yellow lights giving it a surreal feel. It was the most perfect place and she’d longed to visit it for many years, but if someone had told her she would be here engaged to a desert sheikh, about to become his wife as part of a deal, she would have said they were crazy.

  ‘He is hiring you as his bride?’

  Again Bethany’s words careered into all other thoughts and she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She was dressed in the most exquisite black lace dress and she felt like a princess on the outside. But inside she was a complete mess.

  ‘The city is beautiful tonight, is it not?’ Jafar’s voice paused the words in her mind as they looped again and again. She turned to look at him, instantly wishing she hadn’t.

  He was dressed in his usual suit, but there was something different about him. He looked powerful and commanding and devastatingly handsome. The black suit over a pastel lavender shirt made him appear much taller, much more powerful. Or was it her nerves that did that?

  ‘I wish I could be up there,’ she said as she looked towards the Eiffel Tower, lit up in the darkness. ‘Paris is so lovely I don’t want to leave.’

  She had expected him to brush off her comment with yet another of his harsh comments. They’d been coming thick and fast all week and she was seriously wondering how she would be able to spend another week ensconced with him after their marriage. The sooner that part of their deal was over, the better.

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, neither do I.’ She looked up at him, into his handsome face, and into eyes that seemed full
of emotions she couldn’t read. ‘I appreciate this week has been tough, but you have proved many times over you are more than capable of being my Queen. I have no doubt you will be perfect, but if you do want to back out, now is the time—the last chance you will have.’

  ‘I’m not going to back out.’ She forgot the amazing view, the romance of a city she longed to explore better, rising to the challenge he was most certainly throwing her way. ‘Whatever else you think of me, Jafar, I honour my promise.’

  ‘That is all I need to know,’ he said as if gentling a startled animal. ‘Because once we arrive in Shamsumara tomorrow there will be no going back.’

  He moved towards her and the warm evening air became charged with that same spark she’d tried to ignore on their first night in Paris. The night when she had been fool enough to think he might actually kiss her. He had spoken softly then too, lured her into a false sense of security, bringing down almost all her barriers even if only for the briefest time.

  ‘Don’t we have to be somewhere?’ She moved quickly past him and into the room, away from the romance of the view, the balcony, the open window with lace rippling in the breeze.

  ‘We do indeed.’ The words had hardened. The Jafar she’d come to know over the last week was back. A man in control, a man for whom sentiments were not something he indulged in. So who was the man who had just slipped to the surface? Which was the real Jafar?

  ‘I’d like to go, get it over with.’ He frowned at her comment. ‘Arriving in front of the press, that is. It might be normal for you, but I have not experienced such a thing, not when the attention is thrown at me.’

  * * *

  Jafar had never seen such a pack of photographers, all vying for the best shot. Tiffany had been right to worry. The car stopped outside the hotel entrance where a red carpet led the guests into the World Water charity dinner he attended most years, but news of their engagement was spreading fast and now the press were ferociously hungry for a story.

  He should have known better. His playboy reputation, together with his wealth and now the speculation as to what would happen to his country after his brother’s death, was not just creating interest in his own kingdom, but worldwide. It was sure to become worse now that his chosen bride had been revealed, mostly due to the fact that she was English. Now more than ever it was important to show a façade of lovers eager to be married.

  Beside him he sensed Tiffany tense, sensed not only her reservations, but fear. Again he wondered why, when she’d told him her work brought her into contact with the rich and famous. Surely she’d been in the thick of something like this before as a bridesmaid. She must at least be used to media attention.

  He took her hand, momentarily taken aback by the smallness of hers as he turned to face the press who looked more like baying wolves. ‘Just be yourself.’ He moved closer to her and spoke softly in her ear but in doing so inhaled the scent of bergamot and rosewood. It made him think of home as yet more Eastern scents invaded his senses. Was this her usual perfume or had she changed to one he would recognise and react to? Was it to tempt him, to lay down another challenge?

  ‘So who will be your bridesmaid?’ one of the photographers shouted as she lifted her chin and smiled at the cameras, again making him think that, whatever else she was, she was born to the role he’d created for her for the next three months. She could easily put on the show of confidence even though he could sense her reservations, her fear.

  ‘All will be revealed very soon, gentlemen.’ This was a discussion he needed to have with her this evening. He had his own plans, which he’d put in motion as part of a thank-you gesture to her, but he still needed to ensure she was happy with the idea.

  He looked down as she glanced up at him, surprise in the depths of her eyes. In that moment he knew he would do all he could to ensure that her sister and niece filled those roles as he’d planned. That spark of fire he’d felt the first night in Paris shot through him once more and as her lips parted he couldn’t help himself. He had to kiss her.

  The noise of everything else subsided into nothingness as he lowered his head and, meeting no resistance from her, he brushed his lips over hers, testing and teasing. What he hadn’t expected was the sigh of pleasure from her, or for her to move her lips against his, to respond and demand. What was she trying to do to him? Just when he thought he might lose his mind, his control and his ability to think, camera flashes popped all around him, bringing him startlingly back to reality and he pulled away from her, but didn’t miss the confusion in her eyes.

  She had been playing out the role he’d instructed her to. Why else would she have spent all week avoiding being with him unless they were out in company and then kiss him like that?

  ‘Finally the bride,’ another photographer taunted.

  ‘Not the bridesmaid this time,’ one said in heavily accented English, making it clear they knew all about her.

  He was sure Tiffany shrank back a little, making him want to ram the camera down the man’s throat. The need to protect this woman was fierce and distinctly primal. It was also one he’d never experienced before.

  ‘That’s enough,’ he growled as he turned and led Tiffany into the hotel. ‘Damn pack of wolves.’

  ‘I had no idea it was so intense being the centre of their attention,’ she said as they moved into the sanctuary of the hotel lobby. ‘And you just made it worse when you kissed me.’

  The censure in her voice was clear and the image she created, standing against the backdrop of luxury within the hotel, was overwhelmingly beautiful and he found himself thinking how stunning she would look dressed in the Eastern wardrobe he’d had prepared for her arrival at his palace.

  ‘Only to ensure there is no doubt about our relationship.’ Who was he trying to fool? It was simply because he’d wanted to, had been unable to resist the temptation those soft, full, lipstick-covered lips had presented. ‘And you played your part admirably.’

  ‘Just like you, Jafar, when I do something I do it properly.’ His earlier words came back at him like a bolt of lightning.

  ‘Then may I suggest you take my arm and accompany me into the charity dinner where we can both play our parts to perfection?’

  The next few hours passed slowly and all he could think about was the woman sitting next to him and the brief but powerful kiss they’d shared. Because they had shared it. She had kissed him back, had wanted it to go on, to become something else as much as he had. Whatever it was between them it was mutual—just as the resistance was.

  Each time he looked at her, the elegance of the black lace dress begged him to remove it, begged him to reveal all that pale skin. What would it look like next to the darkness of his? Erotic images surged forward like a tidal wave and he pressed his thumb and one finger on each temple, his hand covering his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he should just kiss her and get it out of his system?

  No, one kiss would unleash more need, more fire and desire. He was in no doubt of that.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said as the speeches finished, not caring what their early departure would look like. He just wanted her for himself.

  ‘Where are we going now?’

  As she become embroiled in goodbyes with those at their table, he took the opportunity and made the call to put in motion a plan to spend time with just Tiffany, to indulge her in the one thing she wanted to do in Paris but hadn’t been able to. It’s just a token of thanks, he told himself, but deep down knew it was much more, just as flying her sister and niece to the wedding was. He wanted to make her happy.

  ‘To the restaurant in the tower,’ he said, sliding his phone back into his inside pocket.

  ‘But we’ve eaten.’ The alarm in her voice made him smile.

  ‘I want to show you Paris, take you to the one place you said you wanted to visit, as a thank-you. Once we are in my homeland we will be busy with feasts and celebrations. Tonight will be for us.’

  She looked at him with big eyes, making her appe
ar vulnerable and sexy at the same time, and for a moment he thought he was drowning and that she was the only woman who could save him.

  ‘I’d like that.’ Her breathy whisper sent the spark of lust throbbing through him afresh and he was thankful his car had arrived.

  * * *

  Tiffany wanted to look away from the intensity in his eyes but she couldn’t. He might not be physically close to her but the overpowering pull of attraction between them was becoming harder to ignore—and much more difficult to resist.

  ‘So would I.’ Jafar’s voice was deep and husky, his unmistakable accent more pronounced, and it sent shivers of awareness down her spine. When he took her hand and led her to the waiting car she almost pulled back, the fire of his touch so hot.

  Was this too just an act, like that intense yet very light kiss he’d brushed over her lips earlier? Was he continuing the act of lovers in the grip of a whirlwind romance? She pushed the questions away, refusing to think too much, only knowing that she intended to enjoy this night, make the most of the romance that was unexpectedly lingering in the air—real or not. Lilly’s suggestion that she have a fling to get over her ex came to the fore. Could Jafar be that man to help her heal her wounds? Maybe it was just being in Paris, the city for lovers, but right now she wanted him to be exactly that.

  Jafar’s car negotiated the busy Parisian traffic and Tiffany focused her attention on the tower as they approached it—anything other than look at the man beside her. The air inside the car sparked with something so unfamiliar that her heart pounded. At last the car stopped and within minutes she and Jafar were inside the elevator on their way up to the restaurant. Except that was worse than the car—far more confined. This time she focused on watching the iconic gold-coloured metal structure of the tower as they went higher, praying that it wouldn’t be much longer before they were at the restaurant.

  ‘I thought it would be busier.’ Her words trailed off in wonder as they stepped out of the elevator. She looked around the restaurant and beyond the wall of windows to the city of Paris. It was breathtakingly beautiful.