Hired to Wear the Sheikh's Ring

by Rachael Thomas

  ‘Things have changed. I have a baby to consider.’

  ‘Which is why I want you to stay, not for three months as my hired bride, but to remain here as my wife and mother of my child and heir.’ He moved towards her, his expression still fierce. Those were words she’d wanted to hear but was he really offering all she’d ever wanted? Worried after the false alarm with his sister, he only wanted the heir she carried because it would keep Shamsumara from Simdan’s evil clutches.

  ‘No. I can’t. My family...’ She began to flounder under the intensity of his eyes, using every excuse she could, except the truth. What would he say if she told him she couldn’t stay with him when she loved him, knowing he would never love her?

  ‘In return I will ensure your sister and her child never want for anything again.’ His tone was level and devoid of emotion. He was simply brokering another deal with her.

  ‘You want to buy me?’ She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  He was making another deal. Putting an offer on the table he knew she would find hard to resist. He might have bought her, but he’d never buy his child, the all-important heir. That required an altogether different currency, one he didn’t trade in. Love.

  ‘You brought me here—against my will—and then have the audacity to bribe, or blackmail me, so that I will stay and have your child?’

  ‘It is not like that, Tiffany.’ He glared at her, the white of his robes a stark contrast to the colour around them.

  ‘Of course it is. You just want the baby.’

  His eyes hardened with the anger of her accusation. ‘That is so far from the truth.’

  ‘You told me you never wanted to be a father and that was why you were prepared to even make this stupid marriage deal with me. With your sister’s new baby you didn’t need an heir, just a bride—a temporary bride.’ The agonising hurt of saying the truth out loud almost choked her. She’d only ever been part of a deal. She’d forgotten that and fallen in love with the fantasy she’d been brought to. Worse than that, she’d fallen in love with him.

  ‘It would be against all I believe in, all my people believe in if I allow you to leave Shamsumara knowing you carry my heir.’

  ‘You have your heir.’ She was desperate to make him see sense, to realise that forcing her to stay for the baby was even more barbaric than coldly proclaiming he didn’t want to be a father.

  ‘I did, but now I have a true heir. One of my own flesh and blood.’

  ‘So what are you going to do? Hold me prisoner? Make me sign another contract—this time for my child?’

  ‘No. This time there will be no contract.’ He stepped closer and her heart beat in angry thuds. Or was it because he’d moved too close, because she could smell his unique scent mixed with the desert wind? As she looked into his eyes, into the depths of increasing passion, she knew without a doubt he was going to kiss her—and she wanted him to.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  JAFAR SAW THE fire of desire rise in Tiffany’s eyes, turning them into a tumultuous sea of emotion. However much she protested she was far from immune to him, but this wave of passion and desire wasn’t what he’d intended. Neither was the kiss he was unable to resist taking. He’d intended to tell her how much he wanted her, how much he wanted their child, that he wanted to create a life with her, a family.

  He needed to feel her lips against his, to taste her and crush the softness of her full lips beneath his, but the moment his lips met hers that spark of fire erupted, claiming them both.

  She kissed him back, sighing into his mouth as desire drove them harder and higher, sending his plans into disarray. The wild fire of passion scorched him deeper than the desert sun ever could and he knew that whatever the outcome of bringing Tiffany here, he’d never be the same again. He wanted her. Needed her. Loved her.

  ‘It’s been too long,’ he murmured against her lips as his hands held her arms. He held her close but it wasn’t enough. He would never get enough of this woman.

  Before she could say anything else, he pulled her against his body, holding her tightly as he kissed her harder, desperate to show what she meant to him, needing to show what he felt for her, but that explosive hot desire erupted once more.

  Her tongue danced with his as her body melded against his, her curves moulding to him, fitting perfectly against his body as the haze of desire intensified, taking them to an oasis of sensual pleasure in the middle of the desert. Then it vanished, the desert becoming hostile and barren.

  ‘No.’ She pushed him away, shocking him with the force of it. ‘This won’t change my mind. In fact, all of this is wrong.’

  She looked up at him, her breath hard and ragged. The cream headscarf she’d worn slipped back from her head, exposing the softness of her hair, reminding him how it felt, how it had looked spread out over the pale gold silk of the pillows as he’d made her truly his on their wedding night.

  That last thought centred his emotions and he knew that, whatever it took, she would always remain his. ‘What is so wrong with a man kissing his wife, Tiffany?’

  ‘I’m not your wife,’ she snapped at him and her eyes flashed fiery sparks through the cool darkness of the tent. ‘I’m a hired bride. Nothing more.’

  The conversation was going wildly off course. He should be kissing her until she wanted nothing but him, until she felt his love for her. But somehow they were still talking about the deal he’d made with her in England. A day that seemed as if it had happened a lifetime ago.

  ‘You were more than that on our wedding night.’ He was desperate to remind her of what they’d shared, the passion that had ruled so strongly they’d forgotten even the most basic things. ‘That night you became my wife.’

  ‘It’s not what I want, Jafar.’ A weariness entered her voice and a wave of compassion caught him off guard. ‘I don’t want passion and desire. I don’t want nights filled with steamy sex.’

  Her words sent torturous images to his mind, but he maintained his focus, sure that those were just surface words, just as his were. She was protecting herself as much as he was, each refusing to admit what they really felt, what they really wanted. Neither wanting to say the words aloud, each still hiding in the shadows of their past.

  He touched his fingers to her face, delicately tracing down the softness of her cheek with the pad of his thumb. The sigh that escaped her as she closed her eyes gave away far more than she thought. It showed the effect he had on her, the need she had for him and, most of all, that her resistance was lowering.

  ‘What do you want, Tiffany?’ He kept his tone soft and low.

  ‘I want a man who loves me for who I am, not what I can give him.’

  His heart raced as he stood facing the woman who carried his child, the woman he wanted to stay by his side, to be his Queen for ever, but the past still tormented him, still mocked the silly little boy who’d had notions of a long and happy marriage with many children. That little boy had grown up into a cold man, one who only knew how to react to desire or passion, one who’d sworn he never wanted a child to go through what he had and experience being a pawn in a big game plan. He was in line to the throne of Shamsumara and an heir would be expected, but he’d never wanted to create a new life because he had to, because the tradition he’d grown up influenced by demanded it. His sister’s pregnancy had created the perfect way out of that and all he’d needed was a temporary bride.

  Then he’d married Tiffany, spent an intoxicating night with her and everything had changed. Not because he’d created a child that night. It was far more powerful than that. He’d fallen in love with the woman he’d hired to be his bride.

  * * *

  ‘You can’t do that, can you, Jafar?’ Hurt ripped through Tiffany as Jafar stood stoically before her, the passion of his kiss just moments ago gone from his eyes. What cold and heartless plans were going through his mind now?

  ‘You were hired to be my bride, Tiffany—’

  ‘And that is exactly what I have been.’ She cut
across his words, not wanting to hear the callous truth of why she was here in his desert kingdom.

  ‘But now it’s so much more.’ He looked into her eyes, a new tenderness filling his, setting light to the torch of hope within her. ‘To be here like this was never what I intended.’

  The light of hope flickered, threatening to snuff itself out, and she drew on her dwindling reserves of strength to protect her fragile heart. ‘It isn’t what I agreed to.’

  He stroked her hair, then, as if realising he’d stepped over some invisible boundary, let his hand fall back at his side. ‘And it isn’t what I asked of you.’

  ‘What are we going to do, Jafar?’ Her reservoir of determination was sinking ever lower and an unconcealed note of hysteria in her voice was all too clear.

  ‘We have created a new life, a child that will join us together for evermore, no matter where we are or what we do. It was not my intention at all, but it happened and we owe it to our baby to remain together.’ She saw his barriers drop, watched as he lowered his guard, but his words still told her the same. He wanted her to stay because of the child she carried.

  Memories of the arguments she’d tried not to hear between her parents when she was younger surfaced. Her mother and father had stayed together for Bethany’s sake, even going as far as having Tiffany in an attempt to mend the marriage, but it had been a disaster. Just as it would be for her and Jafar.

  What they both wanted from the marriage was completely different. She wanted his love, to be able to love him freely. He wanted his heir, to secure the kingdom he’d inherited. Staying together when they were at such polar opposites in their reasons for remaining married would be a disaster. It would be her parents all over again.

  ‘No, Jafar. I can’t do that. I can’t stay here and I can’t be your wife.’ The pain in her voice echoed in her heart and for the briefest of seconds she thought she saw it mirrored in his eyes.

  ‘What about your child, my son or daughter? They will one day rule Shamsumara.’

  She moved towards him, drawn by an unknown force. A need to make him understand forced all her past to the fore, forced out words she’d never admitted out loud to anyone. ‘My parents’ marriage was not a happy one, Jafar. When my mother fell pregnant with Bethany, they married, as was expected of them by their families.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean ours will be unhappy. Our first week of marriage was the happiest I have ever been.’

  ‘It doesn’t wipe out the fear I knew as a child when I witnessed angry words between my parents. They didn’t love one another. They were forced together when my sister came along.’ His dark eyes regarded her as she struggled with ugly memories from her younger years.

  ‘It doesn’t mean our marriage will be the same.’ His voice was gentle and for a moment she thought he was going to caress her cheek again. Part of her wanted that but part of her knew it would break her heart just a little more.

  She continued the story of her past. ‘They thought having another baby—me—would bring them closer together. It just pushed them further apart.’

  ‘We have known much pleasure, much passion in our first week of marriage. The kind of passion which brings a man and woman closer to one another emotionally.’

  His reference again to their week shut away from the world, the honeymoon week, crushed the hope that had started to grow within her. ‘But that isn’t what I want from you, Jafar.’

  There was a sad resignation in her voice as she stood looking up at him. What would he do if she told him she wanted his love? What would he say if she told him she loved him? Maybe saying those words to him was the only way to make him see that their so-called marriage could never work when they both wanted very different things.

  ‘That week was amazing.’ She blushed beneath the honesty of her soft words and averted her gaze, anything other than look into the smouldering heat of his eyes as she acknowledged the hot passion that had sparked between them so intensely. ‘But it can’t sustain a marriage—especially one involving children. I am all too painfully aware of that.’

  He lifted her chin with his thumb and finger, forcing her to look at him once more. The heady desire in his eyes was almost too much. ‘The passion was, as you say, amazing, but it is not all I want.’

  ‘It isn’t?’ Her tremulous whisper must surely give away how vulnerable she felt right now. How emotionally exposed.

  He shook his head gently. ‘No, it isn’t. I want to be loved by the woman who has captured my heart, the woman who takes it soaring across the desert as if on the wings of a falcon.’

  He paused and hope flickered to life inside her again. Every barrier he’d erected around himself was stripped away. This was the man she’d fallen in love with. This was the man she’d married and given herself so completely to. A smile lifted her lips at his romantic words and the connection he was making to the bird he’d flown.

  ‘I want to be loved by that woman as much as I love her and, if that is not possible, tomorrow I will let her fly as free as my falcon.’

  ‘You...’ Her voice wouldn’t work, the words not able to form. Was he really saying he loved her?

  He nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, Tiffany. My wife, my love. I am madly in love with you and if you leave me my heart will search for yours for ever, miss you for ever. If freedom from me, from being my Queen, is what you desire, then out of love for you I will instruct my plane to take you home.’

  * * *

  Jafar watched a multitude of emotions play out over his wife’s face. Did she believe him? Had he left it too late to finally bear his soul and tell her how much he loved her, how much he wanted her in his life? Even more importantly, could she ever come to love him?

  ‘Jafar,’ she said in a husky whisper, a question laced into every syllable, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to hear her rejection, not wanting to know she didn’t feel the same, that he’d got it all wrong.

  ‘Yes?’ The hesitation, the hope, the raw emotion cracked so sharply in that one word he could hardly comprehend it was his voice. Tiffany looked at him, those lovely blue eyes searching his face, looking for what he didn’t know. He hoped it was love, because it must surely be written boldly upon it.

  He’d never been this anxious in all his life; never had one person’s response mattered so much. Her silence was all too painful and he closed his eyes against the pain of the rejection that was sure to come.

  The rejection didn’t come. Instead soft lips brushed so lightly over his that he could be imagining it. He opened his eyes and looked right into the blue depths of Tiffany’s, immediately lost.

  ‘Your love is all I want from you,’ she whispered against his lips, striking up the hum of desire in him. ‘My desert fantasy. The man I love with all my heart.’

  He took her face in his hands and tenderly kissed her. It was a kiss to show just how much he loved her, but now that he’d broken free of the past it wasn’t enough. She’d unlocked the chains that had held his heart and now he was free. Free to love her.

  ‘I love you, Tiffany.’ He said it in English, then said it again in his own language, needing to say it aloud as many times as possible.

  ‘I love you, Jafar.’

  He smiled at her. ‘So my romantic fantasy worked,’ he teased her, feeling confident and surrounded by her love.

  ‘This is just the icing on the cake,’ she jested, taking his lead. ‘The ultimate desert fantasy. An elaborate desert tent and a very sexy sheikh. But it is hearing you say you love me that worked.’

  ‘And so will you stay? Will you be my wife and mother to my child?’

  ‘Until I get a better offer.’ So she still teased him, did she?

  ‘In that case—’ he swept her from her feet and carried her towards the low and wide bed, adorned with so many vibrantly coloured cushions it was almost camouflaged ‘—I will have to make sure you never get a better offer.’

  ‘Is that so?’ She laughed as he placed her on the softness of the bed.

 
‘It is.’ He nodded as he lay next to her, his fingers opening the tie at the front of her dress with ease, revealing her pale skin. ‘And I intend to start right now.’

  ‘There will never be a better offer.’ Her voice lowered and became soft and serious as she touched her palm to his face. ‘Because I love you so much, Jafar.’

  He kissed her lips lightly, smoothing her hair from her face and looking into her eyes. ‘I love you too, my darling wife.’

  EPILOGUE

  Two years later

  JAFAR WATCHED HIS young son with his older cousin, as they played in the small fountain he’d had installed in the palace gardens. The squeals of delight as the toddlers splashed in the water were infectious; even Leah had abandoned her usual sedate and regal ways to chase around in the garden with the toddlers, barking excitedly as they splashed water at her.

  ‘Our son has his father’s leadership qualities,’ Tiffany said as she stood beside him under the archway, her hand resting on her stomach and their second child soon to be born. ‘Look at him, bossing Zaina around. Poor little girl.’

  ‘I think he might have got that trait from his mother.’ As they had done since that night in the desert tent they teased each other, but always with affection.

  ‘I have saved that quality for our little girl.’ She looked down at her tummy, at the swell of her second child. dpg!

  ‘If she has even half the spirit her mother possesses, she will be a wonderful little girl and I can’t wait to meet her.’

  Tiffany reached up and touched his face. ‘I love you, Jafar. Being here with you is wonderful.’

  ‘You don’t miss your old life? Your job?’

  Tiffany smiled coyly at the man she was still madly in love with, her ultimate desert fantasy. Did he really question if she missed her old job?

  ‘Bethany is doing a fantastic job running Bridesmaid Services, which means I get to relax and enjoy being an ordinary bridesmaid for Lilly.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I’m just thankful I will have time to get into the dress after this little one is born.’