Taken by the Sheikh

by Mel Teshco

  She stepped toward the exit. There was no time to waste.

  “Going somewhere, Habibi?”

  She should have run, instead she reflexively spun around with a sharp little gasp. But her fluttering heart had little to do with her being caught red-handed at attempted escape and all to do with the sheikh in his robed glory.

  In a suit he was danger personified. In his Arab robes and headgear, he was nothing short of lethal. She pressed a hand to her chest and shook her head, unable to squeeze a word past the lump in her too-dry throat.

  His eyes flashed with an emotion that was gone too fast to read, before he turned his attention to his security team—three suited men who had silently gathered around them. His stare narrowed at each and every one of them. “Word has leaked.” His features hardened. “It’s a security breach I won’t tolerate.”

  The bald man nodded. “Your Highness, I’ll track down the source and see due punishment is given.”

  A shiver raced down her spine. What did they mean by due punishment? She might know a few words of the Arab language but she knew nothing about the Omana culture. Just how severe were their laws?

  Shahzad’s nostrils flared. “See that you do.”

  The security team nodded, and then melted away into their prospective positions. Shahzad turned to her and proffered his arm. After a momentary hesitation, she clasped it, hating that she immediately felt safer.

  His dark eyes assessed her. “Are you ready for this?”

  She arched a brow. “Would you wish me to lie and pretend I am?”

  His lips curled into a half-smile. “I guess not. Otherwise you wouldn’t have contemplated escape.”

  “I’m a hostage. What did you expect from me?”

  Though she sensed undercurrents of wrath, his throaty chuckle sent more shivers down her spine before settling in a wave of heat between her thighs. He turned to her at the opened exit door of the jet. “I could tell you not to forget to smile graciously and ignore all questions. But I have a feeling you wouldn’t listen anyway.”

  She threw him a withering stare. “Trust in your feelings.”

  His eyes glinted. “And yet what I’ve asked of you so far is just the tip of the iceberg.” Lexi frowned, but as he stepped through the exit and onto the portable stairs outside, she had no choice but to follow.

  The cool pre-dawn air hit her first, but it wasn’t unpleasant compared to England’s cold winter. She only hoped it’d cool the growing heat of her yearning. The vague scents of spices were the next things she noticed, followed by the excited shouts that broke out below them, along with the whir and click of cameras.

  Shahzad looked impassive as he ushered her down the steps even as the reporters tried to break through the line of robed men who stood between the stairs and limousine. Lexi’s unwieldy sandals banged on the treads while the reporters, who obviously knew the English language, shouted out questions.

  “How do you feel about becoming the next Sheikha of Omana?”

  “How do you think you’ll be affected helping to rule one the richest countries in the world?”

  “Have you set a wedding date?”

  “Will you have a traditional wedding?”

  “Will there be children in the near future?”

  “What does Colleen think of the arrangement?”

  Her heart skipped a beat and heat rose behind her eyelids. But then all her thought processes shut down even as her ears rang with the reporters’ questions. Only her instinct for flight prevailed.

  “This way, Habibi.”

  A guard opened the back door of the limousine and Shahzad ushered her inside before he followed, sliding in beside her. The door clunked shut and the shouting disappeared.

  He drew her close to all his male heat and the vehicle slid smoothly forward. “That should never have happened.” He let out an incensed sigh. “If the media got word of our whereabouts then chances are the rebels did too.”

  She stiffened. “Rebels?”

  He nodded. “Yes.” He looked down at her. “You have good reason for concern. We believe the rebels are the same insurgents who murdered my parents. My brother, Rafi, is still investigating.”

  She closed her eyes for a second, but failed to gather in her composure. Holy shit. She wasn’t just a media target, she was a target for Omana’s radicals, too.

  “Fortunately this vehicle is bullet proof. And where we’re going will be safe.” He squeezed her hand. “You can probably understand now why your father didn’t intervene. You were safer being an unknown child.”

  She bit her inner cheek, then asked, “So how did the reporters know my destiny, and my mother by her name?”

  His frown became a glower. “It seems whoever has leaked word of our arrival has also leaked word about our betrothal contract. It would be easy for any number of those reporters to then connect the dots back to your mother and Sheikh Hassan Nazari.”

  Oh, god. Even as her brain scrambled to find some logical explanation, reality slowly sank in. It might feel as though she was living in a surreal fantasy land, and at any minute she’d wake up and laugh the whole thing off, but there was no longer any reason to deny her mother had omitted information and even lied about Lexi’s parentage. How else would reporters know her mother’s name?

  Her throat thickened, the back of her eyes stinging with heat. She’d been such an idiot. So blindly trusting. She was about as gullible as Shahzad was perceptive and astute.

  His voice roughened. “Only someone very close to the Salah al Din family knows such confidential information. The source must be found.”

  Right then she couldn’t muster any sympathy for the ‘source’ and his or her eventual punishment. Her head was spinning while she decided whether to be angry at her mother or be thankful she’d been oblivious to her birthright.

  She’d always reveled in her freedom and being answerable to no one. And now…now it was as if nothing really added up anymore. Like the very foundations of her life were being rocked at the core and beginning to crumble.

  She was still digesting her thoughts when the limousine drew to a stop. She peered through its tinted windows, trying to make something out in the darkness. Her eyes adjusted. A helicopter waited on the tarmac.

  Shahzad gave her shoulder a squeeze. “This is as close as we can safely get to the helicopter. I’ll get out of the car first but you have to follow as quickly as you can. Together we’ll run to the helicopter.”

  She looked up, though his profile was mostly in shadow. “We need to run?”

  “The rebels aren’t without their own thermal imaging technology and night vision equipment. But a moving target is much harder to hit.”

  Her breath hissed. “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

  The driver stepped out and opened the back door, letting in the shrill noise of the helicopter rotors that were beginning to spin. But it was only when Shahzad released her and slid across the seat toward the opened door, that she had to drag in a deep, steadying breath.

  He paused and looked back at her, his eyes intense, passionate. “Rest assured, I’ll protect you with my life, Habibi.”

  It was ridiculous, foolhardy even to believe him, and yet somehow she did. It was odd to realize a tentative trust grew for the man who’d forcibly taken her from her own home, whilst faith in her mother died a slow death.

  She managed a nod and he smiled before he climbed out and waited for her to join him. She moved fast to exit the car, but her legs were decidedly shaky and her balance a little wonky in her sandals as she raced across the tarmac with the sheikh right beside her. A living shield.

  The sprint probably took a mere handful of seconds and yet it felt like an eternity before she finally clambered into the cabin of the helicopter, Shahzad right behind her. She held her breath, every muscle in her body aching with tension until the door was shut behind them, making her realize it’d been the sheik’s wellbeing she’d worried about as much as her own.

  What the hell?
She was getting all sentimental over an Arab who held her hostage. She swiped a hand over her face. She needed her head read. Needed something. Perhaps a glass of wine? The whole bottle?

  Shahzad clasped her hand in his when the pilot pulled the helicopter into the air. She turned away from him and focused on the scenery below, trying to gauge some kind of bearing on the landscape, but failing. Though there was now an inkling of light on the horizon, she could make no landmarks out on the ground. Nothing to formulate any kind of escape plan if one was needed.

  Dawn finally breathed light into the air when the helicopter began to descend. An oasis rose up to meet them, made up of the shadowy tops of around a dozen date palms clustered around a pool of water. Dark-colored tents were just visible beneath the palms, and sand dunes were distant yellow-red peaks in an otherwise flat landscape.

  She turned wide eyes his way. “We’re staying here?”

  He nodded. “Until it’s safe back at my palace.” His voice became husky. “Besides, this is the perfect opportunity to get to know you and have you all to myself before royal duties intervene.”

  Excitement at what exactly that entailed coursed through her body. Then she allowed practicalities to take over as they disembarked from the helicopter and stooped to avoid the spinning blades.

  The helicopter took off and sand swirled around them. She shielded her eyes and took a better look at the encampment. One larger black tent with a flat roof was surrounded further off by smaller ones. Didn’t seem like much protection from the weather or from the rebels.

  He smiled, seemingly reading her thoughts when he said, “Don’t worry, it looks peaceful enough, but I have scouts patrolling the immediate area and men ready to fight if the need should arise.”

  “So it’s set up to look like a normal campsite?”

  He nodded, then strolled hand-in-hand with her toward the largest tent. “Yes. Many of my people are Bedouin and have used the exact same design of these tents for centuries. The cloth is the spun hair of domesticated sheep and goats, strips of which are sewn together.” He shrugged. “We could be any number of the nomadic tribes who roam this area.”

  “So where is everyone?”

  “Those of my men who aren’t on patrol have been instructed not to interact until such time that we need them.” His hand tightened on hers. “This is our time, Habibi.”

  It was wrong in every way surely, for her to experience the delicious sensation that burned through her veins before centering at her pussy? But she could no longer deny the feelings, not when she’d already been at the receiving end of his mouth and basked in the pleasure.

  He swished open the fabric doorway of the large tent and beckoned her to step inside. A smoky incense scent hit her first—frankincense, and perhaps a touch of vanilla. Then the sumptuousness of the room became apparent.

  A vibrant carpet kept the sand at bay and behind a bright, wispy curtain to one side that afforded a modicum of privacy, a large mattress was strewn with colored cushions and woven blankets.

  She swallowed hard. This was where her apparent sheikh husband-to-be would seduce her? She pushed down trepidation and thrilling need before she turned to him and asked, “How long are we staying here?”

  “Until such time my youngest brother, Rafi, gives word that it’s safe to return.”

  “You have siblings?” Odd this sense of wanting to know more about him. Maybe it was because he already knew so much about her even without her telling him. And then there was the fact she had a sibling of her very own.

  That her mother had omitted to tell her about her half-brother hurt more than she cared to admit. She’d always wished for a brother or sister, and had made no secret about it. Perhaps she’d one day meet Muhammad if she stayed in Omana with Shahzad?

  It was a wondrous; surreal thought—on all counts.

  He nodded, before removing his sandals and stepping inside. She followed suit and he smiled as if in encouragement. “Yes, I have two brothers. I’m the eldest at thirty-three and have therefore inherited my father’s kingdom. Khalid is twenty-six and a bit of a playboy, though duty beats strong in his heart. His mother is still alive.”

  “He has a different mother?”

  He nodded. “Yes. She’s of French descent and was my father’s second wife.”

  “I see.” But she didn’t, not at all. She’d already tried to assimilate the news that sheikhs traditionally had more than one wife. It was an appalling custom. Her eyes narrowed. She could scarcely believe Shahzad had contemplated the idea before they’d met. Good thing he’d changed his mind. She would never have shared him.

  “Rafi is twenty-four and the head of security.” He shrugged, though there was a world of pain in the movement. “I think he feels responsible for our parents death and took it the hardest of us all.”

  She looked up at him. “Their death would have hit you hard too. Being the eldest doesn’t make you immune to grief.”

  His smile when he lifted a hand to clasp her chin was all gentleness. “There might be hope for us yet, Habibi.”

  Did she dare to believe such a thing was possible? She leaned into his touch before her addled wits returned and she jerked back with a sharp gasp. “Have you forgotten the only reason I’m here? You. Kidnapped. Me. You took away my freedom. Being here with you should have always been my choice to make.”

  His face paled a little before he rasped, “I heard no complaints when I had my head between your thighs.”

  Her chin kicked up, her chest heaving as indignation swept through her on a tidal wave. “You took advantage of my impulsiveness.”

  His nostrils flared and he stepped closer. “I had nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

  “And to hell with what I wanted?”

  His eyes smoldered. “No. I gave you exactly what you wanted.”

  Fury and desire were equally matched. “I believe you mentioned duty fucks?”

  His sigh was soft, but there was nothing yielding about his expression. “Duty?” he shook his head. “You couldn’t be more wrong. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine my future bride would make me hard just by looking at her.”

  She blinked, all her fury leeching away at his words. “You really are that attracted to me, aren’t you?”

  “You know I am,” he growled. “And I can prove it to you again, if that is your wish.”

  She’d be stupid not to realize he was pushing her buttons—the ones that had ‘impulsive, reckless and live-in-the-moment’ all over them. But her body couldn’t lie. Her nipples tightened into hard points and her pussy moistened. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  Chapter Five

  His eyes all but glowed. “I’ll make sure you forget every lover you’ve ever had.”

  His mouth crashed onto hers before she had time to dispute his flawed logic. Yes, he’d evidently seen her dancing and flirting with Harley and other men. But no, she wasn’t indiscriminate and hadn’t taken anyone into her bed.

  But any argument dissolved in the heat of the moment as her mouth opened under his and his tongue gained entry, sweeping inside. He kept right on kissing when he untied her jacket and pushed it over her shoulders and arms before he tossed it aside, then bent and lifted her against him.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips as he carried her further into the tent, his whole body hard yet fluid, his lips demanding and yet silken-soft against hers.

  The world dipped and her spine was embraced by a feather-soft mattress. He pulled his head back and his long lashes swept down, concealing his stare as he concentrated instead on the task of undressing her, taking his own sweet time.

  But she didn’t need to read his eyes. The pulse at his throat tripped a little faster with each piece of fabric he took off, his jaw tightening with each unveiling, his hands a little less gentle as more of her flesh was bared.

  She squirmed, never in her life so aware of her own body. No other man had made her feel so responsive and alive. Little wonder she’d stayed a virg
in for so long. Imagining the touch of his gaze alone on her bared skin caused her nipples to tighten and harden, while her pussy pulsed with arousal and no doubt glistened with moisture.

  “Your body is perfection…made for mine.” He looked up then, his stare capturing hers. “And mine alone.”

  Under any other circumstances she might have railed against his decree. But right then she responded to his words as though he’d spoken the most exquisite poetry penned by his own hand.

  She jerked when he leaned down and pressed butterfly kisses to her bared skin, worshipping every part of her. She arched into his stubbled jaw and silken-soft lips that traced over her flesh, was left gasping for breath by the time he reached her mound.

  But he didn’t repeat the performance of earlier, instead his teeth flashed right along with his stare when he stood and began to strip off his own clothes. First his headdress and then his robe.

  She devoured him with her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. His slightly mussed dark hair was caught back in its customary leather restraint. Damn, she wanted to run her fingers through every single strand, discover the length and texture. His body was corded and hard and she’d bet had been stripped of all its fat from outdoor activity and not from any gym. His shoulders were broad and his abs lightly rippled.

  Her stare dropped and her breath caught in her throat. His cock jutted out, impossibly long and hard. A droplet of pre-cum glistened on the tip.

  She licked her lips. Sucking a man’s dick had never been high on her priority list, but right then she’d marry Santa Clause himself just to have a taste.

  Shahzad’s eyes gleamed. “Your lovers were mere boys, Habibi.”

  He was right on that point. But he was oh so wrong about those ‘boys’ being her lovers.

  He fisted his shaft and slowly stroked up and down. “I intend to fill you like you’ve never been filled before, give you so much pleasure you’ll be whimpering for more.”

  Her voice cracked. “I have no doubt that you will.” She only hoped the pain of his entry would quickly pass.