Taken by the Sheikh

by Mel Teshco

  Would Sanura have considered his offer, if this political marriage had been with anyone other than her best friend?

  She let out a long breath. She wanted to believe her answer was no. Because the thought of sharing him with another woman—especially a woman who in the eyes of his world was his first wife—made her feel ill.

  But the truth was she just wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as though he was already married, and looking to spice up his life. It was little more than an alliance between two countries. She might think it archaic and even disgusting, but she could see where he was coming from.

  After all, he’d told her she would be first in his life. That she was his chosen bride.

  Her stupid heart had embraced every honeyed word. She had wanted to believe him. Deep in her heart she still did believe he meant every word. But she had to face the brutal truth.

  He had never said he loved her. And that was all she wanted from him. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—agree to be his second wife.

  He could keep his palaces and his rubies. She wouldn’t go to Omana with him. He couldn’t force her.

  Without conscious thought her hand stroked over her belly. Having a child was something she’d imagined doing years from now. But suppose Khalid was right?

  For one shining moment delight filled her at the thought of having his baby. And then reality crashed through her. She was virtually penniless, and apart from the house so was her aunt. But if she was pregnant she knew Clara would help her. They’d manage, somehow.

  Without any help from Khalid.

  Bleak emptiness seeped through her at the knowledge she would spend the rest of her life without the man she loved. Would having his child ease this pain eating through her? What were the chances she was pregnant? She had no idea. It wasn’t something she’d ever had to think about before.

  And then his last words crawled into her mind, finally making sense in the context he had intended. She clutched the sheet as something akin to horror gripped her. “You know in your heart what that would mean.”

  He really would carry out his threat and take her back to Omana.

  *

  It was barely six AM when the message came through from his chief of security. Khalid, sprawled on one of the ornate—and damned uncomfortable—sofas where he had spent the night, stared at the text for a couple of moments before returning the call.

  “You have news?”

  “Highness.” With great economy, his chief relayed the information they had discovered about Sanura Jones and her family. When Khalid finished the call he tossed his cell onto a nearby table and exhaled a long breath.

  Sanura had royal blood in her veins. More than that, he was acquainted with a long-lost member of her family from his days at university. An obscure branch of the family had splintered and seemingly vanished without trace twenty-five years ago, and for the last fifteen years, since the death of the matriarch, the family had been searching for the missing granddaughter.

  Sanura’s mother.

  Did Sanura know of her royal heritage? Would she want anything to do with the family who had turned their backs on her mother so many years ago?

  But that had been another generation. Six years ago, while at university, all his friend had been interested in was the fact he might have some unknown cousins. He hadn’t cared about the non-royal blood.

  Khalid would need to tell Sanura. But there were many things he needed to tell her. The knowledge of what he had to say to her caused his throat to constrict.

  He would do his duty. He would honor the memory of his father and show the princess Maysarah all due respect to which she was entitled.

  But every beat of his heart sounded like a death knell.

  An hour later, showered and dressed in traditional robes for the meeting he had later that morning, he knocked on his bedroom door before entering. He steeled himself for a barrage of verbal abuse, or perhaps an accurately slung side lamp.

  Instead he found Sanura dressed in her previous day’s clothes, standing in the middle of the room without a weapon in sight.

  “Good morning.” His voice was formal. Before he could say anything else, Sanura’s eyes widened in what could be nothing but horror as she raked her gaze over him.

  To compound the guilt that already ate through him, she took a step backwards.

  It had been a mistake facing her dressed like this. But this was who he was, just as much as his French blood. Not that his European lineage mattered. It was his father’s heritage that dictated the path of his life.

  “Good morning.” She folded her arms around her waist. She looked so vulnerable. He ached to take her into his arms, but he would never take her in his arms again.

  “Your belongings are packed in the limo.” Everything he had bought for her yesterday, with such high hopes of a future together, had been taken from the suite. What good was any of it to him? “When you’re ready my chauffeur will drive you home.”

  Her lips parted. She looked completely stunned. He waited; hardly aware he held his breath, for her reply.

  Would she tell him she didn’t want to go? That she understood his dilemma, and wanted to be by his side no matter what the circumstances?

  “Thank you.” She sounded uncertain and he offered her a cold smile. It was the best he could do. Because of course she wouldn’t change her mind. Why should she?

  “I have one request to make of you.” God, could he sound any more pompous if he tried? “If you discover you are expecting my child I want to know. I’ll make arrangements for any financial assistance you’ll need.”

  She swallowed and for one crazy second he thought she was going to close the distance between them and fling herself into his arms.

  “I…” Her voice trailed away, but the quaver in that one word tore through his heart. She was afraid he would take her baby from her.

  He waved an imperious hand. “I have no wish to have the child brought up in Omana with my official heirs. But I will provide for him or her. That is non-negotiable.”

  The color drained from her face as though he had struck her. Then she took a deep breath. “I’ll let you know.” She hesitated and then took a tentative step toward him. “About yesterday. All the things we said—”

  He couldn’t think about the things they had said. He cut her off with a mirthless laugh.

  “It meant nothing, sweet Sanura. An interlude I trust we will both look back on with pleasure. My offer of marriage was made out of a sense of responsibility for having taken your innocence while thinking you belonged to me.”

  For a heartbeat she looked as though she had been turned to stone. And then she spoke.

  “You’re right, of course. It meant nothing. And as for my innocence? I’m almost twenty-one. It was about time I got shot of that so I can… go out and enjoy myself properly.”

  Black jealousy stabbed through him, twisting his gut and robbing him of the power of coherent thought. What was she saying? That she intended to sleep with every man she now encountered?

  He wouldn’t stand for it. She was his and nobody else had the right to touch her.

  Except she wasn’t his. He had made the decision to let her go. He summoned every ounce of willpower he possessed and instead of dragging her into his arms he offered her a formal bow, before he turned his back on her and left.

  *

  The following afternoon Khalid returned to the hotel after his furtive visit to the art gallery Sanura had told him about. As always his name—and the promise of a generous donation—had worked its magic, and persuaded the gallery’s owners to allow him access to the work of Sanura Jones.

  They had signed an agreement never to tell her of his visit. The size of his check had clearly impressed upon them the importance of this, since they’d complied without further coercion.

  Her portfolio had shaken him to the core, and his intended plans had withered.

  Sanura didn’t need him to be an anonymous patron who bought all her work during the course of
the exhibition. She didn’t need him to use his contacts to ensure she received a steady flow of lucrative commissions.

  She didn’t need him at all.

  Her talent was breathtaking. Her work would sell and commissions would flow. Her photorealistic portraits conveyed such a depth of emotion it was hard to breathe.

  He paused outside the door to his suite and briefly closed his eyes. Part of him hoped she had conceived his child. It would forever be a link between them. But how could he stand not being a part of that child’s life?

  He couldn’t. And the thought of being an absent, part time parent tore him up inside.

  But it was no good. That was all he could ever be. He straightened and pushed Sanura to the back of his mind. He had responsibilities and duties. Sanura had chosen not to be a part of that. But he had the despairing conviction her presence would haunt him forever, regardless.

  “There you are, brother.” Rafi’s insouciant voice hit him as soon as he walked in the drawing room.

  Khalid tensed. As one of his trusted intimate circle Rafi would have no problem being allowed entry into his suite. But that wasn’t why he tensed. “You’ve found the princess?”

  Rafi prowled across the room and scrutinized the view of London from the French doors. “Not yet. I wanted to speak with you.”

  Khalid refused to embrace the relief that washed through him. Maysarah had to be found, and soon. He had alleviated his countrymen’s concern at the meeting yesterday by telling them the princess was still in mourning for the loss of her brother, and that was why he had yet to make arrangements for them to return to Omana for the wedding ceremony.

  But her absence could not be hidden for much longer.

  He joined his brother. “What’s wrong with phoning me?” Their cells, after all, were encrypted for security.

  Rafi folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “This needs to be discussed face-to-face.”

  Khalid narrowed his eyes. “What does?”

  Rafi’s lips thinned. “If Shahzad, you and I had been at the opening ceremony that day, who stood to inherit everything if we had all died as our father and my mother did?”

  Khalid frowned. It was hardly a state secret who was next in line for the throne. “Our uncle, Hashim. But he was sick, Rafi. I saw him myself only the day before the outrage. No one could fake that. He was sweating and vomiting. The physicians had no idea of the cause.”

  “I know half a dozen poisons that could cause such symptoms if judiciously applied.”

  Horror crawled along Khalid’s spine at what his brother implied. “You suspect our uncle is behind our father’s assassination?”

  Rafi was right. This wasn’t something that could be discussed over the phone.

  “I suspect he has something to do with it. I don’t know if he’s behind it.” Frustration threaded through Rafi’s voice. “I have no proof either way. But it’s best you be on your guard around him.”

  In his heart Khalid had always known the traitor had to be within their trusted circle. But the knowledge that it could be his own father’s brother sickened him to the core.

  He’d have his own chief of security investigate Hashim’s recent activities. And by God if the man was guilty he would be shown no mercy.

  “There’s something else I need to discuss with you.”

  Khalid dragged his attention back to the present. “Yes?”

  “It’s about Princess Maysarah.”

  Khalid exhaled a measured breath. “What about her?”

  “To take a second wife so soon after your first won’t go down well with El Habib. He could see it as an insult against his name.”

  That was a definite possibility. Khalid hadn’t thought that far ahead, when he’d been swept up in the romance of wooing Sanura. And now it didn’t matter. But he didn’t feel like discussing that with Rafi right now, not least because he had the distinct impression his brother still disapproved of the notion. Khalid wasn’t in the mood to take any shit from his brother over it.

  “El Habib will have no reason to be insulted. Although if the princess isn’t found soon we’ll have to think up a sound reason for the delay of the wedding.”

  “If it comes to that, I’ll speak to him myself.”

  If anyone could deflect the wrath of El Habib, it was Rafi. “He’s always looked favorably on you.”

  Rafi shrugged. “He’s always been fair with me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see him for what he really is. Maysarah can’t return to Qtara without a powerful husband by her side to protect her from him. He’s a bastard with women when he doesn’t get his own way.”

  Khalid stiffened. “You think I wouldn’t protect the princess? As my wife any insult leveled against her would be leveled against me. Even if that insult comes from her own father.”

  “You can say whatever you wish, Khalid.” Rafi pushed himself away from the wall. “Your actions in taking a second wife before the ink is dry on the contract with Maysarah will tell her father everything he needs to know. And believe me, he will ensure she knows how deeply she has failed in her obligations.”

  What was the point in keeping it to himself any longer? “I won’t be taking a second wife. The princess will be my one and only. For all time.”

  “Don’t tell me this mysterious Sanura rejected you.” There was more than a hint of mockery in Rafi’s voice.

  “I’m not prepared to discuss it.” Not now. Not ever.

  Rafi frowned and tension spiked from him. “She refused you?” He sounded as though such a thought had never crossed his mind. “And you are simply accepting the situation? If you want her what’s stopping you from taking her back home?”

  Only one thing. And he had no intention of telling his brother that. “It’s over.” His voice was harsher than he had intended. “Isn’t that all that matters?”

  “I’ll be damned. You love her.”

  “How I feel is irrelevant.”

  Rafi eyed him as though he was an opponent. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “What proposition?”

  “I will take your place as the princess’s husband.”

  Had he misunderstood? “What?”

  Rafi gave a thin-lipped smile. “My intention was to save the princess from the indignity of her husband marrying his mistress within days of the wedding. But my offer still stands. I’ll take the princess and you can win back the hand of your Sanura.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Khalid refused to even contemplate his brother’s extraordinary offer. “I would never ask you to do such a thing.”

  “I know. I offered.”

  Khalid gave a bitter laugh. “You’re the only one of us free to marry whoever you choose. Why would you want to tie yourself to a woman you’ve never met?”

  “I’ve always felt somewhat slighted that my marital status wasn’t nailed down during my childhood, the way yours and Shahzad’s were.”

  Was his brother joking? Sometimes it was hard to tell. “I won’t dishonor Maysarah in such a manner.”

  “One might argue,” Rafi said, “that she has already dishonored the name of Salah al Din by running from you. She is a princess and knows her duty. Let me ask you this. If Maysarah had been here to greet you, as she should have, would you have fallen in love with Sanura?”

  How the hell could he answer a question like that? The look of satisfaction on his brother’s face suggested he didn’t need to answer it.

  “Even if I agreed with this mad plan of yours, her father’s permission would still be needed for the new contract. I can’t do that to her.”

  “Unfortunately El Habib is already suspicious of his daughter’s absence. Her guards have reported she hasn’t been seen for a few days. Combined with your visit to London it didn’t take him long to jump to a reasonable conclusion. He’s furious with her disobedience and is already certain you’ll rescind the marriage agreement.”

  Khalid swore. “If he finds her before you—”

  “He won�
�t. I’ve laid a false trail for his secret police to follow.”

  Khalid stared at his brother in disbelief. “Why would you do that?”

  Rafi shrugged. “I’m not a romantic like you. But your belief in love has always amused me. Go find and marry your Sanura, and I will protect the princess from her father’s wrath. You know I stand a better chance at that than you. He’s always thought your French blood corrupted your good sense.”

  Khalid swung away from his brother and paced the room. It was true Maysarah had shirked her duty when she had run from her responsibilities. But he didn’t want her punished for it, yet that was exactly what would happen if her father got hold of her.

  Even if he did go ahead and marry her, that wouldn’t be enough to placate her father’s sense of injury at his daughter’s behavior. The relationship between Khalid and El Habib was civil, but there was no warmth between them. Khalid would never be able to heal the rift between father and daughter enough for Maysarah to feel safe in her own land.

  But he looked upon Rafi as a beloved nephew. If Rafi married Maysarah it was likely El Habib would think a far better alliance had been forged. And while the princess would still need to fulfill her destiny at least she wouldn’t be at the mercy of her father’s sadistic whims.

  He halted and faced his brother. “It seems events have overtaken us in this matter.”

  “It would appear so.” Rafi inclined his head. “I have your blessing?”

  Khalid gripped his brother’s arm. “You do.”

  Rafi gave a ghost of a smile. “And you have mine. Be sure to wait until I return before you wed your beloved.”

  Khalid forced a smile, but inside he was hollow. He doubted Sanura would give him a second chance. Not after everything he’d said to her yesterday.

  And his pride wouldn’t allow him to beg.

  *

  Sanura stretched her aching muscles and frowned at the portrait of Khalid she’d worked non-stop on since returning home three days ago. She had no idea why she was torturing herself in this way. He’d taken her heart and then stamped all over it.