The Sheikh's Convenient Bride

by Sandra Marton

  “It concerns the woman’s departure.”

  “What woman? What departure?” Caz glowered at his aide. “What are you babbling about?”

  “Sir, your pilot will not agree to the flight without your direct permission. I told him there was no need to trouble you, but he insists that—”

  “What flight?”

  “Miss O’Connell’s flight, lord.”

  “Is this a riddle, Hakim? Her flight to where?”

  “To the United States.”

  Hakim was looking at him as if he were slow-witted. Hell, one of them was.

  “WWhy would Miss O’Connell think she’s flying to the States?”

  “Because her arrangement with you is at an end, sire.”

  “What?”

  “Is it not so? The woman says—”

  “You didn’t think it necessary to speak with me?”

  “I was only trying to save you the bother, lord. The woman—”

  Caz took a step forward, his fists bunched at his sides. “The woman,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “is my wife. The Sheikha. You will refer to her by title. Is that clear?”

  “But my lord…”

  “Is it clear, damn you?”

  He watched his aide’s face whiten.

  “Yes, lord. Of course. Forgive me, sir.”

  But Caz wasn’t listening. He’d already started running toward the palace.

  Megan had almost finished packing when the door burst open.

  “What in hell are you doing?”

  His voice roared through the room. He was angry, but she’d expected that. She’d expected him to confront her, too. Hakim had been happy to make the arrangements for her departure without involving Caz—the aide made no pretence of how eager he was to see her gone—but she’d suspected it wouldn’t be possible.

  Nothing happened in this antiquated corner of the world without the involvement of Sheikh Qasim, and she’d known he would not take kindly to letting her leave without some sort of confrontation.

  All week, she’d sensed that his behavior—polite, formal, distant—masked a growing anger. And what in hell did he have to be angry about? She was the same woman she’d always been; Caz was the one who’d changed. One moment he’d been her passionate lover, the next he’d become…

  There was no way to describe what he’d become. Cold, uncaring, disinterested. All that, and more.

  And it hurt.

  Still, she wasn’t prepared for the rage flashing in his eyes. Well, she thought, taking a blouse from its hanger, that was fine.

  She’d rather deal with his anger than with his disinterest. Better to go toe-to-toe with him than to lie in his bed, alone and unhappy, crying herself to sleep, and wasn’t that a stupid thing to have done all these nights? What was there to cry about? She’d figured out, days ago, that she’d never really fallen in love with Caz. Pretty pathetic, when a modern woman had to feed herself a lie about love rather than admit all she’d wanted was to sleep with a man.

  “Did you hear me? I said—”

  “I heard you. What does it look like I’m doing?” Megan folded the blouse neatly. Damn, her hands were shaking. “I’m packing.”

  “The hell you are!”

  She told herself to keep calm. He was trying to upset her, and she’d be damned if she’d let him succeed.

  “Packing is generally the first step before a person leaves,” she said calmly.

  “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that you work for me.”

  “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that my job here is done.”

  “It’s done when I say it is.”

  “It’s done when the meetings end. Well, they ended.”

  “There’s also the little matter of our marriage.”

  She looked up. His eyes were so narrow she could hardly see them and a muscle beat rapidly in his jaw. Dark and dangerous, indeed. How about dark, dangerous and insufferable? How kind of him to remind her of some of the things she hadn’t liked about him when they met.

  “There is no marriage, remember? Not a real one.”

  “Would you say that if we’d been married in Los Angeles?”

  “We weren’t married in Los Angeles, we were married in Suliyam, and you made it perfectly clear that—”

  “Are you suggesting marriages here are not legal?”

  “I’m simply reminding you of what you told me. This marriage isn’t binding.”

  Caz folded his arms and glowered. She was right. That was what he’d told her. What was wrong with him? Why was he so damned angry?

  And why did the statement about their marriage sound so different, coming from her?

  Because he was the king, that was why. If anyone ended this union, it would be him.

  He told her that, and when she barked a laugh, he felt the heat rise to his face.

  “Just listen to yourself, Qasim. You are unbelievab—”

  “I am your husband,” he roared. “And in Suliyam, a wife may not leave her husband without permission.”

  “Is that what this is all about? You want me to grovel? Well, I won’t. You told me I would be free to leave, that our vows had no meaning, that—”

  Caz caught her by the shoulders and lifted her to her toes. “I said the marriage would have no meaning, that I would annul it, that you would have to do nothing once you were back in the States…but you’re still in my country. Until I choose to set you free, you belong to me.”

  Damn it, he thought in disgust, was he really calling up one of the barbaric traditions he’d sought to destroy? From the way his wife was looking at him, he sure as hell was, but what was he supposed to do? Let a woman play him for a fool? Let a woman take the upper hand?

  Let this woman, only this woman, steal his heart and walk out of his life?

  Didn’t she feel anything for him? She did. She had to. He remembered that long night she’d spent in his arms. How she’d sighed, moved, whispered his name, and suddenly nothing mattered but wiping away the deceit they’d woven and facing the truth.

  “Megan,” he said hoarsely, and when she looked into his eyes, he gathered her against him and kissed her.

  She fought him. Struggled to tear her mouth from his. He didn’t have the words to tell her what she meant to him, but he could show her. He could kiss her until she knew his hunger, until she responded as she had on their wedding night.

  And then, when he’d almost lost hope, her mouth softened. Clung to his. She made a little sound that was as much despair as it was surrender. It almost broke his heart when he tasted the salt of her tears on her lips.

  “Kalila. Don’t cry.”

  She shook her head. “Caz. I beg you. Let me go.”

  “I don’t want you to leave me.”

  “Yes, you do. Whatever was between us died when we came back here. That time in the mountains was an illusion.”

  “It was real,” he said fiercely. She wouldn’t look at him and he hunched down, cupped her face, forced her to meet his eyes. “I love you.”

  The words were true. He knew it as soon as he spoke them.

  “I beg you, kalila. Don’t leave me. Stay with me. Be my wife. Lie in my arms at night, stay by my side during the day. I love you, Megan. I love—”

  Megan sobbed his name, brought his face down to hers and gave her husband the answer he sought in her kiss.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MEGAN awoke lying curled against her husband, her head on his chest, her hand spread over his heart.

  Doves cooed to each other in the courtyard beneath the bedroom window; she could hear the sea beating gently against the crescent of white sand beach only a short distance away.

  Caz, still asleep, lay on his back. With just a little effort, she could look up and see his firm chin, his softly stubbled jaw.

  How she loved him! How she loved waking like this each morning, lying close to him, feeling the glorious weight of his arm wrapped around her

  Two weeks ago, she’d probably have described the way he h
eld her as possessive. Now, she thought of it as protective.

  Amazing, how her perspective had changed in fourteen short days.

  Sometimes, lying in his embrace, she wondered if other married people were this happy. It didn’t seem possible. To begin each day with so much joy in your heart and end it thanking whatever gods might be listening for the miracle that had brought such love into your life?

  Nobody else could feel this way. Nobody. Not even her brothers. Not even her sister. Keir and Cullen might look at their wives with their hearts shining in their eyes; Fallon’s smile might turn soft and dreamy when Stefano entered the room, but could any of them really know such bliss?

  Impossible.

  Surely she was the only woman in the world who loved a man so deeply. Absolutely, she was the only one loved so deeply in return. Caz was—he was—

  “Beautiful,” Caz murmured in a voice husky with sleep.

  Megan smiled as her husband rolled her onto her back. “Good morning,” she said softly.

  He smiled, too, and brushed his lips over hers. “Good morning, kalila. When was the last time I told you that I love you?”

  “Well, let’s see…” Megan linked her hands behind his neck. “Was it at dinner? Maybe it was when we came to bed. It might have been later than that, when we decided to go down to the beach to try to count the stars.”

  “Mmm.” Caz nuzzled a tangle of auburn curls from her shoulder and nipped lightly at the tender flesh he’d exposed. “You forgot early this morning. I woke you at dawn, remember?”

  Indeed, he had. Her skin still tingled at the memory. “Did you?” She batted her lashes. “I don’t remember that, my Lord.”

  “You don’t, huh?”

  “No. You might have to remind—” She caught her breath as he kissed her breast, teased the nipple with tongue and teeth, then sucked it into his mouth. “Yes. Oh, yes, I remember you did that.”

  He slid down her body, kissing her belly, nuzzling apart her thighs, burying his face in the heat of her, the scent of her, the essence of this woman who had changed his life.

  “Do you remember this, too?” he whispered, slipping his hands beneath her, lifting her to his mouth, opening her to him so he could taste her, feast on her, luxuriate in the soft moans that drove him crazy.

  “Caz. Caz…”

  “Tell me,” he said thickly. “Say the words, kalila. I need to hear them.”

  “I love you,” Megan whispered, “love you, love you, love…”

  She cried out and he rose above her, sheathed himself in her, and when she cried out again, he fell with her into that heart-stopping moment in time when they were alone in the endless universe.

  “Megan?”

  “Mmm.”

  Caz propped himself on his elbow, smiled as he traced the tip of his finger down her nose, over her lips and down her chin.

  “Come on, kalila. Stay awake. I have something important to discuss with you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, I want you to pay attention.”

  “No.” She rolled on her belly, pushed him back against the pillows and folded her arms on his chest. “Ka-lee-lah. What’s it mean?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Uh uh. I’ve meant to ask you endless times.”

  “You’ve picked up so much of my language…” He grinned. “But then, I don’t suppose any of the men we’ve met with address each other as ‘sweetheart.’”

  “Sweetheart?” He nodded; she smiled. “It has a lovely sound.”

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  Megan nipped his bottom lip. “Don’t take that smart-alecky tone with me, Lord Qasim.”

  “Smart what?”

  “You understand what I said. You’re as American as I am.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  He smiled. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. “Megan? Do you miss America very much?”

  “A little,” she said, with the honesty he loved. “But I have you, and you mean more to me than anything else.”

  Caz pressed a kiss into her hair. “I promise, we’ll go back for a visit very soon.”

  ‘And I’ll introduce you to my family.” Megan’s smile faltered. “I’m not looking forward to that. Oh,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I only meant…They’ll be hurt, that I didn’t tell them we were getting married.”

  “Well, we’ll explain that we didn’t know about it until it happened—unless you don’t want them to hear that part.”

  “That you married me to save me from the big, bad wolf?” She laughed. “Of course I want them to hear it. They’ll love it. My brothers will take you straight into the O’Connell clan because you’re so macho, and my sisters will ooh and ahh. It’s not every modern-day woman finds her own knight in shining armor.” Megan tucked a fingertip into a soft curl on his chest. “I guess what’ll upset them is that they weren’t part of our wedding. Well, I’ll just point out that they couldn’t have been.”

  “No,” Caz said wryly, “not with Ahmet standing in for best man.”

  “And maid of honor.” Megan giggled. “There’s a thought. Ahmet, in a bridesmaid’s gown. Can’t you just see it?”

  “What I can see,” Caz said, getting up and scooping her into his arms, “is you in white lace, me in a tux, your sisters—how many are there?”

  “Two,” she answered, puzzled, “but—”

  “Two sisters in pink or yellow or whatever you like best, and those three brothers-in-law of mine in tuxes.” He grinned as he carried her into the adjoining bathroom and set her on her feet next to the step-up marble tub. “If I have to wear a monkey suit, so do they.”

  “I’m sure they’ll love you to pieces for your kindness, but what are you talking about?”

  “Our wedding, kalila. What else would impel a sane man into wearing a tuxedo?”

  “We’ve already had our wedding.”

  “Not a real one, sweetheart.” Caz turned on the water and gathered her into his arms as it thundered into the enormous tub. “You deserve the kind of wedding girls dream of.”

  Megan leaned back in his arms. “What do you know of wedding dreams, Lord Qasim?”

  “I know,” Caz said with a lift of his eyebrows. “I’m at an age where I’ve been to enough weddings to know that it certainly isn’t the grooms who want the tuxedos, the engraved invitations, the fiftieth microwave oven that you have to pretend is the first you’ve received.”

  “Just goes to show you’ve been going to the wrong parties. My relatives will know enough to give us a gift certificate for a day spent skydiving.”

  Caz raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me. My wife skydives?”

  “She does,” Megan said primly. “And she’s never found anything she enjoys more.”

  “She hasn’t, huh?”

  A smile curled across her lips. “Well,” she said softly, “not until now.” Caz kissed her and she leaned back in his arms and sighed. “You poor man. All those weddings, and I bet you never figured you’d go to one of your own.”

  Something changed in his expression. A shift of his smile, a darkening of his eyes…she wasn’t sure what, but she knew she’d seen something.

  “Caz? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me. You looked—”

  “I looked like a man contemplating an incredible reality, sweetheart.” He cupped her face, threaded his fingers into her hair. “I love you, with all my heart.”

  “That’s good. It’s very, very good because I love you, too.”

  “I want to make you my wife again, this time in a white wedding with your whole family present. Your mother. Your father.”

  “My stepfather.” She kissed his mouth. “Amazing, isn’t it, that there are still things we don’t know about each other?”

  “There’s plenty of time to learn.”

  “Yes. There is. A lifetime.” She smiled. “Wh
ere will we hold this wedding?”

  “Here. In the palace. Unless you’d rather—’’

  “I love the idea. So will my sisters. And my sisters-in-law.” A mischievous grin lit her face. “And my brothers, and my brother-in-law, and a bunch of fat, gorgeous babies. The O’Connells are a big clan, Sheikh Qasim, and growing.”

  “I hope so,” Caz said, and spread his hand over her belly. “I want children, kalila. Little girls, with your beautiful eyes.”

  “Sons, with your wonderful smile.” Her voice broke. “Caz, I’m so happy.”

  “Yes,” he whispered, “yes, I know, kalila. I know.”

  He kissed her, kissed her again as he stepped into the huge marble tub with her in his arms, and soon the only sounds in the room were the soft splash of water, whispers and sighs.

  Megan checked the time, tried to figure out the corresponding hour in New York, Boston, Sicily, Connecticut and Las Vegas, and gave up.

  So what if she woke everybody? She was remiss as it was; she should have phoned home days ago to tell her family about Caz, but these new things—that she was bringing her husband home to meet them soon, that they’d all be attending a wedding in Suliyam—couldn’t wait.

  She called Bree first and reached her sister’s voice mail.

  “Aren’t you ever home?” she demanded. “Honestly, Briana, how can I tell you my news if you’re not there?”

  Then she disconnected. It was a wicked thing to do, but Bree deserved it.

  Keir and Cassie were next. Hello, Keir’s voice said, you’ve reached the O’Connells. We can’t take your call right now…

  “For heaven’s sake,” Megan grumbled, and dialed again.

  Fallon and Stefano weren’t home, either. Their housekeeper answered, but since Megan’s knowledge of Italian and the housekeeper’s knowledge of English just about totaled zero, she didn’t get much further than, “Just tell them Megan called.”

  Sean’s cell phone didn’t answer at all, and when she tried to reach Cullen and Marissa, all she got was static.

  Megan hit the disconnect button and rolled her eyes. Great. She had the most wonderful news of her life and nobody to share it with.

  Well, no. Her mother was probably reachable in Las Vegas, but she wanted to tell the others first. Ma would start making plans, and she preferred the plans she’d just made with Caz. Life would be simpler if she had the backing of Fallon and Briana.