“You escaped. That’s not weak.”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t save him, Katie. If I’d been able to get those ropes loose earlier… I could have helped him.”
“Don’t.” She pressed her lips to his just to silence him. “Please don’t beat yourself up. If it was humanly possible, you would have done it.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever lose the guilt. I don’t deserve to.”
“Nonsense.” She took his hand in hers, feeling her anger fade away completely. The very suggestion of what could have been made her realize she had to grab on with two hands to what she had now. But… then she thought about Maxie, and it didn’t seem so simple. She did love Marcus. And if it were just her, she could forgive him for his stupid, selfish deception. But what if he did something like that again? What if Maxie got hurt? No, it was too risky.
But Maxie wasn’t there, and at least for one night, she could enjoy what they had, and this time, say the proper goodbye they’d never got around to.
“When I got back from Iraq I did… how did you charmingly put it earlier? Whore around?” She colored, still hating the idea of him with other women. He saw the way her eyes clouded over and shook his head. “I need to be honest with you. I never valued sex as anything special. And nor did the women I was with. I had no compunction sleeping with as many women as I could, to put the mess in Iraq behind me. I was hell bent on remembering how alive I was… but how I felt then, after Iraq, was nothing compared to how I felt when I left you. God, I have never been so lost.”
She bit down on her lower lip, feeling tears sting at her eyes. “Why did you go, then?”
“I was starting to care too much. It scared the hell out of me.”
“Care too much?”
“For you. For Maxie. I told myself it was just a fling, but I knew that’s not what I wanted anymore. But you deserve so much better than me, Katie. I owed it to you to leave you alone. I truly hoped you’d move on.”
“I felt like you’d slapped me when you said that. When you told me you hoped I’d be happy with some other man one day.”
“I couldn’t see a way to make it work,” he admitted hoarsely. “If I had told you the truth of who I was, I was certain you’d kick me out. And then I’d have lost you forever. At least we still had the memories. Or so I thought.”
“If I hadn’t come to London, would you really have never seen me again?”
“Once I stopped drinking like a fish, I would have come to my senses and come back to you.”
“I just don’t understand why you lied in the first place…” she said quietly, lifting her eyes to his with a tiny flicker of hope beating in her chest.
“Because, Katie Collins, from the second you opened that door, I was mind blown. I was absolutely, totally captivated, and I would have said I was a green blooded monkey if it meant I got to spend more time with you.”
She swallowed. “Oh.”
“It felt like fate had given me an opening, and I wasn’t going to turn it down. I thought we could just explore the obvious attraction we had and then move on with no hard feelings. I did try to lay out a framework from the beginning so that I wouldn’t feel like a bastard when I left…”
“I remember. And the irony is that I really respected your honesty and integrity.”
“Ah!” He threw his head back against the sofa. “If only you’d known.”
“Yes. If only I’d known.”
“Katie, there’s something I need to tell you.”
And he said it with such a serious expression that she froze. “Not more secrets?”
“No. When I came to Wadeford, I wanted to convince you to sell your house. The golf course is important to me. I played there with Andy and Bryan one weekend, and it was the last time I remember being really happy. Until I met you.” He flicked her a small smile, but he was still jumpy, still anxious; uncertain of what she wanted. “At the time of coming to Wadeford, I intended to convince you to sell this land to me, so that the golf course would be ocean front. But I never, in my wildest dreams, intended to seduce you. I never thought I’d feel like this about you. I was as blindsided by this as you were. Please believe me.”
“I do.”
“You do?”
“Yes. In my heart of hearts, I knew you were still one of the good guys.” She smiled up at him weakly.
“Well, then this is totally unnecessary.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some papers. She looked down at them, and a frown of confusion darkened her face.
“These are the deeds to Wadeford House.”
“I signed it straight back over to you. Katie, I don’t want you to ever think the house is why I was with you.”
She opened her mouth, shocked to the core. “But I don’t want it anymore!”
His smile was broad. “Well, I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Then take it back.” She thrust the papers at him. “I mean it. I’ve already told Maxie we’re moving.”
He nodded slowly and took her hand in his, finally feeling like he could relax a little. “Have you decided where?”
She frowned. “No. No clue. I guess I’ll wait until holidays and then give it some thought.”
“I have an idea.” He leaned closer to her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders so that she was encircled against his chest. He felt her breath hitch in her throat.
“Oh?”
“Marry me.”
Her eyes flew open. “Marry you!” Her voice was unnaturally high. “Whatever for?”
“Because I love you. And I don’t want to be apart from you. And, as it turns out, I don’t want you to be happy with someone else. I want to be the only person who makes you smile like that. The only person who makes you coffee and toasted cheese sandwiches. The only person who makes love to you.”
She let out a small laugh. “You love me?”
“Yes. And I think you love me too. I know you might feel angry still, but I’m the same man you thought you loved before. And if you give me another chance, I promise you won’t be sorry.”
She frowned, pretending to give it some thought, but her smile gave her away completely.
“Now, I have come prepared to convince you this time. If you need a demonstration of just what I can offer, in terms of marriage, I’m very happy to oblige…”
And though she knew she was going to say yes, she tried to act as though she was contemplating it. “A demonstration would be helpful…”
“You don’t need to ask twice.” He scooped her up and held her against his chest, kissing her with all the hopes and dreams that were bursting inside of him. Marcus had arrived into his future, and his future felt just as good as he’d known it would.
THE END.
If you loved A BED OF BROKEN PROMISES, you’ll also enjoy THE SHEIKH’S VIRGIN HOSTAGE, available on the Amazon kindle store.
CHAPTER ONE
“You, over there. You do not agree with me?”
Emma felt a trickle of danger run down her spine as she slowly raised her eyes to the all powerful leader of Amar’a, Sheikh Rafiq Al Sadini. His posture hadn’t changed. He sat, casually reclined, in the centre of the yacht’s luxurious saloon. Only a sixth sense alerted her to an inner tension. Like a spring, tightly coiled, and held in suspense. He was too still, too relaxed seeming.
“I asked you a question,” he repeated quietly, pinning her down with eyes as green and terrifying as a stormy ocean.
The full force of her hatred for this man made her body shake, but she fought to hide it.
Clearing her throat, she opened her mouth to speak. “I beg your pardon, sir. I’m not sure what you mean.”
His eyes narrowed. “You have two ears on the side of your head, do you not?”
Color stole into her lightly freckled cheeks. “Yes, sir.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Listening is not a crime. I take it you didn’t agree with what I said?”
Since when did the exalted Sheikh of Amar’a c
are what commoners thought? She bit down on her lower lip, casting about for something acceptable to say. In the four weeks she’d been working for the royal family of Amar’a, she’d never thought about what she’d actually say if she got the chance to confront him. In those four weeks, she had only seen him a handful of times, and this was the first time he’d spoken to her.
“Come here.”
She swallowed away the urge to decline. She might hate him, but she feared him more. Tentatively, she crossed the room, unaware of how her body radiated trepidation as she went.
Up close, he was more devastatingly attractive than she’d appreciated. Then again, Cassandra had impeccable taste in men, at least when it came to sex appeal. Her twin sister was blessed with all of the looks of the pair, and gorgeous men had always fallen at her feet. Emma straightened her back, knowing that she had to put aside her nerves if she were to have any hope of getting this bastard to own up to his responsibilities.
“Yes, sir?”
He shifted a little in his seat, unintentionally drawing her attention to the breadth of his shoulders. He was wearing a traditional white robe, but she knew beneath it was a honed, muscular body. He was a giant of a man, at least six and a half feet, with a rippling six pack and narrow hips. She knew this because he’d gone swimming the day before, and she hadn’t been able to avoid seeing how perfectly sculptured his body was in just a black bathing suit.
“Leave us.” He addressed the man sitting opposite; who Emma gathered was a high level advisor. She felt her stress rising as the man exited the luxurious chamber, then, the rest of the staff followed suit. She tried to catch the eye of her friend Becky but it was no use. Rats! She was trapped. Alone with the Sheikh.
“Please, sit.” Even his voice was sexy! Rich and deep, with the hint of an exotic accent.
In the normal course of events, Emma would have politely declined. But one did not simply decline an invitation to join Sheikh Rafiq Al Sadini, exalted ruler of one of the super oil-rich nations. She slowly eased herself into the armchair opposite, unconsciously toying with her pearl earring.
Her skin prickled under his steady observation. He made no attempt to hide his curiosity as he took in her red hair, pulled into the severe braid she always wore. Her face was passably pretty, with wide set blue eyes, pale skin and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. But from then on, it was downhill. Unlike reed thin Cassandra, Emma was curvy in a way she had always hated. As the Sheikh slowly dragged his eyes down her frame now, she forgot to be ashamed of her looks; and she forgot to be furious with this lying rat. Instead, she felt an inexplicable pool of awareness in the pit of her stomach. It caught her totally by surprise. She had taken this job purely to confront this man. The last thing she wanted was to feel desire for one of her sister’s ex-lovers. Especially this one, who’d so callously broken her heart.
“What is your name?” The sheikh had finished his inspection and now fixed his gaze squarely on her face.
She straightened her glasses, wishing, out of nowhere, that she had bothered to put her contact lenses in that morning. “Emma.”
“Emma What? Do you have a surname?”
She bit down on her lip. Would it tip him off? Curious, despite the certainty she was playing with fire, she nodded. But butterflies were waging war with her body. At least a million butterflies, surely, were zipping around her insides, making it difficult to focus. His lips were so full. It was the kind of detail you only noticed up close, but now, she couldn’t stop staring at them. Full and pink lips, set in a symmetrical face, with a darkly stubbled, very square jaw line, and even, white teeth. She shivered.
He spoke a word in a foreign language, and from the inflection and volume, she gathered it was a curse in his own tongue.
“Anderson!” She blurted out, her blush deepening. “Emma Anderson.”
“Well, Emma, what exactly did you take exception to earlier?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to confront him, didn’t she? So what the hell did it matter if they got off on the wrong foot? “I don’t think you’re right to cut your foreign aid contributions.”
His eyebrows rose. “Would you care to explain why?”
“Not particularly,” she said with a dry smile.
“I insist.” His words held a note of warning that even she didn’t ignore.
“As you wish,” she said with an imitation of a shrug. She marshaled her thoughts together as best she could, recalling the conversation that had caused her to frown in disagreement. “Amar’a is a country of peace and wealth. But my understanding is that the rest of the region is politically instable. The funding you offer is building schools that help equalize society. It’s creating legitimacy in political systems. You have an obligation to help make the world a better place.”
He laughed, and it was such a rich sound that she shivered again. Her eyes flew wide as saucers as she stared across at him.
“You don’t agree?”
“Of course I agree. Unfortunately, your socialist view point does not tally with the reality. I’m not talking about reducing foreign aid. I’m talking about taking a tighter grip on how money is dispersed.” He dragged a hand through his hair and she realized he was stressed. There were fine lines around his eyes, perhaps even some dark shading, too, though it was hard to tell beneath his spectacularly tanned skin.
“Why?”
“Because, we have intelligence that suggests half a billion American dollars that we’ve sent to foreign aid has been funneled into organizations associated with terrorism. And that’s a price too high to pay.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Does that wipe that disapproving little frown off your face?”
She stared at him, sure he must be able to hear her heartbeat, even over the sound of the sea, lapping against the sides of the boat. “Do you particularly care if it does or doesn’t, your highness?”
Rafiq didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he’d been strangely annoyed by the waves of disapproval he had felt emanating from this woman. He’d noticed her several days ago, and every time he’d seen her since then, he’d felt a strange emotional intensity leveled at him. He was not used to being criticized, and certainly not by someone in his employ.
She could have been quite attractive if she’d tried. Her face was striking, and her hair the color of flames. But she seemed determined to downplay any beauty she could have displayed. Even the way she wore the uniform was strange. The fit was all wrong, too big, somehow, so that instead of looking like a woman, she just looked lumpy. And yet, there was a swan-like elegance to her neck. Her wrists were fine boned and slender. He suspected that beneath the navy suit, her body might be quite attractive, too.
Such speculation was beneath him and he suppressed it from his mind with the kind of mental discipline he was renowned for. “No.”
“No?” She stared at him, momentarily lost. What did he mean, no?
He seemed suddenly impatient. “No, I do not particularly care if you approve or disapprove.” He reached down to the coffee table between them and picked up a yellow legal note pad. “You may go.”
As dismissals went, it was pretty summary. Much as her sister’s had been.
The next time Rafiq saw Emma, she was polishing silverware and laughing with another member of staff. A young male with blonde hair and Hollywood heart throb good looks. Rafiq was simply walking past the galley and turned his head at just the right moment, to catch her as she let out the kind of laugh that spoke of true pleasure. For some reason, it made him restless, and he found himself hearing her laugh over and over again in his head, almost as if it were taunting him. That night at dinner, he found he was watching her, instead of paying attention to the conversation at hand. She was simply standing in the corner of the room, as a back up to the main servers of the meal. He was surrounded by officials and advisors, and yet he felt oddly overcome by a desire to clear the room with the exception of her.
The next morning, he
woke early. The dawn light was just breaking over the horizon, and he stretched restlessly. He really shouldn’t linger much longer. Mansour wasn’t coming. He’d have to be an idiot not to realize that his brother wasn’t missing by accident. Mansour had run away. Even for the confirmed party animal of the family, it was a strange departure from his usual modus operandi. His disappointment as Sheikh was eclipsed only by his worry as a brother. Mansour and he rarely saw eye to eye, but he was kin, and Rafiq valued little else above blood ties.
He threw back the waffle print blanket and crossed the cabin, naked and virile. His tanned skin glowed like sun-warmed caramel. He pulled on a pair of jeans and strode out of his private chamber up on deck. It was deserted at this hour, as he’d expected.
In the distance, he could just make out the buildings of Athens, glowing in the pre-dawn light and looking as stately and imposing as ever. It made him homesick for his own beautiful city. For surely there was nowhere with a richer history than the capital of Amar’a, the ancient city of Agbesh? He had to give up this fool’s errand, and soon.
A noise caught his attention and slowly, he angled his head.
It was as if his dreams had conjured her from thin air. Emma Anderson. Dressed in the ill-fitting uniform, her hair in that silly plait she always wore, spectacles low on her nose. A breeze whispered past, brushing her plait against her cheek. He watched as she fingered it away, without looking up from her notebook. She was writing, he saw with interest. A pen poised in her hand, her face frowning with concentration. A trickle of suspicion iced down his back, and before he could think through the logic of what he was doing, he strode over to her.
“May I see what you are writing?” He demanded, in a voice suffused with cold power.
She physically jumped at the interruption. “Oh! Your highness!” She stood up quickly, holding the book behind her back. He wasn’t imagining the way guilt was etched in every line of her face.
“Your notebook,” he commanded, holding out his hand expectantly.
A Bed of Broken Promises Page 14
