The Sheikh's Virgin Hostage: Seducing her was never part of the plan...

by Clare Connelly

  “Hello, Emma. Would you do me the honor of introducing me to your sister?”

  Beside her, Emma felt Cassandra stiffen. “Your sister-in-law, actually.” Cassandra said, holding her hand up and flashing the large diamond.

  Rafiq walked slowly towards them, his reaction unreadable. When he was level with them, so close that Emma could smell the desert winds on him, he smiled. Emma knew him well enough to know that the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Congratulations, Cassandra. I am very pleased for you.” He leaned forward and kissed her on both cheeks. Then, turning to Emma, he locked his eyes on hers. The second he stared at her, she felt her stomach flip over, and her lungs stopped working properly.

  As if he wasn’t already impossible to resist, he’d gone and got all disheveled on her. The beard, black like his hair, made him look wild and untamable, as she knew he was, inside. Moistness slicked inside her as her body clenched with remembered pleasure. Just the smell of him made her body ache for fulfillment.

  “So,” he said to Emma, with all the appearance of formal civility. “We are family, after all.”

  She dropped her gaze away, too pained to look at him any longer, she focused instead on Cassandra. “Yes. I suppose you got what you wanted after all.”

  God, he really had. In the two weeks since she’d left the desert, he must have decided he no longer wanted to marry her, so he’d done what she could not. Why shackle himself to a woman who just wanted to fight with him, when he had a ready-made next-in-line to the throne on its way?

  Rafiq was now so finely aware of every single emotion in Emma that he could hear her wheels turning. He would have to talk to her, to explain, but not now.

  “Where is my brother?”

  “We were just going to see him,” Cassandra said bullishly, none of the nervousness with Rafiq that Emma herself had experienced. Of course not! She was used to being with powerful people, and wealthy people, and being adored by all. “You may join us, if you’d like.”

  Rafiq covered his smile with his hand. These twins had little in common physically, except their striking manes of ochre hair, but their complete lack of respect for authority was obviously a family trait.

  “Indeed,” he responded quietly, and fell in step beside Emma.

  As they walked, Emma tried to keep up with Cassandra’s conversation about mutual acquaintances, but she was far too aware of the man beside her. He was so close that his robes kept swishing against her hips, and occasionally, by accident, she was sure, his hand brushed against her own, sending a frisson of hunger firing through her belly.

  Trying not to appear obvious, she clasped her hands in front of her stomach. Her whole body was screaming at her, wanting him, but she had to jump this huge mental hurdle first. He’d brought Cassandra to Amar’a. And as much as she tried to think of other reasons, there was only one that was plausible.

  He must have done it to avoid marrying her.

  He’d changed his mind.

  Or he’d finally accepted her refusal.

  It didn’t matter which.

  She was no longer required and he would obviously want to see the back of her. The knowledge should have filled her with joy, but it didn’t. She was miserable.

  They reached the guest suites just as Mansour erupted from one room. “It is true, you are home!” He flashed a huge smile in the direction of his wife and then moved to his brother. Emma was shocked to see that he sank to his knees in a low bow before Rafiq. “Forgive me, highness.”

  “Get up,” Rafiq said through clenched teeth, shooting Emma a look that said, See? This is what people should do for the leader of Amar’a. But she looked away quickly, to Mansour. He was very handsome, in a groomed, model kind of way. Just perfect for Cassandra, she summarized in one second flat. Very much her sister’s type. How she had ever thought Rafiq had been with Cassandra was completely beyond her.

  Mansour stood, his face truly showing remorse. “Allow me to explain,” he spoke in English for their benefit, Emma knew.

  Rafiq was at war with himself. The strong need to chew out his irresponsible brother, versus the stronger need to take Emma into a room to ravage her, versus the need to get to know the woman who had married into his family.

  The third won, by a small margin. With another attempt at a smile, he encompassed the group. “Let’s have a wedding toast, first, hmm? I’ve arranged a small reception in the state room.”

  “The state room?” Cassandra said with an elegant little laugh. “Sounds rather grand. Then again, I guess I have married royalty.”

  Rafiq tried not to show his dislike for his newly acquired sister-in-law. But next to Emma, beautiful yet not vain, fiery yet demure, spirited yet smart Emma, he couldn’t help but see Cassandra as a very pale imitation of the woman he’d come to know.

  “You go ahead and I will join you once I have showered. In the mean time, Mansour, I do not think you have met Cassandra’s sister, Emma. You should know, you owe her a debt of gratitude. If I do not disinherit you, it will be thanks to her impassioned argument on your behalf.”

  Cass and Mansour both stared at Emma, whose cheeks were blushing in that way Rafiq loved to provoke. With a small nod at Emma, he stormed back down the corridor in the direction they had just come from.

  “Well, Emma, you’ve done the impossible. Clearly you have got under my brother’s skin, and I would love to know how you did that.” Unlike Rafiq, Mansour spoke English with an American accent, and with a speed and slang that clearly showed his education had been conducted abroad.

  Emma demurred, as Cassandra linked an arm through hers, and began to walk. “I’m starving,” she said quietly to Emma. “I’m not one of those pregnant women who carries on much as before. I cannot stop eating!”

  Mansour laughed. “I mean it, Emma. Don’t let Cass distract you with baby talk until you’ve told me how you got Mansour under your thumb.”

  “I most certainly did not,” she contradicted hotly. “The man is an insufferable tyrant.” She regretted the words as soon as they were out. She shot her brother-in-law an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, to you, of all people.”

  Mansour laughed. “Don’t sweat it. I’ve said much worse, believe me. He’s just used to being right. And aggravatingly, he generally is.”

  “Mannie, he tried to blackmail Emma into marrying him. There was nothing right about that. If he wasn’t your brother, I’d slap him silly.”

  “He wouldn’t have gone through with it, babe. You have to understand Rafiq. He takes his duties very seriously. He has no time for a marriage. No interest in one, truth be told. He’s married to Amar’a. This baby is all sorts of convenient for him. I think he would have stopped at nothing to get us here.”

  “He’s right, Cass. This was all about the baby. I don’t think he would have forced me to go through with it, if push came to shove.”

  Emma felt Cassandra watching her and so she took huge efforts to seem normal. Only she didn’t even remember what normal was.

  Mansour led them to the state rooms, and as they neared the large cream doors, they magically opened. Inside, a line of staff, dressed in formal suits, were waiting, staring ahead. Music began to play, and even Cassandra seemed a little wowed.

  “I see my brother has opted for full fanfare.”

  “Well, you have returned, and brought an heir to the throne,” Emma said with a small, pained smile. The table in the centre of the room was enormous, but set for just four people, two on either side. “Though it does seem like overkill,” she conceded, as three staff appeared and each held a chair out.

  Of course the newlyweds opted to sit beside one another, but Emma was peeved. It meant that she would be sitting beside Rafiq, and at that moment, the thought of being close to him for a whole meal was an agony she could well do without. Champagne was popped and poured and without Rafiq there, Emma realized she was actually feeling a little relaxed. She took a sip, enjoying the sensation of bubbles bursting down her thr
oat.

  “You need to tell me how this happened,” she said, pointing at the two of them.

  Cassandra looked guiltily at her. “Oh, Emmie, I’m so sorry I lied to you. If I’d known you were going to get this harebrained scheme in your head, I would never…” Cassandra was interrupted by the sound of the doors opening again. They turned as one, to watch as Rafiq entered.

  Only Emma was rendered incapable of speech, she thought, at his appearance. The beard was gone. His hair had been cropped back into its usual style. And he was wearing a tuxedo. He looked like a cross between the all powerful sheikh he was, and a character from the Great Gatsby. She sighed as he approached, and then, realizing that she was visibly mooning over him, looked away. She picked up her champagne and pretended great fascination in the elaborately etched stem of the crystal glass.

  He sat down in the empty seat, beside Emma, and beneath the table, their knees brushed. Emma startled as if she’d been electrocuted. Rafiq shot her an inquisitive look over the rim of his champagne flute. He raised it in the air and said, “To the newlyweds. May your life together be blessed; your children be healthy, and your hearts happy.”

  Cassandra smiled widely as they chinked glasses, hers filled with orange juice. Emma, her eyes not meeting Rafiq’s, raised her glass once more and said, “To love.”

  Rafiq took the challenge. Looking directly at the woman who sat beside him, he said, “To Love.”

  It had been a stupid toast, aimed at needling him, but instead, it had just made her even more miserable.

  “And now, Mansour, I insist you tell us where you have been for the last two months.”

  Emma noticed the way he’d said us, unconsciously grouping them together.

  Cassandra looked coldly at the man who had imprisoned her sweet, naïve sister. “Mansour would never have left me if he’d known I was pregnant.”

  “I would never have left you if you hadn’t insisted I should,” Mansour interjected with a teasing smile.

  “I was hormonal,” Cass admitted, batting her eyelids for all they were worth.

  “Hormonal and irresistible.” Mansour confirmed, taking a long sip on his champagne.

  “Emmie, after you and I had spoken, almost the next day, Mansour appeared, and proposed. He didn’t even know about the baby then. I hated lying to you, but once you’d gone to Greece, I told myself no harm would come of it.” She was studiously avoiding looking at Rafiq. “We weren’t certain how our news would be taken at the palace, and we just wanted to wait out the first trimester together, and celebrate our marriage, before contending with the fallout.”

  Emma toyed with her fork. She wasn’t angry with Cassandra; she was angry at the situation. But she couldn’t help leveling her sister with a sad look. “The fallout was greater than anyone could have predicted.”

  “Yes.” Cassandra’s eyes were glistening with fury. “I couldn’t have predicted that you’d meet the original he-man, could I?”

  Beside her, Rafiq stiffened.

  “What were you thinking, Rafiq? Kidnapping an American citizen and holding her hostage? Trying to bully her into marrying you? How could you do such a thing?”

  “I had little choice.” He said stonily, his attention on Mansour. “You know you should have behaved differently, little brother. You knew I would worry.”

  Mansour’s frown was genuine. “You haven’t worried about me a day of our lives, Raf. I know I caused you inconvenience, and I’m sorry to you both, but this is our life. Our marriage. And our baby.”

  Rafiq, grudgingly, had to respect his brother’s stand of independence. He’d become used to Mansour the child. Seeing Mansour behave like a grown man was a refreshing change. The atmosphere crackled as if dynamite was lit beneath their feet. Emma’s nerves, already at breaking point, were fraying at the edges.

  And yet, it was Emma who broke the tense silence. “This arguing is no good for Cass or the baby,” she said firmly, to no one in particular. “While the situation could, clearly, have been handled better by everyone, it is done. No harm, no foul. There is the future to think of, and I just want to focus on the beautiful little baby that will be a part of all of our lives in a few months’ time.”

  She fired a warning look at Rafiq, but for once, he did not challenge her.

  “How is your book going, Emma?” Cass said, bringing up a topic she knew always pleased Emma.

  Not this time, though. “I’m struggling a little. I have no idea how I’m going to meet my deadline.”

  Cassandra bit down on the retort that she would probably have had more of a chance without being kidnapped.

  “Well, posters for your latest book are still everywhere I go. Airports, bookshops. I tell everyone I meet, my sister wrote that!”

  Emma grimaced. “Oh, don’t make me squirm. You know I hate the publicity.”

  “You’re a New York Times best seller, Emmie. It’s what you’ve always wanted. Sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

  Emma was flushing to the roots of her hair, and she was so busy trying to act cool that she didn’t see the way Rafiq was looking at her, his face clearly showing his surprise. As Emma and Cassandra continued to catch up, to the entire world, it would have looked as though Emma was care-free and happy. Inside though, she knew the truth. Her heart was broken beyond repair.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next day, Emma was faced with the grim reality of her own departure from the palace, Amar’a, and Rafiq. There was no ignoring the elephant in the room. Now that Cassandra was here, and apparently very happy to raise her child in Amar’a, there was no purpose to Emma’s staying.

  She dressed with extra care that morning, in a turquoise dress that flowed to her ankles and was cut in a boat neck around her décolletage. It nipped in at the waist and for once she felt that she looked her best. Her hair she brushed loose around her face, and her makeup she kept simple. Steeling her nerves, she set off for Rafiq’s office. The whole way there, she kept telling herself that it would soon be over. Once she had endured this conversation, she could go. She had fortified herself for the inevitable rejoinders from him. He would ask her to stay. He might even offer to go through with the marriage. But Emma knew he was a man who valued honor above all else, even his own happiness. He might make the offers, but she suspected he would be relieved to return to his uncomplicated life. He had clearly outlined the terms for her freedom, and those terms had been met. No. He had made certain they would be met. When she had hesitated, he had gone ahead, effectively releasing her.

  His office was guarded by two men; she didn’t recognize either. “I’d like to speak to Sheikh Rafiq,” she said with a tentative smile at the more highly decorated.

  “Eez busy,” he said in heavily accented English.

  Emma, already overcome with nerves, was about to turn and leave, when she heard Rafiq’s voice, as clear as a bell. He must have been close to the door, she thought, her heart pounding. Then, she strained to hear what he was saying. “Believe me, Mansour, I had no intention of marrying her. Why do you think I emailed Cassandra, when it became clear she would not?”

  Emma’s last tiny bubble of self-confidence popped inside her.

  “Then why the hell did you bring her here?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that same question,” his voice was grim as he plucked the door open. And saw Emma standing outside, her face stricken.

  He silently made every curse he knew. But outwardly, he didn’t react. She had come to him. His colorful little prisoner had come into the lion’s den, and he wanted to know why.

  “Emma,” Mansour smiled. “Cassandra and I are going into the city after this. Why don’t you join us?”

  “I’d like that. I shouldn’t be long.”

  She smiled awkwardly at her brother-in-law’s retreating back and then turned back to Rafiq.

  It was like looking at a huge rock boulder, for all the emotion she got from him.

  “Come in,” he said formally, stepping back to allow her
entry.

  She rung her hands in front of her, waiting until he’d closed the doors again. “Please, have a seat.”

  She shook her head. It was the first time they’d been alone together since she left the desert, and she was overcome by a tidal wave of feeling in every quadrant of her being.

  “We need to talk,” she said quietly. “Though I don’t know what about,” she said on a sigh. “I guess I just didn’t want to leave without…without saying… something.” She finished lamely, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “And so you are going.” A statement, not a question.

  She spun around, her face pale. “Of course I am going. I just heard you tell Mansour you never had any intention of marrying me, so you must have been aware that at some point I would leave. Though perhaps you thought we’d sleep together a few more times, hmm? Was that it? No sense sending me away until you’d had your fill?”

  He paced the room. “You are miserable in Amar’a.”

  She didn’t bother contradicting him with the truth. It wasn’t Amar’a that made her miserable. It was loving someone incapable of returning the emotion.

  “And that’s it.” She said with a small, humorless laugh.

  “What do you want me to say? Damn it, Emma, you’ve spent the whole time I’ve known you telling me you want to leave. I’m giving you your freedom. Don’t tell me now you don’t want it.”

  “You weren’t listening to what I was actually saying. I wanted the freedom to go. That’s not the same as saying I wanted to leave. Just the option.”

  His green eyes were unmoved. “Well, now you have that option. What are you going to do?”

  This conversation was all the proof she needed – as if she needed more – that their love story was ferociously one sided. Woefully inadequate. And as hard as she found it to leave him now, a marriage to him would be unbearable. Every day would be as a physical pain, knowing that he felt nothing for her. With a heart that felt like it was shutting down, she forced herself to look him directly in the eyes. “I’m leaving.”