Debt of Honor (Sexy Sheikh Romance)

by Opal Carew

  She glanced down and saw that they'd dressed her in a skimpy harem outfit. Slowly, light filled the room from an overhead fixture dripping with crystals. She saw a woman by the door sliding a switch upward. A dimmer switch Angelica presumed. She glanced down at the costume again. It was stunning in royal blue and gold with a gorgeous design formed by the intricate beadwork. The bottom of the bra and the hip band were dripping with beaded fringe. It cascaded from the bra and caressed her bare midriff. She had taken belly dance classes over the past couple of years and had eyed the instructors' costumes, wishing she could afford one for herself, yet this was more exquisite than any she'd ever seen.

  "You like it, yes?" one of the women asked. She seemed to be the one in charge.

  "It's … beautiful."

  The woman took her hand and drew her forward. "Wonderful. The master will be pleased."

  Angelica's eyes widened. They were taking her to him? Dressed like this?

  Of course, what had she expected?

  When she slowed down, the women gathered around her and kept her moving forward. She resisted, but they kept moving en masse.

  "Stop it. I won't go dressed like this."

  "You must. The master has ordered it."

  They quickly approached the door. Panic flooded through her. She couldn't.

  "I won't wear this. I won't!" She reached behind her back and tried to unfasten the bra, but the unfamiliar closure and the fussing hands of the women prevented her from succeeding. She pulled the straps off her shoulders and tried to pull it forward.

  "No, miss. You might rip it," one panicked woman insisted.

  Rip it. That's exactly what she'd do. She tugged at the straps but they were securely fastened on. She switched to the belt and tugged hard. Despite the women pulling at her arms, she found where it fastened. She realized they had stopped their forward momentum as they struggled with her. She jerked several times until finally, she heard the belt tear, then it fell from her hips.

  The women spoke frantically in their own language. Next, she tore at the shimmering, diaphanous fabric of the skirt, ripping it from her body. She shoved her fingertips under the bra beside her left breast and pulled hard. The elastic gave a little and she tried to pull it upwards.

  "Stop! You will ruin it."

  She felt fingers working at the fastening, then the bra loosened. One of her captors took it, scowling at Angelica.

  The woman in charge stepped in front of Angelica, her hands on her hips.

  "The master will be very angry."

  "Then don't tell him."

  "His orders were for you to be brought to him in that outfit."

  Angelica placed her hands on her own hips, extremely conscious of her nudity but ignoring it.

  "Well, maybe it's time for him to learn that not all his orders will be followed."

  One of the women gasped. Angelica suspected the only reason the other woman didn't seem surprised was because she didn't speak English.

  She marched away from them, snatched the silk coverlet from the bed and wrapped it around herself. She sat down, her arms crossed over her chest as she held the coverlet firmly around herself.

  She had shown them she wouldn't be pushed around, she thought smugly.

  Chapter Three

  Angelica's smugness faded quickly when the women simply dragged her from the bed and led her through the hallways totally naked except for the cover she clung to.

  They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door in a tall, arched doorway. The head woman knocked and the door pulled open. A tall guard greeted her and waved them inside. The women led Angelica into a large, sumptuous room filled with plush, upholstered couches and chairs piled high with silk and velvet cushions, all in rich jewel tones, and ornately carved, ebony furniture. They prodded her to the middle of the room and stood behind her. The guard left, but she was certain he would be standing right outside, ensuring she didn't run for it.

  "What is this?" a familiar, masculine voice demanded.

  She glanced around and saw Kadin, the sinfully gorgeous man who'd insisted she owed him a debt, and demanded she pay with her body. She opened her mouth to voice a protest at her treatment, but his dark, penetrating eyes stole her breath away.

  His stormy gaze drifted over the blue silk coverlet cloaking her.

  She straightened her shoulders, but tightened her hold on the fabric.

  "They refused to provide me with decent clothes."

  His eyebrows raised and he stepped toward her. She could read nothing in his coal-black eyes. His mood, whether foul or fair, was a mystery to her. His presence filled the room and, as he approached, she had to force herself not to cringe. Yet at the same time, her body buzzed with an alarming excitement.

  Her body reacted to him far too easily. She reminded herself what might happen here tonight. Unfortunately, that kicked the excitement up several notches making her insides quiver.

  "I see. So you decided to cover yourself with this." His tone, low and dangerous, sent alarm skittering through her.

  Before she could comprehend what was happening, he grabbed the blanket and yanked it from her grasp.

  Where she'd been hot a second before, now cool air swirled around her entire body. Suddenly, she stood totally naked before him. Actually, not totally naked, since the women had managed to put a necklace of beaded fringe around her neck when they'd dressed her in the costume. She hadn't noticed until she'd felt the beads brushing against her skin when they'd lead her along the hallway. She glanced down at herself in horror, her gaze latching onto the beads, the twinkling silver and gold mesmerizing her. The fringe circled her neck, growing longer toward the center, forming a point which caressed the crevasse between her breasts.

  When she glanced back up she saw his stormy eyes had widened in surprise. Could it be he'd assumed she'd been wearing the costume underneath?

  "Leave us." At his command, the women hurried from the room.

  His expression returned to one of cool indifference as his gaze traveled leisurely down her body, in a slow, deliberate perusal. Her skin burned all over. She wanted desperately to cover herself, but she refused to cringe behind the too-brief shelter her hands would provide. Better to stand tall and proud.

  Of course, that wasn't easy as she felt the heat of his gaze. It moved along her body like a hot feather lightly brushing her skin. Down her breastbone, sending goose bumps quivering along her skin. Sliding along the curve of her breast, to her nipples, which tightened and swelled erect at the unaccustomed attention. The longer he lingered there, the tighter they became. Slowly, his gaze drifted lower, down her stomach, past her navel, until he reached the dark curls.

  Anxiety built within her, like lava inside an active volcano, until she felt ready to burst. Her hands clenched at her sides. She had to make him stop.

  "Give me back the blanket," she demanded.

  His gaze locked with hers, the edge of anger hardening his usually indifferent eyes.

  "Please," she quickly amended. She was in no position to make demands, and she desperately wanted to cover herself.

  His response was to thrust the blanket out of reach and step towards her, sending her anxiety level higher.

  "Why have you chosen to defy me?"

  She clenched her fists tighter, clinging to some shred of composure. "I couldn't wear the tiny costume you provided. It barely covered anything."

  His eyebrows quirked up. "Yet it did cover something. Unlike your current attire." His finger stroked the bottom of the beaded necklace.

  A jolt of electricity shot through her at the brush of his fingertip on her flesh.

  He shrugged. "Certainly, an interesting choice on your part. I hope you don't get cold during dinner."

  She stared at him in horror. "You don't mean … surely, you realize I didn't intend to ..."

  "I do not intend for you to sit wrapped in a blanket all through dinner."

  Her jaw dropped. "You're not going to leave me like this, are you?"

>   He thrust his finger out, pointing at a pillow-bedecked couch. "Sit."

  Oh, God. He did. She sucked in a deep breath and stepped toward the couch, her back so rigid it felt like it might snap in two. She sank onto the cushions, the feel of the plush fabric against the back of her thighs an unwelcome reminder of her nudity.

  She folded her hands in her lap and stared at them. Lord, this was really happening. She was held prisoner by some crazy sultan who wanted to ravage her to pay for a crime she hadn't committed. She felt tears bubbling inside her, but forced them back. She would not let him see her vulnerability. Drawing on her inner strength, she told herself she would live through this. It would all be over soon.

  Her chest felt so heavy she could barely breathe and her fingers felt stiff and useless. Here she sat before this man, this stranger, totally naked. Soon, he would strip her of more than her clothes. He planned to make love to her. No, have sex with her. As a punishment.

  Her hands started to shake. Would he really force her? Would he throw her onto the bed and kiss her until she gasped for breath? Would he would crush her to his body, her naked breasts flattened against his hard male chest?

  She drew in a quick breath at the horrible realization that this situation actually excited her.

  Damn it. If he forced her, it wouldn't be like the romantic scene she'd just imagined. If he used force it would be rough and uncompromising. She might even get hurt.

  A tiny voice suggested she actually cooperate with him. Maybe even encourage him. If it was going to happen, why not reduce the trauma? He was a very sexy man.

  But she couldn't give herself to a man who would demand her body as a punishment, without any thought to her wants or needs.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, shivers traveling the length of her arms despite the heat.

  "Why do you want to humiliate me like this?"

  "There is no shame in revealing a beautiful body." His gaze caressed her breasts, resting on the protruding peaks, then glided down past her navel to the triangle of curls. "And your body is exquisite."

  She felt her cheeks burn hotter. He stepped closer and leaned slightly toward her.

  "You know, very soon I will see every inch of your body, close up … will touch every inch with my hands, my lips, my tongue."

  She began to tremble. The image of his hands stroking down her belly as his lips caressed the tips of her breasts sent heat flashing through her. She could imagine him drawing her nipples into his mouth, teasing them, sucking them deep.

  * * *

  Kadin watched the various emotions fleet across her face. Her cheeks had flared bright red, then, when he'd reminded her he would be touching her soon, the color had drained from her face. He kept his gaze on her face now, trying to decipher her thoughts.

  She was not what he expected. Western women were sophisticated, unshakable. After all, they walked the beaches, in full public view, wearing practically nothing at all. And sex. They thought nothing of having several partners before marriage.

  Western women were nothing like the women of his country. And this woman had sat in his office with the simple, white gauze robe arranged on her body to enhance her attractions in a way that drove him wild. When he'd seen the front gaping open, revealing the swell of her breast, he'd had a hard time controlling himself. And she had chosen not to wear the cotton gown Dhiya had worn beneath for modesty. Thus, the gauze clung to her damp body, and the result was that she might as well have been wearing only her undergarments, as skimpy as they were, because they had clearly shown through.

  So why was this woman blushing like a virgin? And he was certain he'd seen fear cross her lovely features.

  When she had first been apprehended and brought to the palace, he had assumed she'd been involved in a plot to kidnap Dhiya. Probably working with the Englishman, Drake. After watching her answer the questions his men threw at her, then talking to her himself, though, he wasn't sure what to believe. She had been captured too easily and seemed a little too shaken to be a professional. The alternative, that Dhiya had asked for her helped, seemed the most likely.

  Either way, her actions had brought dishonor to him and his family. He could not let that go unpunished, but how severe should the punishment be?

  Before he'd confronted her in his office, he'd skimmed the books she'd had in her handbag, wanting to understand something of the woman. All three had themes of captivity, one actually a collection of stories specific to the topic. In the first story of the collection, which he'd read completely, the hero had taken the heroine prisoner and forced her into his bed. She'd fought him, but deep inside she'd wanted him as badly as he'd wanted her.

  Clearly, the idea of being forced to submission excited this woman, so he'd decided to use her own fantasies against her. His suggestion had been designed to intimidate her.

  And, he had to admit to himself, to arouse her. From the moment he'd first set eyes on her, he'd been consumed by an overwhelming need to take her in his arms and ravage her. Under other circumstances, he would simply have asked her to dinner and proceeded to convince her to spend the night. Maybe several nights. A woman as beautiful as her would be quite experienced. Maybe they'd both learn something new.

  But she had wronged him and he couldn't just treat her as a guest. All afternoon, however, he had thought of nothing but the possibility that she might actually agree to a night of passion, his suggested punishment proving an aphrodisiac to her. An image of her hardening nipples clearly visible through the white gauze when he'd made the suggestion came unbidden to his mind.

  He had walked in here ready to see her in the sexy costume he'd sent for her, hoping the evening would play out to a satisfying conclusion. For both of them.

  But looking at her now, he wondered if he'd misjudged the situation.

  He handed her a silver goblet of wine.

  "Here, drink this."

  When she sipped it, he saw her hand shaking. When she put down the glass, he noticed that shivers shook her whole body.

  Damn. She looked so vulnerable. He had intended to leave her like this, her lovely body on display. He had assumed she had intended this as part of a game, perhaps a ploy to get the upper hand with her allure. Clearly, that was not so.

  "Now that you've had time to consider your options, would you like to wear the outfit I sent to you after all?"

  Her face flushed red again. "It isn't really wearable right now. I … tore it."

  Anger shimmered to the surface. The intricate beadwork had taken several days of his best craftswoman's time.

  "Is that what you do with everything you don't like? Destroy it?"

  "N ... no. The women tried to stop me taking it off. There was no other way. I d ... didn't mean to ruin it."

  The thought of that tiny bra supporting her round, firm breasts jolted into his head, then her tearing open the fabric until they burst free. His throat went dry. Involuntarily, his gaze dropped to her breasts and, instantly, his mood lightened at the same time as his groin tightened. Her nipples, fully erect, strained forward. It certainly wasn't because it was cold. It was cooler here than in most of the palace because of the overhead fans, but it was still in the eighties. Clearly, this woman, Angelica, was excited by the whole situation, after all.

  He imagined Naja, Jazlyn, and petite Rasha trying to stop this headstrong woman from tearing off her clothes, and he started to laugh. Her arms stiffened at her sides, her hands balling into fists.

  "What's so funny?" she demanded.

  "I only wish you would tear your clothes off in an effort to please me rather than to defy me."

  Angelica tipped her head and stared at him, totally confused. She'd never seen him laugh and it only made him more devastatingly handsome.

  "Now, I absolutely must punish you for that," he declared.

  Chapter Four

  Angelica stiffened as his strong hands encircled her wrists and he pulled her to her feet.

  "But … I don't understand," Angelica pro
tested as he dragged her into another room.

  Heaps of cushions in luxurious textures lay scattered around the room. He dragged her past them to the wall, then pulled aside silky, draped fabric revealing chains on the wall.

  Her eyes widened and she gasped.

  "No," she wailed as he clamped first one wrist, then the other into the heavy iron bands.

  Although the metal was cold and uncompromising, the inside was cushioned with soft velvet. He grasped one of her ankles and pulled it sideways, clamped a band around it, then did the same with her other ankle. Now she stood, spread-eagled and naked in front of him.

  His hands on his hips, he stood and stared at her, a half-smile on his lips. His gaze traveled down her body, then circled her breasts, watching the nipples pucker and push forward. Damn them for reacting that way!

  His gaze slipped downward and he stared at her dark curls. It was sheer torture standing there while he gazed at her so intently. She felt her insides melt and liquid heat pool inside her.

  Oh, God, what would he do now?

  He stepped toward her and she pressed herself tight against the cool stone of the wall. He raised his hand to her cheek, then stroked lightly. His touch sent tremors through her. She could imagine those big, masculine hands traveling over her body, cupping her breasts, stroking between her legs to find the slippery, welcoming moisture waiting for him.

  She felt faint. He eased forward, until his face, and his lips, were a mere inch from her own.

  "Don't worry. I'm not going to rush this. I intend a little … torture … before pleasure."

  Torture? She trembled.

  He smiled and turned around, then strode from the room. She collapsed against the wall, fearful of what he had planned. He returned five minutes later, a smile lighting his face. He sat on a pile of cushions a few feet away and watched her. Three women entered the room, wrapped in shimmering veils, one in crimson, one in turquoise, the last in iridescent violet.

  Music filled the room, wafting in through the doorway. The women began to dance, twirling around the room. They shimmied and swayed, spinning in circles, while slowly loosening their veils until they swirled in beautiful trails of color. The dancers wore intricately beaded bras and belts with circular skirts that twirled high when they spun around. The sound of the beaded fringe, edged with tiny bells, tinkled melodically, like the laughter of fairies. The delightful veils caressed the air as they responded to the dancers arm movements, then they fluttered to the floor as the women released them.