Until she moaned and splayed her fingers wide on his chest, so that she could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt. He deepened the kiss in response, and the hand that was wrapped around her waist crept lower, so that he was lightly cupping her butt cheek before he knew it. Grace ran her fingers down the cotton of his shirt and fumbled desperately at the waist band. She needed to feel his bare skin, and it was a need that demanded satisfying. With a growl of annoyance, she finally lifted his shirt free and let her fingertips roam freely over his exposed abdominals.
Samir broke the kiss with great difficulty and took a step backwards. His eyes glittered with speculation as they took in Grace. Her hair was a mess, her lips were bruised from his kiss, her pupils were so dilated her eyes almost looked black, and her nipples strained at the fabric of her dress.
“Come upstairs,” she said firmly, keeping her eyes level with his.
Sam wanted to, with all his heart, and other parts of his anatomy too. But, so long as he played his cards right now, he would have a lifetime of Grace Jones. Denying them both what they craved now was imperative. With monumental will power, he moved closer to her again.
“I can’t. You’re the one who said we should take it slowly while we’re getting to know one another. You’re right not to want to come and see Elaminar. And I’m right to say no to coming upstairs now.”
Grace frowned, as disappointment, so savage it almost took her breath away, invaded her system. “I don’t understand.”
“We know what will happen if I come upstairs. And we both know it will be sensational. But you are the mother of my child. It’s not as simple as just giving in to our bodies. We have to be smart, Grace.”
She knew he was right, but that did nothing to assuage the pained frustration she felt. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
She unlocked her door and pushed inside, but as soon as she’d latched it shut, she received a text message from Sam. I’m already kicking myself.
Grace smiled weakly at the screen of her phone, and then pulled the door open once more. Sam stood there, and the instant the door was open wide enough, he crushed her to his body and plundered her mouth, taking and tasting as he’d wanted to earlier. He ran his palms roughly over her dress, caressing her narrow waist and skimming her pleasingly full breasts, and he wished she’d been wearing anything other than this dress now. He needed access.
“I do want you,” he intoned darkly against her ear. “I want you with a need that I’ve never known. How can you doubt my feelings for you? I should have been engaged by now, and I am not. I could not, when I felt like this for you.”
She wanted to ask about the woman who he’d been about to commit to but sensation made thought impossible.
“If I seem pushy about Elaminar, it’s only because I can’t bear to think about leaving you again, for even an instant. I have to go back at the end of the week, and the thought of leaving you and Jacob here makes my skin crawl.”
She froze. That got through to her. “The end of the week? So soon?”
He nodded, amazed at how able he was to keep his voice calm. Only his belief that he was acting in their son’s best interests stopped him from feeling guilt at the trap he was laying. “I must. I have business that I cannot put off, or believe me, I would.”
“I didn’t realize. So you are actually asking me to go back with you then? So soon?”
“Yes. I want you to be with me. Now. Then. Always.”
She shook her head. “Are you saying…” She gulped. It was too ridiculous. Pride kept her silent.
“I want to marry you, Grace. You know how I feel about you. Two years has shown me one thing and one thing alone. I cannot ignore the way I feel about you. Even for a moment.”
“I can’t move to Elaminar. I certainly can’t marry you.”
“Why? Why not?” He pushed, and as he spoke, he dipped his head and kissed the flesh just beneath her ear lobe, flicking it until her breath was coming in short gasps.
“I live in London. My job – I can’t just leave my job.”
“I know I’m asking a lot of you. It must be your decision. But, Grace, believe me. If you say yes, I promise I will give you the world.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Why can’t you move here?”
He had anticipated such a question. “I told you, I work in a sort of family business. When my dad died, I became indispensible. I cannot leave. Too many people depend on me.”
“Well, I have family too. And my job is not exactly run of the mill. I’ve worked my arse off for years to get this far in my career,” she said crossly. “I can’t believe you’re even asking this of me.”
He appeared to look chastened. “It is your decision. However, think about this before you make it. You haven’t even seen Elaminar. How can you possibly come to an informed decision before you’ve travelled there? Come away with me on Friday. Spend a week in my home, and then make your decision.”
It sounded so reasonable put like that. Besides, his eyes were doing funny things to her, making her objections feel silly somehow. She sighed quietly. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small turquoise box wrapped in white ribbon. “Will you consider wearing this while you make your decision?”
She took the box simply because he held it out, and that was the body’s natural reaction. But as soon as her eyes alighted on the Tiffany & Co lettering, she did a double take. “This can’t be what I think it is?”
His laugh was throaty. “That depends on what you think it is.”
Her fingers shook a little as she pulled at the ribbon and removed it carefully. She held it in the palm of her hand as she flicked the box open. It was as she’d thought. An enormous black diamond set in a perfect circle of white diamonds glinted back at her.
“Sam,” she said uncertainly, pushing the box back to him. “It’s way too generous. I can’t possibly accept something like this. It must have cost you a King’s ransom.”
He took the box and lifted the ring out of its black velvet setting. He lifted her hand and, when she didn’t object, slid the ring over her knuckle, onto her ring finger. “Other than your concerns about the amount I spent, do you have any objection to wearing this ring?”
She looked down at her hand, and was surprised to realize that she liked seeing it there. The ring was beautiful, but she would have felt the same about a piece of costume jewelry from Portobello Road if this man had presented it to her as a token of their future journey.
Slowly, she lifted her eyes to his face. Feeling like she was back in the forest, with the blindfold firmly in place, she slowly shook her head.
He let out a breath of relief. “I know it’s all happening fast, Grace. But you know as well as I do that this is fate. One way or another, we will make it work.”
And because there was no sense in denying it, she smiled at him weakly. “I think you might be right, Sam. And it scares me half to death.”
“Scares you? Explain.”
“I’ve spent about three days with you, in total. Not even, probably! And I’m actually thinking about agreeing to marry you. I must be mad.”
“Not mad. Mad about me, and us. And Jacob.”
She shook her head impulsively. “It’s not Jacob. I would never consider marrying you just because of our son. I have been raising him on my own from day one, and I can do it for the rest of my life. And you can be a part of his life without marrying me.”
Samir was careful not to expose even a hint of how wrong she was. There was no way the only heir to his throne could be raised in England by a single woman who could, at any time, marry someone else. He compressed his lips but said nothing. After all, in the normal course of events, she would be right. It was only his royal status that changed their situation dramatically.
“I want to marry you. I want to bring you to my home. Grace, you belong to me as surely as I am yours. Why fight it?”
“Because it�
��s crazy!” She let out a small laugh. “People don’t just get engaged to virtual strangers. And that’s what you are to me.”
“You do not give yourself enough credit.” He pressed his palm to the top of her breast, where her heart was thumping quickly. “What does your heart tell you? Why do you need to think and question and worry when you have such clear direction from your heart?”
She swallowed nervously. “I certainly never had you pegged for such a romantic,” she said with a sarcastic frown.
“I have never been a romantic until I met you. Grace, I would marry you tonight if you said yes. I mean it. I would take us to that old stone church around the corner and knock the door down until someone came and agreed to wed me to you. Because I trust my instincts and I know that one of the reasons I walk this earth is to marry you.”
They were the words she clutched to her heart for strength the following morning. The whole trip to her director’s West End studios, she had had the strangest sensation that someone was following her. She’d felt it the night before, too, but she decided now that it was just the overflow of emotion she was feeling. She was a wreck.
When Duncan, the director and producer of the show, emerged, his perpetual frown etched in place, she felt a strong quiver of doubts about what she was about to set in motion. Having seen the bitter divorce her parents had gone through, and the fickleness of her own father’s affections, could she really place her heart and future in Sam’s hands?
She thought about what she knew about him, and what she didn’t, and it occurred to her that you simply couldn’t quantify love. It struck in the oddest of ways. But she had no doubt that she loved him. That she had from the first minute she’d seen him, standing outside her car, like a very, very sexy knight on a white horse.
“Grace. What a pleasant surprise. Come in, darlin’,” Duncan said cheerily, despite the frown. Grace had learned long ago that the frown was an expression of deep thought on Duncan, rather than displeasure.
Grace nodded as she stood, and followed him into his office. It brought back a strong memory of the last time she’d come in here; for her final audition, when she’d been told she’d landed the part. It had been the same fateful night she’d met Sam, and now those same two worlds were about to collide again.
“Coffee? Tea?” He gestured to the pots bubbling away on the sideboard.
Grace was too nervous to drink. Too nervous to eat. “No. Neither. Thanks.”
Duncan’s frown deepened. “I’d ask if everything’s all right, only I can see it’s not.”
Grace sat down in the seat opposite him, one hand clasped over the other, hiding the enormous piece of jewelry Sam had placed there the night before. She ran her eyes over the older man, who she had come to respect and adore in equal measures over their two years together. There was no way to sugar coat it. “Duncan, I’m sorry to ask for this, but I need some time off.”
Duncan let out a low whistle. He didn’t react at first. He simply leaned forward and picked up one of the butter biscuits Grace knew his wife had forbade him to eat months ago. He chewed it slowly, thoughtfully, somehow still frowning despite the constant motion of his mouth. A few crumbs dusted down onto his spreading paunch. He took another in his hand and ran his forefinger along the uneven surface.
“How much time?”
She tilted her head to one side. “I’m not sure. A week or two perhaps.”
“May I ask why?”
“Of course.” She twisted her plait around her fingers. “It’s Jacob’s father.”
“Uh huh! I wondered what had become of him.”
Grace’s cheeks flared pink. “He’s from Elaminar. He would like to show Jacob his country, and obviously I must go along.”
“Obviously.” Duncan bit into his second biscuit. A second batch of crumbs joined the first escapees, all jostling merrily on his stomach as he breathed. “Well, Grace. I won’t lie to you. If I could chain you to the stage, I would. You’re a hit. It’s because of you we pack out every night.”
“Thank you,” she tilted her head forward, still getting used to such lavish praise.
“But you know as well as I do I don’t really have any contractual rights here.”
Grace hadn’t even thought about her contract. She had always seen eye to eye with Duncan and wanted to reach an agreement regardless of what their obligations were. “I don’t care about contracts,” she said simply. “I don’t want to leave you in the lurch.”
“Your agent did a good job making sure you had wriggle room when Jacob was born. I really appreciate the way you’ve stuck around, but I can’t keep you here.”
Grace’s frown almost rivaled his. “I’m not resigning, Duncan. I just need a little bit of time to work this out.”
“If the gigantic rock you’ve been twisting around your finger since you arrived is any indication, I’d say you’ve already worked things out.”
Grace lifted panic stricken eyes to his. “I hate doing this to you. To the show.”
“Nonsense, dear. The show, as they say, must go on. A little less spectacularly, but Audrey is a good understudy. She’s ready and we’ll cast a wide net to find someone else. Don’t worry about us, Grace. You can’t keep going the pace you were. Working night in, night out, with a small child at home.” He shuddered melodramatically. “Well, that’s what the wife says, anyhow.”
“I’m not quitting, Duncan…”
“I know. I’ll keep things open for you, darlin’. We’ll always have a spot for you. But I can’t leave myself short, either.”
After the performance that night, Grace hopped into her car feeling precisely like crap. Her conversation with Duncan should have made her feel relieved. She had options now, and he had taken the news better than she’d hoped. But burning bridges had always left her feeling weak and vulnerable, and especially so now, when the unknown loomed in front of her.
She couldn’t even make chit-chat with Charlie, she was so consumed by her own worries. What if Sam had changed his mind? What if Jacob hated the flight? What if Rupert and Ashley never forgave her? There was so much that could go wrong. Sure, if it went right, it would be spectacular, but how often did it really work out for people?
Regret, that had begun like a tiny seed in her stomach, spawned a whole garden, so that by the time the car pulled up outside her house, she was almost in tears. “Thanks, Charlie. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
She shut the door before he could make his solicitous enquiry, and walked, head down, to her own home.
“Hey Gracie Girl.”
She spun around to see Ashley following only a few steps behind.
“You just getting home?” Grace asked, smiling at her old friend.
“Yeah, we got slammed tonight. A pile up on the M25. It was bedlam.”
She pulled a sympathetic grimace. “I’m sorry, Ash. I just don’t know how you do it.”
“Yes, you do. I saved three lives tonight. One of them an eight year old girl.” His smile was bright. “Sure, not every day is a winner, but you’ve got to try, right?”
She nodded, but her heart was thumping. Not every day was a winner, but you had to try. And wasn’t that precisely what she’d chosen to do? To throw herself on the mercy of chance, and hope for the best?
“It’s what you do that terrifies me. Standing in front of all those people and singing your soul out. Yikes.”
She winked. “You get used to it.”
Ash pulled his key from his pocket and inserted it in the door, and as soon as they stepped inside, their eyes flew wide. They looked at one another startled, as shouted, angry words flew down to them.
“Get it through your thick skull. I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. If Grace knew what was good for her, she’d keep as far from you as possible.”
Sam’s voice was calm in response, but Grace could hear the note of steel beneath his words. “I know you love her, Rupert, but you do not speak for her. Grace must make her own decisions.”
&nb
sp; Grace grabbed Ash by the arm and tore up the stairs, and as she ran, she heard Rupert’s rejoinder. “You aren’t a decision. You’re a mistake. You’ve already broken her heart once. I know you’re going to do it again. I think you’re a liar. I think you lied to her then and you’re lying to her now.”
Samir knew Rupert was going to punch him about five seconds before it happened. He saw the way the other man’s body tensed, the way his palm flexed into a ball, the way his face contorted with determined anger. But at the same time as Rupert prepared to swing at him, he heard Grace burst into the lounge room, and he knew he could not even so much as defend himself. Rupert looked strong, but Samir’s training had been led by some of the most experienced military experts in Elaminar. The knowledge that he could disable Rupert with one hand made it easier to stand like an impenetrable wall when Rupert’s balled fist collided with his cheek.
Grace tore across the room and put herself between the two of them, her cheeks red, her eyes flushed. Ashley wasn’t far behind. “That’s enough!” She whispered to Rupert, her expression showing her distaste.
“What the hell is going on here?” Ashley spun around to look first at Rupert and then Samir.
Guiltily, Grace saw that Sam’s cheek had turned a dark shade of purple. And all of her worries and doubts dispersed. Seeing him hurt made her own body ache. She did love him, and that meant trusting him blindly.
“I’m sorry,” Rupert’s breath was ragged. “I didn’t mean to punch you. But there’s something about you…”
Sam raised his palm to his cheek and held a hand against it. Ashley saw the gesture and remembered his training. “Let me get some ice for you, mate, and then I’ll check you over.”
One Night with The Sheikh: An accident of fate brought them together, and it would bind them for the rest of their lives. Page 8
