At the Sheikh's Bidding

by Chantelle Shaw

  ‘I had you investigated immediately after I took you to Qubbah,’ he replied, ignoring her gasp. ‘My private detective reported back a month or so after we married. I’m afraid Jahmela’s party piece did not have the effect she was hoping for, and she has been banished from the palace,’ he revealed grimly. ‘My father was almost as furious with her for upsetting you as I was, and unfortunately the sudden stress affected his heart. His doctors had to be called to give him oxygen. By the time I was able to leave him, you had gone.’ His face tightened. ‘Omran had made sure of that.’

  ‘He believes you should marry Jahmela,’ Erin said quietly. ‘And he’s right. She is beautiful and educated and has all the attributes necessary for the wife of the next ruler of Qubbah.’

  ‘Attributes like selflessness and compassion, you mean?’ Zahir suggested softly. ‘Both those qualities are starkly absent in Jahmela. And yet you—who grew up in dire circumstances, alone and unloved—you have them in abundance.’

  ‘You accused me of marrying Faisal and adopting Kazim simply so that I could inherit Ingledean,’ Erin whispered, unable to tear her eyes from the velvet softness of his.

  ‘I could not believe that your love for Kazim was genuine when my own mother had not loved me enough to stick around for my childhood,’ Zahir admitted harshly. ‘But deep down I knew within days of meeting you—certainly by the time we married—that you were not the gold-digger I had first thought. You were feisty and hot-tempered, and you fought me constantly, but everything you did was for Kazim. You married Faisal knowing that within months you would be solely responsible for a young child, but you willingly sacrificed your youth and freedom because you were determined to give him the loving childhood you never had.

  ‘But then I forced you to marry me,’ he continued, looking away from her again, as if he could not bring himself to meet her gaze. ‘And you went along with it because you would have done anything rather than be separated from Kazim. And I, who had spent hours torturing myself with images of you and my brother, burning up with jealousy over your relationship with him, discovered too late that you were a virgin. I had to accept that all my preconceived ideas about you were wrong. I stole your innocence, kalila, and I was so angry with myself for spoiling something that should have been special for you that I was unnecessarily brutal. You don’t know how much I have regretted my treatment of you,’ he confessed, in a low tone that was so unlike his usual assured self-confidence. ‘I’m not surprised you hate me, Erin, and I deserve it—especially after I sent you that last cheque. It was another test, of course,’ he explained, dark colour scorching his cheekbones again. ‘Even then I was still frantically trying to prove to myself that you were not worthy of my love.’

  Almost as if he could not help himself, he reached out and stroked her hair, winding a silky red curl around his fingers. ‘I did not want to love you, kalila and I fought hard against it. It’s true that I cared for Maryam; she was sweet-natured and gentle and I believed she would make me a good wife. When she eloped with Faisal I was bitterly angry. But it was dented pride rather than a broken heart. Because of that stupid pride I refused to be reunited with my brother, and now it is too late. I won’t make the same mistake again.’

  He moved suddenly, turned to her and gripped her arms, and she glimpsed the desperation in his eyes as he dragged her against his chest. ‘I will do whatever it takes to win you back, kalila. You are my wife, the love of my life, and I won’t let you go.’ He pressed his lips to her temple, his warm breath fanning the curls that framed her face, his eyes closing briefly as if he was in pain. ‘I have told my father to name his brother Sulim as the interim ruler of Qubbah in the event of his dying before Kazim comes of age.’

  Erin stared at him, shocked beyond words. ‘But…but why?’ she faltered at last. ‘I thought that you were to rule until Kazim is older? You are the King’s only son, and it is your duty.’

  Zahir shook his head. ‘My first duty is to my wife, and my father agrees. Although even if he did not I would still be here with you. Don’t you understand, kalila?’ he said urgently. ‘You are more important to me than Qubbah, my father—everything. You, me and Kazim, we are a family, and the only thing I want is for us to be together. You love it here at Ingledean, and so we will live here, have our children here—’ He broke off when her face flushed with betraying colour and waited for her to speak, but Erin suddenly seemed determined not to look at him.

  ‘Kazim…’ she whispered. ‘You shouldn’t have left him. He’ll be distraught without either of us at the palace.’

  ‘I didn’t leave him,’ Zahir said quietly. ‘He’s here at Ingledean. Alice has taken him to play in the orchard.’

  ‘Kazim’s here!’ With a cry Erin tore out of Zahir’s grasp and flew across the garden, desperate to find her son.

  But as she reached the gate his words finally pierced the air of unreality that had settled on her when he had appeared in the garden and she spun round, her heart contracting when she saw him slumped dejectedly on the bench with his head bowed.

  ‘You love me?’ she said slowly, still unable to believe she had heard him right. ‘You would really give up everything for me?’

  ‘You are everything, kalila, and without you I have nothing.’

  His head was still lowered, and she walked back to him and dropped to her knees so that she could look into his face. To her astonishment she saw that his eyes were wet, the flare of pain in their dark depths so raw that a lump formed in her throat. She brushed her fingers shakily over his lashes. ‘You love me,’ she whispered, wonderment flooding through her.

  ‘More than life,’ he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. ‘Your devotion to Kazim is one of the reasons I adore you, kalila, but I am ashamed to say that sometimes I am jealous that he has a place in your heart and I do not. I suppose you think that’s pathetic, huh? To be jealous of a three-year-old?’ he said heavily.

  Erin ran her fingers over his cheekbones, traced his square jaw and brushed a feather-light caress across his lips. ‘You don’t need to be jealous of Kazim,’ she told him gently, feeling a little bubble of happiness form inside her. ‘My heart is big enough for both of you. But you, Zahir, you are the love of my life, the other half to my soul. The first time I saw you here at Ingledean I knew you were the person I had been waiting for all my life—the only man I will ever love.’

  For a few seconds he simply stared at her, a nerve jumping in his cheek. But then, with a groan that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he lifted her onto his knees, his hands tangling in her hair as he claimed her mouth in a kiss that told her more clearly than words that he would love her for eternity.

  ‘Kalila, I missed you so much this past month that I hurt,’ he growled when he finally released her mouth. He trailed his lips down her throat, his fingers fumbling to unfasten her blouse and then push the material aside so that he could press hot, urgent kisses over the creamy swell of her breasts.

  He dispensed with her bra and somehow, without Erin realising how they had got there, they were lying on the grass, and Zahir was kissing her hungrily while he tugged her skirt over her hips. ‘Perhaps our first child will be conceived here at Ingledean,’ he said huskily, making no apology for his desperate need to make love to her as he tugged at the zip of his jeans and stroked a gentle probing hand between her thighs.

  ‘He or she will be born in Qubbah, which will be our home, where our child’s father and brother will one day rule,’ Erin stated firmly, her smile taking his breath away as she welcomed him into her. ‘We’ll bring our child here to Ingledean for holidays. But as for him or her being conceived here—’ She broke off as he thrust into her, building her pleasure to a crescendo. ‘I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I am already expecting your baby. A true child of the desert.’

  ‘Habibti…’ Zahir’s voice shook with emotion as he claimed her mouth in a kiss of tender passion and vowed to love her, Kazim, and all the children he prayed they would one day have, fo
r the rest of their lives and beyond.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-2161-5

  AT THE SHEIKH’S BIDDING

  First North American Publication 2008.

  Copyright © 2008 by Chantelle Shaw.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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