by Mel Teshco
“Put your good leg up around my waist,” he commanded hoarsely.
She did as he asked, too caught up in the moment to do anything else, too overcome with sensation not to comply. The different angle caused his strokes to hit her sensitive spot, her gasps almost drowned out by his ever-increasing thrusts.
Shit. How could she despise her husband so damn much, even as she was spellbound by his power over her body? He triggered nerve-endings into life she hadn’t even known existed, making her every cell pulse with need.
His bedroom skill was undeniable and his ability to push her into some heavenly realm of pleasure all but irresistible.
She moaned, one incredible sensation blurring into another until she was pushed past the point of no return. She threw her head back and cried out something unintelligible. Had she called out Husam?
It was too late for her to give a damn. The powerful climax flung her higher than nirvana, and for a long, wondrous moment she lost all reason to breathtaking bliss.
She was vaguely aware of Zafar groaning long and hard as he too climaxed, his warm seed spilling into her as he joined her in that place where everything was amazing and luscious and right.
It wasn’t until after she’d floated back to earth that her stupidity hit her right between the eyes. She was little better than one of the damn insurgents! Not only was she married to the enemy, she was fucking him in wild abandon too.
She jerked away from him, and his breath hissed sharply at the disconnection. She ignored her own stupid sense of loss and rolled away. Except a sharp pain bolted through her knee and she stiffened and stayed immobile, her own breath wheezing.
He turned to her. “You’ve hurt your knee again.” His big hand moved up and down her hip. She flinched as though burned, and his hand dropped away before he said roughly, “You’d injure yourself just to get away from me.”
It wasn’t a question, and he sighed before he climbed out of bed. “Perhaps it’s best that I leave you alone again. At least until we can work out some kind of…resolution.”
“Divorce is the only possible resolution,” she said through gritted teeth.
She didn’t need to turn around and see him to be aware of the intensity of his stare. Her skin prickled, along with the hairs on the back of her nape. But though his fury was palpable, so was his appreciation of her naked form.
“Is that really what you want?” he asked softly, an edge in his tone.
Was it? Her head screamed yes even as her heart screamed no. She wrapped a sheet around her. “Does it matter? It’s not as if I’d be given a choice anyway.”
“You made your choice when you married me.”
She twisted carefully back to face him, taking even more care not to look below his neck. “Under false pretenses!”
His nostrils flared. “I never once lied to you.”
“You’ve done nothing but lie!”
His face could have been carved from granite. “What have you heard to loathe me so much?” When her lips compressed, a pulse flickered into life in his jaw and he snarled, “Tell me.”
No one dared disobey a powerful sheikh, ruler of his people. But Amber wasn’t some loyal servant, bowing and scraping to his every whim. And though she’d heard the El-Amin brothers were making sweeping reforms in educating women and advancing their rights, she hadn’t noticed any of those so called changes here at the desert palace.
He thrust a hand over his face, his patience clearly worn thin. It was only when he dragged in a breath and sat on the edge of the bed, clasping her hand, his expression somber and sincere, that her resistance ebbed just a little bit.
His thumb massaged her hand in a circular motion, soothing her nerves and breaking down her defenses. “I can’t force you to tell me the truth, that’s not what I want. What I do want is for my wife to trust me enough to come to me with any concerns or doubts. Only then can we work through our problems.”
Problems. They had so many of them to overcome she didn’t even know where to begin. She bit into her bottom lip. But maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to at least try to move forward. Except nothing could surmount the fact he was working with the insurgents instead of against them.
She expelled a slow breath. Was she second-guessing everything now because she didn’t trust the feelings within that he’d brought to life?
Or do you want to believe in him even though all evidence points to the contrary?
She bit into her bottom lip, torn between telling him the truth and hiding everything from him.
He leaned close and cupped her chin. “I won’t beg you for the truth,” he said hoarsely.
Her eyes fluttered and she nodded. He didn’t need to beg. She wanted to unload what she’d learned about him and see for herself if her husband was truly her enemy. “I suppose you know my father doesn’t believe—“
A knock sounded on the door.
Zafar’s eyes narrowed before he quickly dressed and then barked out, “Yes?”
When Kaela walked through the door, the rest of Amber’s words withered on her tongue. So his harem girls were still here. Disappointment bit deep, eroding any goodwill. Kaela was a prime example of just another empty promise made by Zafar. He’d said he’d released his harem girls, yet here was one of them, in their bedroom, no less.
Chapter Eight
Zafar used every ounce of his considerable willpower to stamp down his frustration. His wife had been on the cusp of relenting, of revealing all her fears, but now this interruption might completely reverse that desire.
It was almost too predictable that it was Kaela who’d interrupted. Dramatic and resentful Kaela who’d been the bane of his life from the moment she’d darkened his doorstep. “What is it?” Zafar asked.
She bowed. “Your Royal Highness, I’m sorry to interrupt. But as you know, my time here now is short.”
“Yes?”
“I want you to please reconsider your decision to place me with Tarim.”
Amber pressed a hand to her mouth and turned wide eyes his way. So his wife hadn’t believed he was letting his harem girls go? That she imagined he’d stoop low enough to dish out empty promises was like a slap to the face. He drew in a steadying breath. He wouldn’t take it personally. Amber had lived through a war, distrust would be second-nature.
He turned back to Kaela. Perhaps her interruption was timely after all, now that his wife knew the truth. Some of his tension eased even as he asked, “And why would you want that?”
“The rest of the girls have been placed in other palaces and with men much more suitable.”
“And you think you’ve drawn the short straw?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’ve done nothing to deserve that fat, ageing soldier whose bedroom skills are probably—“
“You haven’t given him a chance,” he interjected. “But ultimately it’s your decision. Your duty here is dissolved and you have financial independence to do what you’d like, I’ll even provide an escort if you wish to leave the palace.” He shrugged. “Or you can accept Tarim’s proposal of marriage and stay with him here at the desert palace.”
Kaela nodded. Going by her tight expression she chose what she thought was the most uncomplicated path. “Then I graciously accept the offer of marriage.”
Zafar nodded. Tarim had been his father’s right-hand man, a soldier dedicated to serving his sheikh. Kaela would do well to have him. Whether or not Tarim would thank him or resent him for marrying the high maintenance Kaela remained to be seen.
“A wise decision,” he said.
Kaela mightn’t know it yet, but Tarim would treat her like a princess. Just as Zafar would treat Amber like the princess she really was…if only she’d let him.
Kaela bowed haughty acquiescence and retreated from his bedroom, and Zafar sighed relief. A reaction that only reaffirmed just how much he wanted to be with Amber and no other woman. Of course he’d done right by his harem and sent them where they’d be happy and well-treated, but he wasn’t
sad to let them go.
His brothers had been lucky to escape the time-honored tradition of a harem. Zafar’s province was steeped in custom and beliefs, and his people were slow to embrace western ideals. He grinned. Dissolving the harem was just one of the many side-benefits thanks to his marriage.
“So you’ve moved all your harem girls on now?” Amber asked quietly.
He nodded. “Yes, all have gone now except Kaela and two others requested by my most loyal soldiers. The twins have been sent to my palace in the city for two weeks of intensive training before they return to serve you.”
She stared up at him, her face a little bleak. “And the insurgents?”
He frowned. Had she wondered if he wouldn’t also live up to his promise to push them back across the border? His older brother, Jamal, had already done a stellar job with the hill tribes by marrying the princess there. His younger brother, Tariq, would also marry in an effort to unite the people once again.
His brothers knew of his nuptials to the Yhemen princess, and had approved his choice, but ultimately it was now up to him to bring an end to the war that would soon also push through to his province of Czuden. The insurgents trying to overthrow Yhemen were hardened radicals who wouldn’t easily conform.
He should know, he’d been a guest of the insurgents’ leader, Bahir, many times in the past, and had just returned from where Bahir and the insurgents had been camped at Yhemen’s border. His trip this time hadn’t yielded any results. He’d yet to sway Bahir’s mind and probably wouldn’t unless he stuck it out with the insurgents for longer than a few nights.
His short visit meant he was little more than a guest, and visitors held little influence over a people with deeply ingrained philosophies.
He exhaled roughly and smoothed a hand over his jaw. He shouldn’t have left so early, but his head hadn’t been in the game. Not when his every thought had centered on Amber. He hadn’t squandered another minute on Bahir. Instead he’d returned to his palace, to his wife, and sank deep into her hot pussy, relieving the constant ache for her.
“I’m doing everything in my power to bring peace back to Yhemen along with keeping it that way for my own province.”
Her eyes flashed. “Stop with the lies! I know what you’ve been doing, who you’ve been seeing! I know you’re friends with the insurgents…the same people who have attacked me and my people and murdered my mother!”
His mouth dried, and he was incapable of speech, his tongue all but sticking to the roof of his mouth. Yes, he was friends—of a sort—with the insurgents, but he was far from encouraging them to attack Yhemen and its people.
At his silence, her chin lifted, her emotions repressed and expression already distant and hostile as she said, “I’ve been such a fool—”
Another rap on the door cut off her words, and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or more pissed. “Yes?” he bit out.
The Grand Vizier’s voice infiltrated the door. “I have information, Your Highness.”
He turned to Amber. With stiff movements, she reached for her abaya and pulled it on.
“You may enter,” he said.
“The bedroom is no longer yours alone, Your Highness. I cannot—“
It was true. No male was authorized to enter without his permission. “The Sheikha is covered. You are permitted into the room.”
The Grand Vizier opened the door and proceeded to bow.
“There’s no need for that, not here,” Zafar said wearily, even as he knew the plea would fall on deaf ears. The Grand Vizier followed protocol to the letter.
The old advisor straightened. “I come with grave news.”
Zafar instantly stiffened. This was serious. “What is it?”
“There’s trouble brewing on the borders of Yhemen. The insurgents have amassed a fleet of army tanks, rocket launches and automatic weapons of the likes we’ve never before seen.”
Fuck. His jaw tightened even as he clenched his hands. The tanks and weapons must have been heading to the insurgents camp even as he’d been speaking to Bahir. Little wonder the leader had appeared all too happy for him to leave. Bahir knew Zafar would have tried to talk him out of serious conflict.
Amber struggled to her feet and grabbed her crutches. “They don’t have the resources for those types of weapons!” she said, voice high-pitched and accusing.
Of course she was concerned, her people were at huge risk now, maybe even her father. But as her husband he’d promised to keep her people safe, and that was what he intended to do. “Exactly how many are we talking about?” he asked his advisor.
“There’s no official number as yet, but more than enough tanks and weapons to overtake an already weakened Yhemen.”
“No,” Amber breathed.
Zafar turned to her, but if for one moment he imagined he’d hold and comfort her, he was mistaken. With her stiff body and stony features, she was about as untouchable as a block of ice.
She turned her frosty stare his way. “I’m coming with you.”
He shook his head. “Not a chance. You’re knee isn’t anywhere near healed. I’m not putting your life at risk.”
She hobbled close, her voice strained tighter than wire. “You might think I’m a princess, but I’m a soldier first and foremost. I refuse to hide behind four walls while my people fight and die for their country.”
He shoved aside a sudden need to have her by his side, where he could watch her at all times. But no amount of watching would prevent a bullet from hitting her in the head, or the heart. No amount of having her by his side would keep her out of danger. No, better she stay out of harm’s way here, in his palace, even if she’d hate him for it.
“You’ll stay,” he commanded softly, forcefully. Ignoring her sharp gasp, he added brutally, “In your condition you’ll only be a handicap.”
“How dare you!” Outrage might be stamped into every gorgeous line of her face, but she still managed to sound regal.
He stepped close. “I dare a lot of things, little dove. I even dare to be the one who pushes your enemy back once and for all.”
He pivoted, but stilled when her hand curled on his forearm, her crutch banging to the floor. He looked over his shoulder, into her pale face and blazing eyes.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
He forcibly restrained himself from pressing a hard, ruthless kiss to her mouth to show her just exactly how much he cared. Because in his experience, when you cared enough about someone, that same someone could trust you with their life. “You married me. You’ll just have to learn to trust me too.”
Chapter Nine
Five weeks later
Amber sat on one of the cushioned seats out in the courtyard, willing herself not to be sick even as nausea sat like a lump in the base of her throat.
She’d taken to sitting outside, ostensibly for the fresh air, while in reality it was to search the empty blue skies in an endless wait to hear any news on her father and her people—and as much as she hated to admit it—her husband.
How could she for even a second miss the one man who’d kidnapped her and as quickly abandoned her. The same man who’d also as quickly planted his seed inside her. She pushed a hand beneath her soft T-shirt and touched her flat belly. If nothing else good came out of this marriage, at least she’d have a baby to adore.
She sighed, for the hundredth time wishing that the middle of the desert didn’t also mean no cell phone coverage or internet. She would have demanded to be taken to Zafar’s city palace, except she knew he wouldn’t have allowed it. With the desert palace further away from Yhemen’s border and no chance of enemies blending into the crowd, there was much less risk of attack here.
Or you could try to escape like you’d planned to all along?
She almost laughed. But she couldn’t deny it any longer. She was desperate to see Zafar again. To touch him, and kiss him.
Makina walked out onto the patio carrying a tray, no doubt trying to tempt Amber with food yet again. T
his time it was a bowl of shorba, a traditional lentil soup, which she placed onto the table. “You must eat,” Makina said carefully, already mastering the Yheminic language.
Amber sighed. If she hoped to fit in as Czuden royalty, she needed to practice their language in return. She accepted the bowl, doing her best to ignore the churning of her stomach as the strong lentil scent wafted up her nose. For her baby’s sake, she’d force a little sustenance into her body, and hope it’d stay down.
She took a mouthful and forcibly swallowed, the lump in her throat threatening dislodgement in the most humiliating way possible.
“Excellent,” Makina said in approval. “You have lost much weight.”
Amber’s laugh was all on the inside, but then she couldn’t have found the strength to be joyous even if she tried. If she’d thought herself hard and lean when she’d been a soldier, as the newly married Sheikha of Czuden, she was bordering on gaunt. Illness and exhaustion had taken over in her husband’s absence.
At least her knee was almost fully healed now, with only a twinge now and then to remind her of the injury.
She was only grateful she had Makina as her servant. Makina seemed to know when she was wanted and when Amber needed her space…unlike the twins. She sighed. The girls fell over themselves to please her, and after living the life of a soldier for so long, their cosseting was just too much.
She managed one more mouthful of the shorba before an all too familiar thomp-thomp noise broke the heavy silence. She froze; unaware the bowl had slipped through her fingers until it shattered on the pavers.
The helicopter descended, then landed on its pad, and Amber rose on unsteady legs. For a moment the whole courtyard tilted before it righted once again.
Makina quickly and efficiently cleaned up the breakage even as she turned excited eyes Amber’s way. “His Royal Highness is finally here. I’m so happy for you.”
Amber nodded, unable to find her voice through the thick lump wedged in her throat. Even her servant realized how much she’d missed Zafar.
