Handcuffed to the Sheikh, Too

by Teresa Morgan

  Thrilled? His father had never been thrilled in his life. "Did you know the Heart of Zallaq was once called the Heart of Askar?"

  "Uh, no," she said, seeming confused by the change of topic.

  "In my great-great-grandfather's time, Zallaq and Saddad were both part of Askar, united as a single country. But my ancestor wished to make each of his sons a ruler, and so he divided Askar into three nations. Askar had three legendary jewels, presumably a gift from one of our ancestors."

  "The djinni." Gwendolyn's foot skidded on a pile of shale, but she rebalanced herself as if she had not stumbled. "I heard the jewels came from a djinni."

  "I hope you do not believe such stories," he told her, reaching for his next handhold. "My father's greatest wish was to see Askar's original borders restored, under my eldest brother. Walid will do whatever it takes to see our father's dream come true. He is our other uncle's heir, and will soon inherit Saddad."

  Gwen froze in place. "You're telling me Walid wants Zallaq to go back to being part of Askar. He's built up an army and he's going to become king of the country on the other side of yours, too."

  "Correct."

  "That is all kinds of not good," she said.

  He had been preparing for every possibility since the start of his reign. "Let us hope it does not come to war."

  "And you're surrounded. I don't see how you can win."

  "Zallaq will defend itself. We have done it before, against great odds."

  "But he's your brother."

  Her pleading tone annoyed him. He did not need her to inform him that Walid was his brother. "Do you think Zallaq should submit to an invasion without a fight?"

  "I wouldn't," she admitted. "But there's got to be another solution."

  "I will be interested in hearing your thoughts on the matter, when you are queen," he told her. No diplomatic solution existed. "For now, let us concentrate on reaching safety."

  "Okay," she said, starting to climb again. "You don't want to talk about the situation with Askar anymore. You've probably spent way more time trying to solve the problem than I have."

  "I do not wish to fight my brother," he told her. "Yet I can see no other way."

  "Instead, you can tell me how you got out of those handcuffs. I mean, when gray-scarf asshole cuffed you to the bed and dragged me away."

  He looked down at the shackles. For once, he had not come up with a smooth lie in advance. When the man intent on assaulting Gwendolyn had taken her, rage had filled him. Rage against anyone who would dare touch her. And guilt. Because she should never have been in danger as a result of his plans for her.

  "The cuff was not clicked into place correctly," he lied. "If it had been, I would still be shackled to the bedpost."

  His overwhelming goal had been to get her back, get her safe. It had cost him a few fumbling moments to remove his shoe and retrieve the handcuff key hidden under the insole. For an instant he had thought of freeing his own hand, but decided she needed to be connected to him again, for her own safety and for his peace of mind.

  Her eyebrows pinched together. "They looked pretty solid to me."

  "Nonetheless," he said, "I tell you the truth."

  She blushed. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything." The words came out of her quickly, in a rush to keep from offending him.

  She trusted him. What a mistake her trust would turn out to be for her, he thought, with some regret.

  Or perhaps not. Despite his lies, he had the resources to treat a woman well. She would be far more than comfortable with him.

  She did not need to find out about his deception. Nothing connected him to the kidnapping. The secret could remain secret. The unusual circumstances of their marriage did not need to come to light.

  The image of her holding a gun to her fallen enemy came to his mind. No, she must never discover his guilt. If she did, their relationship would not end well.

  "I don't see why you needed to put these back on me," she said, lifting her right hand to jangle the handcuffs. "Now we have to stick together every minute. What if one of us had had the chance to escape without the other? What if one of us dies? The other one will be screwed."

  "Neither of us will die." He turned to her.

  "You'd end up handcuffed to a corpse in the desert," she said, ignoring him. White teeth bit into her cracked bottom lip as she climbed.

  "Gwendolyn, I would not walk out of the desert without you." He made his voice as soft and reassuring as he knew how. "But neither you nor I will die here. My men will rescue us in mere days."

  "But they don't know we're here," she pointed out, quite reasonably. "We can't count on anyone finding us."

  "Come," he said, tugging on the cuffs to draw her into the cave. "You are upset. Rest will clear your mind."

  And after that rest, he would begin the next stage of his plan... her seduction.

  SIX

  As Ithnan led her into the cave, Gwen could barely move.

  Her adrenaline had worn off hours ago. Now, picking up each foot felt like dragging ten tons of weight. The drive hadn't been so bad, but the two-hour walk through the desert and the climb up the hill had taken all the strength she had left.

  Exhaustion leeched away her optimism. From the beginning, Ithnan had maintained they'd be fine. She'd never been as sure as him about on that one. Now, she was pretty sure they would both die out here.

  His comfort risking his life made sense considering his childhood. How had he survived it? She wasn't sure she would have. Not unscarred, anyway.

  She snuck a sidelong glance at his profile. Maybe he was pretty scarred after all. You just couldn't see the scars on his skin.

  After the constant blaze of sunlight in the desert, the cave's darkness blinded her. Her pupils dilated so fast it was almost painful. All she could rely on was Ithnan's guiding hand to steer her. Her ballet slippers made an odd scraping sound as she shuffled over the uneven rock, trying not to trip over any hidden obstacles.

  "Here," Ithnan said, his voice a beacon of calm in the shadows. "Sit."

  She did as he asked. Instead of more rock, her butt met a soft covering on the ground. A blanket on a very thin mattress.

  Fatigue hit her like a brick wall, melting her bones. She had a million questions for him about this place, but didn't seem to be able to remember any of them.

  "I want to rest for a bit," she said, feeling like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, overcome by the power of a field of magical poppies.

  Ithnan's arms were around her, pulling her horizontal. Her last thought before she fell asleep was at least the two of them wouldn't die of thirst in the blazing sun.

  They probably had earned themselves another couple of days, tops.

  ***

  Gwen snapped awake, jumping into full consciousness with both feet.

  She didn't think about Ithnan until after she had jerked to a sitting position.

  He still lazed on his back on the mattress. Damn, he was a beautiful man. And he was right here beside her.

  The morning light didn’t reach very far into the cave. Half his face was cloaked in light, the other bathed in shadow. The last three days didn't show on him at all, from his flawless hair to the tips of his strong toes. His tuxedo shirt was barely dirty, and the armpits wouldn't dare to show sweat stains. Earlier, she thought she'd seen some dust on his inky black trousers, but he must have whisked himself off. Even his shoes, which sat perfectly aligned at the foot of the mattress, had kept their high polish.

  On the other hand, she probably looked like she'd been dragged behind the Toyota instead of driving it.

  Her Pippi Longstocking braids weren't smooth anymore, but twisted out of shape, with flyaway hairs everywhere. Her skin felt dry, tight, and dirty.

  There were bandages on her palms, and his tie had been rewound around the handcuffs. He must have done both while she slept.

  She snorted to herself. If you forgot about the part where they were in danger, the whole situation was
hilarious. They would be married if they spent tonight together. The idea was crazy. There had never been two people more unsuited.

  A sudden warmth beneath her pajama top, at the small of her back, set her heart into overdrive. She looked back to see Ithnan fully awake and stroking her spine. She couldn’t seem to work up the will to stop him. His half-lidded djinni eyes watched his own hand as it moved up her back, touching, exploring.

  Human contact, human warmth. What was the harm? Of course they would feel close to each other. After all, they'd been through hell together. They'd bonded at gunpoint.

  She arched her back, closing her eyes to enjoy the first moments of security she'd felt in days. His fingers explored the nape of her neck, like a lover claiming his territory.

  When he drew her back down toward the mattress, she didn't resist. He arranged his arm to make a pillow for her head, and she sank back. His hand moved to her stomach, sliding over her skin, leaving tingles in the wake of its heat. The stimulation glided up toward the curve of her breast—

  Holy Hannah, what was she doing? She jumped to her feet, getting as far away from him as she could. It wasn't far, dammit. Those freaking handcuffs kept her chained to him.

  Crap crap crap. Her stuttered breathing filled the cave, loud, far too loud.

  What had she been about to let him do? Ugh. Heat suffused her cheeks. Their situation was way, way too complicated. Sure, he was a gorgeous guy and she didn’t have any ties to stop her from having a quick mutual fling. But there were too many feelings involved right now for anything like a fling. He'd told her things she suspected no one else knew about him. And they'd been through a lot in the past three days, creating artificial intimacy.

  Plus, ugh, the "marriage." The hours were ticking down to the time when the laws of his land would tie them together for good. They would need to be able to get an annulment. That meant no sex.

  Ithnan leaned up on his elbow, checking her out from head to toe. She had no idea what was behind his enigmatic, closed-off expression. It seemed to be some question she didn’t want to answer.

  So she didn't. She took a quick look around the cave. "There's stuff here," she said. "Blankets. Food."

  They'd been lying on a thin but clean mattress on the stone floor of the cave, ten or so feet from the entrance. Against the opposite wall sat a pile of canned goods with labels written in Arabic, along with a gas camping stove and a few dented pots. And a couple bars of soap, which seemed useless without a bathtub or shower.

  Ithnan rolled with her change of subject. "It is a sort of camp, a way station when traveling. Anyone who comes here may stay, but they are duty-bound to replace what they use when they can. People leave items behind as a service to others. I do not know why, since they are never thanked, nor compensated."

  "That's what service is, mister." She tried to use the nickname gently, but it came out with a bit of an edge. She couldn’t trust her tone right now. Too busy recovering from the fact she'd nearly slept with him...

  He raised an eyebrow at her.

  "You do something for another person without expecting to be thanked or compensated. The compensation comes from the good feeling you get from knowing you made someone's life better."

  He yawned, managing to make the involuntary gesture into a lazy, sensual move. "Such a thing is hardly tangible."

  She shrugged. "Some of the best things aren't."

  "I cannot understand." He rose from the makeshift bed. "I am hungry. Let us eat."

  ***

  The meal was the most delicious of her life. She had never been hungrier, and the plain food was better than the hundred-dollar burger at Hoyt's.

  "You are less stressed," Ithnan pointed out between bites as they sat cross-legged on the cave floor with their plates on their laps. "You eat well."

  "No one has pointed a gun at me for a full twelve hours now. Improves a girl's appetite." She smiled around a mouthful.

  Waiting for the rice to cook had been the most difficult twenty minutes of her life. She'd mixed it with a can of chickpeas she'd found, for the protein. Plus some cumin and cinnamon. Ithnan said it tasted like the meals their kidnappers had fed them. Since her taste buds had been dead then, she couldn’t tell.

  After, Ithnan automatically began helping out with the cleanup. You could have knocked her over with a feather. She'd figured His Majesty would be used to being served.

  But then... his childhood. It sounded to her like no one had served him then. In fact, it might have been the other way around. She decided not to ask. As much as she wanted to know, she also felt like they were close enough, emotionally, right now.

  Watching the muscles in his strong back as he did the ordinary chores of tidying up after a meal made her start to forget why she'd said no to his unspoken offer of sex. As she struggled to remember what she'd been thinking, he took the bowl of thick liquid she'd drained from the chickpeas and tossed its contents out the mouth of the cave.

  At her horrified gasp, he turned to her.

  "We don't have much water. We could have drunk that." The liquid would have been gross, but would have kept them alive another few hours.

  Ithnan gave her a lazy smile she wasn't prepared for.

  His smile. A tiny twist of the corner of his mouth that hit her like a sandstorm. No wonder she hadn't seen it until now. Considering the effect his smile had on her, he probably had to keep it tucked away to avoid being sexually assaulted by any woman in the area.

  Devastating.

  "I told you the cave would provide all we need."

  The smile went away, and she remembered she was supposed to be doing something. Breathing. She was supposed to be inhaling air into her lungs. She gave breathing a shot. To her surprise, her body remembered how to execute the process.

  Ithnan reached for her hand, the one connected to his by the cuffs. She had no choice but to take it. "Come, let me show you the best thing in the cave."

  ***

  They struggled through a narrow passageway, farther into the cliff side. The cave became cooler, darker, and smaller, until she had to bend over. The rough stone walls closed in. If she'd been claustrophobic, she would have freaked out.

  Shouldn't they stay close to the cave mouth—what if someone passed by? They might miss their rescue. What if the cave collapsed? No, the rock formations looked like they'd been here for eons, and would last eons more.

  The sound kept her following Ithnan. She wouldn’t mistake the noise for anything else. The swish and drip of water. Had to be.

  She clung to his warm hand as he navigated them around the rocks in the way, warning her when to step down or avoid a steep slope.

  When they stopped, she couldn't believe what she saw. They'd emerged into what looked like a room with a ten-foot rock dome for a ceiling. The really amazing part lay at her feet.

  "Water," she exclaimed. "Out here. Wow."

  "An underground stream," he confirmed. "Drinkable. So you see, we can survive here for some time."

  The spring gushed out of the rock nearby. Over the millennia, the water had carved a swirling pool deep enough to sit in.

  To bathe in, she realized, aware of the grit on the back of her neck, in her hair... everywhere, really. The desert dust coated every square inch of her skin, even under her Tom the Toad pajamas.

  "Amazing. I want to rip off all my clothes and jump in."

  As soon as the words were out, she wished she could somehow pull them back into her mouth. She felt, rather than saw, Ithnan's slow smile in the darkness.

  "Do as you please," he said. "I shall not stop you."

  Her blush heated her cheeks from the inside. Getting naked in front of him? Terrible idea. And yet... she could get her clothes clean, and herself sweat-free. Wash out the grit sandblasted into her scalp.

  Because of the handcuffs, Ithnan couldn't leave her alone in the pool. Damn him for putting those cuffs back on, anyway.

  She felt her hand tugged toward his chest. Lord, he was unbuttoning his shi
rt.

  "You do not mind if I join you? There is plenty of room for both of us."

  "Um," she said, with all the eloquence she could manage.

  "Gwendolyn," he said, his tone reasonable. "We are adults, and we answer to no one but ourselves. It is too dark to see and I cannot give you privacy."

  The pool swirled in temptation. His arguments made every bit of sense, but her instincts rebelled, sending up dozens of warning flags.

  When she looked back at him, he held a flashing blade in his hand. With her stomach twisting inside her, and the hairs on the nape of her neck reaching for the sky, she tried to back away. But they were connected. When she stepped back, he stepped forward.

  He tracked her line of sight, to the weapon in his grip, then back up to her eyes. "Gwendolyn, after all we have been through, do you not yet trust me? Do you imagine I would ever hurt you?"

  He had an odd note in his voice. Was he hurt? Possibly.

  She shook her head. Of course she trusted him. "I’m sorry. I know you wouldn't."

  With a casual flip, he turned the knife's handle, offering it to her. "I thought you might wish to bathe. I brought these to facilitate removing clothes."

  When she took the blade, she realized it wasn't a blade. Not a knife, but a pair of scissors.

  "There is no other way to take off the jacket," he prompted.

  He was right. The handcuffs linking them also meant he couldn’t remove the tuxedo jacket. With his spare hand, he held the hem of the suit coat down so she could cut the fabric.

  She offered him back the scissors. "Won't work. I'm a righty," she said, referring to her dominant hand, which was cuffed to him.

  "I'm surprised you're okay with losing your jacket. Especially right now."

  "I can purchase another jacket. It is not a great loss."

  She bit her lip. He didn't seem to realize his own defense mechanism. Should she point out his nervous tic? "But you wear your clothes like armor. When you get nervous, you adjust the sleeves of your shirt."

  He looked down at his shirt cuff, his brows drawn together. "I was unaware."

  She didn't push for more info. But he offered it, his voice sounding far away. "The day he brought me out of Hidd, my uncle had me fitted for a suit. I remember choosing the color, the fabric myself. I had not made decisions for myself for a long time."