Handcuffed to the Sheikh, Too

by Teresa Morgan

  Then he stumbled on King Mahmoud laughing to one of his concubines as the king read one of his letters aloud to her.

  "My letters reached you? I do not understand."

  "Certainly," Thale said. "They described how well you were treated, how many friends you had made, the wonderful experiences you were having—"

  "Lies," he spat.

  "Lies told to children by someone they trusted."

  "For what purpose?" Why drive a wedge between his own sons? Ithnan had always known their father did not care for him, but Walid had received the lion's share of their father's attention. And affection.

  "You left Askar young, but you must have noticed for yourself." Thale narrowed his eyes. "Our father was a psychopath. Sending you to Askar, manipulating everyone around him. When he encountered someone he could not manipulate, they often disappeared. As happened to my mother."

  Ithnan said nothing. He remembered Taline, Thale's mother, as a smiling beauty who had been kind to him. She had given him a remote-control airplane when he left for Hidd. His guards had confiscated the toy when he arrived at the palace. He had never seen Taline again.

  "Our father wished to train Walid to follow in his footsteps. I am continually amazed that his efforts did not work."

  "What does this have to do with my letters?"

  Thale had the nerve to check his mobile phone before answering. "The night after our father read us one of your letters about your visit to Euro Disney, I found Walid stealing bottled water from the kitchens in preparation for a long journey. He told me you would never forget us. He said you were his best friend. You were being held against your will and his duty was to try to save you even if he died as a result. He had saved his money for months to buy bus tickets. A return ticket for himself. And also a one-way ticket from Hidd to Askar."

  Thale did not have to point out to him that saving such an amount of money would have been a huge undertaking. Under their father, they had never been given allowances. Having money would have given them independence, taken away some of their father's control.

  "At nightfall," Thale continued, "we snuck out of the palace through one of the servants' entrances. Father's police apprehended us at the bus station, naturally."

  "Us?" Ithnan did not know what was the bigger revelation. Walid's rescue attempt, or Thale assisting the rescue attempt.

  Thale waved a hand airily. "I was not going to be left out of an adventure. I convinced Number One he needed me to go with him, and that we could steal the money for the return tickets."

  The air seemed too thick to breathe. He wanted to disbelieve his brother's story, to continue to think of Walid as the villain who threatened Zallaq's borders.

  "Maybe," Thale suggested, "you should take another look at Walid. To peel off the mask of our father you've put over his face and see what is underneath."

  "Perhaps you should leave Zallaq once and for all."

  "Whatever you say, Number Two." Sticking one hand deep into the pocket of his khaki trousers, Thale shot him an arrogant smile. The kind of smile you wanted to strike.

  A smile to put distance between you and the person you spoke with, thought Ithnan, as his youngest brother turned to go.

  "Wait." The word was difficult through gritted teeth.

  Thale turned back to him, the arrogant smile gone.

  Ithnan looked into eyes much like his own. Though Thale was his brother, Ithnan barely knew him. What had turned Thalatha into who he was—a useless person who lived off the generosity of others, wasting his life in clubs with idle friends?

  He had no reason to trust any of what Thale said about their brother. He should throw Thale out and never permit him to return to Zallaq.

  "What?" Thale said, every inch of his body framing belligerence.

  "I misspoke. You may stay," Ithnan told him.

  Thale's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I have remembered I have many, many other things to do."

  "I believe I have something to do as well," Ithnan said. "But you will always be welcome in Zallaq, brother."

  THIRTEEN

  Down, girl, Gwen told her stomach as she hustled around her room, throwing her clothes into various suitcases. But no matter how many times she told her gut she was doing the right thing, and no matter how much antacid she threw down, her stomach still roiled.

  Never mind. She had to get out of here. She might get an ulcer, but they could cure those now. There was no cure for staying in a bad marriage one minute longer than you had to. Ithnan had abused her trust, and he showed no signs of changing his ways.

  As great as the sex had been over the last ten days, as much as she truly, deep down, loved him, it was time to exit. She had no doubts. Her stomach had plenty.

  All she could do was distract herself by packing up her clothes Ithnan had tossed all over the Louis-the-whatever furniture as he'd removed them last night. She'd kicked the servants out of the room and insisted on doing the collecting herself. She felt like she was gathering together all the pieces of herself she'd let Ithnan touch and bringing them back into order.

  Everything but her unruly stomach.

  She'd leave in an hour, she told herself, as she pulled a form-skimming burnt-umber satin sheath dress from the closet and stuffed the garment into one of her many suitcases as if it hadn't cost a thousand bucks. She'd brought too many things here. Packing might take two hours. Yes, two hours. So she would leave in three hours.

  Oh, but the sun was fading and she might as well have dinner before she went. If she was going to have dinner, she might as well sleep here. Have one more night with Ithnan. Leave in the morning.

  Ugh. If she could rationalize one more night, then she could rationalize every night after.

  Nope, she had to stick to the plan. She had to do what she said she was going to do, like she expected Ithnan to.

  She popped another antacid. She didn't expect the pill to help any more than the others, but the chalky taste soothed her.

  If she wanted to get her packing done and be ready to go in an hour, she would need help. Before she thought too much, she strode to the big carved wooden door to the apartment, intending to call for the servants she knew waited outside.

  When she pulled on the heavy brass ring to open the doors, a dark figure filled the empty space. Ithnan, of course.

  The light streamed in behind him, throwing his shadow across the floor. The darkness he cast reached into the room, and she found herself stepping out of the way of the long gray shadow.

  Ugh. Gwen shook off her sudden gloomy mindset. Of course she felt a little morose. Brooding about the situation wasn't going to make her feel better.

  "Come to say goodbye?" she asked. "I didn't think you'd bother."

  Ithnan strode in, adjusting his shirt cuffs. "Of course I wanted to see you. However, I have no desire to say goodbye. I love you and you are my wife. I wish you to stay."

  The niggling voice in her head started again. Maybe he would change if she stayed. Maybe she was asking too much...

  Nope. Nope. Nope. "I love you too, but this doesn't work for me. I can't be with you like this."

  He looked around at the room. Did his shoulders slump an inch when he noted the open suitcases? "If you love me as well, I see no point in you leaving. But I cannot stop you."

  "Actually, you'd have no problem stopping me. But thanks for not trying."

  He turned to her. "You do not need to thank me for failing to hold you against your will. I recall you saying something similar to me at one time. I believe I understand what you meant now."

  Her heart leapt. Was this the sign she'd been looking for?

  No. She wanted more than anything to throw herself into his arms, but a few words weren't enough.

  "True," she said. "I remember."

  He didn't try to touch her, but left a respectful distance, as if an ocean separated them already. She swallowed her sigh.

  "So," he said, "will you cut ties with me completely?"

  She hadn't thought of how
to handle their estrangement. Until now. "I think that's best."

  He nodded. "I have no right to request favors from you. Regardless, I need to ask you to approach your father about something on behalf of the people of Zallaq—"

  She turned to him, feeling anger rise like a tide inside her. How dare he ask her for favors?

  "—and the people of Askar," he finished.

  Askar? What did Askar have to do with anything?

  Who cared? She returned to the task at hand. Packing. She still had three sets of heels to fit into the case, and she was running out of space. Probably because she hadn't bothered to fold her clothes. "Talk to him yourself."

  "Gwendolyn." Lord, the way he said her name made her feel all melty inside. If he said it a few more times, she might do whatever he asked her to. "He will be more receptive if the request comes from you. Particularly since you will soon begin divorce proceedings, no doubt."

  "No doubt," she agreed. She needed a Zallaqi lawyer. She'd start googling as soon as she got back to Chicago. "You're probably looking for a way to keep me on your hook."

  "I admit I will take every opportunity to keep you in my life." Ithnan stepped to her, invading her personal space. She found herself forced to look up at him. He really was a beautiful man. Outstanding eyes. Male-model jaw line. Amazing golden skin that she'd touched.

  Everywhere.

  His Royal Majesty Sheikh Ithnan al Kalam. Flawless on the outside, criminally broken on the inside. Unable to trust, unable to open himself to others.

  Crumpling the bra she was holding in her fist, she crossed her arms over her chest. "What's so hard you can't talk to him yourself?"

  "I need to change the route of the pipeline."

  "Again?"

  He nodded at her. "I expect a similar reaction from your father, which is why I ask your assistance."

  ***

  When he stood near his wife, he had to strain not to touch her. When he had entered the room, he only wished to sweep her into his arms. And his bed. Each night for the past nine nights, he had held out hope she would wake in the morning, still beside him, with a changed mind. Yet every night, no matter how tightly he held her, she managed to slip from his arms, back into her dungeon.

  She had told him he had closed himself off, that no one could reach him. The irony was he could not reach her now. Her body was present, her heart far from his grasp. She said she loved him, yet she pulled away at every turn.

  "I talked to Dad about the pipeline once." Fire flashed in her eyes. "That's why you abducted me in the first place, remember?"

  "True. But I believe his best interest is to move the project to follow the border with Askar. In Zallaq, naturally. The new location will enable transport of oil from both countries," he explained. "The route is more expensive, but my brother has agreed to cover the additional costs."

  A long silence hung in the air. Gwendolyn searched his face with narrowed eyes. "You talked to Walid."

  "Gwendolyn, I begin to believe my brother does not threaten the peace of our two countries. Perhaps..." He was reluctant to say the words aloud, since they were close to an admission he had done something wrong. "The pipeline, and stronger relations, will benefit both our nations. I am hopeful he can be trusted."

  Gwendolyn's eyes had narrowed to slits. "Are you just saying that?"

  She was acting particularly confusing today. "I do not see why I should say the words if I do not mean them."

  "You don't?" She folded her arms across her chest. "You're going to do a project with your brother? You're not trying to manipulate anyone?"

  "I will manipulate Walid into the most favorable terms for my country," he said. "I expect him to try the same. But yes, we will work together on the initiative. I suspect I have been mistaken about his actions. I believe he may"—what were the words Thale had used?—"do what he says he is going to do. The signs point to the fact he may be trusted."

  "And you're serious?"

  Gwendolyn was not normally obtuse. He had told her his intentions—why did she have such a difficult time believing them?

  Ah, he realized—perhaps it was because he had deceived her more thoroughly than he had ever done to anyone else. She was correct; he had done so because he saw in her someone he could trust. She had given him back the Heart of Zallaq and proven her inner strength.

  "I am," he confirmed. "I ask for your assistance approaching your father. You would be justified in saying no. I will attempt to speak to him for myself."

  She said nothing, but stood there with her hands on her hips in a belligerent pose. Her head cocked at a strange angle, and she looked at him with an assessing glare. One corner of her mouth drew up tight.

  He would not see her again, he understood, and his chest ached with the realization.

  "I wish I had done everything differently," he told her. "On the night of the party, I wish I had taken you in my arms and kissed you. I should have recognized I did not need to kidnap you to enlist your help. I should have charmed you and pursued you."

  She shrugged. "I would have thought you were talking to me just to get close to my father."

  He knew he should not dare touch her. He should respect her wishes. Yet he had nothing left to lose.

  He stepped to her. She did not back away.

  He raised his hand to caress her face. Her skin felt silky beneath his fingers. Would he ever stroke her cheek again?

  Sadness filled him. When she left, he would feel nothing but emptiness. The woman he now held should have been his future, his life. They should have created a legacy in Zallaq, a line to last a thousand years. Instead, because he had wanted to lock her into a position where she was forced to stay with him, he had lost her.

  He had no hope of convincing her to stay, but he would lose nothing by making his request one last time.

  He leaned down to her until his mouth was less than an inch from hers, and poured all the charisma he could summon into his useless words. After all the romantic gestures he had made in the last ten days, he knew one more would make no difference. She was a woman of strength and would not be swayed with a final kiss. He inhaled his last smell of fresh lemon soap. "Gwendolyn, don't leave Zallaq. Please stay with me."

  "Okay," she said.

  Ah well. He had failed utterly. With nothing left to lose, he closed the gap between them. A last kiss before they parted forever.

  He wrapped his arms around her as if he could hold her close for the rest of their lives.

  Their lips touched. Never had a kiss been so bittersweet. He tried to fill it with the longing he felt, the desire for her to be with him, the promise he would treat her with honesty and respect. With the love he felt for her. She was the one woman who would have given him a chance to prove himself, even after how he had treated her. He loved her strength, even her strength to walk away from him. He even loved the way she demanded he fix his own problems. He did not need a woman who would bend to his will. He needed a woman who would be honest with him, who would demand his best.

  He needed Gwendolyn.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, responding to his kiss in every way. She pressed against him as if she wanted to melt into his body, as if she were trying to become one with him.

  She devoured his mouth with enthusiasm, driving his passion to the edge of control. She seemed to take everything she wanted, and to still want more. He tried to burn the passion into his memory for the lonely nights to come.

  Wait. He froze, her tongue still in his mouth. What had she said?

  Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, holding her waist, feeling her raucous heartbeat against his chest.

  "Gwendolyn, did you agree to stay?"

  "Uhm, yes," she said. "Isn't that why we're kissing?"

  "All reasons are good reasons for us to kiss." His mind clouded over. He drew her away from his body, trying to clear his head, but he kept his hands planted on her hips. "I do not understand."

  She put one hand on either side of his face. "Because y
ou're doing the project with your brother."

  His confusion must have shown. She clarified. "Ithnan, you learned not to trust anyone in your youth, and I understand. If I'd experienced what you have, I'd probably be the same. But not everyone is like the people in Hidd, and if you go through your life treating everyone like they're going to betray you any second, you're going to wind up as a psychopath."

  "I see."

  "By reaching out to your brother, you've taken the first step toward starting to see people as they are."

  "I only wished to keep my country secure. But you and Thalatha may be right about Walid."

  Her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. "You've been talking to Thale? And believing what he says? You're blowing my mind here."

  She punctuated her statement with an affectionate peck on his cheek.

  "I very much desire to blow your mind," he told her. "Repeatedly. With vigor. But you must tell me you love me and you intend to stay with me."

  "I love you," she said. "And I'm staying with you."

  He scooped her into his arms. She gave a little cry as her feet went out from under her. Once she recovered from the surprise, she clung to him and planted kisses on his face.

  "I love you too, my queen," he told her as he placed her where she belonged—on his bed. "It is you who are truly the heart of Zallaq."

  FOURTEEN

  Epilogue

  The people of Zallaq waited impatiently for their new queen to arrive at the Royal Chapel. They had lined the streets, some camping along desirable spots along the processional route for two days.

  They had rejoiced at the news their distant and unapproachable ruler had eloped with a woman. Since he had inherited the throne, all agreed he had ruled with wisdom and honor. At first many had disagreed with the way he dealt with the invasion by Hidd, but in the end, he had treated his new citizens with fairness.

  These were the words his people used to describe him: Fair. Just. Wise.