Breaking the Sheikh's Rules

by Abby Green

  Stevie backed Iseult into the corner and put an arm on either side of her head, trapping her. Iseult didn’t feel threatened any more, she just felt exasperated. ‘Stevie, stop it. I don’t feel that way about you.’

  He just smiled his most seductive smile, and Iseult felt faintly ill. ‘Come on, Iseult, you don’t know what you’re missing. And I’ve missed you around here. It’s not fair you got moved over to Pierre so quickly. There’s a rumour, you know, that Nadim favours you.’

  Iseult blushed and put up her hands to try and push Stevie away. ‘That’s ridiculous. Now, please move back.’

  ‘Not until you kiss me.’

  Iseult could feel Devil’s Kiss move more impatiently now, and sensed that a kick could be coming their way any minute. But Stevie was immovable, and his strength sent a dart of panic through her as she blurted out, ‘I’m not going to kiss you. Now, move.’

  She leant forward, aiming to push him out of the way, but in a lightning-quick move he pulled her into him, pinioning her arms to her sides, and kissed her furiously, with little finesse.

  Iseult couldn’t breathe, and started to panic in earnest while still being very aware of Devil’s Kiss beside them.

  Suddenly through the wave of rising panic Iseult heard an arctic, ‘What the hell is going on in here?’

  Stevie moved back so abruptly that Iseult stumbled against the back wall. She automatically wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Nadim stood in the doorway of the stable, holding onto Devil’s Kiss’s head. He filled the doorway with his huge frame, and Iseult saw the rope belt around his waist, an ornately decorated curved dagger thrust into it. In her eyes at that moment he could have been an ancient warrior king.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  Stevie blustered, ‘Iseult called me in here. I thought she needed a hand with Devil’s Kiss, but—’

  Nadim cut him off ruthlessly. ‘Get out of here now, Bourne. And don’t let me see you at the stables for at least a week.’

  Stevie scarpered like the coward he was, and Iseult stood shakily, aware that Devil’s Kiss had calmed right down now that Nadim was here. She walked forward on jelly legs.

  Before she could even get a word out Nadim said fatalistically, ‘That’s it. This time you’ve gone too far.’

  Iseult’s inner fire rose, even though she felt wobbly all over. ‘I am not going to take the blame for that. Stevie is a pathological flirt and he followed me in here. He wouldn’t leave when I asked him—’

  Nadim folded his arms. ‘So you thought you’d persuade him by kissing him? Give me a break. I know what I saw.’

  ‘No, you don’t. I did not welcome that kiss.’

  Nadim arched a brow. Sarcasm dripped from his tone. ‘You didn’t welcome it in the same way that you didn’t welcome my kiss the other day?’

  Iseult’s face flamed. She looked down at the ground and mumbled, ‘That was different.’

  Nadim had moved into the stable, and the air seemed to contract around them. Iseult looked up warily and was aware that this was totally different from how it had been with Stevie. Devil’s Kiss, the traitor, now stood as still as a placid statue.

  ‘How different?’

  Iseult looked up into Nadim’s dark eyes, in awe of him dressed like this, and said huskily, ‘Because I liked being kissed by you…’

  Iseult couldn’t even feel chagrined at her honesty. She simply couldn’t lie when Nadim stood before her like this.

  All her good intentions, her very necessary intentions of protecting herself around this man, were dissolving like wispy ineffectual clouds. That deep secret inner part of her was unfurling like a bud in the sun. She tried desperately to cling onto how disposable she’d felt after he’d kissed her the other day, but she was fast losing any grip on reality.

  Nadim came even closer and snaked out a hand. His thumb came to her lips and rubbed back and forth, and his eyes got even darker. Iseult pulsed deep inside in response. The air was thick and heavy around them.

  Nadim spoke roughly, his eyes fixed on her mouth. ‘I don’t like the thought of another man’s taste on your lips.’

  Iseult tried to shake her head but it felt heavy. His thumb still rubbed her lips. ‘Neither do I.’

  Obeying some primal urge from deep within her, Iseult stepped right up to Nadim and went on tiptoe, reaching to pull his head down. Her heart kicked and a light sweat broke out all across her skin when with a muffled groan Nadim’s head came down and his mouth covered hers with barely restrained violence.

  Mouths opened on a breath, tongues tangling intimately, hotly. It felt as if Nadim was branding her, eradicating any evidence of the other man, and Iseult welcomed it.

  Nadim’s hands moved down her back to cup her bottom, pulling her up and into him, where she could feel the hard evidence of his arousal through the voluminous robe. Iseult’s hips moved in a silent and eloquently feminine plea against him, her hands smoothing across his shoulders, revelling in their broad strength.

  Nadim tore his head away and looked down at Iseult’s face, at her flushed cheeks and her mouth that looked bee-stung with arousal. She hadn’t looked like this after Stevie had kissed her just now, and Nadim felt an intense surge of masculine satisfaction run through him. Quick on its heels came anger, swift and bright, at the acknowledgement that blind rage had nearly had him ripping Stevie Bourne limb from limb.

  She’d done it again. Reeled him in like a fish on a line. He put his hands on her shoulders and put her back from him. She opened her eyes with an effort. She looked stunned.

  Once again Nadim’s lack of control seared him inwardly. He watched as Iseult tried to compose herself, and even now, though he knew it was sheer madness, he just wanted to shut the door and throw her down onto the hay, where he could sate himself properly.

  He followed an instinct too strong to ignore, not even thinking of the ramifications of his decision. His voice was grim. ‘I want you to go back to your rooms right now and pack your things.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ISEULT felt as if she’d just been punched in the gut. Ice trickled through her veins. ‘You’re sending me home?’

  Nadim was grim, his features stark. ‘The next best thing.’

  Iseult struggled to comprehend. She still felt spaced out—dizzy. ‘What do you mean…? Where are you sending me?’

  ‘You’re moving up to the castle. You’ve proved that I can’t trust you to stay out of trouble. Perhaps you’ll stay out of trouble if you’ve got less time to tempt the staff down here.’

  Nadim turned as if to go, and Iseult reached out on a reflex to grab Nadim’s robe. ‘Now, wait just a minute.’

  Slowly Nadim turned around to face Iseult again, but she refused to let him intimidate her. She kept a tight hold on the sleeve of his robe. ‘Why should I be the one to be punished when Stevie came after me?’

  Nadim arched a brow. ‘And within mere minutes of kissing him you were throwing yourself at me?’ His mouth twisted faintly. ‘You’ve proved that your taste is not only indiscriminate but insatiable.’ The words But you kissed me back died on Iseult’s lips. She blanched to recall how she had stepped up to Nadim and pulled his head down, how she had pretty much begged him to kiss her. She let go of his robe. Self-doubt assailed her. Had he really kissed her back, as she’d believed he had? With the same level of passion? Or had it all been a figment of her twisted imagination? Had that awful yearning to be desired fabricated his response? The knowledge shamed her now.

  She looked at Nadim steadily. He would not see what he was doing to her. ‘If I move up to the castle what will people think?’

  Nadim’s jaw clenched. ‘That is not for you to worry about.’

  ‘But I will be working here. I have to face these people every day.’

  Nadim came close to Iseult again, and as predictably as the sun rising in the morning she could feel her resolve dissolving again.

  ‘No one questions what I do, or the decisions I make. I am the Sheik
h, and that is something you would do well to remember. Leaving you here to your own devices is not something I’m prepared to do any more. Every day you will report for work as usual, and every evening you will return to the castle and your rooms there.’

  ‘So I’m to be a virtual prisoner?’

  Nadim quirked a mocking smile. ‘Oh, I don’t think you’ll feel like a prisoner when you see your new rooms, Iseult. And you’re free to leave at any moment. No one is stopping you.’

  Iseult ignored the dart of alarm at the thought of that, and retorted caustically, ‘No—only the fact that if I do leave I risk jeopardising my entire family’s future…’

  He moved to the door and said coolly, ‘I’ll let Jamilah know, and she can bring you up once you’ve packed your things.’

  Iseult stood in the imposing main courtyard of the castle, completely intimidated. The very stones beneath her feet oozed history. Holding onto her one suitcase, she felt as if she’d just travelled a thousand miles into some Arabian fantasy—not just up the long drive from the stables with Jamilah in a Jeep.

  The walls were so high she couldn’t see anything beyond them, and carved into the huge slabs of stones were Arabic letters, swirling and graceful. The place was reverent, hushed.

  Jamilah came around the front of the Jeep. Taking Iseult by the arm, she led her into the castle.

  As soon as they walked through the giant looming archway light exploded around Iseult and she realised they were in another courtyard, but smaller, with a warren of pathways snaking off in every direction. Huge tall columns extended down these paths as far as the eye could see. As opposed to the almost austere main courtyard this one was full of small trees and plants. A pond with a small burbling waterfall graced the centre and even as Iseult watched a small iridescent fish leapt high and then fell back into the water.

  Jamilah drew her attention to a small figure hurrying towards them, covered from head to toe in the traditional abeyya and burka, with just the most beautiful and enormous dark eyes visible.

  Her belly was twisted in knots as Jamilah introduced the girl to Iseult. ‘This is Lina. She’ll be your personal maid while you’re here, and show you to your rooms.’ Iseult turned and gaped at Jamilah, who just smiled wryly. ‘You’re in another world now, Iseult.’

  Iseult couldn’t speak, and just watched helplessly as Jamilah looked at her watch and grimaced. ‘I’d love to stay and help you settle in, but we’ve got a horse arriving any minute now. I’d better get back…’ She gave Iseult a quick hug and said, ‘You’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow…’ And then she was gone, her slim figure walking away quickly.

  Still stunned at the evidence of the sheer grandeur around her, Iseult followed Lina down a dizzying maze of pathways and corridors. Some were covered and some were not, with the darkening dusky sky visible and lending an even more magical quality to the whole place.

  Even though the castle was stunning, breathtaking, there was an air of a mausoleum about it. There should be the sounds of children running about, more hustle and bustle. Iseult’s heart clenched when that made her think of what Jamilah had told her about Nadim’s wife and baby. If his wife hadn’t died presumably he’d have a small family by now.

  They passed through a door in an ornately latticed wall and Lina came to a stop outside another door, halting Iseult’s dangerously wandering thoughts. She opened it and gestured for Iseult to enter. Iseult walked in, her heart thumping, to see a room of such understated luxury that she simply couldn’t believe it. Thick carpets felt like clouds of air. Everything was cream and dark gold. The sitting room they’d entered led into a bedroom the size of the dining room at Iseult’s house at home, with a bed the size of her entire bedroom dominating the space.

  The bathroom was pure opulence, with a sunken bath and an enormous shower. Open terrace doors led from the bedroom to yet another courtyard, and when Iseult stepped out she could see that it was bursting with a wild profusion of flowers. The scent was more heady than any perfume she’d ever smelt.

  She turned back to see Lina watching her.

  ‘There must be some mistake… This can’t possibly be my room…’

  The girl shook her head and took Iseult’s case firmly out of her hand. She said in softly accented English, ‘This is where you are to sleep. You are in the women’s quarters. This is your room.’

  Lina was opening the case and sorting through Iseult’s clothes, and Iseult put out a hand, mortified to see this luxurious room tainted by her rags. ‘No, please—you don’t have to do that.’

  But Lina ignored her and kept unpacking. A knock sounded on the main door, and Iseult went out to see another similarly clad girl entering with a silver tray covered in small plates and bowls of food. The smells were mouth-watering. Before Iseult knew it she’d been manoeuvred to the sitting room, where she was shown to a dining area. A low table was on the ground, and the girl was putting out the food, indicating that Iseult should sit down, cross-legged, on one of the huge silk cushions.

  Another set of open doors led out to the courtyard from here, and, thoroughly bemused, Iseult could only sit and watch speechlessly as Lina and the other girl took their leave through them. Lina stopped at the door and said, ‘I’ll come back in an hour to run your bath.’

  Iseult jumped up. This was going too far. ‘No!’ She saw the way the other girl seemed to flinch slightly and moderated her tone. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. All I mean is that there’s really no need. I can manage on my own.’ She gestured to the food. ‘And thank you for this…but in future can’t I just go to the kitchen or something?’

  Lina seemed to giggle, and held a hand up to her mouth. She shook her head. ‘No, Miss Iseult. This is how it is here. You are a guest of the Sheikh. I’ve been instructed to wake you at six in the morning…if you’re sure you won’t require any further assistance?’

  Iseult shook her head quickly and the girl left. The reminder of her wake-up call brought her back to earth a bit. She might be living in these spectacular rooms now, but tomorrow she’d be back at the stables and working hard, and she had no doubt at all that Nadim wouldn’t be paying her another visit.

  She wondered where his rooms were within the vast castle, and then chastised herself, sitting down again to eat some of the deliciously prepared food. She tried to focus instead on what she’d been doing that day with Pierre, but every second moment the sheer opulence of her surroundings would floor her again, and all her mind could do was helplessly gravitate to the tall dark man who was turning her upside down and inside out.

  Nadim heard nothing. He knocked again. Still nothing. Dammit—where was she? With a surge of something hot within him that he labelled anger, and not something more sexually primal, Nadim opened Iseult’s door and went in. Silence greeted him, and he saw the remnants of her dinner on the low table in the sitting room.

  With the carpet muffling his steps he walked into the vast bedroom—and stopped dead at the sight before him. One light threw out a halo of a dim glow. Iseult lay asleep on the bed, with just a short white towel wrapped around her body. One arm was flung up by her head, in a curiously childish gesture, the other across her belly. Her hair had been wrapped in another towel turban-style, but it had come loose and now a long skein of damp hair rippled across the pillow beside her, a stain of red against the pristine white cotton. Her skin was almost as pale as the sheets she lay on.

  For a second sheer lust threatened to blind Nadim as his gaze dropped and he took in the swells of her breasts against the towel. And her endless legs. Her thigh muscles were toned and strong from years of riding, and all he could imagine now was how they might feel clamped around his waist as he drove into her welcoming heat again and again. How she would arch her back so that he could feel her breasts crushed against his chest.

  In an effort to claw back his rapidly disappearing control Nadim looked around the room. Her jeans were hung tidily on the back of an ornately brocaded chair, with what looked like a fresh shirt a
nd clean underwear. This evidence of her setting out her clothes so methodically for the next day made something in his chest feel weak.

  He should be walking away, retracing his steps back out of her room. He should never have come here, and he should not come here again. He should not be wanting her this badly, with a raging fever in his blood. He should not have moved her here, to the castle. He should never have brought her here from Ireland.

  And yet as his treacherous gaze settled once again on the woman on the bed he knew he would fight off an army if they came to take her away from here, from him. There was also that very unwelcome sense of protectiveness he’d had ever since he’d realised the size of the burden she’d been carrying for years in maintaining the O’Sullivan stud. Even now he could see that those purple shadows that had been under her eyes had faded away, and the angular thinness he’d first noticed was softening.

  In that moment Iseult’s long-lashed eyes fluttered open, and the breath left Nadim’s body when he saw their dark amber glow settle on him.

  Iseult lay very still on the bed. Was she awake or was she dreaming? She was lying on the softest bed she’d ever known, and in the dim seductive light Nadim was just standing there, watching her, dressed in a snowy white shirt and dark trousers, his beautiful harsh face set into shadows by the light. His tall lean body looked intimidatingly powerful and awe-inspiring.

  She blinked, and as if a spell was broken Nadim took a step back and turned, walking swiftly out of her room. She heard the faintest click of the main door closing.

  Reaction set in; her heart hammered painfully and she felt the most curious wrenching feeling. Her whole body tingled, as if Nadim had walked over to her and twitched the towel aside to look at her. The image was so audacious that Iseult had to question very seriously if she’d just experienced a hallucination.

  To wake like that and see him there…it couldn’t be possible. The fact that no words had been spoken seemed to make it even more dreamlike. Iseult sat up and felt seriously disorientated. The heavy damp length of her hair fell down her back. And yet all she could think of was how the persistent ache within her gnawed with renewed intensity…and all because her traitorous mind was now conjuring up three-dimensional apparitions.