Owned by the Sheikh

by Opal Carew

  Night after night, in the depths of his dreams, he felt her soft, white skin beneath his fingers, heard her delicious moans of pleasure, and he exploded in passion. And every morning, he awoke to wet evidence of his folly.

  He had started to hate her, as much for his primal, loathsome longing as for her callous actions.

  He would forget her. With time.

  Today had been Jordan’s wedding day. Tomorrow, they’d be back on the road. Once he was home again, he would find a way to get Shena out of his mind.

  Shena awoke with a start as someone ripped back her covers and hauled her out of bed. As her bleary vision focused, she realized the rough-handed man dragging her along the cold marble floor, barely waiting for her stumbling feet to keep up, was Bahrd, the most brutal of her father’s men. He always leered at her as though waiting for the opportunity to strip her naked and violate her. The skin on her arms pebbled in goose bumps, and her chest constricted so tightly she could barely breathe. Oh, God, had that opportunity arrived?

  A semi-toothless grin claimed his face as his gaze raked across her, as though he read her thoughts.

  “Yer father wants te see ye.”

  Her anxiety did not diminish at that revelation. As he dragged her down the corridor, she wondered if this had anything to do with Keern.

  Four painful days ago, she had left Keern with that dreadful, but necessary, lie. She’d felt violently ill as she’d raced home. She’d stolen up to her room and curled into a ball on her bed, sobbing.

  Over the next few days, the image of Keern’s handsome face, filled with loathing, remained burned in her memory.

  Yet in her dreams, he bound her in a web of sexual desire and took out his anger in beautiful bouts of passion.

  Bahrd pushed open the door to her father’s study, and she cringed as he shoved her inside.

  “There you are, daughter.”

  Her father sat in the tall brown leather chair behind his shiny ebony desk. He removed his glasses and placed them on the book he’d been reading. A fire blazed in the marble fireplace, radiating a warm glow. He rubbed his well-trimmed beard, then tapped his long, elegant fingers on the desktop as he watched her, light dancing across the navy silk of his vest.

  His composure didn’t fool her. In his ice-grey eyes, she saw danger. He hid it well from others, but she had learned to read the intensity of his anger within the calm depths.

  “I’ve heard you’ve been meeting with a man.”

  She remained silent, unable to utter a word. How had he found out about Keern?

  He pushed himself to his feet and strode toward her. “You were seen at Sersa’s pond with a man who claimed you were his woman. Is this true?”

  She glanced at the floor.

  He struck her swiftly, a bone-jarring blow to the jaw, knocking her off her feet. Pain jolted through her hands as they hit the hard stone floor, breaking her fall.

  “Is it true?” The tone of his words, strung taut as a tightrope, demanded an answer.

  She straightened her arms, pushing herself onto her hip, legs curled to one side.

  “No, not exactly. I --”

  He kicked her in the ribs, knocking her to the ground again. Blinding pain shot through her, and she could barely suck in enough air to keep from passing out.

  “Not exactly?” he sneered. “Does that mean you’re not exactly a virgin anymore?”

  “I am,” she choked, then coughed, trying to catch her breath. “I am still a virgin.”

  His eyes narrowed as he glared down at her. “Even if you are, Drakemont doesn’t believe it. He’ll never wed you now.”

  Her father had been intending to marry her off to Reginald Drakemont? He was a foul-smelling miser of a man. Cruel and demanding. He frightened her almost as much as her father.

  He kicked her again. Tears welled in her eyes from the exploding pain in her chest.

  He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to look into his eyes. Into torrents of rage.

  “I wanted that marriage. I wanted the platinum he offered for you and the alliance between our families. Our combined forces could have dominated the entire region.”

  He released her with such force, her face smacked against the cold, hard floor. Pain lanced through her cheekbone, and she shuddered as she suppressed a sob.

  “Now you’ve ruined it.” He strode away from her, then stood staring out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “I’m told the man you were with was a Herrington. Is that also true, daughter?”

  She pushed herself to her knees. “I’d never seen him before, but he protected me from some soldiers who came along.”

  “Drakemont’s soldiers. Who I’m sure you had no reason to fear.”

  So that’s how he knew. One of them must have recognized her.

  “Was his name Herrington?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t lie to me. Right now, your usefulness to me is close to nil since everyone believes you are soiled. If you lie to me about this, then I must believe you’re lying to me about being a virgin.”

  His voice grew very quiet. “That means I have no choice but to follow through on my promise.”

  He glanced toward Bahrd, who stood at the door, grinning at her. She trembled, remembering the young housekeeper. Remembering Bahrd violently thrusting into her. Remembering her father’s promise that she would suffer the same fate should she ever lose her virginity -- and her usefulness to him.

  “You have one more chance to answer truthfully. Was his name Herrington?”

  She hesitated, and he dragged her to her feet and propelled her toward the door and the sneering lout. Oh, God, no. The thought of those rough brutes and what they’d do to her ... She couldn’t ...

  “Yes,” she cried, hating herself for her weakness. “His name was Herrington.”

  He released her arm and she fell to the floor.

  “Those dehn’rad Herringtons will pay dearly for this.”

  She quivered at his words. Saying anything to try to help Keern would only make matters worse. If her father suspected she had feelings for the man, he would relish the revenge even more. She could only pray Keern would survive her father’s wrath.

  He shoved her at Bahrd. “Keep an eye on her until I get back. I don’t want her talking to anyone.”

  Bahrd wrenched her arm from her father’s grasp and dragged her through the door.

  “For heaven’s sake, Keern. Go ride ahead. Your restlessness is unsettling the horses.”

  Keern glanced at the carriage carrying the women, then back to Will riding horseback beside him. What if thieves attacked?

  “But if there’s trouble --”

  “There won’t be. Even if there were, we could handle it.”

  Keern nodded to Will, thankful for his brother’s instincts. His brothers and cousin, the carriage driver, and the five soldiers accompanying them should be able to handle any danger that came their way.

  Keeping pace with the carriage was a difficult task today. He wanted to feel speed, to allow the wind to sweep his brain clean of unwanted memories. If he’d been on Kulasta, the planet he’d called home for the past two years, he’d have climbed into his air car and sped up to two hundred kilometers per hour, letting the landscape fly past in a blur.

  “I’ll ride as far as the hill, then wait for you.”

  “Go.” Will waved him away. “As far as you need.”

  Keern rode and rode, forgetting about time and distance. When he reached the valley, he stopped and dismounted, then sat on a rock and listened to the garals twittering and warbling in the trees. A cacophony of sound surrounded him.

  But a distant noise drew his attention. Listening intently, he thought he heard shouts, then a scream. He bounded onto his horse and rode up the hill. At the top, his heart lunged to his throat as he saw the carriage halted, surrounded by armed men. Swords clacked against each other as men battled.

  Keern rode at top speed, returning to pr
otect his family. These men didn’t look like thieves. Why in the world were they attacking?

  Two of Will’s soldiers were down, and he saw one of the enemy thrust his sword through the driver. Quickly, Keern took down two of the attackers as he fought his way to his family. His heart leaped as he saw the man who appeared to be the leader lunge a sword into Will’s chest.

  “No!” Keern raced toward the man, sword raised.

  The man jerked aside in time to dodge Keern’s blade, then turned his horse and fled. The others followed. Keern realized there were only three of them left, to their five still standing.

  “Jordan, stay with Will and the women. Men, follow me,” Keern commanded, then galloped after the retreating figures. The soldiers followed his lead.

  The fleeing men scattered.

  “I’ll follow the leader; you men get the others,” Keern directed.

  After a few miles, he caught up with the leader and swung his sword, wounding the man’s left arm and driving him off his horse. He ran, but Keern leaped from his horse, knocking the man to the ground.

  “Who the hell are you, and why did you attack us?” Keern demanded.

  “I am Henry Wakefield.” He pushed himself to his feet, throwing a look of disdain Keern’s way. “One of you Herrington devils defiled my daughter.”

  Wakefield. Shena’s father.

  “Why do you believe that?”

  “My daughter told me.”

  Shena had lied about their encounter, just as she’d threatened. That witch had caused Will’s death!

  Wakefield’s eyes narrowed, and he raised his sword. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  His eyes filled with rage and he lunged at Keern, swinging wildly. Keern easily countered, forcing the man backward.

  They fought hard for several minutes, but Keern dodged Wakefield’s final thrust and sank his sword squarely into the man’s chest.

  Keern gained no satisfaction from Wakefield’s death. It wouldn’t bring Will back. Nothing would bring Will back. Despair gripped him in an awful, frigid hold. His brother was dead.

  And Shena had been the cause. He would never forgive her for what she’d done. And somehow, he would find a way to make her pay.

  Chapter 5

  Keern slung Wakefield’s body over the back of his horse, tied it down, and raced back to his family. The women sat weeping in the back of the carriage, with Will’s body across Jenna’s lap. One of the soldiers had already returned, one of Wakefield’s men still draped over the back of his horse, and was helping their cousin Jacob lay the bodies out along the side of the road. A few minutes later, the others returned.

  Keern desperately wanted to ride ahead, to take Wakefield’s body and dump it on the chief constable, then race to Wakefield’s house and drag Shena to prison. He wasn’t sure what the charges would be, but there must be some way to punish her for causing Will’s death.

  But Keern wouldn’t leave his family now. Thoughts of Shena had sent him riding ahead a mere hour ago, taking him away when he was most needed.

  If he hadn’t gone ahead, maybe Will would still be alive.

  Keern slammed his fist on the official’s desk.

  “Chief Constable Murray, Shena Wakefield is responsible for Will’s death.”

  The man leaned forward in his chair, his steel-blue eyes clashing with Keern’s. “Mr. Herrington, if she didn’t wield the sword, then I don’t see how I can arrest her.”

  Jacob clutched Keern’s arm. Keern eased back at the gentle pressure from his cousin’s hold. The constable knew Jacob. Maybe he could get somewhere.

  “Wade, can you at least bring her in for questioning?”

  The man’s flashing eyes lost their edge as they shifted to Jacob. Chief Constable Murray took a deep breath.

  Keern lowered himself into one of the leather chairs facing the desk, then glanced out the large windows on the adjacent wall. The sun had disappeared behind the trees, and the clouds above them were lined in pink and purple.

  “Jacob, look, I’ve got to ride out and tell the girl about her father. You and your cousin can ride with me, as long as you keep him in line.”

  Keern fumed, but knew it wasn’t really directed at this man, but at Shena. The woman who had betrayed him and cost him his brother.

  Keern, Jacob, and Chief Constable Murray arrived at the Wakefield house after nightfall. A guard let them in the front gate, and they rode on to the house.

  In the light of Aos, the largest moon circling Tarun, the place appeared cold and sinister. The branches of the large agoba trees arched outward, casting looming shadows across the enormous house and the stone pathway leading to it.

  They approached the huge, curved wooden doors, and Murray grabbed the brass knocker, rapping it against the door, sharp and loud.

  A long time passed, and he rapped again.

  Finally, the large door creaked open, revealing a burly man almost two meters in height, with a straggly brown beard and equally straggly, shoulder-length hair.

  “Bahrd, I’ve come with bad news,” Murray said. “Henry Wakefield is dead.”

  The man’s eyes darkened as he scowled.

  “I’ve come to talk to his daughter,” Murray continued.

  The man’s face closed up. “Can’t say I know where she be.”

  “Then you’d better find her,” Keern demanded.

  The man’s shoulders squared and he leaned forward. “And who’s going to make me?”

  Keern started forward, but Jacob grabbed his arm.

  “Bahrd,” Murray interjected, “I need to speak with her. Go find her.”

  The man glared at Keern, then glanced back to Murray. “I don’t think lookin’ll turn her up, Chief.”

  “Do you think she’ll turn up by tomorrow morning?”

  Bahrd shrugged.

  “I see. Let’s put it this way. I want her at the courthouse by nine tomorrow morning, or I’ll come out looking for her. Got it?”

  The large man shrugged again. “Whatever ye say, Chief.”

  Keern itched to plow past the man and search the house room by room until he found the lying bitch, but that wouldn’t get him anywhere right now. He followed the chief constable and Jacob away from the Wakefield house.

  Tomorrow, he would see Shena again. His heart stumbled a little at the thought, an image of her sweet, smiling face swirling through his head, which just cranked his anger up a notch.

  Shena had been awakened by the loud knocking, not that she’d been sleeping very heavily, with Bahrd hanging around her door, watching her. She heard men’s voices outside, but couldn’t hear their words. At the thunderous sound of Bahrd’s boots on the wooden stairs, she clung to her covers, watching the door.

  He appeared in the doorway, a gigantic, looming shape backlit by the moonlight from the large window over the stairs.

  “Looks like yer an orphan, lass.” He stepped toward her and dragged the covers from her body. She lay on the bed, shivering in her light cotton nightgown. His gaze raked over her.

  “I been wantin’ a piece o’ that for a longen now.” His hand rested on her thigh and slowly slid upward.

  She scrambled up the bed, leaving his hand behind. He grabbed her ankles and dragged her back down, then flung his arms wide, opening her legs. The feral gleam in his eyes jabbed at the deepest fears squirming inside her.

  “What do you mean, I’m an orphan?”

  “What do ye think I mean, girl? Yer father is dead. Killed by one of them Herringtons. But not afore he killed the one he was after, I’d wager.”

  Shock pummeled through her. Her father was dead.

  Was Keern dead, too? Her heart constricted, and sharp pain lanced through her.

  Bahrd’s grunt dragged her back to her current situation. With her father gone, she would be at the mercy of the soldiers. Legally, she now owned her father’s holdings, but she knew as soon as her father’s soldiers heard of his death, they’d strip the property bare and take off. She was sure they wouldn’t hesitate
to take their pleasure from her before they left.

  Bahrd released one of her ankles, then tugged his belt strap and released it from the buckle.

  Her heart hammered wildly in her chest. Her only chance was to appeal to Bahrd’s greed.

  “Do you really want to do this?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He tugged the zipper down on his pants. “I want to do it every way possible, then watch while the others do it.”

  “You know, the slavers will pay a lot more for me as a virgin. My father always told me so.” She made her voice as persuasive as she could.

  “Eh?” He paused and rubbed his chin. “The slavers?”

  “You are going to sell me, right? I mean, if you don’t, one of the others will, but you’re here first. If you can sell me as a virgin ...”

  “You’re just sayin’ this ’cause you don’t want to get fucked.”

  “Of course.” A tinge of anger colored her voice, hard as she tried to conceal it. “But it’s also true. You and I will both do better if you leave me untouched and take me to the slavers.”

  Never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought she’d be begging to be taken to the slavers, but right now, that threat was a lot more distant than the leering Bahrd and the prospect of her father’s men climbing on top of her one after another.

  Bahrd grunted, staring at her, his gaze sliding up her legs and pinning on the crotch of her white panties, fully exposed. She held her breath, watching him.

  “You know, with the money you get for me, you can enjoy a lot of women at the brothel.”

  Finally, he grunted and grabbed her wrist, then dragged her through the house, out the back door to the closed wagon. He pushed aside the tarp covering the door and shoved her through, then bound her wrists and ankles. He wrapped a gag around her mouth.

  He disappeared back into the house and reappeared about a half-hour later to fling a large cloth bag beside her. It made a loud clunk when it hit the wagon floor. Probably filled with all kinds of treasures and whatever money he’d found in her father’s office. She heard him attaching the horse to the wagon, and a few moments later, the wagon jerked forward.