The Sheiks of the Arabian Coast Series: 5 Book Box Set

by Erin Snihur

  As Samara scanned the area, her eyes landed on a petite, pale woman who weaved her way through the crowd, a big smile on her face and her blue eyes sparkling happily.

  As the woman stopped before Samara, she half-expected herself to faint. This woman was engaged to Sheik Khalid of Aman. She was a celebrity all over the continent. Swallowing, Samara smiled nervously at the woman.

  “I’m sorry for just walking up to you like this, but I’m afraid my fiance is a bit preoccupied and couldn’t introduce us. My name is Amelia Jones,” the woman said, her voice soft and sweet.

  “I know,” Samara rambled quickly and then blushed, realizing how she must sound. “I only meant, you are well known here and in England. Everyone is a buzz about your wedding. It is truly an honor.”

  Amelia shook her head and waved her hands at her, “Don’t flatter me or else I’ll grow a big head. I told Khalid I wanted a wedding just like yours, quick and sweet, but his family is convinced that they must have a large celebration.”

  Samara laughed along with the woman and the two fell into easy conversation. As they spoke, Samara felt eyes on her and when she lifted her head to meet the gaze of the unknown person, she inhaled sharply. Malik had appeared at her side and slid a warm, tense hand around her waist. Amelia’s fiance, Sheik Khalid, appeared as well and did the same, the man’s possessive nature coming into full force as he glared at a waiter who seemed to be drooling over Amelia.

  “What are you two talking about, ya amar?” Sheik Khalid crooned and Samara watched with a heavy heart as the two exchanged knowing looks.

  It reminded Samara of the look her parents would share when they found a quiet moment. Clutching her champagne glass tighter, Samara smiled nervously when Amelia clucked her tongue.

  “Just girl talk, Khalid. I promise you’d find it most boring,” Amelia grinned and turned her smile back on Samara and Malik. “Congratulations on your wedding, Malik, and thank you both for your wedding gift to us, she is absolutely beautiful.”

  Without thinking, Samara asked, “What gift?”

  An awkward silence bloomed between the foursome and when Samara’s eyes turned from Malik’s back to Amelia, she realized why. He’d obviously sent it on behalf of the both of them and not included her in the slightest. After all, this marriage was a business arrangement.

  “A horse from my stables, angel,” Malik crooned back, seeming unaffected by her embarrassment.

  Clenching her fists tighter, Samara forced a smile on her face. “Oh yes, I had forgotten. I suppose I have a bit of wedding brain. I cannot seem to remember much over the last few weeks.”

  Amelia, sensing the tension between them, smiles and reaches over to squeeze her hand. “You must come to Aman and see her for yourself. Khalid has promised to teach me, so I do not fall on my face. He is an avid rider and I fear I’ve never ridden before in my life.”

  Nodding along, Samara scanned the room and sees her sister standing off in a corner, arguing quietly with her husband, Charles.

  “Would you please excuse me, I think my sister and her husband are departing. Do not forget to try the salmon. It is exquisite,” Samara says in a rushed voice and ignores Malik all together as she nods at Khalid and Amelia before marching toward her sister.

  Although she can’t hear what Sheena and Charles are arguing about, Samara knows it must be bad as they both stop arguing upon her arrival.

  “Is everything okay?” Samara asks, glancing between the two who both seem to want to glare holes through one another.

  “No, Sammy, we were just leaving, actually. I have to return to London before tomorrow,” Charles drawls in his British accent.

  “Oh, well thank you for coming, Charles,” Samara murmurs politely.

  “I’ll have a servant fetch our coats and meet you outside, Sheena, do not tarry,” Charles says and stalks off.

  Once gone, Sheena breathes out a sigh of relief and meets her sister’s confused gaze, “Oh, Sammy, I’m so sorry for ruining your party.”

  Shaking her head, Samara was shocked as her sister pulled her into a tight hug and she was able to whisper, “It’s okay.”

  Sheena pulled back and smiled up at her. “It will be. I’m so sorry I won’t be here for the rest of the party. That old oof is insisting we leave. He thinks my past will tarnish everyone's perception of you.”

  Samara smiled and squeezed her sister’s hands. Heart twinging at the thought of her grandfather trying to control every aspect of her life, Samara shook her head, urging her tears to keep at bay. “It’s okay, just having you here for the ceremony was enough. I don’t know what I’m going to do now that you live in England and I live here.”

  Sheena grinned cheekily and winked at her, “It just gives me an excuse to use Charles’ frequent flyer miles.”

  They both laughed for a moment before her sister turned serious and whispered close to her as she drew Samara in for another hug.

  “Promise me that if you need anything, anything at all, no matter how big or small, you will call me.”

  Feeling her eyes well with tears, Samara shuddered, thinking of her grandfather’s control over her and now Malik’s.

  Whispering a soft thank you, Samara waved as her sister pulled away and disappeared out of the celebration hall. The sounds of the celebration going on around her was too much. With her sister gone, she was truly all alone in this strange place.

  As she scanned the room, Samara found she did not recognize anyone. Her guests weren't even her own. They were her grandfather’s and Malik’s. Shivering, Samara snuck from the room and found herself in a quiet hallway.

  Scanning the area, she shivered once more at the feeling of a soft breeze floating down the hallway. Intent on finding the source, Samara walked as carefully as she could in her heels and nearly cried in relief at the sight of a lone balcony.

  Stumbling through the archway, Samara stood overlooking the railing, completely mesmerized with the tropical view before her. The Arabian Coast could be seen some miles away. When she had drunk her fill of the view, she surveyed the palace. Surrounding the palace were tall walls and every now and then she scanned the sight of guards walking either by themselves or with large dogs at their sides.

  This was not a palace. It was her prison.

  10

  Samara wasn’t left alone for long. One of Malik’s cousins, a cute five year old name Leelah with bouncy dark curls and bright blue eyes that reminded Samara of Malik’s, stared up at her in awe when Samara finally realized she wasn’t alone. She had only been introduced to Leelah by Malik’s uncle, Artis, after the wedding and instantly loved the small child. She was trusting and sweet with a big smile and an adorable laugh.

  “Why are you sad, S’Mara?” Leelah said, her words jumbled as she tried to say Samara’s name.

  Smiling through the tears, Samara knelt down and straightened the little girls dress. “These are happy tears.”

  “Because you married M’lik?” Leelah asked. “You a princess now.”

  Samara laughed at the child's words and shook her head. “I guess I am. You know when I was a child, just like you, I dreamed of being a princess.”

  “Me too!” Leelah gleely laughed and bounced around the balcony, her little arms flailing about. “I’m going to marry a Sheik and be a princess just like you some day, S’Mara.”

  Frowning, Samara clutched her own hands together and shook her head. “You deserve better then a Sheik, like me, Leelah. You deserve a man who will love, cherish and respect you.”

  Leelah paused in her dancing and stared thoughtfully up at Samara as she tried to sound out the words, “Does M’lik love, cherish and respect you, S’Mara?”

  Before she could answer, a deep voice murmurs from the balcony’s archway, “Yes, Samara, does he?”

  Both Samara and Leelah freeze as Malik steps out into the light and taunts her with a wicked grin. Crossing his arms, Malik raises his eyebrows. “Well? Does he?”

  Leelah turned back to Samara, the questio
n still needing answered and Samara, without looking away from Malik’s icy blue eyes, answered softly, her voice betraying no emotion. “Of course he does. You should never marry anyone who does not love, cherish and respect you.”

  Glaring at her, Malik turned to Leelah and his face softened. “Lee, your mother is looking for you.”

  The little girl bounced to attention and waved at Samara as she raced off. Smiling after the girl, Samara felt her heart sink as she was left alone with her new husband for the first time in two weeks.

  Not wanting to look into his eyes, Samara turned away from him and stared over the horizon of the setting sun. Batra was beautiful in the sunset. The many colors of the sun cast a warm glow over the gardens and sea below.

  She smelled him before she felt him. His presence at her back was warm and his scent intoxicated her. He smelled of smoky spice. Probably from his cigars. If this had been any other time or any other man, Samara would have pulled away or demanded he stop, but she didn’t. Her body had a mind of its own while her mind screamed at her to stop it.

  When his hands touched her silk encased shoulders and he whispered into her ear, “It is time for dinner, angel,” Samara knew her days were numbered. To Malik, this was a business arrangement and probably a way for him to shame her with revealing how her body ached for him like no other.

  Ignoring the butterflies and tingles that erupted along her skin, Samara squirmed out his arms and moved far enough away from him that they were no longer touching, but it did not stop her from feeling the heat of his body as it loomed over her.

  “I’m not very hungry. I might retire for the night,” Samara murmured, hoping that would make him realize she wasn’t interested.

  It got the desired effect as Malik’s eyes squinted into a glare and he clenched his fists tightly. Wincing, Samara scolded herself inwardly for revealing her fear. If her grandfather’s fists had taught her anything these past two weeks, it was not to show your fear to an angry man. It only made things worse.

  As if sensing the fear she felt, Malik straightened and his face changed to one of cool composure. “I will have a servant escort you to our chambers.”

  Letting out a breath of relief, Samara’s heart began to thud as Malik marched toward the balcony’s archway and called for a servant. The servants in this palace had to be waiting around every corner to anticipate their Sheik’s needs because, in only a few minutes, one appeared. A small woman dressed in all black appeared and through fast Arabic, Malik explained what he wanted. At the woman’s nod of understanding, Malik turned back to Samara, a challenge in his eyes.

  “I will see you later on tonight, angel,” Malik promised and, without delay, disappeared down the hallway, his intent clearly headed toward the celebration hall.

  Tonight? Samara thought confusedly as the servant bowed and escorted her through the winding staircases and hallways of the palace. As they approached a set of large double doors carefully being guarded by two large men in suits and no doubt had weaponry hidden somewhere, Samara realized what he had meant.

  This was their wedding night.

  Malik didn’t return to the celebratory hall and instead found himself in his private study smoking a cigar and drinking fine whiskey, alone. His thoughts were clouded. He’d watched Samara as she’d embraced her sister, something he was shocked by. From what he understood, the two were as different as night and day and not very close. Something must have happened to bring them together.

  The wedding perhaps? He was sure Sheena’s extravagant lifestyle and opinions played a part in their lavish wedding.

  He’d watched his little wife disappear from the hall as soon as her sister did and he was intent on finding out exactly what Samara wanted out of this arrangement. As he nodded and forced a smile on his face as he made his way through the crowd, he couldn’t help but recall that Samara hadn’t been mingling with her own guests. What was this woman up to? Hadn’t she wanted this wedding in the first place?

  When he’d found her on the southern balcony with his youngest cousin, Leelah, Malik had been struck at the sight of Samara straightening the little girls curls and gifting her with a soft and genuine smile. A smile he’d been on the receiving end of during their night together. Where had that smile gone when she looked at him now?

  Just as he had been about to announce his presence, he stopped, carefully listening as Leelah attempted to say his name through her childlike speech.

  “I’m going to marry a Sheik and be a princess just like you some day, S’Mara,” Leelah said as she bounced about in her flowy dress and ballet slippers.

  Malik had watched shocked as Samara’s soft smile turned into a sad frown as she spoke to the little girl, “You deserve better than a Sheik, Leelah. You deserve a man who will love, cherish and respect you.”

  Malik finished his glass as he recalled those words. Who was better than a Sheik to his bride and new wife? Was there someone else? Had she not wanted to marry Malik and become a princess after all?

  Malik enjoyed the look that swept over Samara when he’d revealed himself, but once they were alone and she’d asked to go and rest for the remainder of the night, he’d let his temper get the best of his emotions. He hadn’t enjoyed the look of pure fear that flashed over her eyes and Malik had to wonder if she had thought he would physically harm her in some way.

  Walking away from her delectable body in her wedding dress had been pure torture. All he’d wanted to do was press her against the walls of his palace and demand to know what her thoughts were. Unlike their first night together, Samara had become a closed book. He couldn’t get a read off her.

  His ears pricked at the sounds of boisterous laughter and the soft steps of men outside his study doors. Finally, they opened with a loud bang and Malik watched broodingly as his friend, Khalid, dragged in an intoxicated Kasin through the doors. Tariq and Amoz were no help as they followed behind laughing and cheering Khalid on. While Khalid was the bigger of the five men, Malik knew they were all equally strong.

  Dumping Kasin onto the plush sofa across from Malik, Khalid straightened his back, and glared at him. “Thanks for the help by the way. Where have you been? Kasin’s been trying to kill himself at the bar.”

  Malik shrugged and watched as the group settled into a few other chairs. Kasin was the only one who lay passed out on the sofa and every so often would grumble in his sleep and mumble a few words.

  His friends were the definition of rich, playboy royals and most had been shocked when he’d announced he was getting married. All had speculated the real reason for his marriage. Hamda’s businesses. He couldn’t deny it.

  Not wanting to discuss why he was in his study moping instead of celebrating his marriage with his guests or, better yet, with his new bride, Malik nodded towards Kasin. “Why is he trying to kill himself with vodka?”

  Khalid shrugged and nudged Kasin’s shoulder with his leather shoe. “Hey, Kasin, wake up, why are you behaving like an alcoholic schmuck?”

  All four leaned in close as Kasin groaned at the question and only muffled, “Screwed. Royally screwed.”

  Rolling his eyes, Tariq stood and pointed to Malik’s collection of whiskies. “I'm going to need more of that if we’re going to probe any deeper into Kasin’s subconscious.”

  Amoz, the most serious and diligent one of their group, scanned the room and settled his mocking glare on Malik. “What I would like to know is why our dear and newly wedded friend Malik here is not enjoying the company of his beautiful, new wife?”

  Glaring back at Amoz, Malik set his cigar in the ashtray and grumbled, “Stop looking at my wife, Amoz. You aren’t that much older than I am and I can still knock you senseless no matter our titles.”

  Amoz nodded and grinned at Khalid and Tariq. “He never did tell us why he’s hiding out in his study, did he?”

  Khalid muttered a curse and glared at Amoz. “Leave him alone.”

  Turning to face Malik, Khalid leveled him with a concerned brotherly look he k
new all too well. “What is it, Malik? You know we are not the only ones to notice your icy behaviour around your new bride. Amelia noticed, too. She thinks you’ve got plans for hurting the poor girl.”

  Tariq snorted into his whiskey glass. “Your fiance needs to stop trying to fix everyone and focus on herself. You know she tried to tell me to go and flirt with a few of the debutantes in attendance tonight. She thinks I need a wife.”

  Khalid glared at Tariq. “You do if you want to continue the bloodline and please your father,” and then turned back to Malik, “Tell us, brother.”

  Malik sighed and everyone, except for a snoring Kasin, stared at him expectantly. Damn them and their knowing ways, Malik snarled inwardly.

  “Fine,” Malik grumbled and launched into the tale of how he had met Samara and Hamda’s arrangement. He didn’t tell them what he’d heard his new wife say on the balcony and instead told them he was worried Samara wasn’t exactly as willing as he had thought she’d been about the marriage.

  Whistling low, Tariq poured himself another shot of whiskey. “So you didn’t actually fall in love with the girl at first sight like all the papers and media hounds are saying?”

  Malik shrugged. “No. Though I admit that the first night we met we meshed physically and intellectually, but I think it was all an act to lure me into their web of lies.”

  Amoz rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.”

  Shooting Amoz a glare to which he playfully waggled his eyebrows back, Malik fingered the wedding ring on his left hand. “She’s upstairs in our chambers now. Probably trying to figure out a way to kill me in my sleep.”

  Khalid murmured softly, “You did this all wrong brother. You wed the girl without wooing her. If you want her to be on your side, then you need to woo her.”