The Sheikh’s Reluctant Bride (6 page)

“Indeed.”

Her nerves jumped and twisted at the pleased note in Kardahl’s voice. “It’s not what you’re used to, though,” she commented.

“Rumor has it that I am accustomed to many bedrooms.”

Jess glanced over her shoulder and couldn’t be sure, what with the subdued light, but it looked like he had a gleam in his eyes to go with his pleased tone. What was that about? An expression came to mind—no good deed goes unpunished. The thing was, accompanying her here had been his good deed, so why was she being punished?

She could have spoken up and told her aunt that they weren’t really a couple, but several things stopped her. Number one: she wouldn’t embarrass Kardahl or his family. Whatever the state of his morals, he’d only been kind and considerate to her. Stalwart was another adjective that came to mind, but there was no point in carrying it too far. Number two: her aunt seemed so pleased that destiny had taken a hand in their betrothal. Jess had just met her. She didn’t want to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, as in the family was going to reject her, therefore she should hand them, on a silver platter, a good reason to hate her.

So she was stuck. And when she found herself stuck, her attitude took on some sass.

She walked over to the wooden-frame bed and met his gaze. “How does this compare to all those other bedrooms?”

His direct look said I’ll-see-your-sass-and-raise-you. His eyes smoldered as he deliberately let his gaze wander over her. “It has quite a unique charm.”

The look, the words made her shiver and attitude abandoned her. She walked over to the table and bent to smell the wildflowers in a metal pitcher. “It is charming. And my aunt clearly went to some trouble.”

“The flowers are indeed a nice touch.”

The seductive deepening of his voice on the last word made her shiver again and the surge of awareness warmed through her, then settled like a glowing coal low in her belly. If he could do that to her body with a single word, imagine what he could if he actually
touched
her.

“We need some ground rules,” she said quickly.

“Oh?”

“When bathing or dressing or at such time any clothing is removed or—”

“When you wish privacy,” he said, far too calmly.

“Yes. When privacy is required, the other person goes outside.”

“Agreed.”

“As far as the bed—” She looked at it again. It was roughly the size of a standard double mattress. “You take it.”

He frowned. “Where will you sleep?”

“I’ll make a place on the floor.”

“I cannot allow that. I will sleep on the floor.”

“And I can’t let you do that.”

He rested his hands on narrow hips and somehow the stance highlighted his wide chest and the unmistakable power in his shoulders. Response to his overwhelming masculinity shimmered through her and it wasn’t helpful to this discussion.

“How do you intend to stop me?” he asked

What he meant was that he was bigger, stronger and could make her if he chose.

“Be reasonable, Kardahl.”

“Very well. We will share the bed.”

“That’s not reasonable. That’s—”

“What?” he asked, his chin lifting as a challenge slid into his eyes.

She’d been about to say it was crazy. But he would ask her why and she would have to admit it was because she was afraid. And it was a kind of fear she’d never felt before. It was fear of going where she’d never gone before with a man.

She’d always believed she wanted to be swept away. Now she knew she had to put qualifiers on that wish. And she would. Right after he stopped looking at her as if he knew what she looked like naked.

“I was going to say that’s a lovely gesture, but you’ll be more comfortable if you sleep alone.”

“Do not worry about me. I am accustomed to sleeping with a woman beside me.”

The flash of his white teeth made her want to blink and she felt like the mouse to his predatory cat. He was toying with her and doing a fine job. Anything he could do she could do better? That would mean a bald-faced lie—telling him that she was accustomed to sleeping with a man beside her. If she continued to protest, the situation would become much ado about nothing meaning it was definitely something. And she didn’t want him to know it was something.

She looked at the bed, then forced herself to meet his gaze. “All right. We’ll share the bed.”

“Excellent.”

“A
RE
you comfortable?” Kardahl asked.

That all depended on how one defined comfort. She’d never shared a bed with a man before and here she was, flat on her back beside the world’s most notorious playboy.

Jess stared up into the darkness and contemplated her answer. She was huddled between Kardahl’s back and the canvas wall. He’d turned away and no part of his body touched hers—as agreed. But she could
feel
him. The sound of his even breathing, the wonderful deep voice, the radiating warmth of his skin combined then curled inside her and added up to temptation.

“I’m completely comfortable,” she lied.

“And you had adequate privacy when I left you alone?”

Since she was sleeping in her clothes, the mocking note in his voice wasn’t lost on her. “Yes.”

“The mountains of Bha’Khar turn cold at night.”

“I noticed.”

“You are warm?”

Oh, yeah. Especially after seeing him strip off his shirt before joining her in the bed. Unlike her, he hadn’t required privacy. “I’m perfect,” she said.

“I would be agreeable to sharing the warmth of my body should you require it,” he offered.

His deep voice oozed phony innocence, yet it still tweaked the knot of temptation inside her. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Underneath the cover, his body gave off heat like a coal-stoked furnace. And that was before factoring in her own fired-up hormones.

“If that changes in the night, you have my permission to move close.”

They were three inches apart, not on opposite sides of the room. And if he expected her to make a reciprocal offer, he was doomed to disappointment. “How self-sacrificing of you.”

“Indeed.”

It had been a long time since Jess had even had a roommate. And before that, when she was in the home, she’d shared a room, but the temporary situation didn’t contribute to an atmosphere of trust or sharing feelings in the dark. She’d always felt isolated and alone. Although she didn’t feel that way now, it wasn’t an entirely happy sensation. Was this feeling of having someone the reason her mother had gone from man to man? Or was it more than that?

“If my body can bring you comfort, it would be my honor to do so.”

“You’re a prince of a guy.”

His laugh was warm and rich, like coffee and chocolate. And his kiss. She’d never slept with a man, but she had been kissed. Although never the way Kardahl had kissed her. And she wanted that feeling again. So much.

The depth of her longing convinced her she couldn’t let it happen again.

“Good night, Kardahl.”

“Sweet dreams, Jessica.”

Kardahl had flattered and flirted his way into many beds and always he had slept deeply and felt rested the next morning. That was not the case after spending the night beside his wife.

It had taken every fragment of his self-control to keep from touching her when she brushed against him or sighed sweetly in her dreams. He had not been fortunate enough to dream since that required actually falling asleep.

After waking beside her, they had gone their separate ways. Jessica had spent the day with her aunt, seeing the village and teaching the children. Kardahl had watched the men and marveled at their way with the horses in training. As he walked toward the tent where he’d been told the school was located, he found himself anxious to see his wife.

He saw her on the dirt path playing ball with a group of children. The sun was bright and a pleasant breeze drifted through the trees. Jessica was wearing a short-sleeved white cotton shirt and jeans. Sun-streaked brown hair danced around her cheeks and her eyes were bright as she laughed. Surely his reaction was the result of too little sleep, but the tight, heavy sensation in the lower part of his body was sudden and intense. He wanted her.

She waved when she saw him and the children grew quiet, their dark eyes wide and shy as they warily watched him come nearer. When he stopped in front of them, the boys and girls scattered.

Jessica’s look was teasing. “Way to clear a room, Your Highness.”

“That was not my fault.”

“They’re a little shy,” she admitted. “And how was your day, dear?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I bought a horse.”

She looked surprised. “You don’t waste any time. Is it for you?”

“No. My brother, Malik, asked me to pick out a suitable animal for his betrothed.”

“I hope his bride-to-be can translate the fine print before she signs on the dotted line.”

“He is the Crown Prince. There will be no mistakes.”

“Famous last words,” she teased.

“And how was your day, my sweet?”

Now
she
raised an eyebrow, but did not comment on his use of the endearment. “I spent the day with my aunt in her classroom.”

“You are frowning. Did something happen?”

She shook her head. As they strolled along the path, she picked a leaf from a bush and rolled it between her fingers. “But education here is an uphill battle. No pun intended. There aren’t enough books for all the children and the situation is fairly primitive. There’s no access to computers or any other technology that would supplement education.”

“To do that would take money,” he agreed.

“In a prosperous country like this, it’s inexcusable that they don’t have more.” The look she leveled at him was taut with accusation. “And that
is
your fault.”

“How so?”

“My aunt said that several years ago her people petitioned for the necessary funds to improve education. As the minister of Finance, the appeal went to you and died on your desk.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” she asked.

Two years ago he had been lost in his own pain and could not clearly recall that time. He had gone through the motions, but his heart had disconnected.

When he did not answer, she said, “These are your people, too. I know their lifestyle makes it a greater challenge, but there must be a way to get technology to them. It’s an oil-rich country, but the children are the most precious natural resource. Someone needs to champion them.”

He felt the weight of her reproving stare. “Your passion on this particular issue would make you an exceptional champion. It is unfortunate that you are not staying.”

He found that was the truth. She was worthy of respect and her spirit and sense of humor were most engaging. She intrigued and delighted him, which meant he had not disconnected from her as completely as he would have liked.

“I wish my visit could be longer,” she admitted.

“Then you are not so very sorry you signed on the dotted line in error?”

Her mouth curved up. “I’m still sorry about that, but not that I’m here. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to meet family.”

“Your aunt seems like a fine woman.”

“She is.” Jessica tore the leaf in her fingers to shreds. “I was just afraid that—”

He stepped in front of her on the path and stopped. “What frightened you?” When she looked down, he slid a finger beneath her chin and nudged, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Tell me.”

“I—I didn’t know whether or not there was strength of will for me to inherit. I was afraid I was destined to be like my mother.”

“In what way?” He had made certain to read the investigative report his father had requisitioned, but did not know to what she referred.

Jessica’s eyes turned dark and troubled. “She never married. There was one man after another in her life and each time she believed he was the one who would be her ‘happy ending.’ Every time it didn’t work out, she drank more—more wine, whiskey, vodka—whatever alcohol she could get her hands on—to help her forget. And that made it easier for men to use her. It was a vicious cycle that cut short her life.”

Hearing her speak of it made him sad for the child Jessica had been, a little girl alone. “An alcoholic.”

She nodded. “They say the tendency is inherited, so I always wondered. She was the only outline I had and that’s hard to ignore even though all the books say it’s about choices.”

If it were all about choices, the woman he loved and the child he would never know would be here now. There was always pain when he thought about them, but he found it a little less now. Maybe because he found himself involved in someone else’s pain and the fear of not knowing whether any of her people possessed the strength of character to fight the demons and had passed on that strength to her.

“I did not know your mother, but I know with a great deal of certainty that she was a fine woman.”

“How can you be sure?”

He cupped her face in his palms. “If it was not true, she could not have produced a child who grew into such a beautiful, strong woman.”

She smiled, a small smile, but it chased a few of the shadows from her eyes. “Thank you for that.”

He dropped his hands and stepped back, because he wanted very much to kiss her. “So you do not regret coming here?”

She shook her head. “I could never regret the opportunity to learn about the traditions I always thought were just make-believe, just a part of the bedtime stories my mother told me.”

“Traditions are not always a good thing.”

“You say that because you haven’t known a life without them.”

“That is true. But if not for tradition, we would not be married.”

“I see what you mean.” She slid her hands in her pockets. “That is a problem.”

More even than she knew. He had hoped this sojourn in the mountains would decrease his awareness of his wife, but had found it to be just the opposite. He was having a more difficult time resisting the urge to make her his.

“Actually I’m glad you found me,” she said.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. We’re invited to a welcoming celebration. The whole village will be there and festivities will be commencing at sundown.”

He glanced at the sun just disappearing behind a peak. “Now?”

“I guess so,” she said, her gaze following his. “Aunt Aminah says that there will be food and dancing and that we should be prepared to be worn-out.”

From her mouth to God’s ear, Kardahl thought. If he did not find a way to resist her presence beside him in bed, he would be going to the seventh level of hell. His indifference was fading. He knew this because it was more than lust coursing through him. Jessica would agree that if anyone knew the difference, it would be him. And this was distressing because lust was all he wanted to feel for her. It was far less complicated.

Jessica stood beside Kardahl and looked down at her feet, trying to memorize the steps to the traditional Bha’Kharian folk dance. The villagers played the music on guitars, a violin and harmonica, instruments that traveled well and produced a lively tune. In the open area centered among the tents, a big fire was burning. Men, women and children, including toddlers barely walking, sang and danced.

When Jess tried to follow Kardahl’s lead in a crossover step and stumbled, she laughed ruefully at herself and shook her head. “I think I have two left feet. This pathetic attempt to dance proves that I should have left them in America.”

“As with all physical activities,” he said, “it merely takes practice.”

All
physical activity? What did that mean? Was she reading a significance into those words that he didn’t intend? Given his reputation, it was a logical assumption.

“I’ve had lots of practice waltzing, but this is more like line dancing and I’ve never been able to get the hang of that.”

“Then we will waltz,” he said.

The next thing Jess knew, she was in his arms, following his lead in a slow dance. She felt his hand on her back, holding her close but not close enough. The fingers of his other hand curled possessively around hers, but not possessive enough. As their bodies moved and brushed together in time to a tune only they could hear, the dance was intimate—yet not intimate enough.

In his eyes she could see the bonfire flames flickering and snapping and wondered if he saw the same in hers. And whether it was in actuality burning logs or a fire inside them. They had arrived in the mountains twenty-four hours ago and this was the first time her breathing had been affected by the altitude. She prayed that, combined with the exercise of dancing, was the reason drawing air into her lungs became a challenge.

She prayed it had nothing to do with the solid, masculine contours of his body pressed to the feminine parts of hers. She hoped it wasn’t the spicy scent of his skin invading her senses, dividing her rational and sensuous selves as he scaled her resolve on the way to conquering it. If he had an ulterior motive, she didn’t want to know. If he was up to something, she wouldn’t be his willing fool.

She moved out of the circle of his arm, executed a deft twirl, then put her own contemporary moves—as in hip action and footwork—to the music. Everyone clapped, including Kardahl, as he smiled broadly.

“You most definitely do not have two left feet,” he assured her, a gleam that had nothing to do with the fire lighting his eyes. “That leaves only practice.”

“Right,” she said wryly. “About that—”

“Jessica.” Her aunt Aminah joined them. “Your Highness,” she said, with a slight bow. “I have arranged a surprise for you in your tent.”

Jess frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“It is time for you to retire.”

Since she knew her aunt wasn’t talking about an end to her productive working years, this had to be about going to bed. “But the party is still going strong. And I’m not tired,” she protested.

In the glow from the fire, Aminah’s teeth flashed in a wide smile. “That is good. You and your husband are newly married and one needs only to see you in each other’s arms to know that you wish to be alone.”

“No. We’re enjoying spending time with everyone,” Jess insisted.

Aminah held up a hand. “Do not feel that you are hurting our feelings. We will not think you rude. It is understandable that you are anxious to spend time only with each other.”

“No—”

“It bodes well for the duration of the union,” her aunt added.

Jessica looked at Kardahl, willing him to jump in any time and help her out, but he just smiled and she wanted kick him. He was a prince, for crying out loud. All he had to do was issue a proclamation that they were staying at the party and everything would be fine. But he just stood there, giving her no choice.