The Sheikh's Wedding Contract

Instantly, the desire in Zayed’s eyes vanished.

‘Enough!’ Finally freeing her wrists, he pushed his torso up, locking his elbows, so that he now looked down on her, scornful contempt burning in his eyes. ‘Stop this horrible seduction routine. I can assure you I have no intention of taking you. That is most definitely not my style.’

Nadia slowly brought her arms down from over her head, lowering them awkwardly so that they didn’t touch any part of his skin. She was fighting to stop his wounding words from showing on her face.

‘I’ll have you know I am not in the habit of having sex with someone just because they offer it to me. Especially duplicitous young women who sneak uninvited into my bed and then somehow think they can seduce me for their own gain. Whatever gain that might be.’

She stared at him in dismay. She had been sure that the way to beguile a powerful and ruthless ruler was to offer up the only thing that was truly hers to give—her virginity. The never-to-be-recovered gift of her virtue. Now, despite the obvious interest she had stirred in his body, it seemed a laughable idea.

To a man like Sheikh Zayed such a prize meant nothing. Quite the reverse, in fact. Why would he be interested in her when he could pick and choose from the most sophisticated women in the world, sexually experienced women, who would know exactly how to make him happy?

And more than that, here was a man with far too much integrity and morality to ever be tempted into having sex with someone just because he could; she knew that now. She had got it all wrong and now she was doomed, but to what fate she had no idea.

‘I apologise, Your Highness.’ She pushed the words past her choked throat. ‘I can see that my behaviour has displeased you.’

‘Can we dispense with the Your Highness bit?’ Zayed cut sharply through her apology. ‘I think it’s fair to say that the situation we are in has bypassed the need for formal protocol. How about you just explain what the hell you are up to and I decide what to do with you?’

Both of those things sounded equally terrifying to Nadia. Screwing her eyes tightly shut, she tried to think of a way out of this mess. But when she opened them again Zayed was still staring down at her, waiting for her reply, and when he leaned forward with his hand raised she instinctively flinched.

‘Good God, woman.’ He stopped, appalled, twisting the black strand of her hair in his fingers. He had simply meant to brush it away from her heated face. ‘What sort of brute do you think I am?’

Nadia shook her head. ‘No, I don’t...’

‘What desperation would bring you to the bed of someone you obviously think would strike you?’

If only he knew. If only she could tell him the truth. But if she revealed who she was now, admitted that she was from Harith, she was certain he would instantly carry out his threat and have her clapped in irons and left to rot in the palace dungeons. That was the strength of hatred between the two kingdoms.

‘I’m not letting you go until you tell me, Nadia.’ His voice was low and grating, and she knew he was fighting to keep his patience, her silence obviously antagonising him even more. Shifting his weight, he leaned forward again, one muscled arm on either side of her head, his chest hovering just an inch above her own. ‘I’m waiting.’

‘Okay, okay, I will tell you. The reason I am here...’

Suddenly Nadia stopped, saved from having to continue by the sound of a brisk tap on the door behind them. Zayed hesitated, poised and alert. There was another tap.

‘Your Royal Highness?’ A male voice came through the door.

Zayed abruptly pulled his body off hers, and, pushing aside the drapes from the bed, got out. Turning away, he adjusted the towel around his hips before heading for the door. ‘Stay here.’ He hissed the order. ‘I’ll get rid of them.’

Nadia didn’t intend to do any such thing. If this was her only chance of escape she was going to grab it. Leaping up, she started to scrabble on all fours across the slippery satin sheets to the edge of this enormous bed in a desperate bid for freedom.

‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ She hadn’t so much as got a foot to the floor before he was on her again, pushing her back against the pillows. Desperate now, Nadia bucked wildly beneath him, kicking her legs out to the side, wildly grabbing at anything she could get hold of. Which turned out to be a handful of Zayed’s towel. As she inadvertently ripped it from his hips she caught a glimpse of tight, naked buttocks before his body closed down on hers again.

‘Ahem.’ A polite cough alerted them both to the presence of someone else in the room. ‘Forgive me, Your Royal Highness.’

‘Go away!’ Furious, Zayed barked the words over his shoulder as he glared down at the now frozen Nadia.

‘I do apologise, sire, but I come with a message.’ There was another nervous cough. ‘From your father, sire. I believe it is a matter of some importance.’

* * *

Nadia started at the sound of the key turning in the lock and quickly turned to face the door, her hands behind her back.

It was about half an hour since Zayed had imprisoned her in his bedchamber. Having pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, the quick flash of his naked rear widening Nadia’s eyes still farther, he had locked the door to the interconnecting suite of rooms, theatrically jangling the bunch of keys in front of her face to make sure she had got the message. Finally, hissing a few curt words through his teeth to the effect that he would deal with her later, he had marched from the room, locking the door behind him.

Nadia’s first thought was that there had to be some way to escape. After futilely rattling the door handles she had felt along the panelled walls, convinced that there had to be a hidden doorway somewhere. But if there was, it was too well hidden for her to discover. And one look at the terrifying drop from the fourth-floor windows had convinced her that, unless she could somehow sprout wings before she hit the ground, that wasn’t an option, either.

So instead she had ended up pacing round the room, impotent fury pumping through her veins that she, Princess Nadia of Harith, should be held captive against her will by this maddening sheikh. Furious, too, that all her plans had gone so horribly wrong and she couldn’t see any way out of this mess.

Her pacing had taken her over to a large ormolu-mounted desk in the corner of the room. A collection of electronic devices littered the top: a laptop, a smartphone, a tablet. Nadia had never been allowed any of these things, her brother insisting that they would be a corrupting influence on her. But it was the modestly framed photo at the back of the desk that caught her eye. Picking it up, Nadia studied the four fine young men wearing grey gowns and mortar boards and grinning widely for the camera. Graduation day. Four young men with the world at their feet. There was Zayed, second from the left with his arms slung over the shoulders of his friends, several years younger but already heartbreakingly handsome and a twinkle in his eye that said he knew it. Nadia felt something pull inside.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Nothing.’ Nadia glared back at him, fumbling to replace the photo behind her on the desk. ‘I’m hardly in a position to do anything, locked in here like a prisoner.’

‘And whose fault is that?’ He growled the words as he ran his hand over his thick dark hair. Nadia recognised the weariness of the gesture, sensed the heavy weight of responsibility that he carried, quite apart from the trouble she was causing him. She almost felt sorry for adding to his burden. Almost. ‘You are damned lucky I haven’t called security—’ he paused ‘—yet.’

Nadia felt his eyes scanning her body again, starting with the bra top and sweeping down the length of her torso to her bare stomach that contracted under his gaze, lower to her belted hips and long, shapely legs that the sheer, gauzy fabric twisting around them made no attempt to conceal.

She squirmed visibly. Zayed cleared his throat.

‘The question is, what do I do with you now?’

From the fierce look on his face Nadia suspected he wasn’t waiting for an answer from her. And even if he had been she wasn’t sure how to reply.

Despite her earlier determination to escape, she had no idea what she would do if she was set free, where she would go, especially still dressed in this hateful outfit.

Returning to Harith was out of the question. She knew that by now her disappearance would have sparked a full-scale search of the kingdom, that her father and brother would be seething with rage when she had not returned from the ‘shopping trip’ she had set out on earlier that morning, a morning that now seemed an eon ago. She knew that her mother would already be worried sick, and for that she was genuinely sorry. She would have loved to have been able to confide in her, tell her of her daring plan, but she knew that she couldn’t. Years of persecution from her husband and then her son had weakened her mother from the highly intelligent, spirited young woman of her youth to the nervous, fearful woman she was today. Nadia had watched her decline, powerless to do anything about it. But one thing was for sure. She was never going to let that happen to her.

And so she had made her escape. Accompanied by her chaperone, a young woman called Jana whom Nadia had secretly befriended, she had set out with instructions to buy ‘the fine clothes for her trousseau.’ The money her family had given her for this task had been extremely generous and, added to the stash that Nadia had been accumulating over the past months, amounted to a small fortune.

In fact, she and Jana had only made one purchase of clothing, the harem outfit that the two nervously giggling young women had chosen hardly being what her family had had in mind. Then, taking just enough for her flight ticket to Gazbiyaa, Nadia had insisted that Jana had the rest of the money, and the two women had embraced long and hard before Jana had set off on her own adventure, fleeing back to her family with the money for her mother’s operation tucked safely away beneath her hijab. Nadia just hoped she was having more luck than she was.

Zayed had walked across the room, positioning himself in front of one of the balcony windows with his arms folded across his chest, the middle finger of one hand tapping an impatient beat. Nadia could do nothing but silently watch as he decided what he was going to do with her.

‘You know what—’ he sighed heavily ‘—I could stand here all night, trying to figure out what you are doing here, why you have broken into my bedroom, sneaked into my bed. But frankly—’ he stopped to give Nadia a particularly derisory stare that shrivelled her insides ‘—I don’t even care.’

‘Your Royal Highness, if I could just be allowed to explain—’

‘No, Nadia.’ Raising a firm hand, Zayed stopped her. ‘I refuse to listen to any more of your explanations. I’ve heard more than enough of your half-baked nonsense for one evening. But, as much as I would like to be rid of you, I am not going to be held responsible for whatever fate might befall you walking the city streets at this time of night looking like that.’

The sneering gesture, along with the look of distaste on his face that went with it, clearly spelled out just what he thought of her attire.

‘You will stay tonight in the palace.’

As Nadia opened her mouth to protest he barked, ‘And that’s an order.’

* * *

Moving over to the marble-topped credenza, Zayed took out a bottle of Scotch and a crystal tumbler and poured himself a generous measure. Then, pulling out a chair, he sat down heavily, stretching his long legs out in front of him and flexing his muscled arms behind his head. This evening had to rank as one of the most bizarre of his life—and that was saying something.