The Desert King's Captive Bride

‘I was not jilted,’ she said coolly. ‘I met Sheikh Idris as part of my father’s push for a trade and peace deal with Zahrat. As for us marrying...’ She shook her head. ‘I was happy to attend his betrothal ceremony in London.’

‘But not his recent wedding.’ Huseyn surveyed her keenly, interested, despite himself, in her feelings for the man who’d dumped her when he’d discovered he had a son by an Englishwoman he hadn’t seen in years. A woman he’d since married.

‘It wasn’t possible. I had business commitments elsewhere.’

It wasn’t a convincing lie but he gave her marks for trying. What had she felt for Idris? The idea of her nursing a broken heart was vaguely...unsettling.

‘Business?’

‘Strange as it may seem to you—’ her eyes flicked from him dismissively ‘—I do have some business interests.’

That was news but Huseyn didn’t show it.

‘And you’re free to marry.’

Fine eyebrows arched in a haughty show of surprise that made him long to wrap his hand around that slender neck and draw her close enough to kiss. Her touch-me-not air was a surprising turnon. He couldn’t understand it. His taste had never run to spoiled rich girls.

‘I have no plans to.’

‘No need. I’ve made the plans already.’

‘But—’

‘Or did I get it wrong? Aren’t you up for sale? Willing to go to the highest bidder? Weren’t you part of the price your father planned to pay for a treaty with Zahrat?’

Her face remained as unruffled as ever but something flashed across her eyes that made him think he’d hurt her. Yet how could that be? She’d been bred to be a dynastic bargaining chip.

‘Contrary to the old-fashioned customs in your province, Huseyn—’ his name on her lips was a silky taunt ‘—I’m not a chattel. Thanks to my father, women have a say in their lives here now. I have a will of my own.’

He saw that, and despite the minor inconvenience of dealing with it, Huseyn was glad. He admired spirit. If he was to be shackled to her, at least it would be interesting, once she stopped defying him and accepted the inevitable.

‘You’re afraid I can’t meet your bride price?’

‘I’m not interested in how many camels you offer for my hand.’ As if he were a poor herder from a backward province. ‘And I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of any man.’ She drew herself even taller, betraying the anxiety she tried to conceal. Reading opponents’ body language could save your life in combat. Huseyn had learned that early.

‘I won’t hurt you, Ghizlan.’ He should have said it sooner, but he’d been too caught up sparring with her, enjoying the cut and thrust of parrying her objections.

Reassuring women didn’t come naturally. He led warriors and protected his people. He knew a lot about women, in bed at least, but he wasn’t used to negotiating with them. His was a man’s world.

She blinked and for a second he thought he glimpsed a vulnerable woman behind the calm façade. Then she was gone, replaced by an arrogant aristocrat.

‘And my sister? Have you hurt her?’

‘Of course not!’ His pride pricked. She really did think him uncivilised. ‘Princess Mina is in her rooms.’

If he expected to win thanks from Her Royal Haughtiness he was doomed to disappointment. Her eyes snapped to his as she did her best to cut him down with that cool stare. Yet all he felt was a jolt of sexual awareness. And a sliver of anticipation at the idea of taming this disdainful Princess.

‘Thank you for the assurance.’ Her tone was lofty. ‘I appreciate it given the illegal presence of armed men in the palace.’

Huseyn frowned. He understood she’d had a fright but surely even here his reputation for protecting the weak, including women, was known. His might be a pre-emptive strike to secure the throne but they weren’t criminals. He had a legitimate claim to rule. The best claim.

‘The guards are here for protection.’

Again that supercilious lift of dark eyebrows. ‘And the palace guards who were here before?’

‘Temporarily relieved of duty.’

‘If you’ve hurt any of them—’

‘No one has been hurt.’ Except the soldier who’d tried to quieten the younger Princess, Mina, and been bitten on the hand. Huseyn should have realised then that these spoiled women would be trouble. ‘There has been no fighting.’

It hadn’t been necessary. Huseyn had visited the palace to pay his respects to his late King. Once inside, and with the Princess Mina a hostage to their good behaviour, it had been easy to convince the palace guard to stand down.

‘Good, then you won’t object to me seeing the Captain of the Guard. The real one.’ When he remained silent she tilted her head and assessed him. ‘Unless you’re frightened to allow me that courtesy.’

This woman knew how to get under his skin. He, the Iron Hand of Jumeah, frightened! No man would dare even think it.

* * *

Ghizlan’s breath rushed out in a shaky sigh. Talking to this man was like addressing a brick wall. Except for the curious spark of awareness when his gaze moved over her.

She should be petrified. She was anxious, particularly for Mina, but at the same time she felt more energised than she had in ages.

Her lips flattened as she tried to suppress gallows humour. Nothing like an armed coup and the threat of imprisonment to shake you up!

‘What’s wrong?’ His broad brow furrowed and, if she didn’t know better, she’d almost think he looked concerned.

The idea was beyond laughable.

He was a brute. An opportunist who sought to profit from her father’s death.

He saw her as a chattel.

Like your father did.

The memory stabbed. Huseyn was right. Her father had viewed her and Mina as assets to further his plans. Marrying her to a neighbouring sheikh had been part of his negotiations. It had hurt when her father told her, even though she’d been raised to expect an arranged marriage.

For years she’d been obedient, dutiful, putting her country’s needs first. Yet not once had that gained her a father’s love or appreciation. He’d relied on her as a matter of course, never considering her happiness.

She’d be damned if she’d have this...interloper tell her who she could marry! She might be bound to her country by ties of duty and love, but for the first time she was free to live as she chose. She did not choose to tie herself to an uncivilised bully.

Ghizlan stalked around the desk so she stood before Huseyn al Rasheed, tilting her chin to glare into his pale eyes. The evocative scent of warm, male skin filtered into her senses. She ignored it, as she ignored the fact that up close there was absolutely no doubt he was boldly attractive, despite the beard and rumpled hair and arrogance.

‘You ask me what’s wrong?’ She laughed, the sound brittle. ‘What could possibly be wrong? Apart from the fact you’ve taken over the palace in some sort of revolution and demand I marry you. You deny me access to my sister. You won’t let me see the staff. How do I know they’re all right?’

‘Because you have my word. And I haven’t denied you access to your sister.’

‘I can see her?’ She hadn’t pressed because she feared most for their staff. Mina’s royal position gave her some protection, but the people who worked in the palace had no one but her to fight for them.