In Pursuit Of His Wife

“If you will give me one week and the arrangement doesn’t suit you, or if I don’t meet your expectations, then you are free to leave and I will return to the UK.”

She mulled the proposition over a moment and decided that it did seem fair. After all, she truly wanted to attempt to mend the relationship if at all possible. “All right. I will agree to your terms.”

“Great. Our chariot awaits.”

She pushed back from the table and came to her feet. “I wouldn’t consider that truck a chariot.”

“I had another vehicle delivered this morning from Dallas. One that is more suitable. You’ll see when I bring it around.”

“Believe it or not, I find that somewhat disappointing.”

He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, a habit he had established from the first night they had met. “Why is that?”

“Sedans do not have beds.”

Noting the look of sheer surprise on Sebastian’s handsome face, she turned to retrieve her purse and sunglasses, smiling all the way upstairs and back down again. Perhaps she should not be encouraging her husband in a sexual sense, yet she could not seem to resist the desire his presence had resurrected. The ever present need.

If they had to exist in close quarters, she should make the best of their time together for however long it might last. If they jointly decided their marriage was over, she would make more memories to carry with her to override the bad.

If luck prevailed, the Shakirs’ family home would be a happy place perfect for new beginnings.

* * *

“This isn’t a house, it’s a fortress.”

Nasira tore her gaze away from the massive white stone structure to glance at Sebastian. “And this veritable limousine you’ve leased goes quite well with it.”

He sent her a half smile. “It’s a Jaguar, Sira. Only the best for my bride.”

She didn’t bother to ask how he had acquired it simply because she did not care. She only cared about meeting the mysterious man who resided in the residence. And of course, the woman who had been worthy of his rescue.

As soon as Sebastian pulled to a stop beneath the portico, a dark-haired, dark-skinned man dressed in black shirt and slacks emerged from the double iron doors. Nasira recognized him from the photograph she had seen at the Texas Cattleman’s Club—Darin Shakir, sheikh extraordinaire.

He opened her door and greeted her with an intense look and a guarded smile. “Mrs. Edwards.”

“Sheikh Shakir,” she said as she slid out of the luxury sedan. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he said with a nod.

Sebastian rounded the hood and offered his hand to Darin. “I truly appreciate your offer, Sheikh Shakir.”

“You may call me Darin,” he replied. “I have never embraced my royal status.”