The Sheikh's Wayward Wife

For a moment, no one moved, not even the woman in his arms. Good, Khalil thought grimly, and he spun her toward him, then dropped her onto her feet.

Hands on his hips, he let loose a string of words Layla couldn’t possibly understand. She couldn’t understand any of this. Why were her captors lying facedown in the sand, prostrating themselves before the madman who’d attacked her?

Gasping for breath, she tossed her wet hair back from her face and dredged up two of the three insults she knew. Well, she knew how to say them, if not what they meant, but what did that matter at a moment like this?

“Ibn Al-Himar,” she panted. “Inta khaywan!”

One of the women gave a muffled shriek; the other one groaned. Ahmet rose to his knees, but the man who’d attacked her held up one hand.

He used the other to grab her by the wrist and wrench her arm behind her back.

“Shismak,” he barked, lowering his face until his eyes were almost level with hers.

What did that mean? She was almost out of Arabic. The best she could do was lift her chin and toss out the one final insult in her pathetic vocabulary.

“Shismak,” she said through her teeth and added, for good measure, “Yakhreb beytak!”

Whatever she’d just said, it certainly did the job.

He stared at her as if she were crazy. The women covered their faces with their hands. Ahmet shot to his feet and reached for her.

The man snarled at him and he fell back.

Silence descended on the little group, broken only by the hiss of the sea. Her attacker tightened his grasp on her wrist and dragged her arm high enough so the breath rushed from her lungs.

Maybe he wasn’t going to rape her after all, Layla thought with amazing calm.

Maybe he was just going to kill her.

Enough. She had lived in fear the past few days, but she would not die in it. Instead she raised her chin and repeated whatever it was she’d said. Slowly this time, for the best possible effect.

Then she flashed a brilliant smile.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Kelbeh,” he growled. Then he put his big hand in the center of her chest and pushed.

Layla yelped, windmilled her arms and went down on her backside in the surf.

His audience guffawed.

He didn’t. He went on looking at her, face expressionless. She struggled to her feet, shivering with rage, with fear, with her dousing in the sea, but her eyes never left his.

The man snapped out what was obviously an order. The laughter stopped. He spoke again; the women and Ahmet stood. They looked at each other, then one woman pointed at Layla and began speaking in a low voice. The man interrupted; the woman nodded. There was more pointing, more talk.

When it ended, the man swung around, folded his arms and studied her.

For the first time she noticed what he looked like. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Long-legged. He wore a black dinner suit, not a djellebah. His hair was thick and dark. She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes but they were deep-set in a face that was harsh and hard…

And beautiful. Savagely beautiful, if there were such a thing.

Slowly, so slowly that she felt the deliberateness of it, his eyes moved over her. Over her face, her breasts, her body. She knew her soaked djellebah was clinging to her.

What could he see?

Everything, she thought. The shape of her breasts. The sudden tightening of her nipples. The length of her legs.

Layla made a little sound in the back of her throat. His eyes rose to hers. To her horror, she felt a rush of heat at what she saw in that beautiful, terrifying face.

The sound of the sea, the sigh of the breeze…everything faded. His lips curved in a smile, the kind that women always understood. Back home she knew exactly how to handle smiles like that.

Here all she could think of was taking a quick step back.

It didn’t matter.

He caught her by the shoulders and tugged her forward. She stumbled, fell against him, against that hard, muscled body, her breasts soft against his chest. One of his hands traced the line of her spine; he cupped her bottom, lifted her into him and she felt the shocking power of his aroused flesh press into the vee of her thighs.

She gasped. Felt herself sway in his embrace.

He said something in a low voice. She didn’t understand the words but the meaning was clear, especially when he lowered his head, threaded his fingers in her hair, tugged her head back until her face was raised to his.

“Balashs.”

“Don’t.” She’d intended to say it forcefully, not in a tremulous whisper, but the way he was looking at her, the feel of his hand in her hair, the scent of him coupled with the scent of the sea…

Layla’s heart pounded.

They stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed an eternity. Then a muscle knotted in his jaw. He let go of her, shrugged off his dinner jacket and wrapped it around her. She clutched it without thinking, burrowed into its warmth, into the warmth that had been his. His hands closed on her shoulders again and he propelled her forward, into the outstretched arms of one of the women.

Then he turned his back, walked slowly up the beach and disappeared into the night.

CHAPTER TWO

KHALIL made his way to a little-used back entry to the palace he’d discovered as a boy.

It had been one way to avoid the rigid rules of behavior by which a prince was expected to live.

When he opened the door, a surprised royal guard snapped a quick salute; Khalil returned it without pausing and hurried up the stairs. He had no intention of returning to the ballroom. He hadn’t been in the mood for all the glitter and noise earlier; he certainly didn’t feel any different about it now.

What had happened on the beach was unsettling. Had he stumbled across something no one was supposed to see?

On the other hand, he thought, as he entered the sitting room of the suite that had been his since childhood, the scene by the sea had been played out with a lot of drama.

Who wouldn’t have found it unsettling?

His shoes squished as he crossed the ancient silk carpet and went into the bedroom. He was soaked. His shoes, his trousers…

But that was what happened when a man held a wet woman in his arms.

A wet, all-but-naked woman.