At the Sheikh's Bidding

‘My nephew belongs in Qubbah,’ he stated coldly as he crossed to the desk and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. He could feel Erin’s eyes on him, but he refused to look at her. He did not want to picture her with Faisal, did not want to admit to the corrosive jealousy that burned in his gut when he imagined them together. He was furious with himself that he could not banish the fantasy of making love to her so passionately that he drove all thoughts of his brother from her mind.

His unexpected desire for Erin was an inconvenience. Her legal status as Kazim’s mother was a much bigger problem. But there was a simple solution. She had sounded convincing when she’d stated that she loved the child, but everything had its price—even love.

‘We can deal with the situation in one of two ways,’ he informed her coolly. ‘The first is for me to gather the best lawyers I can find and fight you through the courts for custody of Kazim. The drawback is that any legal process takes time, and my father is eighty years old and desperate to meet his grandson as soon as possible. That is why I am prepared to offer you an extremely generous settlement in return for my brother’s son.’

Now he looked at her, watched her beautiful grey eyes cloud with confusion as she slowly walked forward and took the cheque he held out to her. Her fingers trembled as she glanced down at it, and the colour drained from her face.

‘I don’t understand,’ Erin said huskily. Her brain could not take in the number of noughts he had written after the figure, and she blinked to clear her vision. When she looked again she realised that she was not mistaken. Disbelief quickly gave way to disgust, and anger crashed through her, so violent in its intensity that that her whole body shook. ‘Are you trying to buy Kazim?’

‘I am offering you a chance to resume your life without the responsibilities of caring for a child who is not yours,’ Zahir replied with deadly calm—in direct contrast to the fury flashing in her eyes. ‘You are young and extraordinarily beautiful,’ he observed clinically, his voice devoid of emotion. ‘And, since my brother’s death, single.’ Although he would bet his personal fortune that she would not remain so for long, he thought grimly, watching the faint tremor of her lower lip and imagining the velvet softness of her mouth beneath his. ‘I imagine that dating with a toddler in tow could prove rather…inhibiting,’ he drawled sardonically.

‘I have no intention of dating anyone,’ Erin choked, still reeling from his description of her as beautiful. Astounding as it seemed, the Sheikh appeared to find her attractive—but from the coldness of his tone he clearly resented his awareness of her. ‘I haven’t even thought about anything like that…’ Kazim was her world, and there was no room in her heart for anyone but him.

‘Perhaps not yet,’ Zahir conceded. ‘It is only three weeks since my brother died. But at some point you will want to satisfy your sexual urges. I would guess that you possess a deeply sensual nature,’ he remarked, in that same coldly clinical tone that was so at odds with the heat in his gaze as he trailed a blatantly appreciative path down her body. ‘Kazim will become an encumbrance, and I refuse to allow him to spend his childhood forced to vie for your attention with your latest lover.’

‘I don’t want a lover!’ Erin shook her head wildly, her temper heating to boiling point.

Zahir made her sound like a rampant nymphomaniac, with his talk about her sensual nature and needing to satisfy her sexual urges. Little did he know! She was about as sensual as a limp lettuce, and she had never experienced the faintest urge to have sex with any man—until today, a voice in her head taunted. She ignored it and allowed her anger to build as she dwelled on his disgusting offer to buy Kazim from her. She stared down at the cheque, and the row of scrawled noughts, and felt sick.

‘Get out!’ she breathed as she ripped the cheque into pieces with controlled savagery. ‘Kazim is not for sale.’

Zahir showed no reaction, merely stood surveying her disdainfully from beneath raised brows, his lip curled in a derisive smile that snapped her control so that she flung the pieces of cheque at him. ‘How dare you come into my house and demand that I hand you my child?’ She emphasised each word by jabbing her finger into Zahir’s chest, uncaring that he towered menacingly over her. ‘Faisal begged me to adopt his son, and now I know why. You are an arrogant, overbearing bully, and I will do everything possible to prevent you from having any role in Kazim’s life.’

‘Enough!’ The authority in Zahir’s icy command sliced through her furious tirade, and she gasped when he seized her hand, which was still raised to his chest, and jerked her so that her body slammed hard up against his. ‘You will not talk to me in that insolent tone.’

‘I will talk to you in whatever tone I like, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.’

Zahir fought to control the murderous rage coursing through him. Never in his life had he been so insulted. He couldn’t believe Erin had actually prodded him. If she had been a man, retribution would have been swift and deadly. But she was a woman—a woman who needed a few lessons in respect.

She was glaring up at him, her grey eyes stormy and her cheeks stained with angry colour. Her wild red curls formed a fiery halo around her face and he pictured her lying beneath him, flushed and furious, daring him to kiss her…

With a savage oath he lowered his head, forcing her slender neck back as he captured her mouth in a kiss that sought to dominate and subjugate her to his will. This had been building from the moment she had stared at him across the library and he had recognised the undisguised hunger in her eyes. Sexual attraction at its most primitive—and they were both caught in its spell.

‘No!’ Erin’s cry of protest was lost beneath the punishing force of Zahir’s lips as he ground them against hers.

How dared he kiss her? How dared he slide his arm around her waist and drag her even closer against the rock-hard wall of his muscular chest? His other hand moved up to cup her nape and angle her head so that he could plunder her mouth with humiliating ease. Beneath his civilised veneer Zahir bin Kahlid al Muntassir was a barbarian: frighteningly powerful and supremely masculine. His arms felt like steel bands holding her fast, and when he forced his tongue between her lips she moaned and tried to turn her head to evade his ruthless assault.

Her attempts to resist him were futile. The blows she rained on him with her bunched fists had no impact. Finally she laid her hands flat on his chest, unable to fight him any more. He must have sensed her submission, because he eased the pressure of his lips a fraction and the stroke of his tongue inside her mouth became a slow, sensual exploration.

Suddenly each of her senses seemed acutely alive. She could feel the heat of his body through his fine silk shirt, and the mingled scents of his cologne and male pheromones caused a curious weakness in her limbs. Her anger was dissipating, giving way to another emotion she had never experienced before: a slow, insidious excitement that unlocked her taut muscles so that she stopped trying to pull away from him and instead melted into him.

Her eyes flew open in shock when she felt the hard ridge of his arousal push insistently against her belly. What was the matter with her? she wondered, appalled at her shaming weakness. Zahir was a tyrant—a man used to always having his own way, according to Gordon Straker. She despised his arrogance. But the pressure of his hand on her spine was forcing her body into intimate contact with his, and nothing else seemed to matter except that he should carry on kissing her.

She felt his hand slide down to her bottom and then round, over her hip, smoothing a tantalising path up to her ribcage, where it came to rest just below her breast. Heat flooded through her veins and she felt her breasts swell, felt her nipples tighten in anticipation beneath her tee shirt. He only had to move his hand a little further… In an agony of excitement she pressed closer to him, her body trembling with desire.

Nothing existed but the firm pressure of his mouth on hers, the sensual sweep of his tongue and the warm weight of his hand resting so close to where she wanted him to touch her. Lost in this new world of sensory pleasure, she shifted closer still, rubbed her pelvis against his—and then suddenly, shockingly, he wrenched his mouth from hers, his fingers biting into her flesh as he thrust her from him.

The ensuing silence throbbed with a sexual tension that was almost tangible, and for a few mad seconds Erin wished he would draw her back into his arms and kiss her again and again, until they were both mindless with wanting. But then he spoke and she wished instead that she could curl up and die of humiliation.

‘I see that my assessment of your nature was spot-on,’ he drawled in a hatefully sardonic tone. ‘My brother has been in his grave barely three weeks and yet you’re already clearly sexually frustrated. How long, I wonder, will it be before you invite a steady stream of boyfriends into the house? And what sort of care will Kazim receive then, when you are too busy for him?’

‘I want you to leave,’ Erin said tightly, her chest heaving as she fought to drag oxygen into her lungs.

She could not bring herself to look at him. It was pointless trying to defend herself—pointless to explain that she’d never had a proper boyfriend in all her twenty-two years. Zahir clearly believed she was the Mata Hari of the Yorkshire Moors, and after the shameful way she had responded to him she couldn’t really blame him.

Shaking with reaction, she yanked open the library door and stood aside for Zahir to pass—then gasped when he caught hold of her arm and slammed the door shut again, the blaze of anger in his eyes filling her with trepidation.

‘I came here to collect my brother’s child, and I’m not going anywhere without him,’ he warned her savagely.

‘So what are you going to do? Kidnap him? Take him from me by force?’ Erin demanded shakily.

Ingledean was eight miles from the nearest village, and she had always loved its remoteness, but Zahir was strong and powerful and she and Alice would be no match for him if he chose to snatch Kazim.

‘If you don’t leave now I’ll call the police,’ she told him with a bravado she did not feel, aware even as she spoke of the emptiness of her threat. He could carry Kazim out to his car, parked on the driveway, and disappear into the dusk before the local constable even had cycled out from the village. ‘You say you want what is best for Kazim, but how can scaring him out of his wits be good for him?’

‘Of course I do not mean to scare him,’ Zahir snapped impatiently. But her words had hit a chord, and he stared at her, his conscience prickling when he glimpsed the fear in her eyes.

He had not meant to lose his temper, and he was furious with himself for his loss of control. He shouldn’t have kissed her like that—but she had made him angrier than he could ever remember, and she had responded to him, damn it. He could still taste her, could remember that moment of scalding sweetness when she had stopped fighting him and parted her lips beneath his while her body relaxed into him so that her soft breasts had pressed against his chest.

With a muttered curse he swung away from her and raked his hand through his hair. She was his brother’s widow, he reminded himself grimly, and out of respect for Faisal she was off-limits.

‘I have no intention of taking my nephew away from you,’ he growled. He’d witnessed how the little boy had clung to Erin when he had injured himself, and in all honesty he knew he could not separate Kazim from the woman he regarded as his mother.

‘You don’t?’ Erin murmured dazedly, a little of her tension draining away. A moment ago he’d told her that he would not leave without Kazim.

‘No.’ Zahir’s jaw tightened. The last thing he wanted was to take this woman who was playing havoc with his hormones back to his homeland, but he had no choice. ‘I appreciate that he needs you, and for that reason it’s clear that you will have to come to Qubbah too.’

He was deadly serious, Erin realised when she stared at him and recognised the determined gleam in his eyes. ‘I don’t think you understand,’ she began. ‘I’m not going to Qubbah or anywhere else with you, and neither is Kazim…’

‘It is you who does not understand,’ Zahir snapped coldly. ‘My father is desperate to see his grandson.’

‘I told you—your father is welcome to visit Kazim whenever he likes,’ Erin said defensively, flushing beneath Zahir’s hard stare.

‘The journey would kill him.’ He ignored her faint gasp. ‘Two months ago my father contracted a virus that attacked his heart. He has been prescribed medication to control the condition and hopefully prevent full heart failure, but he has to rest as much as possible, and his doctors give him oxygen to reduce any strain on his heart. A long flight is out of the question,’ Zahir said harshly. ‘The only solution is for you to accompany Kazim to Qubbah. And, to be frank, I don’t have much time to waste arguing with you,’ he added in a warning tone when she opened her mouth to protest. ‘My father longed to be reconciled with Faisal, and he was devastated by the news of his death. He is an old man, and his life is in the balance,’ he added gruffly. ‘All he wants is to see his grandson—Faisal’s son. And you want to deny him that one simple joy.’

Erin bit her lip, startled by the raw emotion in Zahir’s voice. Guilt tugged at her conscience. She more than most people understood the importance of family ties. All her life she had longed to be part of a family, and even though her mother had been sadly lacking in any parenting skills, she had still been devastated by the death of her only blood relative.

Supposing the elderly Sheikh died without ever seeing Kazim? From the sound of it Zahir’s father had loved Faisal, had hoped to be reconciled with him, and according to Zahir he was desperate to meet his little grandson. And what about Kazim? she thought fretfully. Would a court battle with Zahir for custody really be in the little boy’s best interests? And how would Kazim feel if he one day discovered that she had prevented him from meeting his grandfather?

The truth was she had a duty to give Kazim the opportunity to meet his family in Qubbah, she acknowledged reluctantly. She could not possibly allow Zahir to take Kazim—she would have to go too. But the prospect of travelling halfway around the world with Faisal’s disturbingly sexy brother filled her with unease.

What if he tried to kiss her again? She would not respond, of course. He had taken her by surprise earlier, that was all. But she had a feeling that Zahir bin Kahlid al Muntassir was used to women jumping whenever he clicked his fingers, and she would have to make it clear that she was neither available nor interested in him. Her eyes strayed to his mouth and her stomach lurched as she recalled the sensual pleasure of his kiss, the way his warm, firm lips had parted hers with a masterful intent that had demolished her resistance. Definitely not interested, she told herself sharply, her heart jerking unevenly when their eyes met and held and a bolt of white-hot awareness flashed between them.

Faisal had been a kind, gentle man, but she detected neither quality in his brother. Common sense warned her that Zahir, with his stunning looks and brooding sensuality, was out of her league, but for some reason her body hadn’t got the message, and she blushed scarlet when she followed his amused gaze and saw that her nipples were jutting provocatively beneath her tee shirt.

Desperate to distract his attention, she crossed her arms over her chest and voiced the question that had been gnawing in her brain since Gordon Straker’s shocking announcement that Zahir was Faisal’s brother. ‘Why was Faisal estranged from you and the rest of his family?’

Zahir was silent for so long that she risked another glance at him, and was startled by the hardness of his expression. ‘He married a woman who had not been chosen for him,’ he replied at last. ‘Faisal was engaged to the daughter of an influential family in Qubbah, but before his wedding he eloped with another woman and brought great shame to his family.’