The Sheikh's Contract Bride

“Not an order. A suggestion. I simply thought you would enjoy the view and the fresh air.”

“I see.” Without further protest or a backward glance she walked through the living room and onto the terrace.

Malik opened the champagne and poured golden liquid into flutes, then carried them outside. He handed one to Beth.

“To what shall we drink?” he asked.

After thinking for a moment she said, “Loyalty.”

That seemed an odd choice, but with his own painful lesson fresh in his mind he highly approved of her toast. “And honesty.”

As they touched glasses, a musical tinkle sounded. Then Beth sipped from her flute as she gazed out over the sea. The moon’s light created a silver path on the water, and the rhythmic cadence of the surf on the shore drifted up.

“Great view,” she said.

“Yes.” But his gaze was not on the sea. Malik was wondering if there was a more beautiful sight in the world than Beth by moonlight. And if his thoughts continued in that manner he was not at all certain he could resist her. “So, tell me more about yourself,” he said, studying the long, graceful column of her neck revealed by her upswept hair.

The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what happened to make you believe that love is not all it is cracked up to be.”

“Oh, you don’t really want to know about that.”

“On the contrary. I believe it is at the heart of your resistance to marriage.” Sipping from his glass, he studied her as she weighed his request.

“All right. There was a man. I met him when I was in college and there was an instant connection.”

“You are in love with this man?” The idea produced a knot of resentment in him that seemed out of proportion to the amount of time he had known her, and that vexed him.

“Not anymore.”

“But you were?”

“I thought I was.”

“What happened?”

“He made me believe I was the only woman for him. Then he broke my heart when he married someone else.”

The knot inside him eased somewhat and made rational thought easier. Then he realized something. “Surely you were aware that, as my betrothed, you are not permitted to give your heart to another man?”

“It was only my heart, Malik. To my everlasting shame, I couldn’t help it. But at least I didn’t compound my mistake by sleeping with him.” She did not look away, but met his gaze directly.

They had just toasted honesty, and he had no reason to doubt her. “I believe you.”

She sat on the low stucco wall surrounding the terrace and sighed. “I bet you’re sorry you asked.”

“Your candor is refreshing. The truth is not always easy, but it is preferable to pretense.”

She was just sipping champagne and started to cough.

Malik sat next to her and took her glass. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and cleared her throat. “I swallowed wrong.”

“I do not like it when that happens. I also do not like the thought of you and another man.” That was the truth.

“As the relationship ended badly, there’s no real harm done.”

“I disagree.”

“So you’re going to hold it against me?” Was that hope in her voice? “If so, there’s always the option of calling off the wedding. I can certainly understand if that’s what you decide to do. Just say the word and I’ll go back to America and—”

“On the contrary,” he interrupted, noting that when she was nervous she was inclined to talk too much and too fast. “I believe a woman whose heart has known love once is more likely to look for it again.”

“Even though I told you I don’t want to be in love?”

“Even then.”

“You’re wrong.” She shook her head and her full lips pulled tight. “I never want to feel that way again.”

“Why?”

“If I’d never loved I never would have cried. And I promised myself it was the last time I would cry over a man.”

He could understand the sentiment. He had made himself a similar promise about not being vulnerable to the charms of a woman. In his father’s esteemed opinion Malik had shown poor judgment, and it could not happen again. Yet Malik’s duty was to marry and produce an heir to succeed him on the throne. A love that burned him like wildfire would be unacceptable. And that was why marrying the woman chosen by his father was the solution. With Beth he could aspire to a fully contained warmth and respect.

Their shoulders brushed as they sat side by side and stared into the romantically dimmed light of the suite. Malik felt the soft skin of her forearm graze him and flames of desire heat up his blood.

“I feel compelled to point out that our betrothal is a good thing in light of your experience.”

“How do you figure?”

“You can have all the benefits of marriage to the King of Bha’Khar without the messiness of dealing with love.”

“So I can be like a man?” She met his gaze. The gleam of mischief mixed with challenge darkened her eyes.

The look was growing on him, but in no way prepared him for what came next. She smiled a smile that seemed to steal all the air from his lungs.

He picked up one of her small hands, then touched his lips to her knuckles. Satisfaction filled him to see the gleam in her eyes replaced by awareness. But, like her, he did not wish to be vulnerable to love. He was most pleased that they were in agreement, because his betrothed was quite a tempting combination of spirit and beauty. Theirs was a contract, a business arrangement, and that suited him well.

He brushed his thumb over the spot on her hand that he’d just kissed. “I cannot order or proclaim that you fall in love with me. But, little one, you will never be like a man.” His voice dropped into the deeply seductive range. “And this man is extraordinarily grateful for that fact.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE next morning Beth stood on her balcony with a cup of coffee in her hands while she looked out over the sea. Memories of last night clicked through her mind like a sensual slide show. Malik smiling his charming smile. Malik telling her he was glad she wasn’t a man and kissing her hand. Her wanting to feel his lips pressed against her own, followed by disappointment when he didn’t kiss her. Then the crushing guilt because she’d forgotten why she was there.

She leaned her hip on the low wall as the breeze caressed her face. Malik Hourani was not what she’d expected. He was kind, considerate and romantic. Damn him. If he didn’t mess up soon, and do something to make her dislike him, the consequences couldn’t be good. There was no way to put a positive spin on this charade. She was lying to Malik and her soul was doomed to the seventh level of hell. What was more, she deserved it.