The Sheik and the Slave

As she sat there, though she became uncomfortable. She winced as her whalebone corset bit into her. They were becoming more and more unbearable to wear.

She murmured a soft excuse to her aunt and left the box. If she walked for a few minutes, then the pain would subside, and she could still hear the music away from her seat. She walked along the hallway lined with private boxes with one hand pressed to her stomacher. She breathed in and felt her breasts rise above the neckline.

Suddenly, the door to the last box in front of her opened. She was pulled inside suddenly and heard the click of a lock.

Unlike her uncle’s box, which looked onto the stage, this particular box had the curtain closed to ensure privacy for the inhabitants.

"Surprised to see me?" Mohammed asked her quietly as he stood before her.

"No. You seem to show up in the most unusual of places," she told him. Her eyes glittered like jewels against the blue satin.

"As do you, princess. London, Paris and, of course, let’s not forget Arabia," Mohammed said. “Of course, you were fortunate to escape Arabia, were you not?”

"To escape your insane wife, I did what I had to do," she retorted. The candle lights flickered against her face and the shadows moved across her cheekbones.

"Yes, well, I have already informed you. Yasmeen is gone. I have divorced her. Her daughters are being raised in the palace without her. Her meddling has cost her dearly," he informed her, his dark face so close to her own.

"This has nothing to do with me. Are you enjoying the concert, my lord?" she asked. She tried to establish a degree of separation between them, and he almost smiled. However, this was too serious for flippancy.

"I have heard none of it. I have been waiting to speak with you. Please, be seated," he said.

"I prefer to stand," she replied.

Mohammed shrugged his shoulders.

"As you wish,” he said. “You always do as you please."

Katharine raised her chin indignantly and replied, "And you. You love playing the master."

"Yes. I was born to rule over people and things. It is not an easy position. I must sometimes weigh life or death over someone's head," he spoke quietly. “You know this, lady.”

"Why have you come to Paris? I thought everything had been settled," she said. She moved away from him and listened as the performers received several laughs.

He looked at her proud back and powdered hair. She always grew more beautiful and seemed to have a glow about her. Was it her upcoming marriage? Was she in love? The thought clenched his insides. He would never allow this marriage to take place.

"I had to see you," he said, shocking himself and her with his honesty.

Katharine turned to face him. She tried not to stare at him or his masculine beauty. He had been attractive when she had first seen him in the audience chambers. She had felt an immediate attraction to him. Wearing his flowing white robes and goatee, and exercising his power and wisdom so expertly, he had exuded power. She stood in awe of him; she had never seen a man like him. He was such a beautiful man.

Yet here in this cold Paris world, he was even more dangerous. Dressed as a dandy with a frock coat in red and gold and breeches in the same colors, he was anything but. His silk stockings and shoes were of the highest quality and his hair was unpowdered yet clubbed. But all Katharine could see was his sensual mouth and all she could do was remember him touching her. She remembered the smell of oud in the air and spreading her legs as he took her the first time.

She swayed suddenly, and he caught her in his arms. He carried her to a small sofa inside the locked box. He settled her on the sofa, kneeling at her side. Her hands rested on his forearms.

"I'm sorry, I haven't been feeling well lately," she told him.

His warm hand touched her cheek but found it to be cool and smooth, not feverish. He looked into her eyes, but she lowered them suddenly. His arms still remained around her waist, and he used them to pull her into him.

"Katharine," he whispered.

Katharine could feel his warm body, and her heart raced as he pulled them together.

"Please don't," she said.

"Why not?" he murmured into her ear. Her skin prickled at the sensation. He bit her neck lightly as he remained kneeling next to her.

"Why not? Because you fiancé wouldn't like it?" he teased. His mouth caressed her neck and his hand came up to her face.

"Tell me why," he continued. He pulled her head down as his mouth devoured hers. His kiss wasn't sweet or kind but filled with bitterness and possession.