The Sheikh's Convenient Bride

“Megan,” he said softly, and when she lifted her face to his, he kissed her with all the tenderness in his heart. She sighed, leaned into his embrace and kissed him back.

“Stay here,” he murmured, his lips an inch from hers. “Keep the door barred until I return.”

“No! Qasim…”

He cupped her face and silenced her terrified protests with another kiss.

“I’ll come back for you, kalila. I swear it.”

She gave him a blurry smile. He brought her hands to his mouth and pressed kisses into the palms. Then he barked out a command to Hakim, to the pilot, to the two guards, unbarred the door and left the room.

CHAPTER EIGHT

DEAR God, what had she done?

Megan stood before one of the tall, narrow windows that looked over the mountains. Gray fog covered the barren plain, moving inexorably toward the walled city like a poisonous cloud.

Where are you, Qasim? Where are you?

Hours had gone by since the heavy wooden door had slammed behind him and still there was no word.

Time was moving as slowly as the fog. She felt helpless. Useless. The worst of it was that it was all her fault.

Qasim had warned her that working with him would be tough. No problem, she’d said, or words to that effect, and she’d glibly promised to follow all the demeaning rules of his country.

She’d been lying. To herself and to him.

What she’d really intended was to teach his people a thing or two about the proper role of women in civilized society.

Then they’d reached this awful place and she’d discovered that what he’d been trying to tell her was that parts of his kingdom had nothing to do with civilization as she knew it. And she’d done her best to keep her promise. She’d kept her mouth shut. She’d behaved.

If only she hadn’t been forced to sit on that stool. If only Hakim hadn’t acted like a self-important prig. If only Ahmet hadn’t noticed her…

Damn it, why was she trying to come up with excuses? Sure, those things had worked their way under her skin, but she’d been in the business world long enough to learn to roll with the punches. Her very first job with a prestigious firm, she’d traveled to Philadelphia with her boss. He’d stayed in an executive suite and arranged for her to have a connecting room.

“Makes things more convenient,” he’d said, and she, innocent that she was, hadn’t realized what that meant until she’d heard him rattling the doorknob in the middle of the night.

Meg? he’d called. I have something here that will interest you.

She’d lain frozen in silence, pretending she didn’t hear him, and the next morning he’d acted as if nothing had happened and, damn it, so had she because she was afraid of losing her first really good job.

Lots of men still believed all it took was power to turn a woman into a conquest.

She could have dealt with the situation. She should have dealt with it, especially since Qasim had warned her.

What she couldn’t deal with was the way Qasim had ig

nored her. Okay. Maybe he had no choice when they were with the others. She understood that. But that didn’t explain why he hadn’t found a minute to come to her room. Talk to her. Take her hand, as he had just before he’d ridden off with Ahmet’s men. Tell her everything would be fine…

Megan closed her eyes.

Tell her he missed her. Wanted her. Longed for her, as she longed for him.

She turned from the window. She was thinking crazy thoughts, but didn’t experts say that stress had weird effects on people? Hakim, for example, was standing like a statue in the same place he’d been when Qasim left.

She couldn’t understand the aide’s behavior. Why had he let the man he called his master face whatever waited outside this door alone? Until now, Hakim had stayed at his heels like an obedient spaniel. Why had he abandoned him now?

Hakim swung toward her, eyes filled with hatred.