The Sheikh's Captive American (Zahkim Sheikhs 1)
Page 7
"Is it a festival or something?"
Tarek's mouth tightened. He offered up a curt, "No."
He rubbed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. Tess didn't press him. Whatever was going on had nothing to do with her. Despite her earlier experience, she was glad when they left the city and the sky opened out in front of them.
The moon hung huge and low, turning the sand to silver. Air conditioning dusted her face, but she could swear she could smell the heat baked into the land. The road narrowed and headed up a steep hillside, and then buildings rose in front of the SUV like something from the Arabian Nights.
Bulbous domes gleamed white, lit by spotlights and the moon. Towers soared into the dark sky. Rows and rows of pointed arches seemed like a million entry points, but glass glittered behind them; windows and ornate plasterwork teased the eye, offering more details than anyone could take in. This wasn't just a palace—it was hundreds of years of history built into the mountain.
"It's beautiful," she said, her voice hushed, for the sight deserved respect. "And…huge." She glanced at Tarek. He was staring out the window, his brow furrowed as if he couldn't see the beauty of the place where he lived.
His voice sounded indifferent as he said, "In addition to the royal residence, it functions as the main government building. The royal family has quarters here, and Zahkim's archives are housed here as well. The gardens are open to the public on certain days, and the throne room is used for state occasions, but the harem has been closed for a few generations now."
"Oh…of course." Harem? Tess's mind shifted to colorful tiles and pools of warm blue water…and naked women lounging everywhere. Her throat dried as she pictured herself there—and Tarek swooping down on her, catching her up in his arms as he had when he'd lifted her out of the wheelchair.
She became aware of his stare on her, and she glanced at him. He didn't look away. For an instant, that tingle of awareness sparked between them—a tug of attraction she couldn't deny.
She looked away first, to stare at the vast building in front of her with its towers. "Who are you, anyway?"
Tarek let out a breath that sounded almost like a sigh. "I am Sheikh Tarek Rahim, ruler of Zahkim, Protector of the Faithful, and head of the royal family." He glanced at her. "King of Zahkim, if you prefer."
Tess's mouth fell open. Tarek stared back at her, his expression unreadable, but one eyebrow rose almost as if he expected her to faint. Or something.
She pulled herself together. She'd met the Queen of England, had performed for heads of state, and she was damn well not going to let this throw her.
"Well, good. That means when Phil is on his feet, you can get us transportation to where I need to go. In the meantime, I'd still like that computer and a connection to the outside world."
He gave a curt nod. "Of course. I do not go back on my word. And I think getting you on your way will be in both our interests."
Chapter Four
Both our interests? Sheikh Tarek almost sounded like he couldn't wait to get rid of her. Except he wasn't looking at her like that. Those amber eyes held a lot of heat and Tess couldn't help but respond. Sheikh or no sheikh, he was a man, and she knew interest when she saw it. She'd always been someone to follow her intuition, and right now it was telling her there'd been an instant connection between them.
The car came to a stop. Someone opened the doors. The evening had cooled, but warmth still brushed her face. Tarek was out before she was and came around to help her from the SUV. She almost told him she could make it on her own, but her muscles protested a little too much at that idea. Tarek put a hand at the small of her back, and a tingle shot down her spine and settled low in her belly. Maybe the idea that a near-death experience kicked up the desire for life-affirming sex was true.
She hardly noticed the inside of the palace—other than it was opulent and cool. Her focus kept going back to Tarek and the touch of his hand on her through the light fabric of her robe. The heat of his body and his enticing scent. His strong presence next to her, tall and solid. She almost wanted to lean in and rest her head on that broad chest of his.
They headed up carpeted stairs, and then he was opening a door for her, flicking on lights, and she stepped into a suite that could rival any five-star hotel. She wasn't sure what she'd expected—the harem maybe—but not this huge room decorated in creams and soothing sea-greens. Marble floors and thick carpets with geometric designs hinted she was still in the Middle East, but the overstuffed chairs and sofas with a floral pattern, the mahogany wr
iting desk and the big screen TV would have been at home in a London flat. If they even fit. The room was huge.
Tarek crossed the carpet and opened wide double doors. "You will find the bedroom through here, as well as an en suite bath. Should you need anything, the phone will connect you to the staff." He crossed the room again and pulled closed floor-length drapes over French doors. "You are welcome to request a tray to be brought up to you."
She gave a small shiver and hugged her arms. Food wasn't high on her list right now.
Tarek crossed to her side. "You are tired. Did Dr. Al Din give you anything for pain?"
She shook her head and rubbed her neck. "I only have a headache left."
His mouth crooked at the corner. "You are a terrible liar." Again, he swept her up in his arms.
A shock ran through her, and she frowned at him. "This is getting to be a habit with you."
Instead of answering—or putting her down—he carried her into the bedroom and settled her sitting upright on the king-size bed. Light streamed in from the sitting room, enough for her to see that the bedroom copied the sea-green color scheme. She started to rub her neck again, but Tarek pulled her hand away and put his own to work massaging her knotted muscles.
She couldn't help it—closing her eyes, she let out a groan. "Oh, yeah. Right there."
His beard brushed her cheek. "Lie back."