The Sheikh's Captive American (Zahkim Sheikhs 1)

She turned to Tarek. He put his arms around her. Leaning into him, she pressed her head to his chest to hear his heartbeat. "That's good luck—that star falling."

Tarek brushed a hand over her hair. "Don't you know there's no such thing as luck? There is good planning, and good—"

She shut him up with a kiss. A long time later, she pulled back and said, "What were you saying?"

"Something about how I’ll love you forever, my guiding star. And now we must plan that wedding."

"Yeah, yeah, good planning. I think I'll leave it to luck—I have a hunch it might work out better."

He laughed.

Epilogue

Tarek stood with Arif and Nasim at his shoulder and watched for his bride to enter the palace gardens. His grandmother had spent six months planning this day—a good thing, considering how much the music festival had drained his treasury. At the last minute, Tess had given in to his grandmother's advice that Tarek should not see her at all for the past week. He was about to jump out of his skin.

When had he stopped being able to command the royal family?

"Is he up to this?" Nasim whispered to Arif.

"It's going to be a near thing," Arif said.

Turning on them, Tarek lifted an eyebrow. He would at least command his cousins. "The two of you can shut it."

Arif smiled. "The culmination of a prophecy. This is a moment we should all savor."

Tarek tried to smooth his robes and contain his need to pace. He'd never worn this much gold braid in his life. He'd been groomed within an inch of losing all patience with his staff. And now he was forced to wait. The sound of the fountain irritated, the scents of the garden made him want to order it

all dug up, and in the distance a peacock gave a shrill cry. A gift from a neighboring sheikh, so he could not have the animal shot.

"If I hear one more word about this prophecy...."

Nasim laughed. "You are a changed man, Tarek. Your beloved is teaching you to listen to hunches and will no doubt soon have you listening to the palace astrologers."

Tarek tugged at his robes. "I am still a rational man. Loving another does not change that."

Nasim and Arif swapped glances. Tarek opened his mouth to tell them what they could do with their doubts, but a quiet settled over those gathered. The imam stiffened, and Tarek turned to the garden entrance.

His eyes widened.

Tess wore an elaborate white gown, beaded with pearls and embroidered with gold. A veil covered her head, flowing down to her feet. Henna decorated her hands with elaborate swirls. More gold framed her face, glittering in the sunlight.

His stare fixed on her green eyes, brighter than any foliage in the garden, their depths as endlessly fascinating as the ocean. He could not look away from her.

Somehow, he got through the ceremony. At any moment he feared someone would say something or do something to end this, or he would wake to find it only a dream. But then he had Tess's hand in his, and it was done.

Tess smiled up at him. He kissed her hand.

"My queen. Now and forever."

She gave a small shiver. "In another fifty years, I might get used to that."

He squeezed her hand. "Take forever if you wish, my Ashira, because that is how long we will be together."

End of The Sheikh's Captive American