The Sheikh's Blackmailed Bride (Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid 2)

“We’ll look together, then.”

He called the flight attendant to bring Catelyn’s enormous rolling suitcase from where it was stored in the bedroom of the plane, and Catelyn set about unzipping it. They’d taken off from Newark Liberty International Airport that morning, much to the distress of Catelyn’s friends. Laura and Daisy had come to see her off, and before she could board the plane, Laura took her aside. The two women had talked in hushed tones, Laura casting a worried glance in the general direction of the plane, and Catelyn had been frowning when she boarded.

The frown hadn’t lasted for long. Rami had taken commercial flights a few times in his travels, but Catelyn had never flown in a private jet. He’d relished the delight on her face when she saw the spacious cabin, the pairs of leather seats, the dining table…

He let her settle in over breakfast—freshly ground coffee and a bagel with honey—while she flipped through a glossy fashion magazine from the Middle East. It would be optimal if she asked about the traditional fashions then, but Catelyn busied herself reading the articles, her eyes lingering on the pictures without seeming to register that anything was out of the ordinary.

And then it had been time to hint about the dress.

Catelyn had dressed that morning in a garment that nearly skimmed the ground. The tight bodice hugged her breasts, and the loud pattern was somehow both charming and utterly obnoxious. Honestly, she looked ridiculous. For one thing, she was hiding most of her curves beneath swaths of fabric, and second, the skimpy top would never do for a sheikh’s wife. The people in Al-Dashalid, as much as they might put up with an elopement, they would not be so forgiving of her collarbone and shoulders paraded around the capital city.

“This,” Catelyn said, holding up a remarkably similar dress, only this one was in blue. She tossed it onto the lid of her suitcase. “And this.” Another long dress with a tight bodice. “And these.” She held up not one, not two, but three bikinis. On and on it went, and not a single formal gown or even a more modest dress or top appeared.

“And that’s about it.”

Catelyn stood with a final sundress in her hands.

“I’ll get you a whole new wardrobe when we land.”

* * *

Catelyn felt like an idiot, but she wasn’t sure why she should. Rami’s eyes were hot on hers, and he couldn’t stop looking away from her face to her bustline. Still, she’d thought the dresses would be appropriate. They were what she’d planned to wear on the cruise she’d had to cancel, paired with a couple of thin shawls. On top of that, this was her time to relax a bit.

That’s what she’d thought, anyway.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” She glanced down over herself. The maxi dress she’d worn was one of her favorites. It was printed with huge red flowers, offset with pink splashes of color. “I love this dress.”

Rami grinned at her, though she could tell he was trying to keep his expression neutral. “Do you know where we’re headed?”

That was a little much. “Of course I know where we’re headed.” She tried her best to keep the edge in her voice to a minimum. “I also know it’s going to be hot in Al-Dashalid. So what’s wrong with my dress?”

“It’s a country where tradition is still beloved.” Rami rose from his seat and stood next to her, looking down at the pile of clothes in the suitcase. He picked one of the bikini tops up and let it dangle from his fingers. “You can’t walk down the street in one of these.”

Catelyn felt herself blushing. “Of course not.” She dropped the sundress into the suitcase as if it had burned her. “That’s why I’m wearing this dress.”

“This dress…” Rami dropped the bikini top and stepped closer to her, and the hairs on the back of her arms rose at the scent of him. So elegant. So…royal. So hot. “It’s simply not appropriate for accompanying me in the streets of Al-Dashalid.”

There was something in his voice that made desire coil low in her belly. “What about it?” She’d meant it to be a defensive remark, something to push him to accept her dress, but it came out breathy, soft.

“These straps, for one.” Rami reached out and ran two fingers under one of the thin spaghetti straps, pulling the fabric away from her skin. She sucked in a breath, feeling herself lean into his touch. It was not businesslike—not in any way—but the connection between them took her breath away.

“And the zipper…” He trailed those same fingers down the curve of her spine to the zipper at the back of the dress, and Catelyn arched her back into that caress. “Begging to be pulled like this? How could you go out in public in clothes like these?”

He took his hand away, and Catelyn turned to him. “How dare you,” she whispered.

Rami was so close.

“How dare I what?” His expression smoldered. “I’ll do anything I please.”

“How dare you stop touching me.” She forced the words out and watched as understanding moved into Rami’s mind like raindrops.

The next instant, he’d closed the gap between them, kissing her as fiercely as he had at their wedding ceremony. Only this time, she was free to part her lips, free to let his tongue explore her mouth, and free to give herself over to his power. She found herself lifted, wrapped her legs around his waist, and locked her arms around his neck. There was hardly enough air on the plane, but she didn’t want to surface from these kisses—she wanted to stay submerged in this forever. Forever.

Rami moved, as if she were weightless, toward the back of the plane, where the bedroom waited for them. He kicked the door shut behind them with a swift movement of his foot. The next thing she knew, she was on her back on the bed.

Rami undid his belt with a click of metal, and Catelyn found herself saying, though they had plenty of time, "Hurry, hurry, hurry."