Captured by the Sheikh

‘I’m glad you told me.’

‘I’m glad I did too.’ She hesitated, because she felt a need to reassure him and, perhaps herself, that she knew this wasn’t real—that whatever intimacy had sprung between them was separate from what was going on in their lives. It didn’t really count.

Yet she said nothing, because it felt like it counted. It felt like the only thing that counted. Khalil had given her something, or maybe he’d just showed her she already had it: a capacity to share, to trust. To love.

She looked up at him, searching his face, wanting to know what he was feeling, if he felt the same pull of attraction and empathy that she did. But then she met his gaze and saw the fire burning there and her breath caught in her chest as desire, raw, fierce and overwhelming, crashed over her.

His face was so close to hers she could feel his breath fanning against her cheek, see the dark glint of stubble on his chin. His lips were no more than a whisper away from hers and, as she stared up at him and heard his breath hitch, she knew without a doubt she wanted to close that small distance between their mouths.

She wanted him to kiss her.

His head dipped and her heart seemed to stop and then soar. His lips were so close now that if she moved at all they would be touching his. They would be kissing.

Yet she didn’t move, transfixed as she was by both wonder and fear, and Khalil didn’t move either.

The moment stretched between them, suspended, endless.

His breath came out in a shudder and his hands tightened around her face. She tried to say something but words eluded her; all she could do was feel. Want.

Then with another shuddering breath he closed that small space between their mouths and his lips touched hers in her first and most wonderful kiss.

She let out a tiny sigh both of satisfaction and surrender, her hands coming up to tangle in the surprising softness of his hair. Her lips parted and Khalil deepened the kiss, pulling her closer as his tongue delved into her mouth, and everything in Elena throbbed powerfully to life.

She’d never known you could feel like this, want like this. It was so intense and sweet it almost felt painful. She pressed against him, acting on an instinct she hadn’t realised she possessed. Khalil slid his hand from her face to cup her breast, and a shocked gasp escaped her mouth as exquisite sensation darted through her.

Khalil withdrew, dropping his hand and easing back from her so she felt a rush of loss. He reached up to cover her hands with his own and draw them down to her own lap.

‘I shouldn’t have...’ he began then shook his head. Even in the moonlit darkness she could see the regret and remorse etched on his harsh features.

‘I wanted you to,’ she blurted and he just shook his head again.

‘You should sleep again, if you can,’ he said quietly and Elena bit her lip, blinking hard. She wondered, with a rush of humiliation, if she’d actually been the one to kiss him. In that moment it had been hard to tell, and she’d wanted it so much...

Had she actually thrown herself at him?

‘Sleep, Elena,’ he said softly, and he repositioned her on his lap so her head was once again pillowed by his chest. He stroked her hair just as he had before and Elena closed her eyes, even though sleep seemed farther away than ever.

What had just happened? And how could she feel so unbearably, overwhelmingly disappointed?

CHAPTER SEVEN

DAWN BROKE OVER the dunes, turning the sand pink with pale sunlight. The storm had died down and the desert had reshaped itself into a new landscape of drifts and dunes. Leaving Elena sleeping in their rocky shelter, Khalil went to check on the horses and get his bearings.

And also to figure out just what he was going to say to her when she awoke.

That kiss had been completely unplanned. Incredibly sweet. And it had left Khalil in an extremely uncomfortable state of arousal for the rest of the night.

He hadn’t been able to sleep with Elena on his lap, her hair brushing his cheek, her soft body relaxed and pliant against his. His whole body, his whole self, had been in a state of unbearable awareness, exquisite agony.

Sleep had been the farthest thing from his mind.

But now, in the cold light of day, reality returned with an almighty thud. He could not act on his attraction to Elena. He could not nurture any softer feelings for her. He had a goal, a plan, and neither included the Queen of Thallia beyond keeping her captive and then letting her go.

Except, somehow he had forgotten that when he’d held her in his lap. When he’d shared dinner with her in his tent, and invited her to accompany him to visit the desert tribes. When he’d encouraged her to share about her life, and had told her a little bit about his. When he’d let her into his mind and even his heart. When he’d kissed her.

He’d told her things had changed, and he felt the change in himself. He was losing sight of his priorities and chasing rainbows instead. How could he be such a fool? How could he let his focus slip, even for a second?

It was time to get back on track, Khalil knew. To forget the fanciful feelings he’d been harbouring for Elena. What an idiot he was, to feel something soft even for a moment! To trust her. Care for her. It would only end badly...in so many ways. He knew that from hard experience. He wasn’t about to repeat the mistake of trusting someone, loving someone.

Not that he loved her, Khalil told himself quickly. He barely knew her. Things had become intense between them because they were in an intense situation, that was all.

He let out a long, low breath and headed for the horses. The animals had weathered last night’s storm well enough and were happy for Khalil to feed and water them. He’d just finished and was turning back to check on Elena when he saw her standing between the towering black rocks, looking tired and pale, yet also tall and straight...and so very beautiful.

His gut tightened. His groin ached. And as he stood and stared at her he was reminded of her nightmare, of the vulnerability she’d shown and the secrets she’d shared. He thought of her witnessing the death of her parents, the utter horror of the terrorist attack, and a howl of need to protect her rose up inside him. In that moment last night he’d almost told her his own terrible memories. Laid bare his own secrets.

Almost.

Now he pushed the memories away and gave her a measured smile. ‘Good morning. Are you rested?’

‘A bit.’ She took a step closer to him and he saw uncertainty in her eyes. Questions loomed there that he didn’t want her to ask. Had no intention of answering, not even in the seething silence of his own mind.

‘We can eat and then we should ride. The settlement we’ve been aiming for is only another hour or so from here, and I hope my men will be waiting for us there. We can explain to the tribe how we became separated in the storm.’

She nodded slowly, her gaze sweeping over him like a sorrowful searchlight. Khalil tried not to flinch under it; that guilt was coming back, along with a powerful desire to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her hair, to comfort her—and himself.

What a joke. He was the last person qualified to give or receive comfort. The last person to think of caring or being cared for. He half-regretted taking her on this godforsaken trip; he wished he’d left her to stew in her tent. But only half, because even now, when he knew better and had told himself so, he was still glad to see her. Was glad she was here with him.

‘Come,’ he said, and beckoned her back towards their rocky shelter. They ate the remaining flat bread and dried meat in silence, and then Khalil saddled the horses while Elena watched.

A moment later they were riding across the desert, the sky hard and blue above them, the air dry, and becoming hotter by the minute.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, admired her long, straight back, the proud tilt of her head. She would never be bowed, he thought with a surge of almost possessive admiration. She would never allow herself the possibility of defeat. Looking at her now reminded him of how it had felt to hold her: the soft press of her breasts against his chest; the way her hair had brushed his cheek; the smell of her, like rosewater and sunshine.

His horse veered suddenly to avoid a rock, startling Khalil, and he swore under his breath. Already he was losing his concentration again, forgetting his focus. All because of Elena.

Not that he could blame her for his own lack of control. No, he blamed himself, and this sudden need that opened up inside him like a great, yawning chasm of emptiness longing to be filled. He wasn’t used to feeling such a thing; for thirty years he’d basically been on his own. The only person he’d let close in all that time was Dimah, and that relationship had had its own problems and pitfalls.

No, he wasn’t used to this at all. And he didn’t like it. At all.

Liar.

Two hours after starting off, they finally rode into a small Bedouin settlement on the edge of an oasis. There had been no sight of his men, and uneasily Khalil wondered how it would look to the Sheikh for him to ride in alone with Elena. He pushed the thought from his mind. There was nothing he could do about it now.

He’d been here once before on one of his tours of duty through the desert, getting to know the people he was meant to rule, rallying support. Much to his amazement, they had welcomed him.

Such a response still surprised him after all these years: that anyone could accept him. Want him.