The Sheikh's Bartered Bride

She had asked him for truth. She refused to prevaricate herself. "No."

She could feel tension drain from him and only then did she realize how uptight he had really been.

"Will you love my child?" "How can you ask that?"

"It is not so unreasonable to believe the hatred you hold for the father could be transferred to the child."

"I would never hate my own child." Or any child for that matter. The comment that she hated him, she refused to answer.

"For the sake of our child, will you go through the ceremony in two days' time?"

"We don't know there really is a child." But the thought was a sweet one.

"We do not know there is not."

"It would really shame you if I refused, wouldn't it?" That had become very apparent the more time she spent observing the Bedouin life.

"Yes. It would also cast shame on the child of our union      ."

He'd latched on to her weakness right away and was obviously intent on making use of it.

"I cannot say vows I don't mean."

"There is no vow of love in the Bedouin ceremony." He really believed she'd stopped loving him. She wished it was that simple to turn off emotion. It wasn't,

but she was not about to share that knowledge with him. "You married me as part of a business deal."

"I cannot deny this, but that does not negate the reality of the marriage."

She wasn't so sure about that, but she decided to pursue another grievance. "You kidnapped me."

"It was necessary."

"For you to get your way you mean."

"For your safety."

"That doesn't make any sense." How could she be in danger going home to Seattle?

"Threats were made against your-life the day after our marriage."

"What? How?"

"A letter to the palace. King Asad showed it to me the day we left."

While she had been making her plans to leave him. No wonder he had had the plane held at the airport.

"It is my duty to protect you. I could not let you go."

"Duty," she said with disgust. She was coming to hate that word.

"Yes, duty. Responsibility. I learned these words very young. I am a sheikh. I cannot dismiss my promises as easily as you do your wedding vows."

That infuriated her and she jumped off his lap to land on her bottom in the cooling desert sand. She scrambled to her feet. "I'm not dismissing them."

He stood, too, casting a dark and ominous shadow in

the moonlight. "Are you not? You threaten divorce hours after promising me a lifetime."

Okay, maybe from his perspective she was dismissing those vows, but they didn't count. "I was tricked into them."

"You were wooed."

"How can you say that?"

"It is the truth."

His truth.

She sighed. "I should get back before your sister realizes I've left the tent."

"We are not done talking."

"You mean I haven't agreed to your plans."

"I want your promise you will go through with, the ceremony."

"I want some time to think."

"You have two days to think."

"What will you do if I say no?"

Instead of answering, he kissed her. Anger pulsated in that kiss, a fury she had not even realized he was holding in, but there was passion too. Desire. And seduction. When he pulled back, she was limp in his arms and barely standing. "You will go through the ceremony so that you are my wife in my grandfather's eyes. Then I will make love to you and you will forget this talk of divorce."

His complacent belief that he could seduce her utterly to his will made her angry. So she lashed out. "Why not? We've already been through one sham wedding. Why not another?"

She fully expected him to explode, but he didn't. Tension filled his body, but he merely said, "Indeed."

He scooped her up into his arms and then carried her back to the tent, not putting her down again until he reached her bed. He leaned over and spoke with his lips so close, their breath mingled. "Good night, aziz."

Then he kissed her. She expected another passionate assault on her senses. More anger. More seduction. She got a gentle caress that left her lips tingling.

Then he was gone.

Catherine wrinkled her nose, both from the sight and the smell of the camel kneeling on all four legs before her.

Latifah had informed Catherine that her husband had ridden this animal to victory in the past three camel races. The knowledge was small comfort as she climbed into the boxlike chair on the camel's back. She'd never even ridden a horse and here she was, getting ready to ride a camel.

She adjusted herself on her seat, gasping as the box swayed with her movements. It was tall enough for her