The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride

That was why she’d felt so strange so fragile, yet so responsive.

Post-traumatic stress. That had to be it. Her weakness last night had nothing to do with sea deep eyes. With a voice like seductive velvet that could charm the birds from the trees. Or with the sheer physical presence of a man who was so much more than any man she’d ever met.

Today she’d prove it. She’d see Rafiq and she’d feel nothing but gratitude. And pleasure at the chance he’d given her to experience the luxury of a real palace.

Simple.

Thirty minutes later she followed a maid through a maze of corridors and out into a small courtyard.

Belle stopped, entranced. On all four sides the slender pillars of the colonnade supported high arches of intricate filigree work, carved from solid marble. A shallow pool filled the centre of the courtyard, surrounded by dozens of water jets and glossy citrus trees. The whisper of fountains and the scent of orange blossom filled the air, a seductive assault on the senses.

But it was the intricate mosaic on the base of the pool that snared her attention, richly hued and dazzlingly bright in the morning sun.

It portrayed an enormous peacock, several meters long, its tail open in a stunning display that seemed to move in the rippling water.

The colors were brilliant, vibrant and glistening. But, more than that, the detailed artistry of the work was awe inspiring. Belle moved to the edge of the tiled walkway, leaning closer for a better view.

`You like our peacock?’ asked a low, sultry voice from the shadows.

Belle didn’t need to look across the courtyard to know who spoke.

She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Already her pulse quickened in anticipation. Feminine awareness was a tight coil circling in her belly. So much for her reaction last night being due to exhaustion.

She was in trouble when just the sound of his deep voice did this to her!

She kept her eyes on the mosaic. It’s spectacular. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

`The art of mosaic making is highly prized in Q’aroum. You’ll find small mosaics in many homes.’ Rafiq’s voice came nearer as he walked along the colonnade towards her. She clenched her hands tight, willing herself not to retreat.

`But you’re right,’ he said. `You won’t see another like this.’ He stopped at her side. She could tell by the way her skin prickled, by the heat that blossomed in her breast and rose up to flush her neck and face.

And still she couldn’t look at him. Didn’t dare.

`See the way the sun catches and reflects the colors as if they held an inner fire?’

She nodded. `The background is that gilt work?’

`Close,’ he murmured, and she knew by the puff of his warm breath on her hair that he’d turned to watch her. It’s not gilt. It’s solid gold.’

`What?’ She swung her head to look at him, straight into his hard, handsome face. `But there are square meters of the stuff!’

He shrugged. Òstentatious, I agree. But effective.’ He looked down into her eyes and smiled, and her heart tumbled over.

What else could do justice to the rest of it?’ he added. `The peacock itself is made of semi-precious stones. The purple is amethyst. The green is malachite and jade. There’s amber and garnet, topaz and lapis-lazuli.’

Belle stared, unable to wrench her gaze from that smile, from those fathoms deep green eyes.

Ìt must have cost a fortune.’

His rich chuckle echoed across the marble walls and she bit her lip, feeling gauche. What did it matter if it had cost a fortune? The Sheikhs of Q’ aroum were fabled for their wealth.

`My ancestors had a taste for riches and loved to flaunt their possessions. This mosaic is several hundred years old, probably the result of a particularly successful season.’

`Season?’ Belle asked, her brow knitting in bewilderment, His smile widened into a grin that drew the stiffening out of her spine, leaving her weak, her knees like jelly.

`Buccaneering,’ he explained, stepping closer so that she had to tilt her face up to watch him. `For generations the Q’aroumis were pirates extorting payment for safe passage through the Arabian Sea and, when it wasn’t paid, plundering whatever they wanted.’

Belle sucked in a breath at the intensity of his raking gaze. The slanting rays of sunshine illuminated the hard angles of his face, highlighted the arrogant cast of his high cheekbones and aristocratic nose, caught the glitter of gold at his ear. A sizzle of primitive excitement trembled through her. Excitement and trepidation.

Once before she’d pictured him as a pirate, a man who’d reach out and grasp whatever he wanted whatever the cost or the danger.