The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride

She squeezed his fingers and drew him across the room to a wide sofa padded with embroidered silk cushions.

`You look exhausted,’ she said. It was a lie. He looked fit and invincible, but his eyes were shuttered. He let her lead him and then sat down, watching her as she settled at the other end of the sofa, facing him.

`Tell me about it,’ she said.

He shook his head. Ìt is not suitable for you to hear.: ‘Because I’m a woman?’

That made him smile, a crooked lifting of one side of his mouth in a twist of amusement that sparked a flare of heat deep inside her.

`How prickly you are, Belle. Why are you so ready to take offence? Don’t you know it’s the way of Q’aroumi men to protect their womenfolk?’

A forbidden thrill skated through her at the idea of Rafiq protecting her because she was his.

Absurd she was her own woman; she didn’t need a man to take care of her.

Yet the thrum of awareness vibrating through her body told another story.

Rafiq leaned back and watched the flicker of emotions across her face. He shouldn’t enjoy her company quite so much. If he had any sense he’d send her to bed with a quick apology for his late return.

But when he’d seen the unguarded emotion in her face, the concern and relief, and the yearning, he hadn’t been strong enough to deny himself this small pleasure.

`But I’m not a Q’aroumi woman,’ she said at last with the glimmer of a smile. Ì think I can bear to hear about your day.’ She paused and her gaze dropped. Ìf you want to talk about it.’

Rafiq watched her concentration as she plucked at the hem of her shirt. With her down bent head and restless hands she looked almost shy. What was going on in that beautiful head? Belle was many things, but not bashful.

`Someone detonated a bomb in the city of Shaq’ara. We were fortunate no one was killed. But several people are in hospital, badly wounded.’

She frowned, looking up to snare him with that stunning azure gaze. Once again he felt its impact deep in his gut. He should be used to that by now, but it always stopped his breath for an instant.

A fatal instant that inevitably made him wonder how it would feel if Belle did more than just look.

Ìt wasn’t a suicide bomber, then?’

He shook his head. `These people don’t have such strength of conviction. They call themselves fundamentalists, fighting for a return to traditional values, but they’re simply opportunists.

Criminals seeking power.’ His cousin Selim’s idea of a return to traditional ways was the abolition of democracy and the installation of himself as autocratic ruler. It would mean utter ruin for the country as Selim stripped it bare. The very idea left a bitter taste in Rafiq’s mouth.

Selim had to be stopped, and soon. No matter what the cost. The peace and the prosperity of Q’ aroum were at stake.

`Who was the old man you were with, in front of the huge crowd?’

Belle interrupted his turbulent thoughts.

He focused on her as she leaned close, concern etched on her lovely face. Her hair was pushed back behind her ears, but it glowed like gold in the lamplight. Her wide, cerulean eyes dazzled like jewels. But it was her mouth that drew him. She had the lips of a houri, voluptuous and tempting. The sort of lips that held untold promise for a man wearied by violence and suffering.

And suddenly the uncertainty that had plagued him for days vanished. A weight lifted off his shoulders as he shed the unaccustomed doubt. His way forward was obvious so simple it was extraordinary he’d prevaricated so long. He only had one option if he wanted to protect his people. And, as their sheikh, he must take it.

`The terrorists claim they’re committed to bringing back the old ways. They pretend they’re acting with the sanction of revered community elders, but that’s a lie. I met publicly today with several of the most respected community leaders in Shaq’ara, and they made it clear they would never support those who use violence.’

She nodded, her eyes meeting his. Rafiq felt the familiar thickening of his blood as their gazes meshed, the pooling of need low in his body. He faced the truth: he would enjoy doing his duty.

It was what he wanted, after all. That was why he’d rejected the idea initially because it so exactly concurred with his own, thoroughly selfish desires.

`They’re trying to destabilize the country through violence. We foiled a bomb attack on the markets only last week’ He shook his head. Ànd, to my shame, they’re led by a kinsman of mine. A distant cousin who’d become sheikh if he could, and rule Q’aroum as his own personal domain.’