The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride

Her brows furrowed. `But if he’s a distant cousin, how could he-?’

He spread his hands, palm up. `The title of sheikh is passed by direct inheritance, but very occasionally, in times of great need or bad leadership, the title can pass to another male of the al Akhtar family. It would be decided by a council of elders.’

Selim still had an immense way to go before he could hope to sway the council. Obviously he thought a campaign of terror might achieve what a personal approach could not. But how Q’aroum would suffer in the meantime.

`Your kidnap was part of Selim’s scheme. The abduction and death of two foreign nationals would put immense pressure on the government. And the ransom was a key part of his strategy.’

She frowned, obviously weighing up his words. Ì can understand that our kidnapping might trigger an international incident. But the government couldn’t be held to blame. And why that ransom? Why not ask for cash they could use to buy guns? Surely that would be easier to handle than an antique necklace?’

He nodded. `The Peacock’s Eye is much more than a necklace. It holds a special place in local folklore. It’s intimately associated with the al Akhtar dynasty and the belief that my family is destined to rule.’ He saw her eyes widen.

‘To you, Belle, such ideas may be quaint, but here they’re taken very seriously indeed. The loss of the Eye reflects on the prestige of the royal house. And on my fitness to lead.’ His voice deepened as he thought of his father, his grandfather, and their unstinting efforts to drag Q’aroum into the modern world.

He would not fail them.

`My country has only been a democracy for thirty years.’ He saw her nod, and hoped that meant she might understand. `Many still cling to the belief that the Sheikh is the natural leader, the born ruler. As a result we have a system whereby power is shared between parliament and the head of state. The stability of the nation depends on that system working seamlessly.’

Ànd if it’s disrupted?’ Her voice was a whisper.

`The possibility of chaos.’ He raised his hand as she opened her mouth to speak. Ì don’t believe it would come to that. The Q’aroumis are a peaceful people, despite their colorful history. And they can see the benefits of modern government. It would take far more than a bomb blast for Selim to achieve what he wants.’

Which was why Rafiq’s security experts were in such a flurry of concern about his personal safety. An assassination would solve so much for Selim.

`We’ve identified the conspirators and we’re tracking them down.

They won’t be at large for long.’ He shot her another look. `The danger is what damage they could wreak in the meantime. It’s of paramount importance that there’s no sign of weakness on the government’s part. Or on mine.’

There was silence as she absorbed his words.

`What are you going to do?’ she asked eventually.

His lips curved up in a smile. She really was perceptive. She knew him well enough to realize he wouldn’t sit back and wait for events to unfold.

He reached out and took her hand in his, drawing her slowly, inexorably, along the sofa until the scented heat of her body warmed his. This was where she belonged, he decided. Here and nowhere else.

She swallowed, and he watched the convulsive movement of muscles in her slender neck. He wanted to reach out and touch her there, put his hand on the silken flesh he remembered from the night she’d lain beneath him. But for now he would content himself with her hand.

He turned it over so it rested palm up in his. He could feel the tiny tremors racing across her skin and knew that she recognized it too, the inevitable connection between them. Slowly, deliberately, he stroked his index finger across her palm and heard her breath escape in a hiss.

Yes, he would enjoy doing his duty. And she would enjoy it too.

He lifted his gaze, satisfied at the glazed eyes, the hooded lids that revealed exactly what she was feeling.

`You’re right, habibti. I must act.’ Again he stroked her palm, and was rewarded by her immediate shudder of sensual reaction.

`The people believe you are my woman that I gave up the Peacock’s Eye for love of you. They would view any other explanation as a sign of weakness, something not to be tolerated in their prince.’ He paused for the length of a heartbeat.

Ì will make you my bride.’

CHAPTER SIX

Just as well she was sitting down.

The deep cadence of his voice echoed in her ears, seemed to magnify as her brain processed the simple, utterly incredible statement.

`You can’t be serious!’ Her eyes goggled. Belatedly she snatched her hand from his. She couldn’t think when he touched her. Or when he looked at her so intensely that she imagined a lick of flame in his gaze. Like now.