The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride

Ìt’s not sleep you’ve got in mind.’

‘Exactly right, little one.’ He chuckled as he let his hand slowly circle her breast, satisfied as her eyelids drooped and her breath caught. ‘We are wed, Belle. This marriage is no sham. It’s real.’

Gently he squeezed her breast, and she squirmed beneath his touch.

`No!’ She shoved his hand aside and tried to wriggle out from beneath him. `We need to talk.’

He shook his head, beginning to lose patience. `We have all the time in the world to talk later. In the meantime I have something much more satisfying in mind.’

`Can’t you just move?’ She pushed at his shoulders till eventually he rolled back onto his side, giving her a little space.

He frowned. This wasn’t just wedding night nerves. There was desperation in her eyes.

`Thank you,’ she panted, and it was all he could do to keep his gaze fixed on her face rather than the way her breasts heaved.

Ì agreed to marry you to help keep the peace in Q’aroum. Not so I could become some royal playmate.’

Rafiq’s shoulders tightened at the insult. His jaw clenched. He’d given Belle his protection, his name, had bound himself to her.

And she had the gall to cheapen that?

`Nevertheless,’ he growled, ‘our marriage is legitimate.’ He paused as anger churned in his gut. Ùnder Q’aroumi law I’m entitled to take what I want from you.’

Her cheeks paled to chalk-white, and immediately he cursed his pride for lashing out at her. He couldn’t believe he’d threatened her like that.

`Belle,’ he whispered, his voice hoarse with guilt. `Don’t look at me like that.’ He stroked the silken length of her hair.

`That was unworthy of me. And of you. You must know I’d never hurt you.’

Slowly she nodded, but her eyes avoided his. She swallowed convulsively and his fingers slid across to span the tender flesh of her throat. Down to cover the heavy gem encrusted necklace, symbol of al Akhtar possession, down to the place where her heart thudded like a drum.

‘I‘11 never take more than you’re willing to give me.’ `But I can’t…’

His lips were infinitely gentle at the corner of her mouth, on her bottom lip, as he sought to undo the pain he’d caused. He kept his kisses light as he skimmed her smooth cheek, breathed a caress in her ear and returned to coax open her mouth. For a long moment she hesitated, then finally she kissed him back, tentatively at first.

He strove to contain his ardor. But soon their kiss grew deeper, slower, languorous with erotic awareness. She shifted her body against his and he caressed her, circling her breasts, skimming her narrow waist, her hips and thighs. Pulling her close.

Her hands were in his hair, sliding through to hold his head as he angled his mouth over hers. He felt the tension hum in her, the way she pushed against him.

She moaned into his mouth and he tasted her need, a sweet, musky flavor on his tongue. His body tightened in anticipation and he fought the urgency that built within him.

Soon now she’d be his. Soon he’d

‘No!’ Her hands were between them again, pushing him back, away from her. `We can’t. This isn’t right.’

He drew back enough to read the confusion in her eyes. If ever a woman was sent to try a man’s patience…

Ì‘m sorry, Rafiq. I should never have kissed you back. I didn’t mean to lead you on.’ Her eyes met his for a moment, then she looked away, her jaw set. Ì didn’t expect that you’d ever want…’

`My wife?’ What had she thought that they’d marry and then lead separate lives? Did he look like a man with water in his veins instead of good red blood? `You have a strange notion of marriage, if that’s what you thought.’

Heat flared in her throat, her face, and she bit her lip, teeth sinking savagely into her soft flesh. `Clearly we had different expectations of this…arrangement’

`This marriage, you mean.’ Did she have any notion of what she was asking? Of how difficult it was to lie here with her and not make love to her?

Ìt’s academic anyway,’ she whispered, looking miserably at a point over his shoulder. Ì have my period.’

Rafiq dried the water from his body and flung the towel away. His jaw ached with the tension that thrummed through him and his neck had set rigidly. His lips curved in a humorless smile. At least the long, cold shower had done its job and relieved him of that other stiffness.

He raked his hand through his hair and sighed. The shower had given him time to think. To plan.