The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride

Belle was scared. She’d been through so much in a short space of time, and now she needed time to adjust. It had been too much, too soon for her. She was so brave, so ready to face down her fears that he’d allowed himself to forget how traumatic these weeks had been for her.

Yes, she wanted him. But she wasn’t ready to admit that even to herself. He needed patience.

For he knew exactly what he wanted: Belle. In his arms. In his bed.

His body ached for her, and he had every intention of assuaging that pain.

They were married, and he refused to spend his married life in limbo. The situation had to be resolved soon before he self-combusted from the rising heat of lust for his wife.

Damn it all! He still couldn’t believe she’d rejected him. He knew she wanted him. Had recognized it almost from the first the desire she tried so hard to hide.

He could seduce her. The way she responded physically left no doubt in his mind that he’d get his own way if he ignored her protests and tempted her into enjoying their mutual physical pleasure. He could persuade her body into accepting his with minimal effort. That much had been clear from this evening’s debacle.

Yet he hesitated to push her into intimacy.

He wanted all of her. He wanted Belle, mind and body. The willing, eager lover he’d fantasized about.

So he’d take this time that had been forced on him and use it wisely. He’d court her, woo her, tempt her. Till she came to him of her own volition. She might deny it with her words, but there was no doubt she would be his. And soon.

He opened the door and saw moonlight spill from the arched window across the floor to the foot of the bed. Immediately his pulse accelerated as he identified the shape of her, lying under the cotton sheet.

He strode to the other side of the bed, stripped back the cover and got in.

Immediately she rolled over, arm clamped tight over the sheet, as if the fine cotton was some impenetrable barrier between them.

`You can’t sleep here,’ she hissed.

Rafiq pulled the sheet up to his waist in deference to her modesty he hadn’t missed her quick, startled glance at his naked body. How could he have, when he’d felt it like a searing touch on his bare flesh?

`We’re married, Belle. Remember? Where else would a man sleep but with his wife?’

‘But-‘

Òur marriage is real, habibti, never doubt it. I am your husband and I will sleep with you. Tonight and every night.’

Her indrawn breath was loud in the silence that grew between them, but she didn’t say anything.

Satisfied he’d made his point, Rafiq settled his head on the pillow, turning to face her.

Immediately she rolled away, towards the far edge of the bed.

He pursed his lips, holding back the oath that surged up. She was stubborn, but she would learn. And, he decided with a smile of anticipation, he was looking forward to educating her.

Hadn’t his grandfather instilled in him the value of patience, as well as the ability to harness his instinct to act decisively at the opportune moment? Belle was a challenge unlike any he’d ever tackled. But he knew already the outcome of this battle of wills.

Victory would be so sweet. For both of them.

Rafiq reached out under the sheet till he found her. His fingers touched warm silk at her waist, silk that rose and fell with her unsteady breathing.

He had to remember how overwhelming this was for her. First the kidnap. Then the cyclone. The sudden engagement and then a royal wedding with all the pomp and splendor that made it worlds apart from anything she’d ever experienced before. And all this far from home, without the support of her family.

No wonder she was distraught. Confused.

`Shh, habibti,’ he murmured, and slid forward till his body curved behind hers. Tension hummed through her and he let his arm drop casually across her waist, pulling her unresisting form close against him. Ìt’s going to be all right. Just relax and go to sleep.’

Her soft hair tickled his mouth. He could feel the gallop of her pulse, hear her ragged, shallow breathing. Beneath the smooth, inviting slide of her nightdress the warm, ripe feminine curves of her body enticed him, bringing him to instant aroused readiness. If he moved his arm just a couple of centimeters he’d be able to stroke her breasts. He was rock hard with wanting her, shaking with the effort of restraint.

Neither moved. Neither spoke.

Eventually, much, much later, he heard her sigh, felt her body slump into unconsciousness against him. And still he stared over her shoulder into the moonlight, tracing its course across the floor, till eventually it faded, obliterated by the rosy glow of dawn.