The Sheikh's Virgin Mistress 3 (Jatar Sheikh 3)

He dropped his cane and wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up, squeezing me against his chest. Armand made himself known in the next instant as he leaned in close and stabilized the two of us. I could feel Omar shaking from the strain of lifting me and I quickly pushed away. I reached over and touched Armand on the hand, “Armand, I’m so happy to see you.”

“Mistress, same.” He replied with a curt nod.

I was unsure what to say to Omar, so I asked Armand, “Is your arm healed?”

He nodded, “It is increasingly better each day.”

Another man settled Omar with his cane again and then they all stepped back and it was just me and him. “Anna, you are hydration to my parched heart.” He said as he devoured me with his eyes.

I breathed and continued to weep, “Omar, I love you more than I ever imagined. When can I be with you again?”

“Ahhh, my young bride; that is why I am here. It is time. Will you marry me again? This time a proper ceremony? It pains me to go another day without you.”

I didn’t hesitate, “Of course Omar, yes, when, now? I don’t have to stay here. I’ve graduated. This is all just for show. Let’s go now.” My tone had changed to more frantic and I’d completely forgotten about my people who’d gathered to see me.

He offered me a small chuckle and shake of his head, “No my love. I will enjoy seeing you receive your diploma. Then will you accompany me to my suite?”

I blushed at his tone and the look in his eye. He reached across and trailed a finger down my cheek and the look he gave me was almost worshipful. “Yes, of course. Of course. Um, come and sit. I don’t know how long this will take.”

Once he and his men were settled near the back, which bothered me, but he’d insisted. I re-took my place on the platform. The ceremony lasted much too long, much, much too long and I fear I stared directly at Omar the entire time. I should have at least made eye contact with either mom or dad, but I didn’t; actually felt physically unable to take my eyes from Omar’s, who in turn held the contact the entire time.

When the ceremony was over, I rushed down towards him, but was interrupted by my parents.

“Mom, dad, you’re either with me or against me. What is it? Don’t waste our time. Dad, if you keep up the petty insults thing, you can forget ever seeing me again.”

My dad wrapped his arm around my mom’s shoulders and he said, “We are with you darling. Lead the way.”

“Okay,” I said with a finger pointing in my dad’s face, “One snarky comment from you and that is it!”

“Okay Miss Harvard law graduate. Whatever you say.”

When we turned as a group and walked to Omar, my dad reached out a hand and jovially said, “Khalid, and we meet again. What’s with the cane?”

Omar returned the hand shake.

“I broke my leg, Richard. Seems as if I am not quite as invincible as I previously thought. Although, they say once I fully heal, I will be stronger than before. I’m now bionic.”

I blinked at him and then down at his pants covered leg. This was the first I’d heard what actually happened and I bit my lip in a moment of frustration. I let it go though and figured there was time to find out the whole story once he and I were alone. I went on tip toe, and in Arabic I said, “Omar Khalid, you are my master. I belong to you. I seek to only please you in all things. I am yours for eternity.”

He seemed speechless and in shock as he snaked a hand around my waist and pulled me to him. He was an affectionate man, but normally not in public, so this display meant more to me than any gift. I dashed a look at my dad and he was shaking his head, but he didn’t say anything. My mom was crying again.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Omar insisted we still attend the planned reception. I went with him in his limo and told my parents I’d meet them there soon. I really only wanted to be with Omar and suddenly all the other people and the party seemed inconsequential.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” Omar said as we settled in the car.

“Why have you been so distant?” I immediately asked.

His upper lip twitched and I saw the agony in his eyes, “I was not a whole being my love, I had nothing to offer another soul. I was mending and healing and hiding. I was unwilling to inflict myself on another, and especially you. I simply wished to not burden you with my state of depression after the injury.”

I sighed, “I guess I understand. But Omar, you and I are supposed to be each other’s person. We

are supposed to be the one other we can talk to about anything. Even if we are not at our best, or even if we are depressed. Especially if we are injured. I could have come home and nursed you like you did for me.”

His expression softened, “Yes my love, this is all true. It is not how I chose to handle the situation, and if I caused you undo worry? For that I am sorry.”

He touched my thigh and his eyes found mine.