Surrender to the Sheikh

He opened his mouth to object, and then shut it again. Somewhere deep in his groin, Khalim felt a pulse begin to beat with slow insistence. He felt the sweet, sharp tang of desire and yet he instantly recognised her determination to oppose him. It flashed in sapphire sparks from her beautiful blue eyes. No matter what he said, Rose Thomas was not planning on going anywhere with him tonight. ‘You don’t want to?’

The note of incredulity in his voice was unmistakable, and Rose was very tempted to smile. But something in the cold glitter of his gaze made her decide that smiling maybe wasn’t the best idea. ‘It’s been a long day,’ she told him apologetically. ‘And I’m bushed! Some other time, perhaps?’

Khalim’s face grew distant; indeed, he barely noticed Guy slipping away to find Sabrina. ‘I never issue an invitation more than once,’ he told her coldly.

Rose was aware of a lurching sense of regret. You’ve missed your chance, girl, she thought—even while the sane part of her rejoiced. This man was different, she recognised. Different and dangerous. He had the power to make her vulnerable, and he was the last person she wanted to be vulnerable around. Why, a man like that would chew her up and spit her out in little pieces!

‘What a pity,’ she said lightly.

His black eyes lingered on the lushness of her lips, the creaminess of her skin. ‘A pity indeed,’ he agreed, briefly bowing his dark head before sweeping away from her across the ballroom.

And she watched him go with a thundering heart.

‘They’re leaving!’ called someone, and Rose looked across the room to see that Sabrina had changed out of her bridal gown into a silvery-blue suit and was carrying her bouquet, Guy in an impressive dark suit at her side.

Everyone began to surge out of the ballroom to wave them off, but Rose hung back. She could see Khalim talking to Guy and she found herself unwilling to face him, aware of a dull sense of an opportunity lost, an opportunity never to be repeated.

She saw Sabrina turn and teasingly hold her bouquet of lilies above her head while every female present lifted their arms in hope of catching it. Even Rose eagerly raised her arms to catch the waxy blooms as they came flying in her direction, but the redhead beside her was more eager still.

‘Gotcha!’ she shouted as she leapt into the air and pounced triumphantly on the bouquet.

It’s only a tradition, Rose told herself dully as she watched the girl ecstatically smelling the flowers. Why would catching a bunch of flowers guarantee that you would be the next to be married? And it wasn’t as if she even wanted to get married, was it? These days lots and lots of women in their late twenties were electing to stay single.

But when she looked up again, it was to find herself caught in the lancing gaze of a pair of glittering black eyes.

I have to get out of here, she thought, with a sudden sense of panic.

CHAPTER TWO

IN A daze, Rose left the Granchester and found herself a taxi, but afterwards she couldn’t recollect a single moment of the journey. Not until the cab drew up outside the flat she shared in Notting Hill did reality begin to seep back into her consciousness as she tried to rid herself of the memory of the dark prince, with his proud, sensual face.

She let herself in through the front door and put her handbag on the hall table, relieved to be home. And safe.

She loved her flat—it was her very first property and occupied the first floor of a grand old high-ceilinged house. But it was an ambitious project for a first-time buyer and the repayments on her loan were high, which was why she had taken on a flatmate—Lara.

Lara was a struggling actress who described herself as Rose’s lodger, but Rose never did. Equality was something she strove for in every area of her life. ‘No, we’re flatmates,’ she always insisted.

It was a typical bachelor girls’ home—full of colour in the shared areas and rather a lot of chaos in Lara’s bedroom—because, much as she nagged, there didn’t seem to be anything Rose could do to change Lara’s chronic untidiness. So now she had given up trying.

There were brightly coloured scarves floating from a coat-stand in the hall, and vases of cheap flowers from the market dotted around the sitting room. And the bathroom was so well stocked with various lotions and potions that it resembled the cosmetics counter of a large department store!

‘Anyone at home?’ she called.

‘I’m in the kitchen!’ came the muffled reply, and Rose walked into the kitchen to find Lara busy crunching a chocolate biscuit and pouring coffee into a mug. Her staple diet and my coffee, thought Rose ruefully as Lara looked up with a smile and held a second mug up. ‘Coffee?’

Rose shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I think I need a drink.’

Lara raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘But you’ve just been to a wedding!’

‘And I barely touched a drop all day,’ said Rose grimly. She had deliberately avoided liquor so that she would have all her wits about her, and then just look at the way she had behaved on the dance-floor! She sighed as she poured herself a glass of wine from the cask in the fridge.

‘Are you okay?’ asked Lara curiously.

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘You just seem a little…I don’t know…tense.’

Tense? Rose sipped at her wine without enjoyment. She could see her reflection in the pig-shaped mirror which hung on the kitchen wall. Her face was unbelievably pale. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Or a vision maybe…‘I guess I am,’ she said slowly.