The Sheikh's Bartered Bride

The result of the older men’s negations had been a Royal Decree: Hakim was to marry Catherine Benning.

He spotted his quarry helping a small boy on the other side of the room. She stretched to pull a book from the shelf and the button-up black sweater she wore above a long, straight skirt caught his attention. Molding her breasts, it revealed a surprisingly lush feminine form and he felt himself stir.

This was unexpected. Her picture had revealed a pretty woman, but nothing like the exotic beauties he had been attracted to in the past. That he should react so readily to such an innocent sight made him stop in his journey toward her.

What had so aroused him? Her skin was pale, but not alabaster. Her hair was blonde, but a dark blonde and twisted up on the back of her head as it was, it looked a drab, light brown. Her eyes were a shock, a gentian blue that had startled him with their intensity in the picture and were even more unusual in person.

Aside from the eyes, nothing about her stood out and yet his body’s response could not be denied. He wanted her. While he had experienced this sort of instant physical attraction before, it had been with a lot more provocation. A certain way of walking, dressing or a look in a woman’s eyes. Catherine Benning exhibited none of these.

It was a puzzling, but not unpleasant surprise. A genuine physical attraction on his part would make the job of her seduction that much easier. He had been prepared to do his duty regardless of personal attraction. Country came first. Family came second. His own needs and desires last of all.

He walked forward, stopping a little to her left. As the boy walked away, her dark sapphire gaze did a quick survey of the room, skimming over him, and then settled back on a man who had come to stand in front of her desk.

But even as she pointed to something on her computer monitor, her gaze flicked back to Hakim. And stayed. He met her eyes, noting peripherally the man she had been helping walk away. The next person in line went unnoticed as her attention remained on him.

She appeared poleaxed and he smiled.

Her entire body went taut and her cheeks pinkened, but she did not look away.

His smile went up a notch. Fulfilling his duty would be a simple matter of turning that attraction into a desire to wed.

“Miss Benning! Pay attention. You have patrons to serve.”

The martinet haranguing Catherine was no doubt the dragon of a boss Harold Benning had mentioned when briefing Hakim on his daughter.

Catherine’s head snapped around and her blush intensified, but she did not stammer as she answered the older woman. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered.” She turned to the next person in line, repeated her apology and asked how she could help them, effectively dismissing her superior.

The older woman harrumphed and marched away like a petty general deprived of his battle spoils.

He waited until the last of the line had walked away before greeting Catherine. “Good afternoon.”

She smiled, her eyes even more startling up close. The blush was back. “Hi. What can I do for you?”

“I am interested in antique telescopes and the history of stargazing. Perhaps you can direct me to a good reference.”

Her eyes lit with interest. “Is this a new hobby for you?”

“Fairly new.” As recent as the discussion Hakim had had with her father. Although Hakim’s own father had shared Catherine’s passionate interest in ancient stargazing, since his death, his books had remained unused in the observatory in the Kadar Palace.

“It’s one of my personal interests. If you’ve got a few minutes I’ll show you the section on antique telescopes and point out a few books that I think are particularly good.”

“I would like that very much.”

Catherine sucked in air, trying to calm her racing heart as she led the handsome and rather imposing, dark man to the proper nonfiction section of her library. The aura of barely leashed power surrounding him was enough to send her pulse rocketing, but the fact that he physically embodied every characteristic of her ideal fantasy tipped her senses into dangerous territory.

At least a couple of inches over six feet, his muscle-honed body towered above her own five-foot-seven in a way that made her feel small beside him. Even knowing she was not. The silky black hair on his head was only a shade darker than the color of his eyes and if he didn’t speak with such impeccable English, she would think he was the sheikh of her fantasies.

A wave of totally unfamiliar desire swept over her, leaving her even more breathless and confused.

He hadn’t touched her and somehow she had always believed this level of sexual awareness could only accompany touch. She’d been wrong.

They stopped in front of a row of books and pulled one off the shelf, to hand to him. “This is my favorite. I have my own first-edition copy at home.”