The Sheikh's Disobedient Bride

Tair’s eyebrows lifted. “And you’re hot.”

“Yes.”

“Hungry and hot.”

“Yes.”

“And tired?”

“No. Not tired. Just bored.”

“Restless.”

“Exactly.” She paused on the second landing, her hand on the banister. “Tonight I just feel like a…” She glanced around, at the thick walls, and the iron bars on the lower windows. She shook her head. “A caged cat. And I hate feeling this way. I’ve spent too much time out—exploring—to feel comfortable all cooped up.”

His lips twisted and for the first time in days his expression was almost sympathetic; something had changed in him. “You sound like one of my men who has been here at Bur Juman too long.” His jaw shifted ruefully. “I have certain men who can only be here so long before they go stir-crazy.”

“Stir-crazy,” she echoed before shaking her head. “You know all the oddest expressions.”

“My English education.”

Tally lifted her head to search his face, trying to see past the wall he kept up, the wall that hid his thoughts and emotions from everyone around him. “You never talk about your education in England.”

“I know.” He gestured toward the next set of stairs. “Shall we?”

Resigned, Tally set up the next flight, torches flickering soft gold and orange light. She glanced at Tair once, and then again, wanting to push him for more information. She was fascinated by this side of him, the Western mother, the Western education, but he said so littleshe didn’t really know what he knew. How he felt. And that brought her back to the wall he maintained, the wall that kept him so mysterious as well as aloof.

Tally hated the wall. Hated it so much she vowed to break it down. She’d know him. She would. Even if it was the last thing she did.

On the third floor Tally turned toward her room when Tair’s hand touched the small of her back. “Not yet,” he said, his deep voice, so rough in the way he spoke his English, even deeper, rougher in the hollowed tunnels of the castle Tair called home. “I’ve something spectacular to show you.”

Curiosity piqued, Tally followed.

Tair led her to the door of his room and when she balked at the entrance, he smiled mockingly down at her. “And just what do you think I’m going to show you? A part of my anatomy?”

Heat surged to her cheeks and she rolled her eyes. “No.”

“It is spectacular,” he added, his dark eyes glinting wickedly, “but it’s not why I’ve brought you here. You won’t get that lesson until our wedding day.”

“Which will be never,” she muttered beneath her breath.

“Not so,” he corrected, “but for tonight, let’s focus on this—” He pushed open his door, took her hand and led her through his room to the set of glass doors across the way.

Tally expected to go through the doors to a balcony much like hers, a balcony with a view of the desert and the endless vista of moonlit sand, but his room had French doors on both sides of the room and while one set of doors opened on the desert, there was another set that opened to a private patio—a huge patio, a virtual walled garden that shimmered in the moonlight. Shimmered.

It was a pool. A pool carved from the stone, a pool that must have been like something in Eden. So natural, so real, so…cool.

Tally felt immediate relief and she looked up at Tair who was watching her, smiling his faint knowing smile and then she looked back to the water. “You have your own pool.”

“I am the sheikh.”

Tally stood just inside the doorway staring at the glistening water. My God, this was like the VIP rooms at the elite hotels and clubs. This was the life she’d never known, a life she didn’t think existed, a life carved from rock and on the surface arid, so dry, but in truth nothing like that. Tair’s world was more seductive, more erotic than anything she’d found in Seattle or the Pacific Northwest. Tair’s world was…indulgent.

And Tally, deprived of indulgences, found it horribly, shamefully attractive.

You won’t be bought, Tally, she sternly reminded herself. You have better morals. Remember your scruples. Remember that high road, that’s the one you decided to take.

But really, the high road was less interesting than what lay before her. The high road was hot and difficult, rough and lonely and God—what she wouldn’t give to plunge into the pool and just float there, cool, calm, comfortable.