The Sheikh's Princess Bride

Finally, with pouts that failed to hide his triumph, Risay let Sofia carry him out.

Tariq made to follow till Samira put out her hand. She’d avoided taking Jacqui’s advice for too long. Now she was desperate enough to try even that.

‘Don’t go.’ Slowly he turned and her breath stalled as she met his eyes. Her skin tightened, the hairs lifting on her arms at the intensity of that stare. Her hand dropped to her side as she battled that familiar upsurge of longing.

‘Please?’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TARIQ COULDN’T TAKE his eyes off Samira. The sheen of the clingy material she wore complemented the glow of her skin and the luminous brightness of her sherry-gold eyes. Stoically he tried not to stare at the swell of her breasts, tip-tilted with hard little nubs that thrust so invitingly towards him. The delicious sweep from waist to hip. The pronounced curve of her belly where she cradled his child.

He swallowed and ripped his gaze back up again.

His wife. His for the taking.

He read the invitation in her eyes and had to weld his feet to the floor rather than stalk back and haul her into his arms.

How he wanted her.

How he’d missed her.

All these weeks it had been hell holding back: being at her side in public or with the boys. Making sure she didn’t work herself too hard. And all the time keeping his hands to himself.

When he did allow himself to touch her it was exquisite torture. He wanted so much more than her arm in his, the inadvertent brush of her hip or breast as they stood together, presiding at some function.

‘Yes?’ The word was harsh as gravel. He cleared his throat and tried for a softer tone. ‘You wanted something?’

There was a flash in Samira’s eyes that might have been anger but it was gone before he could be sure.

‘Won’t you stay for a while? I rarely see you.’

He saw her daily. Yet he knew what she meant. He’d been careful not to be alone with her.

‘My schedule’s very busy.’ Nevertheless he moved back into the room and saw some of the tension ease from her slim shoulders.

‘Surely you have some time for me?’

Some time! All his time was devoted to the complex issue of Samira and how she fitted in his life. How best to look after her and their child.

‘Is there something wrong?’ Tariq noticed the tiny smudges under her eyes. He frowned. He was used to her blooming with good health. Even now she looked radiant, but those shadows told a different story.

He crossed the room and took her arm, registering the softness of her inner arm and the swish of shimmery material against her naked skin as he led her to an armchair.

‘Tell me about it.’ He waited till she took a seat before retreating to lean against her work table. But her subtle cinnamon scent wafted across his senses. It was more intoxicating than any manufactured perfume.

‘You’ve been avoiding me,’ she said at last.

Tariq shrugged. ‘My diary is full with the multilateral negotiations and the rebuilding project on top of all the usual commitments.’

Samira angled her head as if to view him better. He folded his arms.

‘You know what I mean.’ Her voice dropped to a low, sultry note. ‘You don’t come to my bed any more.’

Now she had surprised him. He hadn’t expected a direct confrontation.

Why? Because she’s so shy and docile? An inner voice sneered at his foolishness. Of course Samira would take the bull by the horns. For all her subtlety and grace in dealing with the public and fractious VIPs, she was no pushover. She could be surprisingly forthright. The fact she’d had the nerve to propose marriage to him proved that.

And yet... Tariq sensed it took a lot for her to confront him. Her hands twisted in her lap while her neck and shoulders screamed tension.

‘You want sex?’ His mind raced, calculating how long it would take to get her out of that slinky bit of nothing and flat on her back beneath him.

It took far too much effort to crush the urge to act.

Tariq knew his duty. His uncle had drummed a sense of responsibility into him by the time he could walk, preparing for the day he’d be ruler.

Samira had a history of miscarriage. His duty was to keep her and their child safe. If that meant staying out of her bed for a few months, he’d do it. He’d do everything to protect her. Just as he had the country’s top specialist on call and had cut back the hours of evening functions so Samira could rest.