Never Resist a Sheikh (International Bad Boys) (17 page)

Did you really think it wouldn’t be a problem?

That anger stirred inside him again, his gaze resting on the small woman standing not far away, in the full glare of the midday desert heat, talking to another of the chieftains.
Jamal was next to her, clearly translating, while the older man she was talking to gazed at her with an intrigued look on his face.

Of course it had been a problem. But he hadn’t warned her because he simply hadn’t thought of it at the time. He’d been too intoxicated by the smell of her, the feel of her. He’d wanted to bury himself inside her too much and so he had. Without thought.

It was a
reminder of how thin his control had been and that was something he didn’t want to acknowledge. Not to himself and definitely not to her. He should be stronger than that. He should be more in control.

The chieftain said something to Felicity and when Jamal translated, hers eyes lit up and she gave him a wide grin. Zakir couldn’t hear quite what she was saying, but her voice sounded excited and
so was the look on her face.

Desire gathered inside him, tight and hot. He remembered that look. He remembered the glitter in her eyes. She’d looked like that beneath him. Holy God, he wanted more of that, more of what they’d shared in his training room. A lot more. Two years he’d waited and he did not want to wait any longer. It wasn’t, of course, appropriate for him to share a bed with his
intended bride, at least not until they were married, but there were ways and means. And he didn’t want to be denied.

Perhaps you should wait. Denial is another way to test your strength.

The hungry thing inside him growled at the thought; his body didn’t think much of that.

Felicity began to gesture, Jamal nodding emphatically along, which was strange because Zakir didn’t think he was much
enamored of Miss Felicity Cartwright. Then she turned her head and smiled at his head of security.

And Zakir’s anger took a darker turn. She’d kept away from him since he’d left her in the training room, and he hadn’t pushed because he’d been busy in the day or so before their departure. But she hadn’t spoken to him on the way out here the day before, not once. And now she was giving Jamal those
beautiful smiles. Jamal—and not him.

Careful, be very careful. Jealousy was the first sign of Farid’s madness.

Cold pierced the heat of desire and anger sitting in the pit of his stomach. Ah, what was he thinking? That was not a road he wanted to travel.

So perhaps it was better that she ignore him. Better that he keep his distance. It would be in the best interests of both of them in the end.
Once they were married, his control would need to be absolute.

The chief talking to Felicity pointed to somewhere beyond the high cliffs that surrounded the oasis they were currently camped in, and Felicity nodded excitedly. She was talking fast now, her eyes glittering, making more wide gestures with her hands.

She was swathed in a blue robe with a white veil covering her hair and beneath the
veil her face was beet red.

Zakir frowned. He’d thought she’d wilt once they reached the deep desert and yet she hadn’t. Here she was, standing out in the punishing midday heat, talking excitedly and seemingly not aware of the fact that she looked like she was going to burst into flame at any moment.

Little fool. He’d warned her to rest in the tent during the day, but she’d ignored him. This
had to stop.

“Sire?” The chief he was talking to looked at him strangely, and Zakir had the impression that this wasn’t the first time the man had asked him something and hadn’t gotten a response. Mainly because Zakir was too busy looking at Felicity.

Curse her. Getting her into a tent would at least mean she wasn’t within in his sight and therefore wouldn’t be so distracting.

Zakir finished
up his conversation hurriedly, then strode out from under the awning, heading over to where Felicity and Jamal stood.

The little oasis was for the king only; the tribes themselves camped not five miles away at another, much larger oasis. The chiefs had come to formally welcome Zakir and invite him to the feast tonight at their camp, where he would be expected to bring his bride prize—Felicity.
Except if he didn’t get her out of that sun, she probably wouldn’t be going anywhere at all.

She was still talking and as he got closer, he could hear the words “cell phone towers” and “wireless” and “mobile networks”. Of course, there was only one thing that got her so excited. Technology and her company.

The company that will fail if you keep her here.

Zakir pointedly ignored that particular
thought.

She didn’t even notice him approaching, her gaze intent on the chief who was staring at her as if transfixed. There was definite interest in his gaze and for one hot, blinding second, Zakir thought it was male interest. His hand was reaching for his sword before he could stop himself, only belatedly realizing he wasn’t carrying one.

Luckily, no one had seen the gesture and it was only
as the chief asked Felicity a question that Zakir realized he was wrong, it wasn’t male interest; it was interest in what she was saying.

It was only a smile she gave one of her guards. Only a smile. But Farid had complained to Zakir all through the wedding feast about it. He’d thought she perhaps she was having an affair with him. A secret affair. Zakir had told him to calm down and when Farid
had, Zakir had forgotten about it. Until morning…

The cold feeling got worse. He had control of this, he did.

“Yes, schools,” Felicity was saying. “Even out here. And it would give you access to all kinds of specialist help, like health and business and—”

“Felicity,” Zakir interrupted, trying not to sound harsh, and failing. “You should not be out here.”

Her head snapped round, her eyes meeting
his, the little sparks of excitement in the silver depths extinguishing. The expression on her face closed up and it felt like he’d just stepped on a beautiful flower and crushed it under his boot.

“Why not?” she demanded.

Zakir glanced meaningfully at Jamal, who inclined his head and murmured to the chief, leading him off back to the main tent where the others were.

Felicity scowled. “What
was that for?”

Ignoring her tone, Zakir examined her critically. Her face was brick red and if the air hadn’t been like an oven, her skin would probably have been shiny with sweat. But it wasn’t, which was a bad sign.

“You have been standing in the full heat of the desert for nearly half an hour,” he said. “It is time to find shade if you do not wish to make yourself ill.”

She made a negligent
gesture with her hand. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. Have you had any water in the last hour?”

Her jaw jutted mutinously. “I was talking, Zakir. About stuff relevant to Red Star and since you—”

“This is not the time to be talking about your company, Felicity. You are not used to the desert and continuing to argue with me will not help.”

“Hey, I’ve been to Las Vegas. I know about deserts.”

He narrowed his gaze at her. Her lips were cracked and she definitely had a case of sunburn. “Into your tent,” he ordered, “now. Or I will pick you up and carry you there myself.”

She gave a shrug as if it didn’t matter to her one way or another, then she turned, only to sway, her feet stumbling on the rocky ground.

Heat exhaustion, very likely, which meant she needed to get somewhere cool immediately.
Cursing under his breath, he stalked over to her and before she could protest, swung her up into his arms and carried her toward the tent.

“You are very stubborn,” he said. “And a fool.”

Her eyes had fallen closed, her body light in his arms, all her prickly temper suddenly draining way. “I was just talking. Telling him about the mobile internet plan we could roll out. His tribe could benefit
and so could Red Star. That’s all.”

Her company again. She was so very concerned about it, even to her own detriment. “What did I tell you about the desert? Did you listen to nothing I said?”

“Well, you don’t listen to me, so why should I listen to you?”

His chest tightened. “I do listen to you. I just do not agree with you.”

“You can’t even compromise, though. So what’s the point?”

She’s
right. You can’t.

Well, and so? He was the king. He had to do what was right for his country and that did not include compromises.

She wouldn’t want to hear that, though, so he stayed silent as he carried her into the cool shade of the tent assigned to her. It was large and he’d had it appointed with every luxury. A big bed piled high with pillows, a bathroom with a shower, the water piped in
from the oasis itself then recycled back into it.

Setting her on the bed, he began to tug off her robes to get her cool, starting with the veil on her hair. She pulled away from him as he eased it off, sparks of annoyance glittering in her gaze. “Stop it,” she muttered. “I can do it myself.”

He let her have her moment of irritation, moving over to the tent opening and called an aide, issuing
a terse instruction before coming back to the bed where she sat grumpily removing the rest of her veil.

You should leave now. Distance, remember?

And yet for reasons he couldn’t have explained, he remained where he was.

“Do not be angry with me,” he said, then paused. “You were right. I should have warned you I did not have any protection. I…apologize.” The apology wasn’t easy for him, and
he was even a little surprised at himself for uttering it.

She balled the white cotton up on the bed, the expression on her face furious. “You think this is just about the fact we had unprotected sex? What about the whole kidnapping, drugging, holding prisoner thing? The ‘you’re going to marry me or else’ thing?” Her chest heaved as she took a breath, the pretty, fair skin of her cheeks still
brick red. “The company I worked hard to build is now in danger of going down the tubes and all because you’re forcing me into a life I didn’t choose and didn’t want. And now I could be pregnant. And we don’t love each other and any child we have could be—” She stopped suddenly. As if she’d said something she didn’t mean.

Like she had back at the training room. He hadn’t asked her about her hesitation
then because something had stopped him, a feeling he didn’t want. Sympathy. And he couldn’t afford to feel sympathetic toward her, not if he wanted this marriage to go forward.

Yet now…that feeling was tightening his chest, hooking into his anger. He wanted to know what was wrong, why she’d stopped speaking. Because there had been a note in her voice, a note that sounded like pain, and he found
he hated the sound of it. He didn’t want her to be hurt. And if she had been, he wanted to know who’d hurt her.

“Could be what?” he demanded before he could stop himself, more harshly than he’d meant to.

“Nothing,” she replied, looking away. “Can you go away, please? I’m not feeling so great.” She pushed herself up off the bed sharply, heading for God alone knew where.

No. She could not go.
He would have answers. Because maybe he should know after all. And maybe, in knowing, he could make her change her mind about this marriage.

Since when did you care how she feels about it?

But he ignored that thought. Instead, he stood right in front of her, blocking her way.

Felicity looked up at him, temper flashing in her eyes. Then, beneath her flushed skin, she paled suddenly. “Oh. I
really
don’t feel great.” And she swayed again.

Zakir moved without thought, catching her slight weight before she fell, her body so warm against him. Too warm. Her lashes lay still on her cheeks and under that red flush, she’d gone quite white. Definitely heat exhaustion.

Your fault.

The uncomfortable feeling in his chest turned into an ache. He had brought her here to the desert. And not just
to the desert, he had brought her to Al-Shakhra, whether she wanted it or not. He had ripped her away from her home and placed the company she valued in jeopardy. And not only that, he had refused to let her go back.

He had hurt her.

You pretend to be better than Farid, but you are not.

No, he was better than Farid. He
had
to be. How else was his country to recover? How else was he supposed
to be the king he’d intended to be? To restore the Al-Nazari name? He’d meant to do that with this woman. She was the start of his new regime, and yet, how could he begin to wipe the taint from his family if he couldn’t even look after one small American woman properly?

He
was the fool.

Angry with himself, Zakir rounded the bed and sat down with her in his arms.

A soft sound at the tent’s entrance
announced one of the palace staff carrying the drink he’d ordered a few minutes earlier. Getting them to put it down on the nightstand next to the bed, he waited until they’d gone. Then he laid Felicity down on the bed and gently peeled the robes from her.

She was wearing jeans underneath, the little idiot. Shaking his head, he leashed his hunger for her and took those off her as well, leaving
her in her underwear. Then he took the white veil into the bathroom, unraveled it, and immersed it in cold water before wringing it out again. Taking it back into the main room of the tent, he came over to the bed and gently laid the cool, wet cotton over her. Then he sat down and, because he couldn’t help himself, he gathered her into his arms again, wet cloth and all.

She made a protesting
sound, her eyes opening and looking up at him. “What are you doing?”

“You probably have heat exhaustion. I am trying to cool you down.” Reaching over to the nightstand, he took the glass off it and put it into her hand. “Here, drink this.”

She squinted at it. “What is it?”

“A fruit and yogurt drink. The glucose in it will help.”

She took a cautious, experimental sip. “Hmm. It’s nice.” Then
took a larger sip. Her body had relaxed against him and he was suddenly, painfully aware that she was only in her underwear and covered by wet material that was almost completely transparent. She didn’t seem to have noticed. “You can let me go now.”