The Black Sheep Sheik (13 page)

“No.” Jake knocked his hand aside. “The law will take care of him.”

“He wanted to force Saida to become his second wife after we were all dead.” Amir hissed the words just as Darek rose somehow and pulled another gun from behind his back.

Two shots went off at the same time as Isabelle screamed in pain.

One hit Darek in the head; one in the heart.

Amir and Jake exchanged glances, then moved to help Isabelle out of the chopper.

Efraim got on board, filling what little space was left. “Everyone all right?”

“We need to get her to a hospital.” Amir swore under his breath when he realized he was too weak to help. His shoulder wound had reopened at one point during the fight. He’d lost enough blood to feel the difference.

“You’re needed out there,” Efraim told Jake, sending him on his way. Then he turned to Isabelle. “I’m Sheik Efraim. I apologize for the informality, madam.” He lifted her into his arms swiftly, then headed for the exit. “I’ll try not to jostle you. But when one of the bullets that are flying outside hits the fuel tank, we don’t want to be in here,” he told her.

Amir hurried after them, wholeheartedly agreeing.

Efraim paused at the door, pulled back so Amir could shoot the man who was aiming right at them. The first bullet missed, but the second found its target and the guy running toward the chopper fell with a cry.

Amir jumped to the ground first, covering Efraim, who had his hands full with Isabelle. A part of him hated the sight of her in another man’s arms, but he had to accept that Ephraim was stronger and could move faster.

And speed was imperative, since they were in the middle of an old-fashioned Western shoot-out, people running and ducking, bullets coming from every direction. For a second, he couldn’t even tell how the battle was going, who was winning.

“Go!” He covered Efraim, the three of them heading as best they could for the cars. He felt civility melt off him, the restraint he had adopted since he’d become ruler of his country. The warrior blood of his ancestors rushed in his veins. Savagery filled him and he embraced it. He would not let her be harmed. Not if he had to die for her safety.

Protect mine. Kill the enemy.

They were out in the open, but there was no help for it. Staying in the chopper was too dangerous. Once they were in the car, they could get out of there and head to the nearest hospital.

“Watch out!” Wade, his half-brother, shouted, popping up from behind cover.

“How did he get here?”

“He came to the resort after he heard on the news that you were found. Of course, by then you’d disappeared again,” Efraim said.

Some of the bullets came so close that at one point he was certain Efraim had been hit. But no, his friend kept on going. For how long? The cars were a good hundred yards away, on open land. He shot at every position that shot at them, trying to keep them down, going for a head shot if he had a chance.

But, too soon, he ran out of bullets.

This was it; this was the end. Enraged, he threw the empty gun toward the enemy, and bolted forward, ready for hand-to-hand combat if needed, unable to accept that he couldn’t do more, that he might not be able to save his son and Isabelle, the woman he was in love with.

Then Wade and his friends were rushing out of cover and up to him, tossing him a fresh weapon, forming a circle around Isabelle and defending her with their lives.

Had she ever said that she didn’t want a powerful man to protect her? Had she been that stupid? She was ready for all the protection of the fighting royals now and then some. In fact, if anyone wanted to send in the National Guard, she would be very grateful.

The royals were moving her toward a waiting car. One of the men by her side fell, but more of the enemy was killed or injured. Fresh gunfire sounded in the distance.

“Who,” she gasped, “are they?” There better not be more of Darek’s men coming.

“Backup,” one of the royals told her. We knew something wasn’t right when Amir called. “We have enough loyal people left that between them and Jake Wolf’s men, we have the airfield surrounded.”

“The fight ends here today,” Efraim said darkly. “There won’t be any
live to fight another day.
”

Endless seconds passed before Darek’s men realized that the boss wasn’t coming out of the chopper and they were trapped. Then chaos erupted. They didn’t know which way to run, and some ran straight into bullet fire. She barely registered all that, could barely follow the battle. Her contractions couldn’t be more than a minute apart now. The baby was coming.

Finally, they reached the car and she was helped into the back. She sat sideways so she could put up her feet. Amir jumped into the driver’s seat. Another royal, Prince Stefan, if she was correct, got in next to him in the front, providing cover.

“Go!” Efraim slapped the roof. “We can handle the rest here.”

Then they were flying.

She noted little of the landscape that whizzed by them. She focused inward and did her breathing.

By the time they reached Dumont General, she was feeling the urge to push. She held it back. “Just a few more minutes, baby. We’re almost ready,” she whispered to her belly. “Go to the ambulance bay,” she told Amir.

The guys there would have her on a gurney and wheeled up to Labor and Delivery before anyone could blink. Except, several ambulances blocked the ambulance bay, the area a beehive of activity, people rushing around. Had to have been a major accident somewhere.
Oh, God.

“Employee entrance.” She moaned in pain as she pointed.

That was the closest door to them now and would get her to her destination faster than going back around to any of the main entrances.

One of the pulmonary nurses was coming out just as Amir parked. Prince Stefan lifted Isabelle out of the car.

The nurse recognized her and held the door open for them. “Oh, yea, congratulations! Looks like this is your big day.” Then she took in their grim faces and the blood that covered Amir’s shoulder and grew uncertain. “Is everything all right here?”

“The baby is coming.” Isabelle gritted out the words.

The nurse was pulling out her cell phone. “I’ll call ahead and let them know.”

They sailed right by her.

Prince Stefan ran forward until Amir miraculously produced a gurney from one of the side hallways. She felt marginally better when she was finally lying flat on her back.

“Straight ahead,” she told them.

The farther down the corridor they got, the more people they had to go around.

“Out of the way!” Prince Stefan tried to clear the corridor and did a pretty good job of it.

“The future queen of Jamala is having my heir. I demand assistance immediately!” Amir bellowed, making heads turn.

Then they were in a gallery above a waiting area, at the elevator bank. Only three elevator stops from Labor and Delivery.

“We’re going up. Third floor,” Prince Stefan said, reading the directory, jabbing the button repeatedly.

Amir held her hand. “Are you in much pain?”

Did doughnuts stick to women’s hips? But she wasn’t as worried about the pain as she was about her son. The last two days had been crazy with all the stress and running for their lives. She just wanted her baby to arrive safely and be healthy.

Amir was looking at her with turmoil on his face, uncertainty in his dark eyes for the first time since she’d known him.

“What is it? Spit it out, for heaven’s sake.” She was low on patience at the minute.

“I don’t want my son born a bastard,” he said in a tone of urgency.

Her first inclination was to hit him over the head with the nearest IV stand, but since none were within reach, she simply gritted her teeth. “Now is so not the best time to go medieval on me.”

But as she looked into his turbulent dark eyes, she realized suddenly what this meant to him.
This
was what he believed in. This was right and important to him, a part of his honor, which was the core of the man, like being American and an independent woman was the core of her.

“All right.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this. “Okay.”

His face lit up with triumph; then his gaze settled on the sign on the door of the nearby hospital chaplain’s office. He grabbed the gurney and pushed her forward.

Unbelievable.

“I’ll hold on for five more minutes, but then I don’t care if a meteor the size of Bow Mountain hits the hospital. I
will
start pushing.”

He didn’t say anything. He was too busy grinning.

Prince Stefan was dragging the priest out before they reached the door.

“I cannot do this,” Father Francis was protesting. “I cannot officiate a Catholic wedding between two people who are not Catholic, as I told Prince Stefan here. And there’s a waiting period. Then there’s the matter of a marriage license. It’s impossible. It’s not up to me, my children.”

Amir gave the man the glare of death. But before he could do more, the elevator dinged and he raced back there with her.

“I need to get married in the next five minutes,” she told one of the orderlies who got on with them at the last second. “Any suggestions here?”

“There’s a rabbi on the ninth floor, but he’s out of it. He just came out of surgery. He won’t be coming around anytime soon.”

“How about someone who got some license over the internet?” She was desperate and nearly blind with pain.

The orderly nodded. “I got a cousin like that in Jersey.”

Might as well be on the moon.

Then they were on the third floor and rushing down the corridor, passing by the Labor and Delivery Unit’s large lounge, where family members were allowed to wait. The place was full of people, some pacing, some guzzling coffee, some sleeping on chairs that had been pushed together.

Amir stopped the gurney. “I, Sheik Amir Khalid, marry this woman, Isabelle Andrews, and take her as my one and only wife in love, to cherish and protect forever,” he announced boldly to the room.

In love…

Her heart nearly stopped beating as people stared at them wide-eyed.

“I, Prince Stefan Lutece, witness this.”

Then they were moving again.

The urge to bear down was irresistible. “What was that?”

“A traditional, centuries-old Jamalan wedding ceremony,” said Amir.

“But I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s not necessary. I announced and Stefan witnessed. We are now married.”

There were so many things wrong with that, she couldn’t even begin to list them, and she didn’t want to at the moment. Nurses descended on her, and someone paged Dr. Szunoman, who was still on call, thank heavens.

When they began to undress her, the two men backed out of the room, thankfully. She was given a hospital gown, and her legs were put in stirrups. She was barely hooked up to the monitors when she started pushing.

Amir came back in, dressed in scrubs, Dr. Szunoman right behind him. “I hear it’s time. How are you doing, Isabelle?”

“Bursting.”

“It’ll be over soon. Push with each contraction. Rest in between.” He situated himself on a stool.

Amir took her hand. “I love you.”

His cheeks grew slightly pink at the public admission. She had a hunch Jamalan sheiks weren’t quite so free about displaying their feelings in public, but at the moment it was the exact thing she needed to hear.

“I love you, too.”

“The head is crowning,” Dr. Szunoman piped in.

The baby’s nurse came in. At Dumont General, they had separate nurses for the mother and the baby, a practice that could save lives during a difficult delivery.

“One big push,” the doctor said, encouraging her.

It was the best and the worst day of her life at the same time. She felt as if her body was being torn in two, and part of her was certain that she was dying.

She pushed with all her heart, squeezing Amir’s hand for all she was worth.

“The head is free.”

She felt tears filling her eyes.

“One more big push.”

She pushed and she screamed.

“Congratulations. You have a bouncing baby boy,” the doctor said, then announced the time of birth as he laid her precious son on her chest.

She looked into the most beautiful face she’d ever seen, at dark eyes and dark hair, a chin that was a miniature version of Amir’s. Her tears were now freely flowing. “Oh, baby.” He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“I love you so much,” she whispered to her son. “And I love you, too.” She looked up at Amir, whose eyes were glistening suspiciously.

Time to complete their wedding. Her way.

“I, Isabelle Andrews, take you, Sheik Amir Khalid, as my husband in love.” She looked at Dr. Szunoman. “Say you witness.”

The doctor gave her a confused look but said, “I witness.”

Warmth spread through her, and she felt endless love for the two men in her life, both of them a miracle in their own way. She took Amir’s hand and placed it gently on the baby’s back. “This is Amir, your daddy. I’m Isabelle, your mommy.” Then she added, “Your friends can call me Mrs. Sheik.”

Six weeks later

Amazing what a motivated group of knowledgeable people could accomplish in six weeks, Isabelle thought as she looked out from the balcony of the splendidly decorated palace. In the distance shone the brilliant azure of the Mediterranean Sea. In the square in front of the palace, a sea of eager faces had gathered for the royal wedding.

The make-haste vows at the hospital were sufficient, but since Amir was the sheik, his station demanded that a larger ceremony also be performed. And he gave his people what they wanted. Isabelle’s head was still buzzing from the events of the day.

The party was just getting started below, exotic music and laughter filling the air. Nearby, on a smaller balcony, Antoine and Beth were doing some heavy-duty kissing. One floor up, she could see Stefan and Jane doing the same. All of Amir’s friends were there with their future brides. Hers was only the first in a string of expected royal weddings.

The whole world was talking about the series of royal nuptials. Tourism was booming, which was an unexpected bonus on top of the sizable funds the princes’ U.S. summit had brought in.

She spotted Amir on the main patio with Saida and Wade, the three deep in conversation. The pleasure of having his family together was visible on Amir’s face even from this distance. Saida had her arm linked through Wade’s. She was making up for lost time, getting to know her half-brother. Isabelle heard plenty of stories, since Saida was quickly becoming her best friend, advising her on the wedding and stopping in several times a day to play with the baby. She was the best aunt ever.

Jake Wolf leaned against the balustrade a few yards back, waiting patiently for his future bride to finish saying good-night to her brothers so he could take her up to their suite. The two were made for each other, Isabelle thought, and grinned. She was happier than she’d ever been and sharing that happiness with others made everything even better.

She caught sight of Sebastian dancing with Jessica as if she were the only woman in the world. The heat between those two was palpable. Not far from them, Efraim was through dancing, swept Callie into his arms and carried her off the dance floor, heading toward the palace like a caravan bandit carrying his prize. Callie threw her arms around his neck as she laughed with pleasure.

Isabelle went back inside her lavish room, crossed the floor to one of the side doors and checked in on Akif, the best little baby in the world, who slept peacefully in the nursery. They had named him after Amir’s grandfather, a popular decision that was celebrated by the whole country.

The guards were giving formal greetings outside in the hallway, their voices drawing her attention. Amir was coming.

As always, he came straight to their son, wrapping his arms around Isabelle from behind, kissing the top of her head as they looked together at their softly sleeping baby.

“I just got news that the last of Darek’s men has been rounded up,” Amir said after a long moment. “Even the Russian connection.”

She knew Amir could protect their family, but knowing for sure that all danger had ended erased even her last few worries.

Then he turned her in his arms. “Did the ceremony tire you out?” Flames of desire burned in his gaze.

Muscles clenched low in her belly. “It was amazing.” Thousands of years of tradition. A hundred thousand people cheering her name. Now that it was over, it seemed even more unreal, as if she’d dreamt the whole thing.

“You are amazing.” Amir lowered his head, settling his lips over hers softly.

Her body didn’t even try to fight the onslaught of sensations; it capitulated immediately. She put a hand on his chest and gave herself over to the kiss.

She heated through to the core, got lost in pleasure, still amazed at how easy this was, after all, how right it felt. Now that her life had been tied to his twice, she didn’t feel powerless, as she had feared. She didn’t feel lost or diminished. She felt exactly right, content and deliriously happy.

She gave a reluctant moan when he stepped away, then frowned when she saw that his lips were pressed together tightly, his hands slipping away from her.

“I wish…” He paused. “I apologize for my impatience. When you’re ready.”

And she figured out at last what he was talking about. “The royal physician stopped by to see me yesterday.”

Immediately he frowned. “Are you sick?”

“I’m…” She cleared her throat. “I’m fully recovered from childbirth.”

“Excellent.” His frown lines eased. Then hope replaced worry in his eyes as realization dawned on him. “Are you recovered
all
the way?”

She smiled and bit her lower lip, feeling ridiculously shy all of a sudden. She couldn’t even say the word. She simply nodded.

“And do you feel…” Now he seemed at a loss for words.

“Yes.” She wanted him so much she was going to die if he didn’t touch her in the next five seconds.

“Yes as in…”

She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his.

That was all the hint he needed.

The next second she was in his arms and he was striding back to their suite with her, to the sprawling bed where they had spent every single night together since arriving in Jamala, sleeping in each other’s arms.

Something told her the innocence of mere sleep was officially over. Every cell in her body thrilled.

He lowered her to her feet and reached for the top button of the richly embroidered golden gown she had worn for the wedding, according to Jalaman tradition. Their second wedding had been a fairy-tale fantasy. And it only kept getting better.

She sighed when the material finally gave and Amir cupped her breast. She tugged to get completely out of the gown, but Amir’s free hand stayed in hers.

“There is no hurry.”

Right. She relaxed into his embrace. They had their whole lives together. She barely dared thinking about that, unsure if she deserved this much happiness.

His hot lips trailed from her lips to her neck, sending delicious shivers through her.

His fingers kept on working the gown, finishing with the buttons at last and pushing the brocade all the way to her hips. All she wore under that was a traditional pure white silk shift, and the breast-feeding bra under that, which under different circumstances would not be very sexy, but this bra was a dream, studded with precious jewels around the edges, made specifically for this occasion, specifically for her.

And Amir showed special appreciation for it.

She sighed his name as his lips found the clasp. Then he laid her gently on the bed, and the bra, along with the rest of her attire, was history.

Every ounce of focus she had left was needed to help him with his ceremonial robe and the rest of his clothes. It was like opening a Christmas present. Then his glorious body was finally bare and all hers to take.

His long fingers caressed her hips. Then moved lower. A delicious shiver zinged through her. Every part of her body responded to this man, had responded to him from the beginning.

He entered her in one long slide, claiming her lips in a searing kiss at the same time. She felt as if her nerve endings were exploding.

Nothing he did was rushed, as if he’d been planning this for a very long time. She ran her hands down his muscled back as desire burned through her. They rocked against each other, exquisitely slow at first, then building speed. A haze of sensual passion enveloped them, the tension growing, expanding, until together they flew into space.

Afterward, still twined together, her head on his shoulder, she looked at the flower-patterned ceiling, listened to the murmur of the celebrating crowd outside, the steady beat of Amir’s heart in her ear.

She was a queen, the well-loved wife of Sheik Amir Khalid, her son his cherished heir, the hope of the country. Life was a thousand times stranger than fiction. She grinned against his warm skin.

This might not be how she had planned things when she’d first found out that she was pregnant, but she sure didn’t mind the change.

“Remind me to run through a couple of things with you in the morning, before we leave for that honeymoon,” he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with satisfaction and the need for sleep.

“Like what?”

“Not now.”

“If you don’t tell me now, I’ll be up all night worrying that you want to buy me another palace or something.” Receiving the keys on a velvet pillow had been quite a shock to her system at the end of the wedding ceremony.

He cracked open an eye.

“I didn’t buy you a palace. The summer palace has been in my family for centuries.”

“Fine. You
gave
it to me.”

“Traditionally, it belongs to the queen.”

“You know I don’t like being given things.” She was going to be teaching at the Royal University Medical School at the start of the next semester. Partially to encourage more women to enter the medical field, but also to make sure that she retained some of her independence, a plan that Amir wholeheartedly supported.

“Duly noted.”

“So what?”

“So what what?”

“What do we need to talk about?”

He came up on an elbow and looked at her with a wary expression on his handsome face.

“I knew it! You
are
planning to give me something.”

“All right. The supervisor of the royal nursery wants to know when to expect the second child. The finance minister wants to commission a picture of you for engraving on a set of commemorative silver coins he’s issuing.”

“Is that all?” She felt the blood drain from her face. She wasn’t ready for the whole being-on-money-and-stamps thing.

“We’ll have a ceremonial breakfast in the morning with the full court attending. You will be receiving my mother’s jewels as your morning gift.”

“Morning gift?” She hated how weak she sounded.

“The queen receives jewels from her husband the morning after the wedding night. Old tradition. Pay no mind to it.”

She stared at him.

“Say something.”

“Blazing buzzards.”

A slow grin split his handsome face. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. Now you’ll be up thinking and won’t be able to sleep.”

“That’s for sure.”

“There’s only one thing to do.” He drew his index finger slowly down the valley of her breasts.

Her skin tingled; her nipples puckered. “What?” She sounded a lot more breathless than she’d intended.

“I’m going to have to take your mind off all this,” he said, then took her lips in a searing kiss.

Which felt just like what the doctor ordered. “There’s a boatload on my mind, actually.” She pulled her forehead into an exaggerated frown.

“That could mean that we’ll be at this all night,” he warned her and grinned.