The sheikh's chosen wife (8 page)

She didn't ask, though,
because it was the kind of question that could start a war. 'This is one very
impressive toy, even for an oil-rich sheikh,' she remarked.

'One hundred and ninety
feet in length,' he announced, and came to lean beside her with his back
against the rail. Twenty-nine feet across the beam.' His arm slid around her
waist and twisted her to stand in front of him so she could follow his hand as
he pointed. 'The top deck belongs mainly to the control room, where my very
efficient captain keeps a smoothly running ship,' he said. "The next down
belongs to the sun deck and main reception salons designed to suitably
luxurious standards for entertaining purposes. We stand upon what is known as
the shade deck, it being cast mostly in the shade of the deck above,' he
continued, so smoothly that she laughed because she knew he was really mocking
the whole sumptuous thing. 'One half is reserved for our own personal use, with
our private staterooms, my private offices etcetera,' he explained, 'while the
other half is split equally between outer sun deck, outer shade deck, plus some
less formal living space.

'Gosh, you're so lucky to
be this rich.' She  laughed.

‘And I haven't yet
finished this glorious tour,' he replied. 'For below our feet lies the cabin
deck, complete with six private suites easily fit for the occupation of kings.
Then there is the engine room and crew's quarters below that. We can also offer
a plunge pool, gymnasium and an assortment of nautical toys to make our weary
lot a happier one’

'Does it have a name,
this sheikh's floating palace?' she enquired laughingly.

'Mmm. Sexy Lady,' he
growled, and lowered his head so he could bury his teeth in the side of her
neck where it met her shoulder.

'You're joking!' she
accused, turning round in his arms to stare at him.

'Okay.' He shrugged. ‘I
am joking.'

'Then what is she
called?' she demanded, as her heart skipped a beat then stopped altogether
because he looked so wonderful standing here with his lean dark features
relaxed and smiling naturally for the first time. She loved him quite desperately—how
could she not? He was her—

The laughter suddenly
died on her lips, his expression telling her something she didn't want to
believe. 'No,' she breathed in denial. He couldn't have done—he wouldn't...

'Why not?' he challenged
softly.

'Not in this case!' she
snapped at him, not knowing quite what it was that was upsetting her. But upset
she was; her eyes felt too hot, her chest too tight, and she had a horrible
feeling she was about to weep all over his big hard beautiful chest!

'It is traditional to
name a boat after your most cherished loved-one,' he pointed out. 'And why am I
defending myself when I could not have paid you a better compliment than
this?"

'Because...' she began
shakily.

'You don't like it,' he
finished for her.

'No!' she confirmed, then
almost instantly changed her mind and said. 'Yes, I like it! But you shouldn't
have! Y-you—'

His mouth crushed the
rest of her protest into absolute oblivion, which was where it belonged anyway,
because she didn't know what she was saying, only that a warm sweet wave of
love was crashing over her and it was so dangerously seductive that—

She fell into it. She
just let the wave close over her head and let him drown her in the heat of his
passion, the power of his arms and the hunger of his kiss.

'Bed?' he suggested
against her clinging mouth.

'Yes,' she agreed, then
fed her fingers into his hair and her tongue between his ready lips. A groan
broke low in his throat; it was husky and gorgeous; she tasted it greedily. A
hand that knew her so very well curved over her thighs, slid up beneath her
wrap, then cupped her bottom so he could bring her into closer contact with his
desire. It was all very hot and very hungry. With a flick of a few scraps of
silk they could be making love right here against the yacht's rail and in front
of however many unseen eyes that happened to be glancing this way.

Hassan must have been
thinking similarly because he suddenly put her from him. 'Bed,' he repeated,
two dark streaks of colour accentuating his cheekbones and the fevered glitter
in his eyes. 'Can you walk, or do I carry you?'

'I can run,' she informed
him candidly, and grabbed hold of his hand, then turned to stride off on long
slender legs with his husky laugh following as she pulled him behind her.

Back in their stateroom,
now magically cleared of all evidence that they had eaten, they parted at the
end of the bed, one stepping to one side of it, one to the other. Eyes locking
in a needle-sharp, sensual love game, they disrobed together, climbed into the
bed together and came together.

Hot, slow and deep, they
made love into the night and didn't have to worry about empty spaces in between
because one loving simply merged into another until—finally—they slept in each
other's arms, legs entwined and faces so close on the pillows that the sleep
was almost a long kiss in itself.

Leona came awake to find
the place beside her in the bed empty and felt disappointment tug at her
insides. For a while she just lay there, watching the sunlight seeping in
through the window slowly creep towards her across the room, and tried not to
let her mind open up to what it was bringing with it.

After a night built on
fantasy had to come reality, not warm, like the sun but cold, like the shadow
she could already feel descending upon her even as she tried to hold it back
for a little while longer.

A sound caught her
attention. Moving her head just a little, she watched Hassan walk out of the
bathroom wearing only a towel, his sun-brown skin fashioned to look almost like
skillfully tanned leather. For such a dark man he was surprisingly free of
body hair, which meant she could watch unhindered each beautifully toned muscle
as he strode across to one of the concealed doors in the wall and sprung it
open at a touch to reveal a wardrobe to provide for the man who had everything.
A drawer was opened and he selected a pair of white cotton undershorts, dropped
the towel to give her a glimpse of lean tight buttocks before he pulled the
shorts on. A pair of stone-washed outer shorts followed. Zipped and buttoned,
they rested low on a waist that did not know the meaning of spare flesh to
spoil his sleek appearance. A casual shirt came next, made of such fine white
Indian cotton she could still see the outline of his body through it.

'I can feel you watching
me,' he remarked without turning.

'I like to look at you,'
Leona replied. And she did; rightly or wrongly in their present situation, he
was a man to watch whatever he was doing, even fastening buttons as he was
doing now

Shirt cuffs left open, he
turned to walk towards the bed. The closer he came the faster her heart decided
to beat. 'I like to look at you, too,' he murmured, bracing his hand on either
side of head so he could lean down and kiss her.

He smelt clean and fresh
and his face wore the smooth sheen of a wet razor shave. Her lips clung to his,
because she was still pretending, and her arms reached up so she could clasp
them round the back of his neck. 'Come back to bed with me,' she invited.

'So that you can ravish
me? No way,' he refused. 'As the wise ones will tell you, my darling, too much
of a good thing is bad for you.'

He kissed her again to
soften the refusal, and his mouth was smiling as he straightened away, but as
his hands reached up to gently remove her hands she saw the toughening
happening behind his eyes. Hassan had already made contact with reality, she
realised.

With that he turned away
and strode back to the wall to spring open another set of doors which revealed
clothes for the woman who wanted for nothing—except her man. And already she
felt as if he had moved right out of her reach.

'Get up and get dressed,'
he instructed as he walked towards the door. 'Breakfast will be served on the
sun deck in fifteen minutes."

As she watched him reach
for the door handle the shade of reality sank that bit deeper into her skin.
'Nothing has changed, Hassan,' she told him quietly. 'When I leave this room I
won't be coming back to it again."

He paused, but he did not
turn to glance back at her. 'Everything has changed,' he countered grimly.
'You are back where you belong. This room is only part of that.' Then he was
gone, giving her no chance to argue.

Leona returned to
watching the sun inch its way across the cream carpet for a while. Then, on a
sigh, she slid out of the bed and went to get herself ready to face the next
round of argument.

In another room not that
far away Hassan was facing up to a different opponent. Ethan Hayes was standing
there in the clothes he had arrived in minus the bow tie, and he was angry. In
truth Hassan didn't blame him. He was wearing a bruise on his jaw that would
appeal Leona if she saw it and he had a thick head through being encouraged to
imbibe too much alcohol the night before.

'What made you pull such
a crazy stunt?' he was demanding.

Since Hassan had been
asking himself the same thing, he now found himself short of an adequate
answer. 'I apologise for my men,' he said. 'Their...enthusiasm for the task got
the better of them, I am afraid.'

'You can say that again.'
Ethan touched his bruised jaw. 'I was out for the count for ten minutes! The
next thing I know I am stuck on a yacht I don't want to be on, and Leona is
nowhere to be seen!'

'She's worried about you,
too, if that is any consolation.'

'No, it damn well isn't,'
Ethan said toughly. 'What the hell was wrong with making contact by
conventional methods? You scared the life out of her, not to mention the life
out of me.'

'I know, and I apologise
again.' Not being a man born to be conciliatory, being forced to be so now was
beginning to grate, and his next cool remark reflected that. 'Let it be said that
you will be generously compensated for the... disruption.'

Ethan Hayes stiffened in
violent offence. 'I don't want compensation,' he snapped. 'I want to see for
myself that Leona is okay!'

'Are you daring to imply
that I could harm my wife?'

'I don't know, do I?'
Ethan returned in a tone deliberately aimed to provoke. 'Over enthusiasm can be
infectious.'

Neither man liked the
other, though it was very rare that either came out from behind their polite
masks to reveal it. But, as the sparks began to fly between the two of them,
this meeting was at risk of being one of those times. Leona might prefer to
believe that Ethan Hayes was not in love with her. But, as a man very intimate
with the symptoms, Hassan knew otherwise. The passion with which he spoke her
name, the burn that appeared in his eyes, and the inherent desire to protect
her from harm all made Ethan Hayes' feelings plain. And, as far as Hassan was
concerned, the handsome Englishman's only saving grace was the deep sense of
honour that made him respect the wedding ring Leona wore.

But knowing this did not
mean that Hassan could dismiss the other man's ability to turn her towards him
if he really set his mind to it. He had the build and the looks to turn any
woman's head.

Was he really afraid of
that happening? he then asked himself, and was disturbed to realise that, yes,
he was afraid. Always had been, always would be, he admitted, as he fought to
maintain his polite mask because, at this juncture, he needed Ethan Hayes'
cooperation if he was going to get him off this boat before Leona could reach
him.

So, on a sigh which
announced his withdrawal from the threatening confrontation, he said grimly,
'Time is of the essence,' and went on to explain to the other man just enough
of the truth to grab his concern.

'A plot to get rid of
her?' Ethan was shocked and Hassan could not blame him for being so.

'A plot to use her as a
lever to make me concede to certain issues they desire from me,' he amended. 'I
am still holding onto the belief that they did not want to turn this into an
international incident by harming her in any way.'

'Just snatching her could
do it,' Ethan pointed out.

'Only if it became public
property,' Hassan responded. 'They would be betting on Victor and myself
holding our silence out of fear for Leona's safety.'

'Does she know?' Ethan
asked.

'Not yet,' Hassan
confessed. 'And not at all if I can possibly get away with it.'

'So why does she think
she's here?'

'Why do you think?' Hassan
countered, and gained some enjoyment out of watching Ethan stiffen as he
absorbed the full masculine depth of his meaning. 'As long as she remains under
my protection no one can touch her.'

Ethan's response took him
by surprise because he dared to laugh. 'You've no chance, Hassan,' he waged.
'Leona will fight you to the edge and back before she will just sit down and do
what you want her to do simply because you've decided that is how it must be.'

'Which is why I need your
support in this,' Hassan replied. 'I need you to leave this boat before she can
have an opportunity to use your departure as an excuse to jump ship with
you."