The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride (14 page)

Yes, she wanted him. But she wasn’t ready to admit that even to herself. He needed patience.

For he knew exactly what he wanted: Belle. In his arms. In his bed.

His body ached for her, and he had every intention of assuaging that pain.

They were married, and he refused to spend his married life in limbo. The situation had to be resolved soon before he self-combusted from the rising heat of lust for his wife.

Damn it all! He still couldn’t believe she’d rejected him. He knew she wanted him. Had recognized it almost from the first the desire she tried so hard to hide.

He could seduce her. The way she responded physically left no doubt in his mind that he’d get his own way if he ignored her protests and tempted her into enjoying their mutual physical pleasure. He could persuade her body into accepting his with minimal effort. That much had been clear from this evening’s debacle.

Yet he hesitated to push her into intimacy.

He wanted all of her. He wanted Belle, mind and body. The willing, eager lover he’d fantasized about.

So he’d take this time that had been forced on him and use it wisely. He’d court her, woo her, tempt her. Till she came to him of her own volition. She might deny it with her words, but there was no doubt she would be his. And soon.

He opened the door and saw moonlight spill from the arched window across the floor to the foot of the bed. Immediately his pulse accelerated as he identified the shape of her, lying under the cotton sheet.

He strode to the other side of the bed, stripped back the cover and got in.

Immediately she rolled over, arm clamped tight over the sheet, as if the fine cotton was some impenetrable barrier between them.

`You can’t sleep here,’ she hissed.

Rafiq pulled the sheet up to his waist in deference to her modesty he hadn’t missed her quick, startled glance at his naked body. How could he have, when he’d felt it like a searing touch on his bare flesh?

`We’re married, Belle. Remember? Where else would a man sleep but with his wife?’

‘But-‘

Òur marriage is real,
habibti
, never doubt it. I am your husband and I will sleep with you. Tonight and every night.’

Her indrawn breath was loud in the silence that grew between them, but she didn’t say anything.

Satisfied he’d made his point, Rafiq settled his head on the pillow, turning to face her.

Immediately she rolled away, towards the far edge of the bed.

He pursed his lips, holding back the oath that surged up. She was stubborn, but she would learn. And, he decided with a smile of anticipation, he was looking forward to educating her.

Hadn’t his grandfather instilled in him the value of patience, as well as the ability to harness his instinct to act decisively at the opportune moment? Belle was a challenge unlike any he’d ever tackled. But he knew already the outcome of this battle of wills.

Victory would be so sweet. For both of them.

Rafiq reached out under the sheet till he found her. His fingers touched warm silk at her waist, silk that rose and fell with her unsteady breathing.

He had to remember how overwhelming this was for her. First the kidnap. Then the cyclone. The sudden engagement and then a royal wedding with all the pomp and splendor that made it worlds apart from anything she’d ever experienced before. And all this far from home, without the support of her family.

No wonder she was distraught. Confused.

`Shh,
habibti
,’ he murmured, and slid forward till his body curved behind hers. Tension hummed through her and he let his arm drop casually across her waist, pulling her unresisting form close against him. Ìt’s going to be all right. Just relax and go to sleep.’

Her soft hair tickled his mouth. He could feel the gallop of her pulse, hear her ragged, shallow breathing. Beneath the smooth, inviting slide of her nightdress the warm, ripe feminine curves of her body enticed him, bringing him to instant aroused readiness. If he moved his arm just a couple of centimeters he’d be able to stroke her breasts. He was rock hard with wanting her, shaking with the effort of restraint.

Neither moved. Neither spoke.

Eventually, much, much later, he heard her sigh, felt her body slump into unconsciousness against him. And still he stared over her shoulder into the moonlight, tracing its course across the floor, till eventually it faded, obliterated by the rosy glow of dawn.

Belle woke slowly, her mind fogged by wisps of a delicious dream.

A dream where Rafiq held her close and vowed he’d never let her go.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, unwilling to wake and lose that fantastic sense of wellbeing just yet. It warmed her still, cocooned her in a glow of delight. She burrowed down into the bed. Just a little longer.

But waking was inevitable, especially when she stretched her leg and found it sliding not across a pure cotton sheet, but along the hair roughened length of a very hard, very solid and masculine thigh. Her heartbeat revved up and her eyes snapped open.

Warm flesh lay beneath her cheek, and her palm spanned a couple of bare ribs. She blinked. In the night she must have moved. She was spread across Rafiq like a blanket, one leg hitched up over his, her body sprawled as if she couldn’t get close enough to him. Only the thin silk of her nightgown lay between them, and she could attest to the fact that it was no barrier at all. Already her body was alert with the possibilities inherent in this position. The silk had rode up so that her legs were bare, tangled with his. The scent of him was enticing, inviting her to imagine all sorts of things she had no business even to consider.

Already her heart thudded and her breathing shallowed.

Waking up in bed with Rafiq was so tantalizing. So exciting. She wanted to smooth her hand over his firm flesh, learn the shape and texture of his big, relaxed body for herself. Wake him with a kiss and then spend the morning discovering what it was like to be loved by such a man. She suspected it would be wonderful.

Stupendous. Addictive.

And therein lay the problem.

She’d built up too many fantasies about him already. He’d figured as rescuer, protector, noble leader making sacrifices for his people.

He was imbued with the qualities of loyalty and a profound sense of responsibility that she’d always sought in a man and never found.

The qualities her father had so patently lacked.

Rafiq was honest, direct, worthy of respect. He was a man she knew she could trust.

And none of that did justice to the exhilaration she felt when he was near. He wasn’t just a pattern card of virtue. He sizzled with sex appeal; he stalked her imagination as a bold pirate, a seductive sheikh whose hooded bedroom eyes promised pleasure beyond anything she’d known.

He’d got right under her guard, bypassed all her defenses, her common sense and her caution. He confused her and threatened her ability to think clearly. And now she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that it was more than infatuation she felt for him. Much more.

She bit her lip and tried to marshal her thoughts.

Why had she been so scared to learn he desired her? Why couldn’t she agree to find mutual pleasure in this situation for as long as the marriage lasted?

She’d been astounded to learn he wanted her. He’d kept that hidden so completely that his passion last night had stunned her.

But it wasn’t surprise that made her baulk. Or even the fact that she’d never pursued sex for its own sake. It was the innate knowledge that she’d be giving far more than her body into his keeping. That when she left, as she would have to when this situation was finally sorted out, she was in danger of leaving part of herself behind.

Her heart.

Dry mouthed, Belle faced the truth. She wanted Rafiq to make love to her. But she wanted much more. She wanted him to love her.

She’d stumbled blindly into an untenable situation. If she let him get any closer to her, she might lose her heart to him.

`You’re awake, Belle?’ His deep voice rumbled softly beneath her ear, making her jump guiltily.

Her head swung up and she met his gaze, glinting with an emotion she couldn’t read. Hastily she propped herself up, away from him, shifting back to her side of the bed.

Ì‘m sorry for crowding you. I didn’t mean to-‘

`Shh: His palm covered her mouth and she inhaled the spicy aroma of his skin. Something twisted inside her at his touch.

`No need for apologies, Belle.’ He slid his hand away from her mouth slowly, dragging her bottom lip down with his thumb. Then he stroked his fingers down her throat, lightly caressing and oh so erotic. The green of his eyes sparked brighter, but his face looked grim.

Ì like having you against me while you sleep.’ He dropped his hand. `But since you’re awake it’s time to move. We should get ready.’ He turned to his side of the bed and flung back the sheet.

He was naked, and Belle felt her eyes widen as she caught a glimpse of his massive erection. If her leg had been just a fraction higher as she lay across him…

No, don’t go there.

She watched him walk away across the massive room to the en-suite bathroom. The morning sun gilded him, glancing off his muscular back and the taut curve of his buttocks. He didn’t CHAPTER NINE

Àre you sure about this?’ Belle couldn’t prevent the quiver in her voice as she looked down at Rafiq.

`Positive,’ he responded, his smile a flash of pure white in his bronzed face. `You’re not scared, are you?’

`No,’ she said. But she felt clumsy and uncoordinated, as if she was about to make a fool of herself. And when he grinned up at her like that, with the sun dancing in his eyes, she couldn’t breathe properly, much less control a sailboard that seemed to have a mind of its own.

`Would you like me to get up there with you?’ His voice deepened a fraction, enough to send a skitter of excitement through her. But his expression remained bland. Ì could stand behind you and guide it.’

Belle shook her head vehemently. He had to be kidding. If he got up here she’d have no choice but to submit to his touch as his arms curved round her and his body pressed close. Like yesterday, when he’d introduced her to archery.

She shut her eyes at the memory. It had taken all her resolve not to break from his hold when she’d felt his warm breath caress her cheek. And when his hard body had encompassed her, arms wrapped around hers, she’d felt weak, the weakness of desire, as he’d murmured instructions in her ear and helped her fit the arrow to the bow. She’d been trembling by the time she finally got an arrow into the target and he’d stepped away.

On a sailboard they’d be even closer. Moving as one. The idea sent a rush of blood to flood her face.

`Belle. Look out!’

But it was too late. She felt the swell of the wave and lunged forward to keep her balance, then overcompensated. She fell back into the water, laughing despite herself. Fifth time unlucky. She obviously had no natural talent for sail boarding.

But her smile vanished as strong arms closed about her, holding her head up above the wave.

`You can let me go,’ she whispered, her voice strangely hoarse as she opened her eyes to meet his sea-green gaze so close. His eyes burned with an inner fire. His grin disappeared and there was a closed intensity to his expression that caught her breath. Something heavy pulsed between them, a voiceless communication she’d prefer to ignore, even as her hands settled on his wide shoulders.

Òf course.’ He nodded and released her, reaching out instead for the board. She found her feet on the sandy bottom and drew a deep breath.

Nothing had happened. Except for the roiling surge of anticipation deep in her belly when he looked at her like that. As if he saw nothing else but her.

`Perhaps you’ve had enough? Would you like to go in to shore?’

His face was devoid of all emotion. So he’d felt it too the zap of immediate awareness between them when their bodies collided.

Belle had learned a little about her husband in this past week.

Including the fact that he kept that particularly wooden expression for use when he wanted to conceal his thoughts.

For the sake of her own peace of mind, she told herself firmly that she had no interest in the thoughts he concealed.

`No.’ She shook her head and reached out for the board. Ì‘m not ready to be beaten by it just yet.’

Again that grin that transformed his face to breathtaking. `How did I know you’d say that?’

Despite her caution, Belle felt an answering grin tug at her mouth.

Rafiq had come to know her over the past days too enough to know that she hated being beaten.

Àn educated guess?’ she said, as she reached out for the board and hoisted herself up.

He didn’t answer, just held it steady as she found her footing and reached over to lift the sail from the water. A small wave rolled in, but she kept her balance and slowly hauled the sail up. For a long moment, or two, she was poised, her body a counter weight to the dripping sail. Then, just as she felt she might over balance, the wind caught the sail and the board moved.

`Shift your weight back,’ Rafiq called. But she was already doing it, instinctively finding the right angle to balance the sail. As she did the wind picked up a little and the board shot forward.

She was windsurfing! Gingerly she adjusted her hold. Then the wind was rushing by, and she had to concentrate on standing firm as the board skimmed the waves.

Rafiq was right. It was wonderful, this feeling of power and freedom. Just her and the sea. How had she spent so long living by the ocean and never found time to try sail boarding? Probably the same way she hadn’t been on a date in two years-too busy with work.

A large wave caught her suddenly, and wrecked her delicate balance. She felt it go, but couldn’t do a thing about it. In slow motion, it seemed, she tipped over into the warm azure water.

She flicked the hair from her eyes as she surfaced. `Did you see that?’ She turned to call out to Rafiq, only to find him a couple of strokes away, swimming towards her.

Ì saw,’ he said as he stood up. The water was shallower here.