The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride (6 page)

He smiled at her, a twist of the lips that tugged at his scar, and her tension eased fractionally.

Ìt’s good to see you, Dawud.’

Ànd you, Miss Winters. Please, this way.’ He gestured to the huge bossed wooden doors and ushered her inside. A pair of servants stood silent just inside the foyer.

As she accompanied him across the wide marble floor, the enormous double doors closed with a reverberating thud behind them. The sound made her falter. It was like the slam of a cell door final and forbidding.

Belle straightened her shoulders, cursing her over active imagination. She was no prisoner. This would be a short, formal audience. Nothing to panic about.

They crossed a reception room the size of an auditorium. Thank goodness Rafiq hadn’t decided to see her here, where the elaborate raised dais with its gilt canopy would reinforce the power and pomp of his royal status. She already dreaded this interview. She didn’t need a reminder of the yawning chasm between them.

Eventually Dawud knocked on a pair of carved doors. `Come.’

The hair stood up on the back of Belle’s neck as she recognized Rafiq’s voice. It had haunted her dreams for three days. Sometimes its honeyed tones had lulled her with the lyrical, comforting flow of foreign words. But just as often that voice had thrilled her with its deep, masculine promise, till she woke edgy and aroused, unable to sleep again for the knowledge of her own desperate weakness.

How much of it had been her imagination? Surely no man, no matter how handsome, could affect her so elementally?

Dawud stood, holding the door open for her, and she took a deep breath, knowing that the reality of this meeting couldn’t be as bad as she feared. She stepped through the door and stalled in her tracks.

Belle knew she was staring. Knew she should say something, anything. But her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She wiped clammy hands down her cotton trousers and realized she’d been completely, devastatingly wrong.

Her imagination hadn’t exaggerated. Rafiq was everything she’d thought him. And more.

‘Belle. Please, come in.’ He walked towards her, closing in on her personal space, till she felt cocooned by his aura, surrounded by his energy. Yet he stopped several paces from her, his sea-green gaze impenetrable. His austere face compelling.

He was as tall as she remembered, as broad across the shoulders.

His hair was tied back, slick as if wet from a recent shower, and he wore a long robe of fine cotton, grey shot through with misty green. It reminded her of foggy seas and hidden secrets. In contrast, the vertical slash down from the robe’s neckline revealed a few inches of hard, tanned, uncompromising male.

She drew a faltering breath and forced herself to meet his gaze.

She thrust away the seductive memory of him, water sluicing off his smooth, bare flesh, as he emerged from the sea. `Your Highness-‘

`No! Rafiq, please.’ He reached out and took her hand in his, his warmth enveloping her as he tugged her further into the room, closer to him.

`Rafiq,’ she said, then stopped, breathless, as he smiled at her.

Emerald lights shimmered in his eyes, and the curve of his lips transformed his face from somber to breathtaking.

Her heart thumped hard against her ribs and her mouth tilted up in automatic response. The feel of his large hand encompassing hers triggered memories of his hard, muscled body pressed intimately against her, protecting her all through that long night. Heat flared in her cheeks.

Ìt’s good to see you looking so well.’ His words were a low caress that mesmerized her and brought her skin to tingling life.

Over her shoulder, Dawud’s voice pierced the charged atmosphere.

`Ms. Winters has just been released from hospital. She must be weary.’

Òf course. I won’t keep her late.’ Rafiq’s dark eyebrows drew together in a straight line as he looked past her, clearly annoyed at the interruption. `You may leave us now.’ His tone was brusque.

`Goodnight, Ms. Winters,’ Dawud said from the doorway.

`Goodnight, Dawud.’ Belle turned, trying and failing to ignore the fact that Rafiq still held her hand in his. `Thank you for all you did for us. For me and Duncan.’

Dawud bowed. `There is no need for thanks, Ms. Winters.’ And then he was gone, silently closing the doors.

`Come.’ Rafiq drew her with him and led her across the room. Heat throbbed up her arm from his touch and spread right through her.

She inhaled his scent warm, spicy and male. Something quivered into life deep within her. A response, a thrill that was purely instinctive.

`Here.’ He gestured to a low sofa, covered with plump embroidered cushions. `Please make yourself comfortable.’

When she sat he sank down onto another sofa opposite her. But even with that distance between them Belle recognized the tug of awareness, the shimmer of desire pulsing through her body, heating her skin. It was unnerving, this vibrant, palpable connection between them. She’d never felt anything like it.

Perhaps the hospital staff had been right and she needed more rest.

Surely this potent reaction wasn’t normal?

`How are you feeling?’ he asked.

Às good as new,’ she said immediately. `They were wonderful in the hospital. Really terrific.’ And now she was babbling. Great.

`The medical staff expected you to stay longer.’ His gaze was intent.

`You talked to them?’

He nodded. `We were all very concerned for you and your colleague, Mr. MacDonald.’

Of course. It would have been embarrassing for the Q’ aroumi government if she or Duncan had died. There’d been no personal interest in Rafiq’s enquiries. Why should there be? She was just a troublesome foreigner. Yet, beyond all logic, it still rankled that he hadn’t visited her in the hospital. She’d lain there for days thinking of him, dreaming of him, waiting for him to stride into her room.

And as her disappointment had grown, so had her awareness of her own folly. Did she really expect a royal visit to her bedside? That was laughable. Especially in a country where the Prince wasn’t a figurehead but an active head of state, busy with the affairs of government.

She pulled herself together.

Ì have to thank you,’ she said, plastering a bright smile on her face and looking straight into his eyes. She shivered at the illusion of heat she saw there, and at the tell tale tightness in her chest. But she ignored both and plunged on. `Without your intervention Duncan and I would have died. We owe you our lives.’

`You owe me nothing, Belle. You were an innocent victim. It was my duty to find you.’ He paused. `Just as it’s my duty now to keep you safe.’

She frowned. `But I am safe.’

Surely she was? The kidnappers could have no further interest in her. Yet suddenly dread caught the breath in her lungs, clamped down on her shoulders. The memory of leering masked faces swain before her eyes. The thought of her isolated lodgings sent a cold shiver through her.

‘I will make sure you are.’ Rafiq’s voice was deep, as if making a pledge. His expression was steely, his jaw tight.

`We will take no chances with your well being. Until the man hunt is over you will reside here. In the palace.’

Stay in the palace? Here? Where he lived? Where she’d see him and be taunted by the impossible fantasies she just couldn’t prevent when he was near? No, thanks.

`That’s not necessary.’ Belle was pleased she sounded so calm, so reasonable, despite her suddenly frenetic heartbeat and the frisson of appalled excitement skittering up her spine.

Ìt is necessary, and so it will be.’ His tone was implacable, his expression determined.

Belle raised a hand to her brow, frowning. She felt as if she’d walked into an alternative reality. One where the unthinkable happened. But after the events of the last days anything seemed possible.

Àre you in pain?’ There was concern in his voice, belying the relaxed poise of his body.

Slowly she shook her head. Ì‘m fine. Just confused.’ And tired.

Suddenly so very, very tired.

`You need rest. We can discuss this in the morning.’ `No!’

He raised his brows, every inch the supercilious monarch. For the first time she saw in him the bone deep arrogance of a man born and bred to rule.

Ì‘d rather discuss it now,’ she said. `Surely there’s no danger any more to me or Duncan?’ But even as she said it she remembered the armed guards posted in the hospital corridors. The thought made her stomach muscles cramp convulsively. Anxiety was never far away now.

`Don’t fret, Belle. You are safe here. Nothing will harm you. You have my word on it.’ Absolute assurance deepened his voice and glinted in his eyes, and Belle responded automatically to his certainty. She felt the tension in her ease a fraction as she met his gaze.

It was inexplicable, but from the first moment she’d seen Rafiq, that night on her prison island, she’d instinctively trusted in his ability to protect her. Even against the force of nature.

`But I will take no chances,’ he continued. `Those behind your kidnapping are desperate. And desperate men act rashly. Especially since they were thwarted of their original purpose. I will keep you close, where I can be sure of your safety.’

She shook her head. The idea of Rafiq keeping her close conjured up far too many insane ideas. Fantasies she’d promised herself not to think of again.

And his reasoning escaped her. She’d gleaned from the hospital staff that the kidnapping had been some political gesture, designed to stir an international incident. No one wanted to harm her now. It wasn’t as if they had a personal grudge against her. Her mind felt thick, her thought processes dull, as she tried to follow his argument.

‘I’d rather return to the team’s house.’ She had to get back to her safe routine, where she could immerse herself in work and try to forget what had happened. Especially now she’d discovered her weakness for Rafiq hadn’t been imaginary-part of the surreal experiences of the past few days.

This attraction was all too real. It was there in her nervous pulse, her uneven breathing, the effervescence in her blood. She’d experienced nothing like it before, and that scared her.

Ì‘ll be fine there, and quite safe. No one will bother me.’ Was it Rafiq she was trying to convince, or herself?

`You will stay here.’ His tone brooked no argument, just as if she had no say in the matter. The look in his eyes told her he had no intention of being swayed by anything as trifling as her preferences.

She felt her hackles rise. Ì think that’s ultimately my decision,’ she snapped, then caught her lip between her teeth as she watched his brows furrow into a black scowl. However unreasonable, he was her host-and a royal prince.

`While you’re in Q’aroum I am responsible for your safety.’ He spoke patiently, as if explaining the obvious. `For such time as I permit your expedition in our waters.’

Belle’s breath snagged at the audacity of the man. Had he just threatened her, ever so subtly? Reminded her that her presence here, and that of the expedition, rested on his goodwill?

His scowl disappeared, and now his face was unreadable. His eyes gave nothing away, but he watched her with an unnerving intensity that made her breath catch.

Surely she was imagining things. He wouldn’t threaten the future of the expedition if she refused to stay in the palace. Would he?

No, that would be ludicrous.

`Come.’ Abruptly he stood, and held out his hand. `We’ll discuss this later, and I’ll explain in as much detail as you require. In the meantime you need rest.’

Ridiculous to feel so weak after days in bed, but her head swam as she stood up. His hand, warm and strong at her elbow, held her steady and she was grateful for his support. Nevertheless, she refused to be railroaded into such an arrangement. She tilted her chin up and met his eyes. `Thank you for your kind offer, Your Highness-‘

`But you want to argue about it?’ There was a glimmer of something that might have been humor in his cool eyes as he slid his hand down to hers. `Never mind. We can debate it all you wish in the morning.’

He smiled then, and she stared, dazzled by the instant transformation in him. From scowling autocrat to sexy, mesmerizing flesh and blood man simply with a curve of his lips.

And his eyes: they smiled down at her as if inviting her to enjoy some intimate shared jest. His thumb stroked across her hand in a gesture that sent ripples of longing through her. She felt herself sway towards him, and prayed it was fatigue that made her unsteady on her feet.

`Ms Winters,’ he said at last, his voice low and coaxing, his eyes hooded. `Would you do me the honor of staying as my guest here tonight? It would be some small recompense for the ordeal you’ve been through to let us offer you some true Q’aroumi hospitality.’

When he put it like that…

Ì…’ Her voice was a hoarse croak. Did this man have any idea of the sheer sexual appeal he generated when he put his mind to it?

`That would be very pleasant,’ she said at last in a choked voice.

She’d been out maneuvered and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. `Thank you for the invitation.’

`Good.’ His strong fingers closed tight around hers, generating a flare of heat that burned right through her defenses. She stared into his eyes and felt herself falling, like a diver entering unknown waters.

Ànd in the morning,’ he said with a satisfied smile, `we will discuss the rest of your stay.’

The sun was high in the sky when Belle woke in the wide, low, luxurious bed. She listened to the cascading notes of an unfamiliar songbird somewhere outside, watched the filtered light play across the delicate wall paintings of fruit and flowers.

She was alive. She was safe.

She was in Rafiq’s home.

The realization brought her instantly awake as fleeting snatches of her dreams swirled in her mind. They’d been dominated yet again by a tall, fatally attractive pirate. An arrogant prince who’d demanded she obey his every command.

She squirmed as she recalled how intimate some of those commands had been, and how eagerly her dream self had complied. How she’d reveled in his dominance. She, who’d never let any man control her!