The Sheik's Arranged Marriage (14 page)

But if she said yes, how was she supposed to buy the veils? Besides, she hadn’t wanted to go shopping for herself. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to buy. But the thought of spending the afternoon with Jamal made her heart flutter and her skin hot.

The humor fled his face, leaving him looking stern and cold. “Never mind,” he said. “You go on and have fun. I’ll see you later.” He turned to leave.

She drew in a deep breath and put her hand on his arm. “I’d very much like you to come with me,” she said. “I’m not sure what I’m going to buy, so you might find the time a little boring.”

“Not if I’m with you,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Besides, I know the best places to shop for wonderful clothes that will make you feel like a fairy princess.”

She glanced up at him. “I won’t even ask how you know this,” she muttered. “Probably out buying who knows what for your other women.”

“That’s true,” he said with a grin, then brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “But now I’m shopping for my wife, and that’s an entirely different matter.”

She wanted to ask how it was different and if it was better. She wanted to know if he and Yasmin had shopped together and had they had fun and would he be thinking of her today. But she didn’t. Instead, she focused on the way his fingers felt against hers and on the happiness that filled her as they walked toward the garage.

They took her car, a small Mercedes that had a trunk large enough to hold dozens of outfits. Jamal drove, moving expertly through the light traffic, dodging children and bicyclists, not to mention speeding cars that roared around the corners as if they were racing on the Grand Prix circuit.

He took the narrow streets of the back alleys, avoiding the clogged main streets, and parked behind a two-story stucco building done entirely in pink and gold.

“Madam Monique,” he said with a flourish. “And before you ask, no, I have not shopped much here.
Fatima
likes her selections, as does Dora.”

Heidi offered a smile in response. She didn’t ask how her husband knew where his sister-in-law and grandmother bought their clothes. Jamal was the kind of man who knew everything—even insignificant details.
Which meant she had to be very careful to keep her Honey-self separate from her regular self.
So how was she going to slip away from Jamal long enough to find and buy veils?

“I know you,” he said, turning off the engine and pocketing the keys. “You’re going to want to spend some time in the main marketplace before buying clothes, right?”

She started to tell him no, but then realized she’d hadn’t been in the souk since her return to El Bahar. A flash of longing for the
sights,
sounds and smells filled her.

“There’s nothing I would like more,” she said honestly.

“I figured as much.” Jamal got out of her car, then shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it onto the front seat. He unfastened his tie and the top button of his shirt,
then
threw his tie in after his jacket. After closing and locking the car, he rolled up his shirtsleeves until they were to his elbows.

In a matter of seconds he’d transformed himself from tailored, good-looking businessman to charming, relaxed companion. He took her hand and led the way between the buildings. As they approached the main market street, the noise level increased. Heidi held on to him so that they wouldn’t get separated in the crowd. They turned the corner and found themselves in the middle of delightful chaos.

Heidi drew in a deep breath as the familiar smells assaulted her. Perfumes and oils combined with grilling meats, fresh flowers, fruits, camels, people and the sweetness that always scented the El Baharian air.

What had once been a central location to gather for both locals and visitors from nomadic tribes had evolved into an eclectic center of commerce. The old streets were still lined with open-air shops and stalls selling everything from fruit to meat to brass lamps to cheap, fake artifacts bought by unsuspecting tourists. But the streets surrounding the original market area had become an upscale shopping district, complete with designer houses from around the world.

Vendors called out greetings to potential buyers. Children yelled as they played games that involved darting between the talking shoppers. Music blared from portable radios. Bells clanged, brass pots tumbled together, a lone guitarist sat on a bench across the street and sang about watermelon wine.

She turned in a slow circle, taking in the contrasts of color.
The blue of the sky, the dusty brown of many of the robes.
The bright fruits and flowers, the dark eyes of many of the natives, the shirts of the tourists, the striped awnings over the carts.

Beneath her feet were stones rubbed smooth by the thousands who had trod on this exact spot for hundreds of years. Except for the modern electronic devices, much of what had been brought to market to sell that morning was similar to items sold for generations. The marketplace was living history—alive, constant, and filled with memories.

“What are you thinking?” Jamal asked as he leaned close to speak in her ear.

“That my grandfather often brought me here,” she told him. “He said this was the heart of El Bahar. Like the king, the souk was a symbol for the people. That as long as they could come here as their parents had come and all the people before that, then they could have hope in the future.”

“Your grandfather was a wise man,” Jamal said. He squeezed her hand. “Come on. Let’s have fun.”

He pulled her along with him, weaving between the various carts. He stopped to buy her fruit and the most perfect orchids she’d ever seen. Heidi held the fragile blossoms tenderly in her arms, wondering how something so delicate could survive in such a hard climate.

They snacked on different foods and watched a tumbler who also juggled. After admiring beautiful rugs and several gold bracelets, which Jamal offered to buy for her, it was time to buy clothes.

They returned to the boutique of Madam Monique. The pink and gold motif continued inside the cool, elegant showroom where dozens of items of clothing were artfully arranged. Gold fixtures contrasted with the pink carpet and walls. There were tiny gilded chairs and glass tables and a triple mirror that would show every single flaw.

Heidi trailed after Jamal as he entered and wondered what she was supposed to do now. While she was enjoying her time with Jamal, she didn’t see how she was going to be able to buy her veils, and without them, there wasn’t going to be any dance.

“Your Highness, we are so pleased to see you,” a woman proclaimed in a high-pitched voice that probably drove the nearby dog population crazy. “Your grandmother and the lovely Princess Dora shop with Madam Monique, and now you are here.”

The squeaky voice belonged to a tall, slender woman dressed entirely in black. She had no breasts or hips to speak of, and her face was as pale as chalk. Still, she had an air of elegance about her that made Heidi feel even more dowdy than usual.

The dramatic Madam Monique swept toward them and bowed low. “Prince Jamal, Princess Heidi, we are most honored.”

The three salesclerks behind her did the same, leaving Heidi feeling completely out of place. She didn’t question how Madam knew who she was. If she recognized Jamal then she would be safe in assuming the woman wearing a wedding band and accompanying him was his wife. Still, she wasn’t sure how one returned a bowed greeting.

Jamal solved her dilemma by stepping forward and shaking hands with Madam. Heidi followed suit. The forty-something owner motioned to the clothes around them. “We are here to serve. What would be the pleasure of the Royal Highnesses?”

To leave, Heidi thought, not sure she was ready for this. While she knew in her head that being married to Jamal made her a princess, she hadn’t had to act the part yet.

Jamal didn’t seem to suffer from the same qualms. Instead, he put his arm around her and drew her close. “My wife is in need of some new clothes. I am a most repentant husband who has waited too long to dress his new bride in silk and lace. So I am here to make amends.”

It was a good speech, Heidi thought, pleased he hadn’t spoken the truth, which was her own clothes were awful, and she looked as if she’d chosen the most unflattering garments available.

Madam eyed her critically. “She is a delicate flower.”

“That she is,” Jamal agreed. “I want clothes as beautiful as my wife.
Nothing less.”

Heidi blinked.
As beautiful as his wife?
Had he said that? And was Madam really calling her a delicate flower?

“Of course, Your Highness,” Madam Monique said with another quick bow. She clapped her hands, and she and her clerks disappeared into the rear of the shop.

“I’m many things,” Heidi said dryly, “but I’m not a delicate flower.”

“You are to me,” Jamal said.

Did he mean it? Did he really think of her as a delicate flower? She was intelligent and competent, and she apparently scared the crown prince. But maybe Jamal didn’t see her that way. Maybe there was hope that he would be interested in her as herself, and not just in her as Honey.

But before she could pursue the conversation, Madam returned with her arms filled with dresses and blouses and slacks and Lord knows what else. All three clerks trailed behind her, each equally laden. In a matter of minutes Heidi had been whisked off to a dressing room as large as a small house where she was stripped to her underwear and draped, fitted, pinned and poked.

She tried on morning dresses and evening dresses and skirts and camisoles and blouses and stockings and bras and slips and jackets and sweaters and pants and jeans and pumps and sandals and boots.

Some things she modeled out in front of the large triple mirror and her husband who had been seated with coffee, a cell phone and several magazines. When she twirled around in a black evening gown that made her feel like a movie star, Jamal nodded his approval. He announced one dress to be cut too low, informing Madam that only he was allowed to admire his wife’s perfection. Another dress plunged low in back, and he left the choice up to her, but not before running his fingers along the length of her spine.

The caress left her breathless. When she returned to the dressing room, Madam Monique smiled knowingly. “The prince is a happy man, yes?”

“I hope so,” Heidi said, still reeling from the light touch. How could the man reduce her to little more than cooked spaghetti with just a little brush of his hand, and how could she learn to do the same to him?

“The beautiful clothes help,” the woman said. “But the woman who wears them makes all the difference.”

She looked at Madam and wondered if the boutique owner would do her a favor. “I agree,” she said as Monique helped her out of the gown,
then
pulled a shimmering silver-white nightgown over her head. “I need to ask you something.”

“But of course. What?”

“I’m interested in buying some veils. You
know,
the kind people dance with.”

Madam’s dark eyes lit with understanding. She sighed.
“Oh, to be young and in love.
You wish to surprise your husband.” She glanced around the massive dressing room,
then
lowered her high-pitched voice. “I do not have such things here, but I know of what you speak. Give me a few minutes. I’ll send one of my girls to buy them for you.” She stepped back and in a louder voice said, “The prince will be pleased.”

“The prince is pleased.”

Both women turned toward the sound of the male voice. Heidi gasped when she saw Jamal leaning against the entrance to the dressing room. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, as if he really was larger than life. He had his arms folded over his chest, and he raised one eyebrow as he stared at her.

“You’re buying that, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question.

Heidi had been so busy talking about the veils that she hadn’t noticed his arrival, nor had she paid attention to what she was wearing. Based on Jamal’s comment, he hadn’t heard what they were talking about, which allowed her to breathe a sigh of relief. She turned her attention to her reflection.

That sigh of relief caught in her throat and nearly choked her.

The silvery nightgown shimmered around her like gossamer fairy wings. Slender straps held up the lacy see-through bodice. The shape of her breasts and nipples was plainly visible through the delicate fabric. The skirt of the gown flowed to the floor, brushing against some curves, skimming over others, making her body look long, lean and completely feminine. She’d never felt more desirable in her life. And if the expression in Jamal’s eyes was anything to go by, he felt the same way. Which meant the whole issue of seducing might not be as difficult as she’d first thought.

Heidi had been nervous from the moment he’d walked into the boutique dressing room, and Jamal had seen her in the silver nightgown. He had to admit he couldn’t blame her. Despite telling himself he had to go slow where his innocent wife was concerned, he hadn’t been able to keep his desire from showing. Probably because he’d wanted her more at that moment than he could ever remember wanting any woman before.

The need had been intense…almost desperate. The intensity had startled him into exposing his thoughts before he could conceal them. Now, nearly two hours later, Heidi was still a little skittish.

“You bought me too much,” she said, standing next to him in their suite while Rihana carried in several bags of clothes.

“You are a princess and my wife,” he said. “You need to dress appropriately. Besides, I want to show you off.”

He felt her gaze on him and saw the questions in her expression. For some reason she didn’t think she was attractive. Or maybe it was that she didn’t think he found her attractive. Whichever, she continued to be startled by his compliments. He made a note to continue giving them until she grew comfortable with the words.

“I know I need evening wear for formal entertaining,” she murmured as Rihana left to make another trip. “But this is excessive. I feel as if I’ll never wear them all.”

He turned to her. While Heidi protested his bounty, Yasmin had always complained that she wanted more. If he bought her five dresses, she wanted eight. When he gave her a diamond necklace, she pouted for the matching earrings. Ironically, in time he’d grown to begrudge Yasmin
all that
he gave her, mostly because she was never happy. Yet with Heidi, he wanted to give her more.

“Have fun with the new clothes,” he said, reaching out and gently stroking her cheek. “You don’t have to wait for a special occasion for all of them. Wear them around the palace.”

She still looked doubtful, but she nodded slowly. “I love everything we bought, but I’m afraid you’ll think I’m greedy or something.”

“Hardly that.”

“Good, because I—”

“Princess, what do I do with this?”

Rihana had returned with several dresses on hangers. She had them draped carefully over her arms. In her hand she held a small wrapped package. Heidi paled when she saw it and quickly took it from the young woman.

“It’s nothing.” Heidi gave him a quick smile that only emphasized the lie. “It’s, ah, girl stuff. I’ll put this away myself.” She casually dropped it on the center of her bed, as if it didn’t matter.

Jamal wondered if that package contained veils for his dance. By now she would have discussed his request with Fatima who would have told her there was no Dance of the Seven Veils. He was curious to find out if “Honey” would call him on his mistake or improvise.

“In fact,” Heidi continued, taking the dresses from Rihana, “I’ll put the rest of the clothes in the closet. Thanks for helping.”

The servant nodded and left.

Jamal walked with Heidi into her dressing room. The three walls of mirrors allowed him to easily follow her actions as she hung her new clothes in the spacious closet and then began arranging them into an order that would only make sense to her.

At his request, she’d worn one of her new outfits out of the store. Instead of her usual shapeless dresses, she wore fitted pants and a tailored blouse. The simple style emphasized her pleasing shape, especially her rounded bottom visible from every possible angle in the mirrors. He thought about pulling her close and kissing her slowly and thoroughly, using one
hand
to pull the pins free from her hair while the other cupped the curves he’d just been admiring. What would she say? Would she turn to him and kiss him back or would she reject him?

“Heidi?”

She turned at the sound of her name. “What?”

“Have dinner with me tonight.” He motioned to the new dresses hanging in the closet. “Wear something we bought today and I’ll order dinner served in our suite.”

Her eyes widened at the suggestion, but he wasn’t sure if it was in anticipation or aversion. Did she really want him? He longed to believe that her campaign was a way to win him, and he was willing to cooperate in any way he could, but at times like this, he wasn’t sure. Yasmin had been too good at her game, and when she’d finally showed her true colors, she’d destroyed his belief in her along with his pride.

“That sounds nice,” Heidi murmured. She cleared her throat. “Are you going to dress up?”

“Would you like me to?”

She nodded.

“Then I will.”

He gave her a quick smile and left the room. When he was alone in the hallway, he glanced back and wondered if he was about to make a fool of himself for the second time.

“This is insane,” Heidi muttered to herself as she paced in her small bedroom. “I’m insane.”

She came to a halt in front of her dresser mirror which—thank the Lord—did not show anything below her waist. She didn’t want to think about how she looked all over. What she could see was bad enough.

Jamal had suggested an intimate dinner for two in their suite. It was the perfect opportunity for her to seduce him. There was only one problem. She didn’t know the first thing about seducing a man. Where exactly did one start?
Witty conversation?
A light brush of the fingers?
And if it was the latter, where exactly did one brush those fingers? And what if Jamal didn’t know what she was trying to do?

There seemed to be too many pitfalls and very few payoffs, she thought grimly. The entire situation was going to be a disaster. Her skin felt both hot and cold, and her stomach was turning and shifting in a most unpleasant way.

She had to change her clothes. Heidi stared at her reflection and knew it was a huge mistake to wear what she had on. She should change into one of the fancy dresses or maybe pants and a sweater or even…

There was a knock at her door. Her mouth went dry.

“Heidi? Are you ready?”

Jamal.
Oh, great. Now what?

“Yes,” she muttered, followed by a louder, “I’ll be right there.”

What was he going to think? What if he didn’t get it? What if he did?

She walked to the door and sent up a brief prayer that this wasn’t half as horrible as she’d imagined. Then she turned the knob and stepped out in the hallway. Only three steps to the living room, she told herself, trying to breathe enough without hyperventilating. Her chest was so tight and her bare feet felt as if they could go out from under her at any moment.

Then she was in the living room. Jamal stood by the wet bar, a bottle of champagne in his hands. He’d put on a black tux that made him look as handsome as she’d ever seen him. He was all darkness and male beauty—as she’d thought before—a poster boy for sin.

“I thought you’d like some—”

He turned and saw her. He stopped talking. His mouth actually fell open, and for a second Heidi thought he was going to drop the champagne bottle.

She forced herself to stand completely still while her husband studied her from her bare feet to the top of her head.

She’d used hot rollers to curl her hair,
then
she’d pulled it all into a ponytail up on her crown. The loose strands tumbled back to her shoulders. Her only jewelry was her wedding band, but then the silver nightgown she wore—the same one Jamal had admired in the boutique—didn’t lend itself to accessories.

Except for the gossamer fabric draping her body, she was completely naked.
And completely vulnerable.
Despite her chronic threats to throw up, this time she might actually do it.

“Heidi?”

His voice was low and liquid and incredibly seductive. It made her want to melt right there on the floor. Instead, she squared her shoulders and met her husband’s confused but heated gaze.

“I’ve, ah, heard there’s something to be said for animal passions, but I don’t have any firsthand experience. I thought maybe you’d be willing to change that.”

Jamal didn’t respond. She knew she’d made a hideous mistake. He didn’t want her; he’d never wanted her. She was a fool.

Just when she would have turned and run, he set the still-unopened champagne bottle on the bar and moved toward her. He stopped less than a foot in front of her. One of his strong hands settled on her waist. The other stroked her cheek.

“You want to make love with me?” he asked.

He sounded amazed. He sounded intrigued. He sounded interested. Thank the Lord.

“Yes,” she said. “But not if we have to talk about it. I’m too nervous for that.”

He smiled a slow, male smile that made her toes curl on the marble floor. “I’ll do all the talking,” he promised as he lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers.

He kissed her slowly, deeply and thoroughly, exploring her mouth in a way that left her breathless. When he raised his head, she hoped he wasn’t going to ask her anything because her head was spinning, and she didn’t have access to a single coherent thought. Fortunately he only took her by the hand and led her to his bedroom.

She had a brief impression of a large four-poster bed and beautiful tiles on the walls. Large furniture loomed around them, but she couldn’t focus on any one piece. Later, she promised herself. Later she would explore, but for now it was enough to remain standing and keep breathing.

They stopped by his bed. Jamal turned and smiled at her. “Nervous?”

Well, duh. What did he expect?
“Oh, yeah.
Every cell in my body is shaking.”

She held up her hand to demonstrate. He took it in his and brought her fingers to his mouth.

“I’m going to make you tremble all over,” he promised, then pressed his lips to her suddenly sensitive skin. “But it won’t be because you’re nervous.”

“Wanna bet?” she muttered, but she doubted he was listening. Not that she cared. The way he concentrated on her hand, on kissing each pad, then licking the length of her fingers, made her want to swoon. The combination of heat and dampness overwhelmed her. She swayed slightly as he exchanged one of her hands for the other and began the erotic process all over again.

When he’d finished kissing her fingers, he moved to her palm. He traced a damp circle there with his tongue then bit gently on the inside of her wrist. The trembling he’d promised began in her thighs and moved both up and down. Her knees were in danger of buckling while her belly quivered and damp heat flared between her legs. She had to hold on to him to keep from falling.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his body to hers. She placed her own arms over his shoulders, hugging him to her, savoring the familiar feel of him. He was so strong, so broad,
so
very male.

He bent down but didn’t press his mouth against hers. Instead, he kissed her cheeks, then her nose. “Sweet Heidi,” he murmured.

By the time he moved his lips to hers, some of her trembling came from desire and frustration along with nerves. She ached for him, needing him in ways she didn’t understand. She parted her lips immediately,
then
whimpered as his tongue entered her mouth.

With each touch, each stroke, each movement of their intimate dance, her body heated. She found herself clinging to him, wanting him. She wanted more kisses, deeper, longer, and she pressed against him, hoping he would understand.

He cupped her face,
then
tilted her head slightly so he could kiss her more thoroughly. Then he retreated, and she followed, doing to him all he’d done to her. Exploring, teasing, tasting. Her legs were shaking so violently, she could barely stand. She wore only the nightgown, yet she suddenly wanted the garment removed. Every part of her was on fire, and only her husband’s touch would quench the flames.

“Touch me,” Jamal whispered against her mouth.

She realized that her arms had fallen to her sides. She brought them up to his shoulders,
then
ran her fingers through his dark hair. With her other hand, she explored his strong, broad back.

How different he was from her.
So much bigger.
Through the layers of his jacket and shirt, she felt his muscles rippling as she slowly moved up and down from shoulders to nearly his waist. She’d never touched a man like this. To think that in time she would grow to know his body as well as she knew her own. She would recognize him by sight and scent and touch. The thought of such intimacy was nearly overwhelming but in the most perfect and lovely way.

He kissed her again, deeply, slowly,
passionately
. She found herself moving closer, needing to be right up against him.

Something hard pressed into her belly. The hardness flexed, which startled her. She jumped. What on earth?

Then she knew. She didn’t know if the knowledge was instinctive or the result of reading those books
Fatima
had given her. Either way, she understood that ridge was the result of Jamal being aroused by what they were doing.

She was two parts embarrassed and one part curious. Actually the curious part of her was gaining ground. What would he look like naked? She’d never seen a man that way. There had been a few shadowy bits in movie scenes, but she had a feeling those half-lit vaguenesses had nothing to do with reality.