The Sheik's Kidnapped Bride (16 page)

The combination was too much. She felt herself collecting, rising, building, the tension growing until it exploded into light and glory.

Khalil
felt the first rippling response of her body. Her muscles convulsed, contracting and releasing in a perfect rhythm. He cursed, he resisted, and it was all a waste of time. He’d played the game too well. In his effort to force her to submit, he’d allowed himself to get too aroused. Now, in the vortex of her release, he felt himself being caught and flung into the same tornado. Even as he tried to withdraw and gain control, it was already too late. Clutching her, he passed the point of no return and cried out her name.

The pleasure grew. He pumped harder, going deeper. Incredibly her contractions began again. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging, urging him on. Again and again she convulsed, until he had no choice but to explode his seed inside of her. They shuddered together, two people lost in a storm.

When at last his breathing returned to normal, he raised himself up on his arms and stared at her. She lay with her eyes closed, her lips tightly pressed together. Tears flowed down her temples and into her hair.

“Dora?”

“Go away. You won.”

“We both won,” he said, although technically she had been the real victor. He hadn’t been able to make her say that she wanted him.

She pushed at his shoulder. He shifted off her, suddenly feeling as awkward as a teenager. What was wrong?

When Dora was free of him, she sat up. “Is there a bathroom?”

He pointed to several hanging rugs on the far side of the tent. “In there. We have running water, but not very much, so be cautious.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak. As she climbed out of bed, she reached for her gown and covered herself.
Khalil
watched her slow progress across the floor. She moved as if she were in pain. Had he hurt her? He shook his head. That wasn’t possible. At the end, she’d been clinging to him, wanting him as much as he wanted her. Women. They were all temperamental creatures.

By the time she returned to the bed, he’d slipped under the covers and had arranged the pillows. He saw that she’d washed away all traces of her tears. She got in next to him, but instead of cuddling close, she curled up with her back to him.

“You’re being a child,” he told her.

“Leave me alone. You got what you wanted. The rest of it shouldn’t matter.”

He stared at her for another minute, then flopped down on his back. Fine. If she wanted to be that way, he didn’t care. She was right. He’d gotten what he wanted. He’d made love with her. The rest of it was nonsense.

Except he found himself aching to hold her. As the night wore on, his side of the bed seemed to grow until he felt he was in a separate country. Once, when he knew she was truly sleeping, he’d moved close and put his arm around her. But even in sleep she shrugged him off, so he retreated to his own side.

Something cold and dark took residence in his chest. He hated the feeling that he’d acted rashly and had made a mistake that couldn’t be corrected. Involuntarily he raised a hand to his face and touched the thin scar on his cheek. History was not repeating itself, he thought grimly. He would make sure things were different. Of course they were different. The situations had nothing in common.

And yet, far into the night, he wondered.

Dora awoke in
Khalil’s
arms. As she stirred, she felt heat beneath her cheek and something heavy across her waist. She opened her eyes and saw that sometime in the night she’d rolled over and curled into his arms.

She stiffened and started to pull away, but the hand on her waist tightened. She looked up and saw that he was awake.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice low and husky.

She hated that just the sound sent a shiver through her body and made her want to melt against him. Wasn’t it enough that he’d humiliated her the previous night, tempting her until she’d thrown her convictions aside and had surrendered? Was this going to be an ongoing battle between them?

A slow smile curved at the corners of his mouth. “You resist and you want in equal measures, my desert cat. Which part of you is going to win?”

He shifted as he spoke, turning on his side until he faced her, slipping one knee between her legs and pressing it against her swollen woman’s place. It took every ounce of strength not to arch against him. The need was as instant as it was powerful. How could her body betray her this way?

“I’ll never surrender willingly,” she told him, staring into his eyes. Her words were a vow. “You might be able to make my body react, but you’ll never touch my heart.”

“Is that a challenge? Didn’t I warn you about making challenges? You are destined to be defeated.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “In the most delicious way possible, of course. Besides, the chase is part of the appeal.”

She wanted to scream out her frustration. How could this be happening to her? How could she have allowed herself to get into this position—both figuratively and literally? Even as she lay next to him, she felt his growing arousal pressing into her hip. Her woman’s place dampened in response, readying for him. It didn’t matter that he’d hurt her and lied to her and used her—every cell of her body still ached for his possession.

“You will be mine,” he said confidently.

“Never. I’ll keep turning away from you.”

“And night after night, I will seduce you.” He laughed. “If you’re looking to punish me, Dora, you’re going to have to find something better than that.” His humor faded. “Then, in time, you’ll grow to love me as a dutiful wife should.”

She didn’t know if he was still teasing or not, but it didn’t matter. Inside she’d grown empty and cold again, as she had the night before. She knew that he would be true to his word. He would seduce her as often as it amused him, and regardless of how much she resisted, she would eventually submit. In time his relentless assault would leave her spirit crushed and broken.

“I will never love you,” she promised.

“You say that now, but I wonder if you’ve already fallen a bit in love with me. Am I your fantasy, my desert cat? Am I who you dreamed about in your lonely virgin bed?”

She wrenched herself free of him and stumbled out of bed. As she glared at him, he merely smiled and tossed away the covers so that she could see that he was hard and ready.

She turned her back on him and made a feeble effort to gather some kind of control. She had to learn how to protect herself from him. She had to be strong. If she didn’t figure it out, his words would become a prophecy. He was an arrogant, selfish bastard…and he was right. He was the kind of man she’d dreamed about through her loneliness. Not the self-centered prince who forced his will on his reluctant wife, but the charming lover who had seduced her that first night.

She dreamed about the kind man who had rescued her in Kansas and the intelligent businessman she’d worked for in New York. Those were the men who had captured her attention and perhaps even a bit of her heart. But she did not love the Prince of El
Bahar
.

She found her lace dress and drew it over her head, then pulled on the heavy silk robes. Only when she was completely covered did she turn back to face him.

“I cannot speak for loving,” she said quietly, “but I will never like or respect you. If you insist on keeping me here, you will have to be content with duty.”

He raised dark eyebrows. “A dutiful wife during the day and a wildcat in my bed at night. You, my dear, are my fantasy.”

She felt the tears begin to burn, but she blinked them away. “How fortunate for you,
Khalil
. To me you are nothing more than a nightmare from which I can only pray to awake.”

She continued to stare at him, but not even by the flicker of a lash did he betray his thoughts. Then she turned away because she could feel her pain growing stronger, and she was determined to never let him see her cry again.

They drove back to the palace in silence.
Khalil
waited for Dora to comment on the beauty of the morning, or their four-car escort of guards, but instead she sat quietly in her seat, staring straight ahead, saying nothing. Fine, he thought angrily. If she wanted to play that game, he could do it as well…or better.

What had started out as a simple, even logical arrangement had turned into something more—something difficult. Why did she have to be so emotional? Perhaps he had misled her about his feelings at the beginning, but why did that matter now? He’d married her. He intended to treat her with the respect and consideration his wife deserved. They would live at the palace, have many sons. By virtue of their marriage, she had entered a life of wealth and privilege. What was she so upset about?

He gripped the steering wheel more tightly and told himself he would never understand women. They were difficult, emotional creatures, best left to their own devices. In time, Dora would see that this was all for the better. She would come around.

Or would she, a voice in his head whispered. Dora was not like other women he’d known. She was by far the most intelligent and certainly more independent of all his female companions. He quickly glanced at her, then returned his attention to the rutted track that became paved road as they neared the palace. She would not allow herself to be manipulated, and while he respected her for that, he also resented the extra work it was going to mean for him.

He would ignore her for a while, he thought. That would teach her. Except…visions of their lovemaking the previous night filled his mind. Memories of how it had been to touch her, to be touched. She’d been stubborn and unyielding to the end, refusing to tell him that she wanted him. But even without words, she’d let him know how much she desired him. Her body had spoken eloquently and without sound when she’d clung to him, begging him to go deeper, faster, harder.

He shook off the erotic images filling his brain and had to consciously slow his breathing. Perhaps he was hasty in his decision to ignore Dora. Perhaps there was a better way to reach her. Perhaps he wasn’t giving her the benefit of the doubt—if she was so smart, she would figure out that he’d made the best decision for both of them. She would see that their marriage was the right thing for her, and she would be grateful to him for all that he’d done on her behalf.

As they neared the palace, he glanced at her again. She wore a long-sleeved dress that
Rihana
had packed for her. Both of their wedding robes were in the back seat. She’d brushed her short, dark hair away from her face, exposing her profile to him.

She wasn’t beautiful like Amber or many of the other women who had been a part of his life, but she was quite lovely in her own right. He liked the way her eyes flashed when she grew angry with him and the way her mouth betrayed her when she was trying not to smile. He looked forward to speaking with her, hearing both her words and the sound of her voice. He welcomed the feel of her soft skin pressing against his, and the hot dampness that greeted his entry. She might not have been his first choice, but she was all things a man could want in a wife. He’d been fortunate to find her.

When they drove into the courtyard and he turned off the engine, he tried to think about what he should say to start their lives together on better footing. Some words of, if not atonement, then reconciliation. He could say that while he didn’t understand or agree with her position he believed she thought it was important, so he would respect that. Maybe if he mentioned—

She opened the passenger door and stepped out. Instantly one of the servants was there to help her. She thanked the man and started walking toward the entrance to the palace.

Khalil
stared after her. She hadn’t waited for him. How dare she go striding off, as if he wasn’t anyone more important than the chauffeur.

“Dora,” he called as he scrambled to open his door and step outside. He brushed off the servant’s greeting and hurried after her. “Dora, where do you think you’re going?”

She paused to glance over her shoulder. “I would have thought that was obvious. I’m going to my rooms.”

He caught up with her in the grand foyer. The sound of running water from the main stone fountain provided idyllic background music. He touched her cheek. “You don’t live in the harem anymore, my little wildcat. You live with me.”

Her brown eyes widened at the news. She glared. He could almost see her temper rising inside her, and he held back his grin. They would fight, then they would make up. He looked forward to both events with equal anticipation. He hadn’t thought that being married would require so much energy, but then he also hadn’t realized the rewards.

Rihana
appeared from the shadows and bowed low. “Welcome back.” She gave Dora a shy smile. “I have moved your belongings into your husband’s rooms. May I please show you the way?”

“No,” Dora said sharply, not taking her gaze from
Khalil’s
face. “Please take my things to the guest suite I was shown to when I first came to the palace. I’ll be staying there.”

Khalil
frowned. “Dora, this is ridiculous. What do you hope to accomplish by this game? You’re my wife.”

Her gaze turned icy. “I am, aren’t I. That makes me a princess. As such, I assume I’m allowed to give the servants instructions, and I can expect those instructions to be followed. Is that correct?”

She’d boxed him neatly into a corner. If she was his wife and therefore a princess in the palace, the servants would be expected to obey her. As her husband, he could not take away her power on her very first day. If he did, that decision would affect her position in the palace for the rest of her life.

He gritted his teeth and glared at her. They would have to take this up another time.

“
Rihana
, you will do as my wife requests,” he said stiffly.

Rihana
looked troubled, then nodded slowly. “This way, Princess,” she said and turned away from the corridor leading to his rooms. Dora gave him a smug smile before she left to follow the girl.
Khalil
stood there alone, wondering how the hell everything had gone so wrong and what he was supposed to do about it now.

Dora stood alone on the balcony, staring out at the sea. She’d spent the past six hours alone in her suite of rooms, trying to savor her victory. But it didn’t taste as sweet as she’d thought it would. She was away from
Khalil
, which is what she wanted, but she was also by herself. The rest of the day stretched long and lonely in front of her, as did all the days in her future. What was she going to do with herself?

She turned her back on the glorious view, and paced toward the French doors leading into her living quarters. How long would
Khalil
keep her in El
Bahar
before realizing their marriage was a mistake? She believed it was just a matter of time until he came to his senses and divorced her. Then she would be free. Until then, she would make the best of a bad situation by enduring her solitude. There had to be something she could do with her time. Maybe—

A light knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She hurried across the large living room and opened her door. But instead of
Rihana
, or even
Khalil
, she saw that Fatima was her visitor.

She smiled at the older woman. “What a nice surprise. Please, come in.”

Fatima did as she requested. She glanced around at the suite, as if she’d never seen the rooms before, then settled on one of the sofas facing the view. “I heard that you had chosen to live here instead of with
Khalil
. I didn’t realize that privacy was so very important to you. I must apologize for making you uncomfortable by asking you to live with me in the harem.”

Color and heat flared on Dora’s cheeks as she sat opposite her guest. She placed her hands in her lap. “You disapprove of what I’ve done.”

Fatima’s thick hair lay coiled at the base of her neck. Her deep purple suit, all elegant lines with a neatly tailored jacket, emphasized her trim figure. She looked like a successful businesswoman about to attend an important meeting.

“It is not my place to approve or disapprove. Marriage is private between the two parties involved.” She pressed her lips together. “I heard about what happened with
Rihana
, how you forced
Khalil
to choose between your obedience and your power in the household. While it was a tidy trick, I’m reminded of an old expression. It’s originally British, I believe. Perhaps you’ve heard it—something about winning the battle, but losing the war.”

“We’re not fighting,” Dora said evenly.

“Aren’t you? When a husband and wife choose separate living quarters, it is rarely an indication that all is well, but then I’m from a different generation.”

Dora lowered her head. She didn’t like misleading Fatima.
Khalil’s
grandmother had been very kind and generous to her. “
Khalil
and I have some things we need to sort out,” she said. Actually, she had to do most of the sorting. She was still so confused and hurt by all that had happened.

“If you’re waiting for my grandson to bend, you’re going to be living here a long time.
Khalil
doesn’t give in.”

“Then it might be time for him to learn.” Dora raised her head and straightened her spine. “I haven’t forgotten your advice about bending, Fatima, but there are times when one has to make a stand. This is one of those times.”

The older woman studied her. “Are you going to tell me what my grandson has done?”

“I can’t.” It was too humiliating to discuss with anyone, even someone as kind as Fatima. Besides, Dora knew that when push came to shove, Fatima would side with her family, not with her grandson’s new wife. “I’m making the best of a difficult situation.”

Fatima’s shrewd, dark eyes seemed to see right through her. “And if he doesn’t change? Then what?”

“I don’t know.”

Then she would leave, she thought. She would find a way to insist that
Khalil
divorce her, and she would be free. The fact that she had nowhere to go didn’t matter. She wouldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted and respected.

“I thought you loved him,” Fatima said as she rose to her feet. “I’m sorry that I was wrong.”

Dora felt as if she were six years old, and she’d just been scolded for being clumsy. “I do care for him,” she hedged.

“But you don’t love him. Or if you do, it’s not strong enough that you’ll fight for him.” Fatima walked toward the door.

“Goodbye,” she said as she stepped into the hall. To Dora, the words sounded very final.

When Fatima had left, Dora stood alone in the center of her silent rooms. She wanted to cry out that it wasn’t fair—that
Khalil
had been the one to lie and deceive her, so why was she being punished? She’d married him with the best of intentions. She’d wanted to make her marriage work, she’d wanted to love him and be with him. But he’d hurt her. Worse, he wouldn’t even take responsibility for his actions. He expected her to just understand and get over it. How could she have a relationship with a man who didn’t see her as someone worth common courtesy?

She paced the length of the room, then returned to the balcony. The blue of the sea soothed her battered spirits but couldn’t quiet her mind. Questions continued to fill her. What happened now? Could she stay in this suite indefinitely? Would
Khalil
want to divorce her? What would happen if he came to her expecting them to make love again? She doubted she had the power to resist him. As much as she didn’t want to give in, her body betrayed her.

Dora sank down onto one of the chairs and covered her face with her hands. Had she won the battle but lost the war? Was she wrong to want more of
Khalil
? He’d hurt her so deeply. With him, she’d allowed herself to believe, only to find out it was all a lie. He’d used her because she was convenient and because he thought she would make a decent wife. Hardly the declarations of love that a woman longed to hear. So what happened now?

She didn’t have an answer. So she continued to sit there alone until the sun set. Her only visitor that night was
Rihana
, bringing her a tray for dinner. Apparently Dora was not to be included in the family meal. She went alone to her bed and stayed alone that night and all through the next day.

Two nights later
Khalil
appeared in her room. There was no other way to describe it. One minute Dora had been reading and the next her husband loomed in front of her.

“Good evening,” he said and settled next to her on the sofa.

Part of Dora wanted to start screaming at him, demanding that he get out, but only after making arrangements for her to return to the United States, but the rest of her was so grateful for someone to talk to that she nearly wept in relief. Since Fatima’s visit, the only face she’d seen was
Rihana’s
. And Dora hadn’t had the courage to go in search of company on her own.

“
Khalil
.” She nodded.

He wore dark slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Something about his mussed hair and a slight air of weariness told her that he’d been working all day. She longed to return to her job as his assistant, or to any job, just so she could get out of her suite and do something with her time.