The Sheik's Secret Bride (4 page)

Zahir looked down at the beautiful woman lying on the bed, her blond hair floating out against the pillow and her long, dark lashes laying against her pale skin.  The guards and Ms. Fisher were caring for his son but Zahir watched the woman, feeling guilty for the scare he’d given her that had caused this.  He shouldn’t have sprung everything on her so quickly.  He should have been more cautious.  After seeing her last night in her apartment, he should have warned her that he would be here.

Of course, if she’d had any warning, she probably would not have come.  Which was why he’d come up with this surprise plan in the first place. 

“She’ll be fine,” the doctor said as he stood up from the bed.  “Just a faint,” he assured Zahir.  “She’s coming around now.” 

The doctor closed his case and nodded to Zahir who didn’t acknowledge the man in any way other than a slight nod.  His eyes were staring, trying to find signs of life in the prone woman on the bed, willing her to recover.  He’d spent so much time apart from her.  It had been necessary, but things were finally in place.  He’d gotten his country back in order and now it was time for Callie to take her place by his side.  And in his bed. 

Damn, she looked lovely.  She was healthier now.  Well, except for the fact that she was passed out from fear of him.  The other night, he hadn’t had the time to take his fill of her golden beauty but now, with her lying still on the bed, he could let his eyes roam over her lushes curves and her long legs.  He just wished she were awake, that he hadn’t scared her into a dead faint. 

She’d get over that fear, he told himself.  He would take things slowly, make sure she was comfortable with the changes that were going to happen to her and then explain everything. 

Callie turned her head, her mind still fuzzy but flashes of the day slowly came back to her.  When she opened her eyes, she instantly knew that something was wrong.  This wasn’t her room.  This room was too big, too luxurious. 

When she lifted her head to look around, she tried to get her bearings but everything inside of her was clenching because she knew that this was wrong. 

When she found Zahir, he was standing at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at her. 

“It was you,” she whispered, her throat dry and the panic coming right back to her.  “Go away,” she whispered.  “I told you yesterday that I don’t want you here.”  She ignored that tightness, the almost painful anticipation lower in her belly that she felt every time Zahir looked at her. 

She was not going down that road again, she told herself firmly.  She would not do this to herself or to Luca.  Zahir made her lose control.  He could do it with a look, a simple touch or just walking into a room.  It was so unfair that he had that kind of power over her but she had to pretend otherwise. 

She was unaware that her nipples were pressing against the thin cotton of her tee-shirt or that her body had already turned towards his, giving him all the information he needed. 

“Go away, Zahir.  You’re not wanted here.”

He didn’t go away, not even to leave the room.  In fact, his only response was to laugh softly at her command, leaving his handsome features with amusement curling those lips that….

Ugh!  Callie refused to remember what those lips could do. 

“You’re not listening to me, Zahir.  I don’t love you anymore.  I won’t ever love you.  We couldn’t make it work before and I don’t care if you say that the war is over.  I don’t believe it.  Come back in another five years,” she told him as she swung her legs off of the side of the bed and stood up.  “If you can maintain peace between the countries for five years, then I’ll believe that the peace will last.” 

Again, he didn’t respond.  But his eyes moved over her figure, his lips smiling as he listened to her words that were a blatant challenge to his authority. 

That smile curled her toes.  He was so raw, so savage.  Everything about him spoke of that barely leashed power that was all Zahir.  She had no idea what it was about him but she just turned to mush when those black eyes looked in her direction.  The skin on his face had pulled tighter over his high cheekbones, indicating he’d lost weight over the past five years.  But his upper body was bigger, his muscles bulging through the tight cotton shirt he wore.  His stomach had always been flat but now, with those casual slacks belted around his hips, riding lower than she remembered, his stomach looked…tight.  Drawn almost which was ridiculous because she couldn’t see his stomach.  It was just the impression of him.  Everything about him was…savage. 

There was no other word to use.  The man was brutally strong, capable of the most astounding gentleness but she knew firsthand what the man was up against with his country at war and the ravages of countless battles.  The inhuman brutality of war was what this man had lived through for more than a decade.  He’d lost both of his parents to that war.  And he’d lost her.  She’d met Zahir while she’d been waitressing in college and had fallen head over heels for him.  After knowing him for less than a week, she’d gone with him back to his country, been so in love with him that she’d simply pushed the far off war out of her consciousness.  It didn’t affect her so she refused to acknowledge it. 

But then it had affected her.  In the most personal way, it had affected her and she could never go back, could never risk Luca’s life or his happiness by going back. 

So no matter how much her body yearned to feel that sexual pull that Zahir wove around her, she couldn’t do it.  She was a mother now.  Callie couldn’t take those risks. 

“This isn’t your house.  You have to leave.” 

She pushed herself away from the bed, not wanting to be so close to the flat surface.  Beds were dangerous because of their usefulness at what he was an expert at doing. 

She noticed his look and stepped further away.  “Don’t!” she snapped at him.

Of course, he ignored her order, his hands taking hers and pulling her closer.  Right into his arms.  “Let me go, Zahir!” she said, wishing her voice didn’t quiver or that her body didn’t almost fall against his hard, muscular frame.  She curled her fingers into a fist, refusing to let her fingertips explore. 

“You have gained weight,” he said, his voice a grumbling sound that lifted all the hairs on her skin to full awareness of this man. 

She pushed against him but his hands only moved down lower, sliding along her body to rest against her back.  “I like it.  The weight makes you softer.  More lovely than before.  You were too thin five years ago.”

She was horrified to feel that betraying tightening even more with his words.  “No!” she said harshly.  “I won’t let you pull me into your life again.”

His eyes moved over her lovely features, taking in all the changes that five years would do to a woman’s face and he knew that she was even more beautiful now.  “I’m afraid it is time to come home, Callie.”

She trembled but shook her head.  “I’m on vacation, Zahir.  And next week, I will go home.  To my own home and not to yours.  I promised I would never set foot in Larcatia after…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.  “Well, after all that happened.  And I’m not going back on my word.”

His hand smoothed up her back and he almost laughed with relief when she arched into him.  Yes, she was still his woman.  Even after all these years, his Callie reacted to his touch the same way. 

“I told you, the war is over.”

Her body froze with those words.  “And I told you that I don’t believe it.  It can’t be over.  It is never really over.  It is more likely that the problems underlying all the hostilities are just simmering and who knows what could fan the sparks back to a raging war.”

He shook his head slowly, his dark, almost black eyes watching her carefully, feasting on her delicate beauty.  “No.  That’s not going to happen.  The war is over.  Peace is everywhere.  Every citizen is working to maintain that peace and I will make it last.”

“How can you be sure?” she whispered, her heart heavy with the news.  Joyous yes, but also heavy with the knowledge that thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of people had died in the conflict that had lasted for so long. 

“I am sure.  I meet with the leaders of Tularia, Lurasa and Altair regularly.  It has been six months since a shot has been fired.  The people are accepting this peace.  They are desperate for it, in fact.  As I told you the other night, everyone is trying to re-build their lives.  What you don’t know is that we are working to build understanding between the four countries, to sponsor events that will draw people from the previously warring countries as well as other cultures to show everyone that we’re finished with the fighting.”

Callie so desperately wanted to believe his words, but she wasn’t going to.  But nor was she going to shoot down his hopes and dreams.  “That’s really wonderful news, Zahir.  I’m so happy for you.”  He must have worked very hard to get all of this in place.  She sincerely hoped it would work out, for him and for everyone. 

“So you will come home.  You will rule with me,” his hand drifted into her hair, tangling in the soft, spun gold.  “You will be my queen and we’ll grow the country.”  With his last word, his lips touched hers.  He didn’t wait for her agreement, just took her lips and kissed her as if five years hadn’t just separated them.  It was the gentlest kiss he’d ever given to her.  Even the first time he’d kissed her, it had been overwhelming.  But this kiss, this gentle caress, made her whimper for more.  For something deeper.  Stronger. 

And he gave it to her.  Zahir had always given her exactly what she wanted even though, most times, she didn’t know she wanted it.  Or even those times she was too embarrassed to ask for it, he knew.  It was as if he could read her mind and she’d thrilled to everything he’d taught her about her body and sexuality during their tempestuous three weeks together. 

When her fists opened up and grabbed onto the cotton of his shirt, he instantly deepened the kiss, giving to her what she was silently begging him to do.  She had no idea how he could understand her so perfectly, but at this moment, as his hand moved up to cup her jaw, opening her mouth so that his tongue could invade her mouth, she didn’t care.  Her body involuntarily pressed against his, shifting her breasts to create that friction that she craved more than food or water. 

The feeling of his rough hands against her bare skin startled her out of the sensual haze that had wrapped her mind in cotton gauze, pulling her back to reality with a thud.  “No!” she gasped and wrenched herself out of his arms. 

The only reason he released her was because he was surprised.  The look in his eyes told her that much but she knew that she wasn’t free. 

Her shaking fingers reached up and touched her lips, still feeling like she was on fire.  Sure enough, her lips were swollen.  Just one kiss from him and she was back in his clutches. 

“No,” she whispered.  “I won’t let you do this to me again.  I’m not that same person I used to be.  I’ve grown up and I’m smarter now.”

Zahir watched her carefully, wondering where she was going with this discussion.  “And what have your years of wisdom taught you?” he asked, amused but still so hard and aching to have her back in his arms that he might just start howling.  Slowly, he reminded himself.  Slow and steady.  Eventually, she would be his.  He had to approach her strategically.  She was hurt and scared but he would win her over. 

She pulled her shirt down lower, still unaware of those nipples that contradicted everything she was saying.  “I don’t want you anymore Zahir. I learned my lesson the last time we were together.  I can’t live in your world.  And I know you can’t give up your country to come to mine.  So we’ll just have to go our separate ways.”

“There are a few problems with your logic, my beauty,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.  His eyes kept dropping to her breasts, wanting to explore those nipples, to suckle them again and see her come apart for him.  He remembered how sensitive those nipples were, how she could almost climax when he teased them just so.  And now she was standing five feet away from him, those nipples begging him to treat them to his expert touch. 

Callie realized what he was looking at and wrapped her arms across her chest, glaring back at him defiantly.  “And what’s that?” she demanded. 

“You’re my wife,” he said softly. 

His words, spoken with such conviction and victory, sounded through the room like a dead weight.  She stared at him, her body going cold, then hot as she waited for him to laugh and tell her that he was just kidding. 

“No,” she whispered back, trying to gain sound but her voice simply refused to work.  “No,” she shook her head.  “We were engaged.  You proposed, I accepted, we flew to your country and we were going to be married.  But then I was…I mean,” she looked down, then back up to his eyes again, “I am not your wife.”

“We were married.  Two days after your return from that demented man’s clutches and before I would let you out of my sight, we were married.”

Her mind flashed back again.  She’d been so scared and angry after…

She shook her head.  “No.  I told you I was going home and you agreed.”

“I agreed because I finally understood the danger you were in.  But no, my beauty.  We were married the day you got onto the plane.”

She tried to think back to that horrible time.  She’d been so scared after…but there were those few minutes, in the basement of the palace.  “When we were in that room,” she croaked out through stiff lips.  “The room with all the frescos.  It was so pretty and you held my hands.  I knew you were trying to tell me something but I couldn’t listen.  I was still so traumatized by the…”