Hidden In the Sheikh's Harem (12 page)

Farah chewed on the inside of her lip, her heart thumping hard at the thought. What he said made sense, and she would love it, but... ‘You would let your wife work?'

‘As long as it doesn't interfere with her home duties, of course.'

She felt her tentative bubble of hope burst.
Here it comes
, she thought,
the proviso.
She raised her chin. ‘Such as?'

‘Such as keeping our apartment spic and span, making sure my clothing is cleaned and ironed, servicing me whenever and wherever I— Oof!'

Farah punched him lightly on the shoulder, realising he was teasing her, and completely thrown by the unexpected playfulness. ‘You're joking.'

He laughed deeply. ‘For a non-violent person, you pack quite a punch.'

‘I am usually non-violent,' she cried. ‘I don't know what gets into me around you.'

The look he gave her could have heated the polar ice caps. ‘I can tell you what gets into you.' His hands grew possessive, demanding. ‘Me. And I have to tell you that every time you get feisty it makes me hot.'

Farah swallowed, instant arousal turning her limbs to jelly. ‘Every time?'

As if knowing just how ready she was for him, he drew in a sharp breath and rose, with her still in his arms as if she were no heavier than one of the cushions they'd been seated on.

‘Every time.' He strode inside and dumped her on the sofa, his hands raising her T-shirt and sliding along the sensitive skin of her belly. ‘But I was serious about one of those duties.' He fingered his belt buckle. ‘Want me to demonstrate?'

Feeling herself melting, and unable to contain it, she reached up and pulled him down over her. ‘Maybe a little more instruction might be worthwhile.'

CHAPTER TWELVE

I
T
 
WAS
 
SOME
 
sort of loud banging that roused Zach from a sweet dream and a deep sleep. Thinking it was an alarm, he rolled over and thumped the digital clock on the bedside table. Farah stirred beside him and he automatically tightened his arm around her shoulders.

She settled deeper into the crook of his arm and he closed his eyes.

Before arriving in Ibiza, while Farah had slept on the plane, Zach had made some plans about what they would do after they had settled in. First they would explore the beaches around Talamanca Bay, then they'd fly to a little out-of-the-way Spanish restaurant he knew in Dalt Vila, maybe sail around the beautiful island of Es Vedra and watch the sunset from the popular spot nearby.

What they ended up doing was never leaving the apartment—three days in and out of bed eating takeout that was brought by his security detail and introducing Farah to trashy TV—to which his new wife was now addicted. His mouth quirked at her penchant for Doris Day movies and he made a mental note to check the guide before channel-surfing with her again. He'd tried to explain that real men didn't watch romantic movies but she'd nestled more comfortably against him and he'd shut up. And enjoyed himself.

He'd also enjoyed breakfast. Since learning what she preferred, he'd had the food stockpiled and he liked to watch her potter around, fixing share plates for them both while he brewed the coffee. Then he'd pop the toast in the toaster and over their meal he'd try to convince her to give Vegemite a go. So far she'd steadfastly refused but he'd seen the look of horror cross her face when she'd dipped her little finger in the jar to test it. He'd nearly laughed out loud but instead had kissed her into a stupor before bending her over the table and lifting her—his—T-shirt.

Damn, but he loved her in his T-shirts, with all that dark hair rippling down her back, her feet bare. All in all he'd say she fascinated him and in a surprisingly short space of time, his feelings for his wife had deepened to the point that he now struggled to label them. In fact if he didn't know better he'd think— The loud thumping started up again, breaking his train of thought.

‘Darkhan, you lazy bastard,' a voice hollered from downstairs. ‘We know you're in there. Your security team told us.'

Farah stiffened in his arms. ‘Who is that?'

‘Shh,' he murmured as he disentangled himself from her limbs. ‘I'll take care of it.'

He grabbed his jeans on the way out and shoved them on. Then he headed downstairs and opened the front door of the villa. Sunlight spilled over the terracotta-tiled portico. Damian and Luke stood there, grinning like tomcats.

‘You idiots ever heard of calling first?' Zach complained.

‘We did. We've been calling and texting since yesterday.' Damian pushed past him into the foyer. ‘You didn't respond.' He slapped him on the back. ‘It's great to see you.'

‘I forgot to check my phone.' In fact he hadn't checked his phone since...well, he couldn't remember.

Luke ambled past at a slower pace. ‘Sweet digs. We thought you might be side-tracked by a beautiful...' His friend's voice trailed off and Zach followed his gaze to the top of the stairs where Farah stood in nothing but his T-shirt, holding a large chef's knife in her hand. Zach grimaced. He really needed to show her where the suitcases were. And as for the knife... She squeaked out a noise as she noticed the three of them taking in her long legs and darted out of sight.

‘Woman,' Damian filled in as Luke still stared wide-eyed. ‘And you are!'

‘Was that a knife?' Luke asked, confused.

‘Ah, a fake one,' Zach parried. ‘And she's not just any woman. She's my wife.'

He heard the note of pride in his voice and wondered if his friends did, too, the feeling he was struggling to name swelling inside his chest.

‘
Wife?
Well...hell,' Damian sputtered. ‘I thought I heard hearts breaking when I woke up this morning. Where was the invite?'

‘We kept it small.'

‘So, okay...' Luke shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe it. ‘So, when you coming to the dock?'

‘I don't know. I'll have to check with Farah.'

His two friends exchanged glances.

‘You're coming to my party tonight, though, right?' Damian questioned. ‘I mean, that is why you're here, isn't it?'

‘If the missus says yes,' Luke said with mock seriousness.

‘Well, of course,' Damian agreed. ‘If the missus says—'

‘All right, all right,' Zach growled, half wondering if Damian's party was really a good idea. ‘You two morons have had your fun, now shove off or you can forget a present.'

‘As long as she's long-legged and big—'

Zach slammed the door on their laughing faces. His friends were confirmed bachelors and Zach was just glad not to be one of them any more.

He took the stairs two at a time and found Farah sitting cross-legged on the bed. He glanced around. ‘Where's the knife?'

‘In the kitchen.'

He made a mock-salute to the ceiling and saw her mouth twitch. ‘Feel like a walk to the harbour?'

Her face brightened. ‘Yes. I'd love it. But I haven't a thing to wear.'

Zach strolled to the walk-in closet, opened the suitcase and pulled out a pair of tiny shorts. He'd told her maid to pack the Western clothing Imogen had organised for him, but he'd yet to show Farah. He grabbed a white T-shirt he knew would show off her olive skin and dark hair to perfection, lace panties and a bra he couldn't wait to remove.

She frowned when he dropped them on the bed. ‘Where did these come from?'

‘The built-in 'robe.'

‘The...' she frowned. ‘I thought they were your suitcases in there. Why didn't you tell me?'

‘You didn't ask.' He smiled. ‘And it wasn't as if you needed clothing.'

‘Oh.' Clearly embarrassed, she picked up the shorts. ‘What are these?'

‘Shorts.'

She eyed them sceptically. ‘And what do I wear them with?'

‘A T-shirt. Flip-flops.'

‘Flip-flops?'

‘Footwear.'

She held the shorts against her hips and glanced back at him. ‘What else do I wear on my legs?'

‘Ah, nothing.'

She frowned. ‘On the street?'

‘Sure.'

She shook her head. ‘No.' She jumped up off the bed and inspected the closet. A century later she came out holding a pair of jeans. ‘Where are my usual clothes?'

‘I thought you'd be more comfortable in Western clothing.'

Her mouth pinched together and, just as he readied himself for an argument, she surprised him and huffed out a breath. ‘I'll try them.'

Thinking the day couldn't get any better, he nearly choked when she came out after her shower dressed in the T-shirt and jeans. She pulled at the denim but they just sprung back into place, hugging her toned thighs as if they were sprayed on. ‘These don't fit.'

Zach nodded. ‘Turn around.'

She did a quick twirl and he frowned. ‘You've just given me another idea,' he said.

‘What?'

‘I'm going to tell Nadir to make the wearing of jeans mandatory for all women in Bakaan, stat.'

She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips and a shaft of sweet pleasure shot straight to Zach's heart. ‘Be serious,' she chided.

‘I am.' He strolled towards her and curled his fingers into the waistband of her jeans, wondering if he'd ever felt happier than he did right now. ‘Very serious about making love to my wife one more time.'

* * *

Farah couldn't stop smiling as they stepped out of the villa and into the bright sunshine. She hadn't expected to feel this...this light-hearted about being married; this light-hearted about the man she was married to. She snuck a quick glance at him and tried not to ogle him in his fitted T-shirt, denims and tapered sunglasses.

When he took her hand her heart seemed to skip a beat and she focused on her surroundings to tamp down the emotions she instinctively knew she had to keep in check.

The harbour town was totally beautiful with its aqua-blue bay, sandy beaches and rows of pastel-coloured high-rise apartments and villas set into the hillside.

But it was the people who held most of her attention, old and young and dressed in every combination of clothing she had ever seen in her magazines. One woman even had a small dog in her handbag with a diamond-studded collar and a bow in its hair. And then there was the trio of eye-catching women promenading towards them. They were slender to the point of being skinny, tanned golden-brown and wearing... She frowned, unable to recall what the word was for what looked like underwear. And they were looking at Zach as if they wanted to eat him alive.

‘Careful,
habiba
, you're about to cut off my circulation.'

‘I'm sorry.' Farah instantly eased her grip on his hand. ‘I just... Those women aren't wearing any clothes.'

Zach chuckled. ‘They're wearing bikinis. Swimwear,' he elaborated when she looked at him blankly.

‘They're positively indecent,' she whispered.

‘Sexy,' he corrected.

‘You think they're sexy?'

His eyes skated over her body. ‘Sure. On the right woman.'

Before she could ask who the right woman was, he redirected her. ‘Down here.'

Farah continued to be bug-eyed as Zach led her along a beautiful pier lined with yachts the size of tall buildings. At the end was a row of streamlined boats, much smaller and shaped like brightly coloured race cars without wheels. Men were scurrying around them and, combined with the sound of the engines revving and the smell of petrol, the air was alive with a sense of expectation and fun. More girls in bikinis lined the pier, leaning over the weathered railing like decorations.

Sticking close to Zach, Farah feigned a nonchalance she was far from feeling while he introduced her to his two friends from earlier and a group of other men and women who were clearly enamoured by the prince.

When one of the men suggested Zach take the boat for a test run, she saw his face light up. ‘And I thought I was going to have to pull the owner card to get the gig.'

Owner?
He owned the boats?

Turning to her, he checked if she was okay and she nodded. No way was she going to let him know that she was feeling completely out of her depth and wishing they were back in the apartment. Back in bed.

It was only when the shiny speedboat revved away from the pier and took off in a powerful arc of white water that she felt riveted to the spot.

‘Watch how fast he is.' Luke came up beside her. ‘There's no one better behind the wheel.'

Farah watched and her heart flew into her mouth when the bullet-shaped boat became airborne before crashing back down, spraying water into the air. ‘Is it supposed to do that?'

‘Oh yeah.' His friend didn't bother to hide his admiration. ‘I wouldn't be surprised if he wants to race again sometime.'

‘Race?'

‘Yeah, he was unbeatable once, and when he left he said his stint was over and he'd never get back in one of those babies again. But then he said he'd never marry a Bakaani girl, either.' He winked at her. ‘Never say never, eh?'

Never marry a Bakaani girl?

Before she could fully process that piece of information, Zach had pulled the boat up to the pier and men were yelling and readying themselves to hold it steady.

The look on his face was one of exhilaration and joy and she felt a momentary pang that he would never look at her like that.

Brushing off her suddenly morbid thought, she nodded as Luke told her he'd see her at the party before jumping down to join Zach.

‘Luke said you might race again,' she mentioned to Zach as they wandered back along the harbour a short time later.

‘No.' Zach held her hand again. ‘When I finished up, I meant it.' He stopped in front of an enormous navy-and-white yacht with music and lively conversation coming from the upper decks. ‘Ready?'

No, she wasn't ready. She wanted to ask him about what Luke had told her but something warned her to hold off. What did it matter anyway? She knew he hadn't wanted to marry her. He'd made that plain.

She glanced up to find Zach looking at her curiously and wondered if he guessed how unsettled she felt. ‘Sure,' she hedged, pride refusing to let her lean against him, as if she was the kind of woman who could not take care of herself.

Still, she couldn't seem to stem her unease once they boarded the yacht, and the curious glances she received as more and more people realised she was with the prince didn't help at all. The women especially gave her a weird vibe and didn't seem to know what to make of her once they'd asked where she was from and how she had met the prince. Farah kept her answers deliberately vague—‘My father introduced us'—which earned her a smile from Zach. After that most people either ignored her or saw someone in the distance they simply had to speak with and walked away.

Whatever.

Farah didn't care. For the most part Zach kept her by his side, proudly introducing her as his wife, and she was more pleased than she would have expected to be by that. Especially given that this marriage had been forced on both of them. Somehow in the past three days that hadn't seemed relevant in the isolated nest of the apartment where she'd come to learn that, far from being an arrogant despot, her new husband was actually a kind and decent human being. But he still hadn't chosen to marry her out of free will, and probably never would have if his friend's unintentionally hurtful words were true.

‘Having a good time?'

About to tell Zach she'd prefer to muck out the camel enclosure in her village, she turned her head to find him watching her with an expression on his face that melted her from the inside out. And suddenly she was determined that, yes, she would have a good time in this life he seemed to enjoy so much. ‘Yes!' she said, turning her face up to his.