Hidden In the Sheikh's Harem (7 page)

‘You're a quick study,' he murmured against her ear. ‘How are the feet now?'

Farah shivered and opened her eyes. She'd forgotten all about her feet but now she could feel the balls of them throbbing. ‘Not great.'

He pulled her indecently close. ‘Lean against me,' he said roughly.

She wanted to say no, she wanted to move away, but gremlins had invaded her body and suddenly her lids drooped closed and she entered some dreamy realm where her body took over. She wouldn't have said exactly that she was dancing because they were barely moving but it felt lovely. She could feel him against her, hard and so solid. His body was so different from her own and it amazed her how they fit together—as if they were made for each other.

When the music changed tempo her eyes drifted opened and she was embarrassed by how lost she had been in the moment. Her heart beat double time and she was shocked to realise how aroused she was just by dancing with him.

It used to be that her body was more like a machine that did her bidding: arms, legs, hands, feet. Now she was aware of useless things, like her breasts, the hollow space between her thighs, the prince's hand on her hip and a tingling weakness at the back of her knees. Sensations that made her feel fragile and defenceless. And then she wondered if it was the same for him. Did men feel weak and defenceless when lust overtook them? Did Prince Zachim feel that right now, for her? It seemed impossible and yet more shocking was how much she wanted him to want her—she, a village girl, with all the sophistication of a desert mouse. Why, he must have had the most sophisticated lovers in the world. Women like the ones that peppered the wedding and gazed at him with a deep longing. A deep longing Farah never wanted to feel for anyone.

Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, she surprised them both by pulling out of his arms. Wanting Prince Zachim was a betrayal to her father and to everything she wanted for herself: self-sufficiency, independence.
Self-respect
. ‘I need to use the bathroom,' she said, furious all over again.

‘I'll take you.'

Of course he would, and it was a welcome reminder that she wasn't really a wedding guest but a captive. And she no longer cared about his threats if she tried to escape.

Inside the bathroom there were no windows or back doors so she finished up quickly and returned to the ballroom with him, alert now to where the guards were.

A few men dressed in Western attire came over and talked to the prince and he turned to engage in conversation. Farah half listened and smiled politely, as if she were part of the group when she wasn't. She noticed a small knot of women standing close by and realised they were the partners of the men talking and she was the only woman in this group—a lone gazelle in a pride of male lions.

She didn't bother getting the prince's permission before making her way over to them. Let him stop her if he dared. It wasn't for her to decide how long the leash was and, although earlier she had not doubted he'd tie her dress cord around her neck as punishment for defying him, she knew now that he wouldn't jeopardise his brother's wedding by causing a scene. He wasn't
that
uncivilised.

When one of the women she was only half listening to complained she was hot, Farah could have hugged her.

Taking charge, she suggested they walk on the terrace. Lush gardenias and roses scented the warm evening air but Farah was only interested in where the exit points were.

Cursing the torture devices on her feet, she realised she would have to leave them behind, Cinderella-like, if she got a chance to escape. Only she would be leaving both behind and she didn't want the prince to come after her. Ever.

Making her apologies to the women, she quickstepped down the stone steps as if she knew exactly where she was going and skirted the plethora of plants in the verdant garden. Clearly water restrictions did not apply inside the palace—another black mark against the Darkhan family.

A large stone wall covered in a passion-fruit vine loomed in front of her and she paused to get her bearings.

‘The gate is about fifty metres to your left,' the prince drawled from behind her.

Farah groaned softly and expelled all the air in her body. ‘I got hot.'

‘Really?' His eyebrow rose. ‘And I thought that was only while we were dancing.'

Oh!
‘A simple enough mistake to make for a man with your sized ego.' She smiled sweetly, giving up all pretence of cooperating with him. What did it matter? He wouldn't let her get away from him now.

His eyes gleamed, no doubt taking her response as some sort of challenge. ‘You had goose bumps.'

She hated that ring of confidence in his voice. ‘Maybe I was cold,' she retorted.

He grinned. ‘Now, we both know that's not true.'

His suggestive tone grated along every one of her nerve endings. ‘Oh, to be so sure of yourself.'

‘You know,' he began conversationally. ‘I almost want you to make a run for it so that I can use that cord on you after all.'

Farah's hand strayed to her neck. ‘You wouldn't dare.'

‘Oh, I'd dare, Miss Hajjar. Remember, I'm a barbarian prince.'

‘Your brother—'

‘Is about to leave with his new wife.'

Farah swallowed. He moved in closer and the urge to take flight warred with a deep-seated determination to stand her ground.

‘Your skin looks almost luminescent in the moonlight.' He reached out and stroked his hand down the side of her face. Farah reeled back and would have scratched herself on the vine if the prince hadn't grabbed her elbow. ‘Careful, you could hurt yourself.'

Only by giving into the pull of attraction between them, she thought wildly, her heart racing as she fought to maintain control over her senses. ‘I'll take my chances with a spiky plant any time,' she threw at him.

Ignoring her smart comment, he drew her inexplicably closer. ‘You don't like being told what to do, do you?'

Sensation zipped through her as his hands dropped to her hips and splayed wide. ‘Not by men like you, I don't,' she bit out scathingly. Anything to put him off.

‘Men like me?' His eyes narrowed dangerously. Soft music and the tinkling conversation from the ballroom drifted over them. ‘You need taming, my little Zenobia,' he whispered, taking full advantage of the tilt of her chin to nuzzle his way down her throat. ‘And I'm the man to do it.'

The hands she intended to shove against his shoulders slipped and she nearly groaned as her fingers slid along the top of his robe and grazed the ends of his thick hair.

A fierce expression crossed his shadowed face and one of his own hands cupped the nape of her neck, holding her firm. It seemed like forever that they stared at each other, silent and intense, the only sound that of their harsh, uneven breaths and the pounding of her heartbeat she was sure he could hear as loudly as she could.

She felt his hand sift through her hair before he slowly wound its length around his fist. She could feel the tug of each loop at her scalp and she couldn't tear her eyes from his.

‘Tell me you want me, Farah.'

His lips slid along her jaw, feather-soft, as he breathed her in. Farah's head fell to the side, unconsciously offering more of her neck to his sinful lips, offering more of herself.

He was going to kiss her. She knew it and she wanted him to. She wanted to feel the moist thrust of his tongue again and lose herself in his dark taste. She wanted him to crush her against him and ease the unbearable ache that throbbed low in her body. Just imagining it had her knees giving out. He took her weight effortlessly, his free hand skimming up the sides of her torso, stealing her thoughts like a sexy cutpurse filching goods from an unprotected market stall. Then, ever so slowly, he brought his other hand down and skated his thumbs lightly along the underside of her breasts until her throbbing nipples were so tight they ached for his touch. Ached for his...

‘I wouldn't go there if I were you, Zach.'

Shocked and dazed by the voice at her side, Farah whipped her head around to find Sheikh Nadir scowling at them.

‘Her father is here.'

It took a moment for the sheikh's words to penetrate her desire-fogged brain but when they did she gasped.

Here?
As in, the
palace
here?

‘What?' Zach's tone echoed her own disbelief.

‘Yes. And he's after blood—yours, to be precise. I told you this would happen.'

Told him what would happen?

The prince released her and stepped back, a victorious, snake charmer's grin on his face. ‘He'll get blood, but it won't be mine.'

A lightning streak of fear shot through Farah. ‘What are you going to do to him?'

Ignoring her, Zach raised a hand and a nearby guard materialised at his side. ‘Take Miss Hajjar to the harem.'

She grabbed his forearm. ‘I want to see my father.'

‘Don't let her out of your sight,' he continued as if she hadn't spoken. ‘Not even for a second.'

Nadir stayed the guard before he could move. ‘Unfortunately I told her father I would bring her.'

‘Why would you do that?' the prince snapped at him.

Nadir's brow rose and Farah wasn't sure if it was with censure or surprise. ‘He wants to see her for himself.'

‘I don't care.'

‘I do.' This time the look was definitely censure. ‘This is my wedding night, Zach,' he said grimly. ‘You need to take care of this quickly and smoothly before Imogen realises something is amiss.'

The new king's care of his bride made Farah's stomach clench. Men did not put their women first, in her experience.

‘Fine,' the prince growled. ‘Let's get this over with.'

Farah tensed at the ominous ring in those words. In Bakaan, the prince wouldn't need a court order to have her father imprisoned or put to death, and desolation overtook her as she realised that, despite all her efforts, there was next to nothing she could do to save him now.

CHAPTER EIGHT

F
ARAH
'
S
 
HEART
 
CAUGHT
 
in her throat as she saw her father standing proud and tall in what looked like a private office. Amir was beside him, four palace guards surrounding them both.

Her father's eyes fell on her and widened before turning to the prince. ‘What have you done to my daughter?'

Farah felt the prince's barely leashed anger. ‘Greetings to you, too, Hajjar,' he drawled insolently. ‘How good of you to grace us with your presence.'

Her father's eyes narrowed. ‘Just answer the question, cur.'

Farah nearly groaned at her father's rudeness. Now was not the time to challenge the man he had kidnapped.

‘You will not be making demands here, Hajjar,' the prince said with grim certainty. ‘You are in my realm now.'

Her father raised his head. ‘I'm sure you will do your worst, but not to my daughter.'

‘I'll do what I like.'

‘Gentlemen.' Sheikh Nadir stepped between them. ‘I urge you to keep this civil.'

‘This is not one of your boardrooms, Nadir,' the prince overrode his brother. ‘I intend to see justice done.'

‘Justice?' Her father spat. ‘You wouldn't know justice if it jumped up and bit you in the backside. You're just like your father.'

‘Careful, Hajjar.' Sheikh Nadir's tone was unmistakably deadly. ‘This is my wedding day and you did kidnap my brother.'

‘I don't deny it. But he took my daughter and spent two nights with her alone in the desert. That is a slur against her good reputation and he should be forced to make amends.'

Amir shifted forward. ‘Did you touch her?' he bit out.

Farah's eyes flew to his. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he eyeballed the prince.

‘That's none of your business.' Prince Zachim's piercing gaze cut from Amir's to hers and Farah felt her face turn brick red as she recalled every time he
had
touched her and how much she had secretly enjoyed it. A spark of awareness simmered behind the prince's eyes, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, as if he too could still feel the press of his blunt fingertips against the underside of her breasts. An unexpected shaft of hunger tightened every one of her nerves, as if in anticipation of that touch, and she released the shaky breath she'd been holding for too long. She knew she should be saying something but she couldn't move under the weight of that unmistakably sexual look; couldn't
think
.

‘By Allah!' Her father's righteous bellow filled the room and Farah shook off the sensual malaise that threatened to consume her. ‘If this cur has compromised my daughter's honour then he will marry her.'

Marry her?

‘No!' Farah's automatic response was nearly drowned out by Prince Zachim's insulting laugh and Amir's horrified shout of disapproval.

‘If you think you can use this to get out of justice being served, Hajjar, you're wrong,' Zach stated menacingly.

‘At least I admit what I did,' her father spat, as if that completely exonerated him from his crime. ‘You...you take my daughter and dress her up as your...your
whore
and expect me to say nothing?'

Even though she knew her father hadn't meant to insult her quite so badly, Farah still felt the sting of his disapproval like a sharp slap. The prince stilled beside her. ‘Retract that insult to your daughter immediately,' he warned quietly. ‘Or I will do it for you.'

Farah stiffened with shock at his instant and unequivocal defence of her. It felt as if no one had been in her corner since her mother had died and a sweet spear of pain lanced her heart.

‘Do you deny the charge?' her father demanded.

‘I am not beholden to you or anyone else,' the prince stated grimly.

‘But you are beholden to the laws of this country and you have wronged my daughter by taking her from her home and then spending the night with her. And something happened between you,' her father asserted. ‘My daughter is in shock.'

An understatement, Farah thought, her mind reeling at all that had been said, including the ludicrous statement that the prince should marry her. Her father had to be mad to even suggest it.

‘Zach?' Nadir's quietly controlled voice broke into the emotion swirling around them and something passed between the two brothers that she couldn't read.

Prince Zachim growled low in his throat and stabbed a hand through his jet-black hair, the lethal glitter in his amber gaze pinning her to the spot. Power throbbed from every one of his muscles and the sexual chemistry that thrilled her as much as it appalled her ratcheted up a notch. ‘I did not compromise this woman,' he said with deliberate slowness.

‘Easy enough to say,' her father snarled.

‘Tell him, Farah,' the prince ordered roughly, her name husky on his lips.

Tell me you want me, Farah?

‘Tell him that nothing happened between us.'

Nothing?

She blinked up at him. She supposed in his world the way he had touched her and kissed her had meant nothing to him and, no, he hadn't compromised her in the way her father meant. But he had made her aware of the sensual nature of her body for the first time in her life and it had changed her in a way she couldn't yet explain. Worse, it had made her want him on a level she had never wanted another man. Was that nothing?

Appalled to find herself close to tears, she stared at the floor to gather her wits but as soon as she heard Amir's swift intake of breath she realised that the men had interpreted her hesitation as an admission of guilt.

A clock she hadn't noticed before ticked loudly in the deathly silence right before both her father and Amir erupted, gesticulating wildly. Within seconds the palace guards surrounded them, guns drawn.

Farah saw Prince Zachim stiffen as he stared at her, his expression one of outraged astonishment. Sheikh Nadir swore under his breath.

‘By Allah, you will marry my daughter,' her father bellowed, ‘or you will bring the wrath of all the mountain tribes down on your head.'

The sheikh swore again.

So did the prince this time.

‘Father, listen, I—'

‘Stay out of this, Farah.'

Stay out of it!
Farah nearly choked as her own temper rose to the surface.

Then Amir spoke, further tightening the screws of tension in the elegant room. ‘I will marry Farah.'

Farah groaned. ‘Amir, don't.'

His brown eyes were fierce as they met hers. ‘I don't care if you have lain with him. I will have you for my own.'

‘Over my dead body.' The prince hadn't moved a muscle but he seemed to dominate the space.

Farah's head throbbed as her mind scrambled to fix what was happening.

‘Zach. A word.' Nadir's commanding tone brooked no argument. Farah glanced away as the prince gave her a loaded stare before following his brother to the other side of the room.

Sighing heavily, she rounded on her father. ‘Father—'

‘Don't argue.' He folded his arms across his massive chest. ‘That dog will do the honourable thing by you if it's the last thing he does.'

‘But I don't want to get married,' she asserted.

Her father waved her claim away as if her desires were inconsequential. ‘Every woman wants to get married.'

Well aware of his chauvinistic views, Farah tried another tact. ‘At least let me choose who I marry, because the prince was telling the truth—
nothing
happened.'

‘You should have listened to me,' her father stated as if she hadn't even spoken. ‘When I told you to stay away from him.'

‘Like you're listening to me now?' she retorted.

‘I told you to stay away, too.' Amir interrupted, clasping her clammy hands between his. ‘I knew it would lead to trouble.'

So this was her fault?

She felt so utterly infuriated she didn't trust herself to speak. And she supposed this
was
her fault, in a way. She
had
defied her father in her misguided attempt to fix everything but, damn it, she had only wanted to help. She had only wanted to prevent things from getting worse for her father. Next time he wanted to go rampaging she'd make sure she stayed home!

She stared down at Amir's hands holding hers, his thumb stroking her skin in a soothing gesture, and she wondered how much more this night would deteriorate when the high and mighty Prince of Bakaan refused to marry her.

* * *

‘Zach, you don't have to marry her.'

Zach heard Nadir's quiet words but his attention was riveted to the tableau across the room. Their body language spoke volumes. Farah's face flushed with her ardent displeasure; her bearing was nothing short of regal, her father holding himself aloof like an imperious ass, and his second-in-command...had just taken hold of her hands.

Zach's eyes narrowed. An unexplainable rage welled up inside him. Were they secret lovers? It wasn't unheard of, even though a woman was supposed to come to her husband's marriage bed a virgin. Would she come to his in that untouched state? Or had she already given herself to the idiot who was about to lose his hand—at best!

His jaw clenched. ‘Idiot.'

‘Sorry?'

‘Not you.' Zach briefly thought about bypassing his hand and going straight for his neck. He, the master communicator—well, there was nothing like a broken neck to get a point across, he supposed. ‘But, yes, I do have to marry her.'

Nadir's expression grew stern. ‘Bloody hell. I believed you when you said you hadn't slept with her. I should have known when I saw you in the garden—'

‘That was nothing.'

‘Nothing? Two more minutes and you would have ripped her clothes off.'

Zach drew his eyes away from Farah and regarded his brother. ‘More like one, but that's not why I have to marry her. And I didn't lie. Nothing has actually happened between us.' Well, nothing if you ignored the unexpected make-out session in the alleyway or his subsequent fantasies in the shower. Not to mention what he'd been about to do to her in the garden. ‘I have not slept with her. Not in the biblical sense, anyway.'

‘Then we'll get you out of this.'

Zach could see Nadir readying himself to go into problem-solving mode but Zach's attention was elsewhere. Which was why he only vaguely heard the mention of war, peace and love. And he knew his brother wasn't doing a book review
.

He swung back to Nadir. ‘What about love?'

Nadir sighed impatiently. ‘You said that was the only reason you would marry—if you were in love.'

Yeah, that was what he'd said once. But honour and integrity were just as important and he wasn't about to let this little spitfire who knew obscure facts about Roman history, and who intrigued him and made him laugh as no other woman ever had, take that from him. ‘Excuse me,' he said to his brother, crossing the room before he'd even registered his intention.

His icy gaze went to the idiot's, his hand to Farah's elbow. ‘This meeting is over,' he informed the tense trio.

Of course, she tried to pull away from him. ‘I told my father—'

‘I will marry your daughter.' He spoke over the top of her, clasping her elbow more firmly.

‘Never thought I'd see the day a Darkhan would do the right thing,' the old man preached.

‘Only because you probably don't recognise the gesture.'

Farah's knight-errant cleared his throat. ‘I don't—'

Zach turned on Amir as he squared off against him and was clearly about to spill his guts. ‘You are about to lose your head if you're not careful,' he bit out. ‘Guards, put them in prison,' he ordered softly.

At the mention of prison his newly acquired fiancée came to life once more. ‘No!'

She pulled out of his hold and rushed to stand in front of the two men like Joan of Arc facing off against the English at Orleans. ‘You can't send them to prison.'

Any other time her loyalty might have impressed him. Just not this time. ‘And just how do you propose to stop me?'

‘Zach...' He heard his brother's cautioning tone but ignored it.

‘Not even you could lock up your own father-in-law,' she announced belligerently.

Her father stiffened. ‘That's enough, Farah!' he scolded. ‘I don't need you to fight my battles for me.'

Zach stared at the woman in front of him, all willowy and beautiful, a touch of vulnerability in her eyes most would probably have missed. He'd noticed it earlier as well, when her father had insulted her, and it had made him want to protect her then, as it did now.

Unable to stop himself, he reached out and ran the back of his knuckles down the smooth line of her cheek. Her breath hitched and he didn't miss that, either. ‘So tough, my little spitfire,' he murmured. ‘So passionate.'

She knocked his hand away. ‘About things I care about, yes.' Her voice was husky and made his body ache to have her.

‘Hell.' His brother's low curse spoke volumes. ‘She has a point, Zach, and I need to get back to Imogen. I'll let you go, Hajjar,' his brother informed the older man. ‘But you put one foot out of line and I'll haul you into prison so fast your head will spin.'

A lead silence filled the room.

‘Come, Farah,' her father finally said with a regal dignity that made Zach want to laugh. ‘I will take you home.'

‘No, you won't,' Zach found himself saying. He smiled. ‘Your daughter is now my fiancée and that means she's mine to do with as I please.'