The Sheikh's Offer (10 page)

“So,” she said, licking her lips.
Dear Allah, he was hard just seeing that much
. “My sheikh, for the record, are we going to own the Big Apple because I’m great or you are?”

He kissed her again before answering. “Because we’re unstoppable together.”

She smiled sweetly and squeezed his hand. “I can’t argue with that.”

“For once,” he joked before they headed back to his room. They had so much time to make up for, and he didn’t intend to waste it.

The End!

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ANOTHER SHEIKH STORY YOU MAY ENJOY

Sheikh’s American Desire by Sophia Lynn

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The Sheikh’s American Desire

By: Sophia Lynn

All Rights Reserved.
Copyright 2016 Sophia Lynn

CHAPTER ONE

The bedroom that she had been assigned was luxurious beyond anything she could have dreamed of. The bed was an enormous four-poster with silk brocade covers, and the makeup table in the corner would have satisfied any 1930s movie star. Above, the ceiling had been painted with silvery stars that glittered in the low light.

Daisy couldn't see any of that, though. Instead, she could only see the gown that hung up on the standing mirror nearby. It was a traditional Samaran gown, with a tight bodice embroidered with sequins and swirling silk thread patterns. Even in the dim light of the room, the olive gown glimmered with a beauty that could not be hidden.

Daisy was terrified.

Somewhere in the palace, the clock struck nine. She flinched. She should have been downstairs half an hour ago, but she had seen the dress the palace girls had left for her, and she had frozen.

I can't wear that, that's not me!
her mind insisted.
That's like something for...

As if the thought had summoned her, the door creaked open and Lia appeared.

“Oh no, Daisy, are you all right?”

Lia Gardner was a tall and willowy redhead with a face that was saved from severity only by the splatter of freckles on her nose. She wore Brooklyn street fashion and haute couture dresses with ease, but tonight, she wore the signature white and gold gown of Samaran royalty. By contrast, Daisy was shorter, rounder, and still dressed in the black sweater and long black skirt she had been wearing all day.

Lia strode into the room, turning on the lights with a brisk efficiency that Daisy could only envy. As she watched Lia examine the dress hanging off of the mirror, she felt that familiar stab of jealousy that was so common whenever she was around her older sister.

Where Lia was a sharp
yes
, Daisy had always been a hesitant
maybe.
Instead of Lia's fiery red mane, Daisy's hair was a dark chestnut, and where Lia's eyes were a flashing green, hers were a softer hazel. When Lia had flown away to exotic Samara, however, Daisy had missed her sister immensely. It seemed like a fairytale when, only a few months later, she received news that her sister had married Sheikh Khilafa Baykara, the protector of the country.

Daisy had missed the wedding, but Lia had insisted that she appear for the one month anniversary. In Samaran culture, the one month celebration was even more important than the wedding, and Lia had brooked no disagreements.

That was why Daisy had swallowed her fear of planes and come all the way to Samara. Through the long trip, she had held on to the fact that she was going to see her beloved sister again. Lia had been wrapped in a long series of preparations, rituals, and a dozen tasks, but still she had found the time to see her wayward little sister.

Leave it to Lia to appear just when I have to do something I don't want to,
thought Daisy wryly.

“Is there something wrong with the dress? I know that Samaran gowns can be a bit tricky, but this was cut to your measurements...”

“It's not that, it's just so much. There's so much going on and so many people...”

A sudden horrid thought struck Daisy.

“And, they're all here for you! Oh, Lia, I shouldn't be keeping you from everyone...”

Lia waved a careless hand. “If they think they can start without me, they're welcome to try.”

Some might have thought that it was marrying Samara's most powerful man had given Lia airs, but Daisy knew that she had always been like this. Lia knew who was important to her, and she didn't hesitate to let that be known to the rest of the world.

Lia pulled the gown off the hanger, handling it with care for the beautiful embroidery work on it. “Now tell me what's the problem, sweetheart.”

“It's just too much,” Daisy tried to articulate. “There are all those people, and they're going to be looking at me, and...and...”

“Wrong,” said Lia briskly. “They're going to be looking at me. I promise, if anyone looks at you sideways, I'll come down on them like the fist of an angry god. Now, can I help you get into this?”

Daisy's smile was small, but it was genuine. Somehow, Lia always knew what to say to make her feel better.

“Okay.”

“Good. And, the main hall is enormous, but there are lots of places for you to tuck yourself away, if you need to hide for a while.”

In a matter of seconds, Lia had Daisy stripped down to her plain white underthings and stepping into the olive gown. In the brighter light, Daisy could tell it was not one shade of green, but several. The dress was cunningly sewn so that the different shades of fabric combined into a beautiful textured whole. The part of Daisy that adored colors and textures loved the effect. The rest of her was terrified of wearing something so beautiful and obviously expensive.

“Breathe in...”

Without thinking about it, Daisy did as her sister said. When she felt Lia start to do up the bodice's buttons, she gasped.

“That's too tight!” she said.

“It's not, trust me,” Lia said patiently. “It's supposed to fit like that.”

Now that Daisy was looking, he could see that Lia's gown nipped her in at the waist and pushed her breasts up.

“All right...”

Lia was just reaching for the buttons again when the door opened.

“A one-month anniversary doesn't mean much if a man must celebrate it alone,” said Sheikh Khilafa Baykara.

“Khilafa! I will be right down, and next time, for the love of all that's good, knock! This is my sister's room!”

“Beautiful sister,” came an amused voice from behind Khilafa. There was another man there, one that Daisy couldn't see, but she still yelped, gathering up the edges of her dress and turning away. Her face was on fire.

Khilafa laughed.

“At your convenience then, beautiful women,” he said, shutting the door behind him.

“I swear, that man only plays the savage sheikh when he thinks it's funny,” Lia muttered. “Now come here, and let me take care of you. We really are a bit late.”

Daisy submitted to her sister's ministrations, her face still flaming red. She could imagine how she looked, half in and half out of a gown that was far too beautiful for her, her skin pale and doughy in the bright light.

Lia was right. The dress was comfortable once it was secured. Daisy could feel the way it made her stand up straighter. She was a little self-conscious about the way her breasts were pushed up and her hips were pushed down, but she figured there would be enough people there that she wouldn't stand out too horribly.

Lia ran a quick brush through Daisy's hair. Like Lia's, it was wavy and naturally sleek and shiny. All it took was a brush to make it glow.

“There, now you're beautiful,” Lia said approvingly. “Do you want to see what you look like in the mirror?”

“Not at all,” said Daisy. “Let's go before we're that much later.”

Lia rolled her eyes at her sister's reticence, and arm in arm, they left the room.

***

When Lia had spoken about the one month ceremonies, Daisy had been expecting something formal, long, and impressive. The main hall, decked out in hothouse flowers with a real fountain sparkling at one end was indeed impressive, as were the people who crowded its length. Some of the attendees were dressed in traditional Samaran splendor, others were dressed in western ball gowns and tuxedos, but clearly all were there to impress and stun. Daisy had never felt more out of place in her life.

There were no long speeches or rituals, however. Khilafa, dressed in white robes and handsome as a movie star, had stepped up to the dais. With a glowing grin, he gave a brief speech on his duties as the protector of Samara and how he had found the one who would protect it just as fiercely as he would. He presented a brilliant Lia to thunderous applause. When the tumult died down, they raised their joined hands.

“May all be welcome in our house!” they cried together, and the music had started.

Daisy knew that her sister wouldn't be able to take up her old role of social buffer for her. It didn't stop her from feeling adrift and lost amongst all the beautiful people, though. A few of them smiled at her, but her answering grin, probably nervous and shy, prevented most from approaching. When she saw a few who did want to come near, Daisy couldn't stop herself from ducking through the crowd.

Maybe I just need to loosen up a little,
she thought hopefully.

She made her was to the long refreshments table and was promptly confused by the variety of things offered there. There was a lull in the crowd, so she didn't feel so very pushed, but still, she wasn't sure what she wanted.

“Do you need some help, beautiful girl?”

They were the first words spoken to her since the party began. It was just as well she hadn't been holding a drink because she would have spilled it all over herself.

“I... I don't know...”

The man standing beside her was dressed in an impeccably fitted European tuxedo. The stark black of the suit and the gleaming white of the shirt only served to emphasize the bronze of his skin and the dark luster of his hair. Unlike many of the men at the event, he was completely clean shaven, which gave him a roguish, boy-like look. His black eyes danced with merriment, and his smile was very white and very sharp.

“If you came from America, you will not have many of these drinks available to you, I do not think. Perhaps you would care for some help?”

The calm assurance compared with his muscular frame made her think of Khilafa, she realized. She wondered with a bit of panic whether she was talking with a Samaran noble.

“I would like that a lot,” she said, wishing her voice wasn't so quiet. “I mean, I want to try something new, but I don't want to order something...completely inappropriate, I guess? I mean...”

His soft laugh was utterly without sting or censure.

“Of course. When I was at Oxford, I made an ass of myself because I didn't know how powerful scotch is. Let me help you.”

Daisy thought that he would simply order for her, but instead he stepped close. The crowd at her back meant that she couldn't pull away. Now, she realized how truly large he was, how powerful his frame.

He smells like mint and flowers,
she thought hazily.

“Now, that bottle contains raki. It's from Turkey originally, but Samara has made it its own. Licorice, strong, and a little coarse. Maybe not so suitable for a young lady?”

Daisy bit her lip, but before she could say yes or no, he continued.

“There is tej, which is made from honey. Sweet, lovely, and runs from light to heavy, but still very strong.”

The tej was beautiful, with a soft golden color that immediately drew her eye. Before she could comment, the man went on.

“And, there at the end is something that might suit you. It's not so popular in Samara, but it is a traditional drink in Marat. Lemon juice, orange juice, rosewater, honey syrup – I think you would enjoy it...”

Daisy stared up at him with dismay.

“Are you saying that I should be drinking lemonade?”

His grin was white and sharp.

“Well, you looked a little intimidated by the alcohol...”

“I'm not a child!”

Before he could make a response, a charmingly dressed little girl in a pink Samaran gown walked up to the table, and as Daisy watched with irritation, she asked for the lemonade. She turned a glare on the man standing next to her. He only looked amused, which made her even more irritable.

“Thank you for the advice,” she said, doing her best imitation of Lia when Lia was irritated. “I think I've got it from here.”

The worst part was that the rosewater lemonade did sound good. She loved floral flavors, and she had always had a love of overly sweet drinks. Still, there was a point to be made.