Winter Blockbuster 2012 (20 page)

A tiny and no doubt futile glimmer of hope sparked into life. Unless he had done it somehow for her. But no; he didn’t want her.

‘The thing is, dear sister,’ Marina said, taking her hands in hers, ‘what are you going to do now?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, her heart racing, trying to assimilate and understand everything her sister had told her about Zoltan, everything that made no sense, except that it was Zoltan, and in a way it did. Who else had a grudge against Mustafa and felt he had to prove himself at every turn? Who else would delight in humiliating him further? ‘I was going to get in touch anyway.’

‘Well, maybe you’ll get your chance in a few minutes.’

Realisation skittered down her spine in a tingling rush. ‘He’s here?’

‘He said he wanted to freshen up before he saw you. He said he smells of horse.’

‘I like the way he smells,’ she mused out loud.

Her sister smiled. ‘Maybe you could start by telling him that.’

‘My father told me I’d find you here.’

They were in the library, all four of them, freshly showered and looking dangerously dark and sexy. And one of them looked darker and sexier than all the others as he perched on the edge of a desk. He watched her, with those impenetrable dark eyes, his jaw clamped shut, his expression closed.

One by one the other men peeled away, Bahir slapping him on the back, Kadar on the shoulder. Rashid uttered a quick, ‘Later,’ and with a bow of their heads in her direction they were gone.

He stood and bowed his own head. ‘Princess,’ he said. ‘Queen.’

She looked up at him, at this man she had once had and lost, at the dark planes and sharp angles of his face, and wondered how she could ever have thought he wasn’t the most handsome man on the planet. How had she missed such an obvious fact? She wished she could have flung herself into his arms, as she had done with Marina. But if he rejected her, if he pushed her away, she would die.

‘I came to thank you. For rescuing Marina.’

‘Your sister is well?’

She nodded. ‘Very well, and very grateful. We all are.’ She searched for something else to say, something to broach the veritable abyss that seemed to stretch between them. And then, because she needed to know if the tiny spark in her heart would be fanned into life or would quickly be extinguished, she went on. ‘Why did you do it and not leave it to
someone else? Why did you risk yourself on such a rescue now that you are king?’

He dragged in a breath. ‘I should never have left Mustafa free to continue to make trouble, after what he had attempted with you. He is the worst kind of opportunist. He saw an opportunity when King Hamra’s entire family was wiped out and he kidnapped you to try to steal the crown.’

She frowned. ‘You don’t think he—?’ She stopped. It was too ugly a thought to entertain, too horrible, even for someone like him.

‘Do I think he was behind the crash from the start?’ He shook his head. ‘No. I wondered that once too, but no. Mustafa is a bully, he always has been. But even he would not be capable of murdering so many of his own family. The early reports from the crash investigators seem to support that it was a tragic accident. So, like I said, he saw the opportunity to seize the throne and he took it by kidnapping you.

‘And then when that went wrong he saw the chance to frustrate the coronation by taking your sister hostage. I promise he won’t try anything again, not where he is now, but how could I do nothing when I felt responsible for what had happened, for letting him go after what he had done to you?’

‘Oh.’ She looked at the floor as the tiny spark of hope fizzled out. ‘I see.’ He felt responsible. But he would. When would she ever learn? When would she stop her silly dreams and hopes getting in the way of reality? ‘Well, thank you.’

‘And, of course, there was the consideration that Marina is your sister.’

She warily lifted her head. ‘Because she is now sister-in-law to the King?’

‘More than that. I knew you would be upset. I know how much your sister means to you.’

She blinked up at him, touched beyond words, the beginnings
of a tentative smile forming on her lips, the spike of tears behind her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and then wondered why she’d said that when she’d been intending to thank him again. And then she realised it didn’t matter if he rejected her apology out of hand and never wanted to see her again—she owed him this apology. ‘I’m so sorry for causing you so much trouble.’

‘It was Mustafa—’

‘No—for being such a spoilt princess. I’m sorry for leaving you the way I did. My father tried to talk sense into me but I wouldn’t listen. I thought you didn’t care that I’d gone, but all that time you were out there finding my sister.’

She squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands over her face, feeling the dampness on her cheeks from the tears that would be contained no longer. ‘I’m such a fool.’

She felt his arms close around her, felt herself pulled against his chest, and the sheer joy of it brought forth a fresh burst of tears.

‘Aisha,’ he said, stroking her hair, pressing his lips to it.

She lifted her tear-streaked face, blinking away the moisture in her eyes, and he swept the hair from her face with his fingers. ‘You’re not still angry with me?’ she asked.

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turned up the slightest fraction. ‘It’s me who should be asking that. I have treated you appallingly. I was so angry and so resentful with being forced into this position, that I took it out on you. And I understand why you were so hurt the night of the coronation. I’d betrayed your trust once again. And I was going to follow you and tell you that you were right that same night, even though I knew you wouldn’t believe me, and tell you that I cared for you.

‘And then came the news that Marina had been taken. Hamzah was against me going. But I thought,
I hoped
, that
if I could help reunite you with your sister you might understand, just a little, how much you mean to me.’

Her heart swelled in her chest. ‘I still can’t believe you did that, that you risked everything.’

‘But none of it matters, does it?’ he said. ‘If you can’t have what you truly want.’

‘What do you truly want?’

He looked down at her with his dark, potent eyes. ‘I want you. I want all of you. I want you to be my queen. I want your body. I want your soul. I want you for ever.’

She gasped as he pressed his lips to her forehead before pulling back and she hungered for more of his kiss. ‘And I know I fall short of the kind of man you wanted to marry. I know this has all happened the wrong way around and that you have every right to hate me for ever. So I am offering you a choice.’

‘What choice?’

He dipped his mouth, kissed the tip of her nose, and she drank in his air and the very essence of him while her lips searched in vain for his.

‘You can walk away from our marriage and all that it entails, or you can stay and settle for my flaws and imperfections and, ultimately, my love.’

Her swelling heart sang. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said I’m giving you a choice.’

‘No, not that bit. The other bit.’

‘About walking away?’

‘No!’

He smiled and kissed her eyes, first one and then the other, but when she angled her face higher, to give him access to her hungry mouth, he withdrew. ‘The other choice is my love. You see, I have nothing to offer you, Aisha, that you cannot
find in a million other more worthy men, nothing but the one thing only I can give you—my love, if you will accept it.’

‘You never told me. I never knew.’

‘I didn’t know it myself. Not really, not until you walked away and left my heart in pieces on the floor. I love you, Aisha. And I know I am so unworthy. I know I am the last person who deserves it. But will you come back and be my wife? Will you let me love you? Will you find it in your heart to love me one day, even just a little?’

‘Oh, Zoltan, yes—a thousand times yes. I love you so much. And now…’

‘Now?’

‘Now will you kiss me at last?’

He laughed, a low, delicious rumble that vibrated through her all the way to her bones. ‘Only a kiss, Aisha, my queen?’

‘Don’t tell me—you are giving me another choice already?’

His hands scooped down her back to cup her behind, bringing her into even closer contact with the evidence of his desire. ‘Only if you want it.’

She smiled up at him, her blood fizzing in anticipation, dizzy with love. ‘Oh, I want it, Zoltan. I want it all.’

As his head dipped and his lips brushed against hers with that first delicious contact, she heard him say, ‘Then you shall have it.’

And she knew, in her heart, mind and soul, that she already did.

ONE DANCE
WITH THE SHEIKH

Tessa Radley

In Loving Memory of Sandra Hyatt
Wise Woman, Best Friend and Awesome Writer!

CHAPTER ONE

W
HO
was she?

Dark red hair hung down her back, and as she shifted, the color changed like tongues of fire. Her tall, slender body was encased in a shimmering silvery grey gown that clung to her like moonlight on a dark night.

Rakin Whitcomb Abdellah had arrived at the giant white gazebo in the garden in front of the house where the guests were gathered in time to see the bride and groom link hands in front of the celebrant. It had surprised him that it had taken the usually responsible Eli only a matter of weeks to set aside the caution of a lifetime and to fall head over heels in love with his bride. But what had astonished Rakin more was the fact that Eli was marrying a Kincaid at all—since, less than a month ago, Kara’s own sister had jilted Eli. Yet, once his gaze settled on the wedding group, it was the maid of honor with her glorious hair and eye-catching beauty who captured Rakin’s attention as she moved forward to take the bouquet of red roses from the bride.

This could only be Laurel Kincaid, the woman who’d jilted his best friend Eli less than a month before their wedding day.

The woman who Eli had suggested could be the solution to all Rakin’s problems.

A child, no more than three or four years old, strutted forward bearing a fat cushion. Rakin squinted and made out the two rings perched on top. Laurel stepped forward and held out a hand to guide him, but he tugged away, clearly reluctant to stand beside two flower girls. Instead he barreled his way between Eli and his bride Kara Kincaid, eliciting both chuckles and sighs as he stole hearts.

The maid of honor was scanning the guests.

Above the bouquet of red roses, her eyes were green. The brightest emerald Rakin had ever seen. Unexpectedly, her gaze landed on him. Time stopped. The murmurs around him, the sound of Kara saying her vows, the heady fragrance of the Southern blooms all faded from Rakin’s consciousness. There was only… her.

Then she glanced away.

And the tension that had gripped him slowly eased.

Eli had warned him that his ex-fiancée was a beauty, yet Rakin hadn’t been prepared for his body’s reaction to her as their eyes had locked. Lust. Becoming romantically entangled with her was not an option. For starters, she was a Charleston Kincaid—not some nymphet with pleasure on her mind. And, if he took Eli’s advice, the proposal he intended to put to her had everything to do with business, and nothing to do with pleasure.

Despite the gorgeous green-eyed, auburn-haired wrapping, Laurel Kincaid had
Do Not Touch
written all over her.

Yet even so, Rakin could scarcely wait for the ceremony to end, for the moment when he congratulated the newlyweds—and Eli introduced him to the maid of honor. Then he would decide whether she would fit in with his plans.

The rich scent of jasmine and gardenia announced that summer had arrived in the South.

Her sister’s wedding was being held at the Kincaid family home, a two-and-a-half story elaborately embellished federal mansion where Laurel had grown up. The imposing facade flanked by decorative balconies, each with a pagoda roof, had always been home to Laurel and her siblings.

But at the moment she was less concerned with the details of the wedding venue than the identity of one tall dark and handsome stranger. Laurel had a pretty good idea of the identities of all the guests at her sister’s wedding; after all, Kara had originally run all the guests’ names past her when this was supposed to have been her own wedding.

And the stranger with the dark, exotic good looks hadn’t been on it.

So where did Kara know him from? And why had her sister never mentioned him before?

If she didn’t quit shooting surreptitious glances at the man her sisters would have her married off to him in an instant. And she wasn’t interested in him; she simply wanted to know who he was.

Laurel averted her gaze and watched as Eli took Kara’s hands in his, the gold of their newly donned wedding rings glinting in the late afternoon sun. Unexpectedly her throat tightened.

Oh, no. She wasn’t going to cry!

She’d never been the type to gush tears at weddings.?… She always smiled and said the right thing at the right time. So why was she suddenly feeling like this? This wedding was a joyous occasion, not a time to shed tears.

And heaven knew what interpretation people would put on it if she did start to cry. She scanned the enormous number of guests all dressed up and smiling. Laurel could think
of at least one or two who would put the worst possible slant on it. Then the damage would be done, and rumors would be rife around the city that she was heartbroken about Kara marrying Eli—after she had broken off her own engagement to him.

Laurel was utterly delighted for them both. She was relieved she wasn’t marrying Eli.

But no one would believe that if she started to weep.

Get a grip.

Her eyes fell onto her mother.

Now there was reason to cry. Elizabeth Kincaid was a legendary Southern beauty. Everyone said she’d have been crowned Miss South Carolina, if she’d ever entered—but soft-spoken, eternally elegant Elizabeth had too much class to enter beauty pageants. Instead, after her family had fallen on hard times, she’d married Reginald Kincaid and become one of the most accomplished hostesses in Charleston and brought cachet to the nouveau riche Kincaid name.