Книга - The Sheikh’s Bartered Bride

The Sheikh's Bartered Bride
LUCY MONROE


After a whirlwind courtship, Sheikh Hakim bin Omar al Kadar proposes marriage. Shy, innocent Catherine Benning has already fallen head-over-heels in love and she accepts….After their wedding day–and night–when the sheikh claims his virgin wife, Catherine and Hakim travel to his desert kingdom. There Catherine discovers that this is no love match for Hakim–he's bought her!









“Duty is not always pleasant.” Hakim smiled in a way that increased Catherine’s heart rate. “But it sometimes has unforeseen benefits.”


The warmth in his eyes mesmerized her. “It does?”

“Were it not for my duty, I would not have the great honor of joining my life with yours in two weeks’ time.”

Questions surrounding her suitability to be his bride because of her virginity faded from her mind as white-hot desire scorched through her. Hakim leaned down and kissed her quite forcefully, then set her away from him.

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks,” she repeated, her voice breathless.




The Sheikh’s Bartered Bride

Lucy Monroe










www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Isabelle…You are more precious to me than words can ever express and I thank God daily for giving you to me as a very special gift. With love, Lucy




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN




CHAPTER ONE


“MISS BENNING.”

She wasn’t Miss Benning. She was Catherine Marie, captive of The Hawk, a sheikh who still lived by the code of the desert, where only the strongest survived.

He was coming now. She could hear his deep, masculine voice as he spoke in a tongue she did not understand to someone outside her tent. She struggled against the cords that bound her hands, but it was useless. The silk scarves were soft, but strong and she could not get her hands free.

If she did, what would she do? Run?

Where?

She was in the middle of the desert. The sun beat against the tent, heating up the cavernous interior. She wouldn’t last a day in the vast wasteland on her own.

Then he was there, standing in the entrance to the room in which she was held. His features were cast in shadow. All she could see was his big body encased in the white pants and tunic typical of his people. A black robe, his abaya, fell from his massive shoulders to mid-calf and his head was covered with the red and white smagh that denoted his position as sheikh. The headband holding it in place was made of twisted black leather.

He was less than fifteen feet away, but still his face was hidden from her by the shadows. Only the strong line of his jaw denoting his arrogance was discernable.

“Miss Benning!”

Catherine Marie Benning’s head snapped up from where it had been resting against her fist and her eyes slowly focused on her surroundings. Tent walls hung with faded silks, to be replaced by cool gray cement, relieved only by the posters advertising the upcoming book drive and literacy event. They were the walls of the break room in the Whitehaven Public Library, much closer to a cold and wet Seattle, Washington than the blistering hot deserts of the Sahara.

Fluorescent light cast a harsh glow over the pointed features of the woman standing in front of her.

“Yes, Mrs. Camden?”

Straightening her double-knit polyester blazer, almost identical in color to the library’s walls, Mrs. Camden, Catherine’s superior, sniffed. “Your head was off in the clouds again, Miss Benning.”

The disapproval in the older woman’s voice grated against Catherine’s usually limitless patience. Perhaps if the man in her fantasies would ever show his face, she wouldn’t be feeling so frustrated, but he did not. This time had been no different. The Hawk was as elusive to her imagination as he was in it.

“I’m still on break,” she gently reminded the older woman.

“Yes, well, we all do what we must.”

Recognizing the beginnings of a familiar lecture, Catherine stifled a sigh at the knowledge her lunch break was to be cut short. Again.



Hakim bin Omar al Kadar walked into the library and scanned the reference area for sight of Catherine Marie Benning. Her picture was indelibly printed on his mind. His future wife. While arranged marriages were not uncommon in the royal family of Jawhar, his was unique.

Catherine Marie Benning was unaware that she was to become his wife. Her father wanted it that way.

One of the stipulations of the deal between Hakim’s uncle and Harold Benning was that Hakim convince Catherine to become his wife without telling her about the arrangement between her father and the King of Jawhar. Hakim had not asked why. Having been educated in the West, Hakim knew that American women did not view arranged marriages with the same equanimity the women of his family did.

He would have to court Catherine, but that would be no hardship. Even in an arranged marriage, a royal prince of Jawhar was expected to court his intended bride. This marriage would be no different. He would give her a month.

Ten weeks ago, his uncle had been apprised by Harold Benning of the probable deposits of a rare mineral in the mountains of Jawhar. The American had suggested a partnership between Benning Excavations and the royal family of Jawhar.

The two men had still been negotiating terms when Hakim had been attacked while out riding in the desert in the early hours of the morning. Investigations had revealed that the assassination attempt had been made by the same group of dissidents responsible for his parents’ deaths twenty years before.

Hakim was unclear how marriage for Catherine had become part of the deal. He knew only that his uncle considered it convenient. Should the need for long-term living visas arise for the royal family, Hakim would be in a position to sponsor them as the spouse of an American. There would be no need to go through regular diplomatic channels, thus preserving the privacy and pride of his family.

The royal family of Jawhar had not sought political asylum from another country in the three centuries of its reign and they never would. Already overseeing the family’s interests in America, Hakim had been the logical choice for the alliance.

Harold Benning also saw the marriage as beneficial. His concern over the continued single state of his twenty-four-year old daughter had been obvious. According to him, she never even dated.

The result of the older men’s negations had been a Royal Decree: Hakim was to marry Catherine Benning.

He spotted his quarry helping a small boy on the other side of the room. She stretched to pull a book from the shelf and the button-up black sweater she wore above a long, straight skirt caught his attention. Molding her breasts, it revealed a surprisingly lush feminine form and he felt himself stir.

This was unexpected. Her picture had revealed a pretty woman, but nothing like the exotic beauties he had bedded in the past. That he should react so readily to such an innocent sight made him stop in his journey toward her.

What had so aroused him? Her skin was pale, but not alabaster. Her hair was blond, but a dark blond and twisted up on the back of her head as it was, it looked drab. Her eyes were a shock, a gentian-blue that had startled him with their intensity in the picture and were even more unusual in person.

Aside from the eyes, nothing about her stood out and yet his body’s response could not be denied. He wanted her. While he had experienced this sort of instant physical attraction before, it had been with a lot more provocation. A certain way of walking, dressing or an alluring look. Catherine Benning exhibited none of these.

It was a puzzling, but not unpleasant surprise. A genuine physical attraction on his part would make the job of her seduction that much easier. He had been prepared to do his duty regardless of personal attraction. Country came first. Family came second. His own needs and desires last of all.

He walked forward, stopping a little to her left. As the boy walked away, her dark sapphire gaze did a quick survey of the room, skimming over him, and then settled back on a man who had come to stand in front of the desk.

But even as she pointed to something on her computer monitor, her gaze flicked back to Hakim. And stayed. He met her eyes, noting peripherally the man she had been helping walk away. The next person in line went unnoticed as her attention remained on him.

She appeared poleaxed and he smiled.

Her entire body went taut and her cheeks pinkened, but she did not look away.

His smile went up a notch. Fulfilling his duty would be a simple matter of turning that attraction into a desire to wed.

“Miss Benning! Pay attention. You have patrons to serve.”

The martinet haranguing Catherine was no doubt the dragon of a boss Harold Benning had mentioned when briefing Hakim on his daughter.

Catherine’s head snapped around and her blush intensified, but she did not stammer as she answered the older woman. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered.” She turned to the next person in line, repeated her apology and asked how she could help them, effectively dismissing her superior.

The older woman harrumphed and marched away like a petty general deprived of his battle spoils.

He waited until the last of the line had walked away before greeting Catherine. “Good afternoon.”

She smiled, her eyes even more startling up close. The blush was back. “Hi. What can I do for you?”

“I am interested in antique telescopes and the history of stargazing. Perhaps you can direct me to a good reference.”

Her eyes lit with interest. “Is this a new hobby for you?”

“Fairly new.” As recent as the discussion Hakim had had with her father. Although Hakim’s own father had shared Catherine’s passionate interest in ancient stargazing, since his death, his books had remained unused in the observatory in the Kadar Palace.

“It’s one of my personal interests. If you’ve got a few minutes I’ll show you the right section and point out a few books that I think are particularly good.”

“I would like that very much.”



Catherine sucked in air, trying to calm her racing heart as she led the handsome and rather imposing man to the proper nonfiction area of her library. The aura of barely leashed power surrounding him was enough to send her pulse rocketing, but the fact that he physically embodied every characteristic of her ideal fantasy tipped her senses into dangerous territory.

At least a couple of inches over six feet, his muscle-honed body towered above her own five foot seven in a way that made her feel small beside him. Even knowing she was not. The silky black hair on his head was only a shade darker than the color of his eyes and if he didn’t speak with such impeccable English, she would think he was the sheikh of her fantasies.

A wave of totally unfamiliar desire swept over her, leaving her even more breathless and confused.

He hadn’t touched her and somehow she had always believed this level of sexual awareness could only accompany touch. She’d been wrong.

They stopped in front of a row of books. She pulled one off the shelf and handed it to him. “This is my favorite. I have my own first-edition copy at home.”

He took the book and his fingers briefly brushed hers. She jumped back, shocked by the contact. Her body throbbed in a way she hadn’t experienced before, but she desperately tried to look unaffected by his nearness.

“I am sorry.” His black gaze probed her own, leaving her even more unsettled.

She shook her head, but could feel that infernal blush crawling along her skin again. “It’s nothing.” Less than nothing. Or at least it should have been.

He flipped open the book and looked at it. She knew she should go, but she couldn’t make her legs move in the direction of the reference desk.

The book shut with a snap and his dark gaze settled on her again. “Do you recommend anything else?”

“Yes.” She spent another ten minutes pointing out different books and suggesting a couple of periodicals he might be interested in ordering.

“Thank you very much, Miss…”

“Benning, but please call me Catherine.”

“I am Hakim.”

“That’s an Arabic name.”

His mouth twitched. “Yes.”

“But your English is perfect.” What an inane thing to say. Lots of Arabic people lived in the Seattle area, many of them second or third generation Americans.

“So it should be,” he drawled in a voice programmed to melt her insides. “The royal tutor would be most displeased if one of his pupils should speak with anything less than complete mastery.”

“Royal?” The word came out sounding choked.

“Forgive me. I am Hakim bin Omar al Kadar, prince in the royal family of Jawhar.”

She was breathing, but her lungs felt starved of oxygen. A prince? She’d been talking to a prince for more than ten minutes. Lusting after him! Heavens. Her half-formed idea of inviting him to attend the next meeting of the Antique Telescope Society died a swift death. Unfortunately the attraction he held for her did not.

She swallowed. “Can I help you with anything else?”

“I have taken up enough of your time.”

“There’s a society for people interested in antique telescopes in Seattle,” she found herself blurting out, unable to let it go at that. She wouldn’t invite him to meet her there, but she could tell him about the meeting.

“Yes?”

“They meet tonight.” She named the time and place.

“Will I see you there?” he asked.

“Probably not.” She would be there, but she sat in the back of the room and he was not the sort of man content to enjoy anything from the sidelines.

She wasn’t wholly content, either, but she didn’t know how to break a lifetime of conditioning.

“You will not attend?” He actually looked disappointed.

“I always go.”

“Then I shall see you.”

She shrugged. “It’s a big group.”

“I will look for you, Catherine.”

She barely stopped herself from blurting out the question, “Why?” Instead she smiled. “Then maybe we will run into each other.”

“I do not leave such matters to fate.”

No doubt. He was much too decisive. “Until tonight then.”

She turned to go and was only marginally disappointed he did not call her back. After all, he’d said he would look for her.

He checked the books out she had recommended and left the library a few minutes later.

Catherine watched him go, certain of one thing. The sheikh of her fantasies would no longer be faceless.

He would have the features of Hakim.




CHAPTER TWO


CATHERINE walked into the meeting room in one of Seattle’s posh downtown hotels. Though she was early, over half of the seats were already taken. She scanned the crowd for Hakim while butterflies with hobnail boots danced an Irish jig on the inside of her stomach.

Would he be here?

Would he really be looking for her?

It was hard to believe. Even harder to accept the sensations she felt at the mere thought of his presence.

A scar-riddled face and subsequent laser treatments had meant she’d missed out on dating in both high school and college. Her shyness had been so ingrained by then that the late blooming her parents had expected never materialized. She thought she’d come to terms with the fact she would most likely die a maiden aunt in the best tradition of little old ladies with white hair and homes filled with other people’s memories. She was too shy to pursue men and too ordinary to be pursued. Yet something about Hakim compelled her to step outside her comfort zone.

And that scared her.

No way would a guy like that return her interest.

“Catherine. You have arrived.”

She knew the owner of the deeply masculine voice, even as she turned. “Good evening, Hakim.”

“Will you sit with me?”

She nodded, unable to immediately voice her acceptance.

He led her to a chair in the middle of the room, much closer to the front than she usually sat. Taking her arm, he helped her into the seat with a courtesy that was both captivating and alarming. Alarming because it meant he touched her and the feel of his warm fingers on her arm was enough to send her senses reeling.

Several pairs of eyes turned to watch them take their seats, the curiosity of the onlookers palpable. She smiled slightly at an elderly woman whose stare was filled with avid interest. Catherine remembered talking to her at the last meeting. She was nice, but a bit nosy.

Catherine moved her own gaze to the front of the room where tonight’s speaker stood talking to the president of the society.

The speaker was the leading authority on George Lee and Sons telescopes. He was supposed to bring along one from his collection for the society members to look at up close. She couldn’t wait to see it and thought the red silk covered shape in the front of the room must be it.

She was proved right forty minutes later when the silk cover was removed and the general assembly was invited to come forward and take a look.

“You wish to see it?” Hakim asked her.

She shrugged.

“What does this shrug mean?”

She turned her head, allowing herself the luxury of a full-on look. The impact was that of a bomb exploding in her brain and she almost gasped, but held back the revealing sound.

She smiled wryly, knowing herself. “The shrug means I’ll probably forego the pleasure.”

“I will accompany you.”

Like a security blanket? “It’s not that,” she denied, even though it was exactly that. “I’d just rather not wait in line. Do you see how many people are already waiting to look at it?”

Hakim looked toward the line of society members and then back at her. “Are you quite certain you do not wish to see it?”

Even a George Lee and Sons telescope could not compete with Hakim for her interest, she admitted to herself. “Very sure.”

“Then, perhaps you would consent to dinner with me this evening and we could discuss my new hobby. You appear highly knowledgeable in the subject.”

“Dinner?” she parroted.

“Are you concerned about sharing a meal with a stranger?”

The quite justifiable concern had never entered her mind, but then she’d never been in a sheikh’s company before, nor had she ever experienced the debilitating cocktail of feelings being near him elicited in her body.

“No,” she said, shocking herself and making his eyes widen fractionally.

“Then you will allow me to buy you dinner this evening?”

“I don’t know…”

“Please.” The word sounded much more like a command than any sort of pleading, yet it affected her just the same.

“I suppose I could follow you to the restaurant in my car.” She should show at least a rudimentary level of self-protection.

“Very well. Is seafood to your liking?”

Her mouth watered at the thought. “I adore it.”

“There is a beautiful restaurant not a block from here. We could walk.”

“I think it’s just starting to rain,” she said.

His lips tilted in a sardonic smile. “If so, I will lend you my raincoat.”

She laughed at the instant picture she had of herself in a raincoat several sizes too big. “That won’t be necessary. I just thought you probably wouldn’t like to walk if it was wet out.”

“I would not have suggested it otherwise.”

“Of course.”

It was a short walk and though the gray clouds were heavy with moisture, it did not rain.

They spent dinner discussing her favorite hobby. She was surprised at his knowledge and said so.

“I read the books you gave me this afternoon.”

“Already?”

It was his turn to shrug. “Most of them.”

“Wow. I guess you didn’t have to go back to work.”

“We all must have our priorities,” he said with a smile.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who put his hobbies above his work.”

“There are times when the unexpected takes precedence in our lives.”

She wondered at the mysterious statement, but did not know him well enough to ask about it.

They both declined dessert and he walked her back to her car. He took her keys from her and unlocked it. Opening the door, he indicated she should get inside.

She stopped before bending down to get into the driver’s seat. “Thank you for dinner.”

“It was my pleasure, Catherine.”



Two days later, Hakim invited her to attend a Saturday showing of a journey among the stars at the theater. It required spending the whole day together as well as a three-hour drive to Portland. The prospect of all that time with just her and Hakim in the enclosed space of a car had her nerves completely on edge. She jumped when the security buzzer rang to announce his arrival.

She pressed the button on the small black communications box. “I’ll be right down.”

“I’ll be waiting.” His short reply came; his voice even sounded exotic and sexy over the apartment building’s tinny intercom system. She was still finding it difficult to believe that such a gorgeous man had a serious interest in her. Grabbing her hold-all and purse, she left the apartment.

When she got downstairs, she found him waiting in the lobby.

“Good morning, Catherine. Are you ready to go?”

She nodded, while her eyes devoured the sight of him. Wearing a snug-fitting black sweater and tan trousers that managed to emphasize his well-developed muscles, he made her mouth go dry with desire.

She licked her lips and swallowed. “I’ve got everything I need.”

“Then, let’s go.” He took her arm and led her outside where a long, black limousine waited.

“I thought you were driving.”

“I wanted to be able to focus my attention on you. There is a privacy window. We will be as secluded as we desire.”

The way he said it made totally inappropriate images swirl through her head and her nipples tightened almost painfully. It was such an unexpected sensation, she gasped.

“Are you well?”

“F-fine,” she stuttered before practically diving into the backseat of the limousine.

As a tactic to hide her discomposure from him, it was no doubt a dismal failure. Most of his escorts probably waited for him to help them into the car. Of course, these same escorts most likely had a love life outside of their fantasies and could handle the close proximity of such a sexy man with equanimity.

Not so her.

She was in over her head and the man had never even kissed her. When he took the seat opposite her, her breasts swelled at his nearness.

And his smile was positively lethal to her self-control.

“Would you like some refreshments?” He flipped open a small door in the side console of the car to reveal a fully stocked fridge.

“Some juice would be nice.” She was really proud of herself when her voice came out fairly normal.

He poured her a glass of cranberry juice and handed it to her. “So, are antique telescopes your only hobby?”

“Oh, no. I’m an avid reader. I guess that makes sense, me working in a library.”

“I think I expected that, yes.”

She returned the droll smile. “Right, but I also love hiking nature trails.”

His brows rose at that and she couldn’t help a rueful shrug of acknowledgment to his surprise.

“Maybe I should have said ambling through the woods.”

“Ah.” He sipped at his mineral water. “And do you daydream as you walk, I wonder.”

She could not hide her own surprise that he had guessed something so private about her quite accurately. “Yes. Being outside and away from people is sort of magical.”

“I too like the outdoors, but prefer the desert to the woods.”

“Please tell me about it.”

And he did, but he deftly directed the conversation back to her on several occasions and they spent the long drive talking about subjects she rarely discussed with anyone but her sister. Hakim seemed to understand her shyness and was not bothered by it, which made it easier for her to be open with him.

He also never dismissed her views as her father was so adept at doing. Hakim listened and as he listened, Catherine found herself falling under the spell of his personality.

He took her to lunch at a restaurant that overlooked the Willamette River. The food was superb, the view of the river amazing and his company overwhelming to her heart and her senses. She was very much afraid that she was falling deeply and irrevocably in love with a man that was far out of her league.



When they’d settled into their seats at the theater, Hakim slipped his arm over Catherine’s shoulders, smiling to himself when she stiffened, but did not pull away. She was not used to a man’s touch, but her body gave all the signals of being ready for a sexual awakening. The latent and untapped passion he sensed in her would play to his advantage, making it easy for him to seduce her into marriage and fulfill his duty.

His specialized training had made it possible to save himself from the recent assassination attempt, but his parents had not been so lucky. He had been unable to save them and the knowledge still haunted him.

The fact that he had been ten years old at the time did nothing to assuage his need to protect his family now, whatever the cost.

He could still remember the sound of his mother’s scream as she watched her husband shot before her eyes, a scream cut short by another gunshot. His little sister had whimpered beside him and he’d taken her hand, leading her out of the palace via the secret passage known only to members of the royal family and their most trusted servants.

Days of grueling heat in the desert sun had followed as Hakim had used the knowledge taught him by his Bedouin grandfather to seek shelter in the wild for him and his small sister. He had eventually found his grandfather’s tribe. He and his sister had survived, but Hakim would never forget the cost.

A small sound from Catherine brought him back to the present. He realized he had been caressing her neck with his thumb. Her eyes were fixed on the huge screen, but her body was wholly attuned to him and hummed with sexual excitement.

A month of seducing her toward marriage might very well be overkill.



Catherine reveled in the feel of Hakim’s arms around her and pretended it meant more than it did. It was only natural that he ask her to dance with him. After all, he was her escort for the evening and everyone else was dancing.

The black-tie charity ball was to raise money for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. She’d invited Hakim to be her escort, half expecting him to say no, but he hadn’t. He’d agreed to bring her and even to have dinner with her family beforehand.

Her mother and sister were completely charmed by his exotic charisma and enigmatic presence. Even in a business suit and tie, the man exuded sheikhness.

“Your sister is very kind.”

She let her body move infinitesimally closer to his and fought the urge to lay her head on his shoulder and just breathe in his essence. “Yes. She and I are very close.”

“This is good.”

“I think so.” She smiled up at him.

His expression remained serious. “Family is very important.”

“Yes, it is.”

She wasn’t sure where this was headed.

“Having children, passing one’s heritage from one generation to the next is also important.”

“I agree. I can’t imagine a married couple not wanting children.”

Finally he smiled. “Perhaps there are those that have their reasons, but you would never be one of them.”

She thought longingly of marriage and family, specifically with this man and it was all she could do to keep her smile pasted in place. “No, I’d never be one of them.”

She was unlikely ever to be married at all, but why bring up that depressing thought?

His thumb started a caressing rotation in the small of her back and her thoughts scattered, even the depressing ones.

Closing her eyes, she gave into the urge to let her cheek rest against his chest. He’d probably never ask her to dance again, but she just couldn’t help herself.

Instead of acting offended by her forwardness, Hakim settled her more fully against him and danced with her until the music changed to a faster beat.

He didn’t ask her to dance again that evening, but he didn’t neglect her, either. Using his easy sophistication to deflect the interest of other women who approached them with the intention of flirting with him, he kept his interest fixed firmly on her and her heart gave up the battle.

She was in love.

Hopelessly.

Helplessly.

Completely.



Catherine opened the card attached to the flowers. It read, “For a woman whose inner beauty blooms with more loveliness than a rose.”

Tears filled her eyes and it was all she could do not to cry. She and Hakim had spent the night before at a benefit concert. Catherine had gotten up and spoken on behalf of the children and their hopes and dreams. She’d been shaking with nerves, but she’d felt compelled to make a plea on the foundation’s behalf.

Afterward, Hakim had told her that her obvious love of children and compassion for them had shown through even her nervousness. She’d been warmed by the compliment, but the long-stemmed red roses totally overwhelmed her.

She put the vase on the corner of her desk where both she and the rest of the librarians could see them easily.

Picking up a pile of papers that needed filing, she contemplated the crimson blooms. He made her feel so special, even if they were just friends. Sometimes it felt like more than friendship and her hopes would soar, but what else could it be when he never so much as kissed her?

They spent a lot of time together and her attraction for him grew with each occasion, but he appeared unaffected on a physical level by her.

She wasn’t surprised.

She was hardly the type to inspire unbridled lust in a man like Hakim, but her desire for him continued unabated. Growing with each successive meeting, both it and the desire to be in his company became gnawing needs within her.

Her thoughts stilled along with the rest of her as Hakim walked into the library. She should be used to his arrival by now, it happened often enough and every time since the first, he’d made it clear he had come specifically to see her.

He walked toward her with an unconscious arrogance that she found rather endearing. He was just so sure of himself, but then he was rich, gorgeous and had been raised a prince. Why wouldn’t he be?

She remembered the papers in her hand just as he reached her desk and leaned over to put them away quickly.



Hakim stopped in front of Catherine’s desk, just as she bent to put something away in the lowest drawer.

“Catherine…”

Her body straightened and her intense blue gaze met with his, her mouth twisted in a rueful grimace. “Sorry, I just remembered I had to file these—” she waved a sheaf of papers in her hand “—when I saw you.”

“And it could not wait until you had greeted me?” he asked with some amusement.

“I might have forgotten easily.”

Did she realize what she was giving away with that admission? He already knew he had a definite impact on her ability to concentrate, but a more sophisticated woman would not have admitted it.

“Then I shall have to content myself conversing with the top of your head while you finish.”

“Sometimes, you sound so formal. Is that because the Arabic language is a more formal language, or is it because English is your second language and therefore you don’t slip into slang as easily?”

Not for the first time, her rapid change in topic left him slightly disorientated. “French is my second language,” he said in answer to her question, “I did not learn English until I had mastered it.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Oh. I’ve always thought French would be a lovely language to learn. I studied German and Spanish in school, but I have to admit I don’t have a facility for it.”

“I did not come to discuss my fluency in other languages.”

“Of course you didn’t.” She smiled. “Why did you come?”

“To see my friend.”

Something flickered in her eyes at the word “friend”, but was gone too quickly for him to interpret.

“Oh,” she said again. “How many are you?”

“How many what, little kitten?”

Her face heated to rose red as he knew it would at the small endearment. Such words were common in his culture between a man and the woman he intended to marry. They were nothing more than an admission of his intent, but they flustered Catherine a great deal.

“How many languages are you fluent in?” Her voice was breathless and he had the not so shocking urge to steal her breath completely with a kiss.

He could not do it of course. Not here and not yet, but soon. He smiled in anticipation, causing her eyes to widen.

“I’m fluent in French, English, Arabic and all the dialects of my people, little kitten.” He repeated the phrase on purpose just to watch the effect it had on her, which was perhaps unfair of him.

It was startling. She sucked in air, grimaced and then whispered, “Hardly little.”

While she was maybe an inch above average in height for a woman, she often made comments as if she saw herself as some kind of Amazon. He stepped toward her until he stood only a few inches from her and reached out to brush the smooth curve of her neck with one fingertip. “To me, very little.”

She trembled and he smiled.

Very soon she would be his.

Her head tilted back and she eyed his six-foot two-inch frame with unmistakable longing. “I suppose so.”

He wanted to kiss her. It took every bit of the self-discipline developed in his training with the elite guard to step back and drop his hand.

“I came to see if you would like to join me for dinner tonight.”

Her mouth opened and closed with no sound issuing forth. They had known each other for three weeks now and eaten numerous meals together, as well as attending several formal functions. Yet she acted shocked every time he asked her out.

“Come, this is not such a surprise. We had lunch together only yesterday.”

She smiled whimsically. “That’s why I’m surprised. I thought you’d want to spend time with…”

Her voice trailed off, but her eyes told him what she had been about to say. Other women. She had so little concept of her own value. While he should be relieved his duty would be so easy to see through, it made him angry she dismissed herself so easily.

“I want to spend time with no other woman.”

He had no difficulty reading her expression now. Her eyes were filled with both joy and hope. Yes. She was ready. He had courted her long enough.

“I would love to have dinner with you.”

“Then I shall see you this evening.” He turned to go.

“Hakim.”

He stopped.

“You could have called. It would have saved you an hour of driving here and back to Seattle.”

“Then I would have foregone the pleasure of seeing you.”

She looked ready to melt at that assurance and he smiled before walking away. His duty would be fulfilled very soon.




CHAPTER THREE


HAKIM took Catherine to his favorite restaurant on the waterfront for dinner. The ambiance was quiet and elegant. Perfect for proposing to his future wife.

He’d thought about taking her to the restaurant at the top of the Space Needle. He’d been told it was considered the height of romance, but sharing a noisy elevator with tourists on the way up held no appeal. At least not for tonight.

She smiled at him as he held her chair for her at the table. She’d worn a black dress with long sleeves, a peasant neckline and gathered waist. The full skirt swirled around her legs as she sat down. He let his fingers trail along the exposed skin of her shoulders above the wide neckline and she shivered. Satisfaction that his mission would soon be accomplished settled over him as he dropped his hand, moved around the table and took his own seat.

Even in the dim light of the restaurant, he could tell she was blushing again.

“Surely such a small touch is not cause for embarrassment?”

She smoothed her already perfectly coiffed hair. She’d worn it up again. Though he liked the view it gave him of her slender neck, one day soon, he would remove the clip and see what the dark honey strands looked like tumbling against her shoulders.

“I’m not embarrassed. Not exactly.” Her sigh lifted her breasts against the soft fabric of her bodice, revealing the source of her blush.

His little virgin was excited. Two unmistakable ridges under the black material gave her away. They also apprised Hakim of the fact she was not wearing a bra. The knowledge had a by now predictable effect on him.

“What are you exactly?” he asked, wondering if she would admit anywhere close to the truth.

“Stupid.”

He shook his head. Little did she know, but her desire for him would soon be fulfilled. “Jewel of my heart, you must not say such things.”

She dropped her focus to her lap, where she straightened her burgundy napkin against the black fabric of her skirt. “You shouldn’t call me things like that. I know you’re just saying it because it’s the way you talk, but…”

He reached across the table to tip her chin up with his finger. “It is not merely the way I speak. Do I use such terms with other women in your hearing?”

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and her eyes reflected confusion. “No.” It was a bare whisper.

He wanted to kiss those trembling lips. Her vulnerability called to primitive instincts inside him.

“They are words meant for you alone.”

It was as if she stopped breathing and she went utterly still, the look in her eyes a revelation of emotions so volatile he was shocked by them. Then her eyelashes lowered and she sucked in air too quickly, choking.

He offered her a glass of water as she sought to get the small coughing fit under control.

“Thank you.” She drank the water and he watched as her throat convulsed gracefully with each swallow.

“You have a beautiful neck.”

The water glass tumbled and only the quick action of a nearby waiter saved her dress from a drenching. Considering her reaction to his last statement, Hakim decided it would be best to wait until after dinner to propose.



By the time Hakim pulled his black car to a halt in the parking garage of her apartment building, Catherine’s nerves were stretched tighter than an overtuned violin string. They wound one notch tighter when he insisted on seeing her inside.

She watched his dark hands as they unlocked her door and turned the knob to open it. Such masculine hands and yet so fluid in their movement, she desperately wanted them on her.

He pushed the door open and ushered her inside, one of the hands she found so fascinating secured around her waist. Her lungs stopped working while her heart went into overdrive. He closed the door and locked it, indicating he wasn’t leaving any time soon and her already racing heart went turbocharged.

He led her toward the living room and she was surprised when her legs were able to move. She felt like her bones had all melted to jelly.

When they reached her bright yellow couch, he gently pushed her down onto the overstuffed cushions and then sat beside her. So close beside her that her shoulder was pressed against the hard wall of his chest. “I wish to speak with you.”

“Oh,” she squeaked.

He laid the hand that was not attached to her waist on her thigh, succeeding in surrounding her completely with his body and putting her on the verge of hyperventilating.

What would he do if she turned to him and did what she’d been longing to do for so long, touch the black silkiness of his hair and kiss the sensual line of his mouth? She clasped her hands firmly together in her lap to stop them from taking liberties that might end in her humiliated rejection.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke, the rush of air going in and out of her lungs at such a rapid rate the only sound in the room. He started to draw small circles on her thigh with his forefinger, sending awareness arcing up her leg and to the center of her being. She stifled a gasp of pleasure. She couldn’t move. Nor could she look at him. Her attention was firmly fixed on that darkly tanned hand as it moved lazily against the black knit of her skirt.

Still he said nothing.

The quiet became unbearable. “Hakim?”

His silence beat against her and she sensed he wanted something from her, but she did not know what. Finally, when she could not tolerate one more second of the tortuous anticipation, she raised her head and tilted it backward to look at his face.

It was what he’d been waiting for. Eye contact.

Dark ebony bored into her. “You have enjoyed these past weeks in my company, have you not?”

“Yes.”

“Am I a fool to believe you would like our association to continue?”

“No.” She had to clear her throat before she could get more words out. Necessary words. “You could never be a fool.”

“Then I would also not be out of bounds to hope you might want to deepen our relationship?”

He wanted to be her boyfriend? Her mind couldn’t quite grasp the concept, but she nodded her head in agreement anyway.

“Yes, I would be out of bounds, or yes you want to deepen our relationship?”

“I want…” She forced her halted lungs to pull in a breath of air. “I want to deepen our relationship.”

Would he kiss her now? The mere thought sent her pulse on a ride like a runaway stagecoach.

“Marry me.”

She was daydreaming. She had to be.

But there was something wrong with the fantasy. “But you’ve never even kissed me.”

“I have not had the right.”

“What do you mean? Were you… Were you attached to someone else?”

“No, not that, but I was not as you put it attached to you, either. It would not have been right for me to kiss you before formal declarations were made.”

Did he mean declarations of love? No. He’d said formal declarations. “Do you mean you have to be engaged in your country to kiss?”

His hand moved from her thigh to her cheek and he cupped it, his expression almost tender. “To kiss a virgin, yes.”

Was her lack of experience so obvious? She supposed it was. “But this is not Jawhar.”

“Nevertheless, I will treat you with the respect due you.”

That was nice. “If I say I’ll marry you, will you kiss me then?” This was by far the strangest daydream she had ever indulged in, only she knew on some level it was all too real.

A distinctly predatory light entered his obsidian eyes. “Yes.”

“Yes,” she repeated, not ready for the fantasy to end.

“You will marry me?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t really mean it and she would say just about anything to experience his mouth on hers. “Now you can kiss me.”

He lowered his head, until his lips were centimeters from hers. “I can?”

“Yes.” When he didn’t close the gap, she said, “Please.”

The kiss was as soft and fleeting as a butterfly flitting from one flower to another, but he did not move his head away and their breath continued to mingle.

The scent of his cologne mixed with a fragrance that could only be him. Male. It called to the primordial woman in her. She wanted to claim this man.

“Are you teasing me?” she asked, wondering why he had not kissed her again, more thoroughly.

“I am teasing myself.”

His admission was flint to the gunpowder of her self-control. To say such a thing implied he wanted her and that was as exciting as having his body so close she could feel his heartbeat. She closed the gap of those few centimeters, her mouth locking to his with enthusiasm, if not skill.

He didn’t seem to mind. His grip on her tightened and he took control of the kiss almost immediately. His mouth moved against hers, his tongue running along the seam of her lips. She opened her mouth on a small rush of air and he took possession of the interior. She’d thought of kissing like this before of course, but it had seemed messy.

It felt wonderful.

He tasted like the tiramisu he’d had for dessert at the restaurant. He also tasted like Hakim and it was a flavor she could not get enough of.

She moaned and sucked on his tongue.

He growled, his grip on her going painfully tight now and she found herself in his lap, her breasts pressed against his chest.

She wanted to touch him. She had to touch him. Her hands landed against his shoulders and stayed there for a full five seconds while the kiss went on and on. But just feeling the heat of him under her fingers was not enough. She wanted to explore.

First she let her fingers trail through his hair. It felt soft, almost like silk and she explored the shape of his head through it. He was so male, even his head felt a particularly masculine way to her searching fingers.

A sense of desperation, laced with fear that this would end soon and she would miss having touched the rest of his body, she brought her hands down on either side of his face, slowly sliding them toward his neck, then shoulders. With each centimeter of movement, she memorized the feel of his warm skin against the pads of her fingertips.

Sliding her hands down the polished cotton of his shirt, under his jacket, she outlined each muscle, each ridge and valley on the masculine torso so close to her own.

He shuddered and she rejoiced that she could affect him.

His hands were kneading her backside and she could feel a growing ridge of hardness under her hip.

In the back of her mind, she registered that meant he was getting excited which sent her emotions careening out of control and the impossible feelings she harbored for this magnificent man poured out through her lips and fingertips.

As if the release of her emotions had freed something in him, his ardor increased and the kiss went nuclear.

His tongue dueled with hers, demanding a submission she was only too willing to give. While he conquered her mouth, she tore at the buttons on his shirt, getting enough undone to slip her hand inside and feel the smooth, hot flesh of his naked chest. It was at that point that she accepted this was not a waking dream. No fantasy could possibly be this good.

And somehow because it was real, it was more. More intense. More feeling. More excitement. Almost too much.

She broke her mouth from his and sucked in air, trying to breath as her world spun around her in a kaleidoscope of feelings she had never experienced, but nonetheless recognized.

She wanted him.

Desperately.

“Do engaged people get to make love?” Her own boldness shocked her, but she waited tensely for his answer.

The kneading action on her bottom stopped and his forehead fell against hers. “No.”

“Is it because I’m a virgin?” she asked, feeling tears of frustration already burning at the back of her eyes.

Hakim was going to wake up to whatever insanity had prompted his proposal and withdraw. And she would still be a virgin. Life was so unfair.

“It is true. This is part of it.”

“But I don’t want to be a virgin,” she wailed and then felt mortified color drench her face, neck and even the breasts achingly aware of the proximity of his body.

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. He kissed her, hard and quick against her mouth. “We must wait.”

“I can’t.”

He groaned like a drowning man going under for the last time. The hardness under her thigh twitched and his mouth locked with hers again, this time not waiting for her to open her lips, but forcing them apart for the entrance of his tongue.

His hand came up and cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her achingly erect nipple. She arched into his touch while squirming her backside against his hard maleness. She loved him so much. Loved what he was doing to her. Loved the anticipation of more. For the first time in her life Catherine was glad she had never been with another man.

She wanted Hakim to be her first.

He kissed his way down her neck, stopping to suckle her rapid pulse beat. Arrows of pleasure shot through her limbs and she cried out at the wonder of it all.

Then his mouth was on her collarbone, his tongue caressing her in a way she had not expected. She went completely still when he pulled the stretch neckline of her dress down to expose her braless breasts.

He stopped moving, too, pulling back until he had an unfettered view of her exposed flesh. There was a lot on display. Her figure in no way resembled the boyish shapes so popular in today’s media.

She felt another blush crawl up her skin as her senses prickled with heat and heady excitement.

Dark fingers caressed her pinkened flesh, making her moan and shake in response.

“So beautiful. So perfect.” His words registered with the same sensual impact as his touch had done.

“I’m—” She’d meant to say something about how she was not exactly cover model slender, but he forestalled her with a finger against her lips.

“Exquisite. You are exquisite.”

Then his head lowered, his lips touched her sensitized flesh and she lost her sense of place and time. He tasted her. All of her, covering each square centimeter of her naked curves with tantalizing attention. By the time he took one of her nipples into his mouth, she was shaking and inexplicable tears were running hotly down her temples and into her hair.

It was too much. The pleasure was too great.

“Hakim, darling, please!”

She didn’t know what she was begging for, but he seemed to as his hand trailed down her body until it reached the hem of her skirt. His fingers brushed against her stocking clad leg and moved upward, slowly, ever so slowly.

Combined with his tasting of her breast, this tormenting slowness was driving her mad. But then his hot fingers were on the skin above the top of her stocking, curving toward her feminine center. His fingertip brushed against the silk of her panties where it covered her most tender flesh and sensation exploded inside her like a nuclear reactor.

Her body bowed. She screamed. She thought Hakim cursed, but she couldn’t be sure. Nothing but the agonizing pleasure of her body was registering completely.

His hand slipped inside the waistband of her panties, down to flesh that had never, ever felt a man’s touch and she cried out in an overload of sensation as he touched that bit of feminine flesh that other women talked about, but she had never even experimented with finding.

She went rigid and then shook in convulsions that were so strong, her muscles ached from supporting them.

He continued his ministrations until her entire body went limp from the strain.

He pulled her close to his chest, wrapping her in his embrace with strong, sure arms. The tears that had been a trickle became a torrent and she sobbed against his chest with as much abandon as she had given to her pleasure.

He comforted her, whispering soothing sounding words in a language she did not recognize. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t understand the words, their tone was what she needed.

“That was too much,” she said between hiccuping sobs.

“It was more beautiful than the desert at sunrise,” was his response.

“I love you,” she confessed, her heart left unprotected by the amazing experience she had just gone through.

She was hopelessly in love with a man who could have any woman he wanted and that scared her. Refusing to admit it did not change it and there was a certain amount of relief in letting the truth out.

His hands caressed her back and she shivered with another convulsion. If it had been an earthquake, she would have called it an aftershock. It had been close enough.

He picked her up, carrying her as if she weighed no more than one of the throw pillows off the sofa. When they came into her bedroom, he flipped on the small light by her bed, casting a warm glow in the room.

Stopping beside the bed, he bent to lay her down, but she clung to his neck. “Please, don’t leave.”

She couldn’t bear being alone after that.

He tensed.

“Please,” she begged again.

“Do not plead. If you want me to stay, I will stay.”

She let go of his neck and let him lay her down on the bed. He straightened to stand beside her. “Prepare yourself for bed and I will return to hold you.”

“Aren’t we going to make love?” she asked, not at all sure she could stand another dose of pleasure like what she had just gone through, but willing to try.

“Not until we are married.”

She still didn’t believe for a minute they were actually going to end up married. “But…” She could see the hard ridge still pressing against his slacks.

He shook his head decisively. “We will wait.”

She couldn’t expect him to hold her all night in that condition.

“I could…” She blushed without completing the offer, knowing he was a smart enough guy to figure it out.

“I’ll take a shower.”

“You’re going to take a cold shower?” The thought of a sexy man like Hakim having to take a cold shower over her was somehow very appealing.

He smiled as if he could read her thoughts. “As you say. Prepare yourself for bed. I will return in but a moment.”

She nodded and silently watched him walk into the en suite. It was only when she looked down that she realized her chest was still exposed. Her nipples were still hard and wet from his mouth. Oh my. The sight paralyzed her for a full minute before she was able to get up and find a nightgown to wear to bed.



Hakim stood under the warm jets of water, his body buffeted by the pain of unrequited passion, his mind filled with pleasure at how successfully his campaign had gone.

Catherine had agreed to be his wife.

His uncle would be pleased. Her father would be pleased. Hakim was pleased.

Marriage to Catherine would be no hardship.

Under the shy exterior, she was so passionate, so beautifully sensual. It had been harder than he ever would have thought possible to pull back from making love to her completely.

She’d liked that. His sweet little wallflower had liked thinking he was in here taking a cold shower because of his desire for her. The shower wasn’t cold, but only because he’d never found that an effective deterrent to desire. He had found that warm water could sometimes soothe the physical ache of wanting what he could not yet have.

It wasn’t working right now though. His sex was so hard, he was in pain.

He could not banish the image from his head of how she had looked with her dress pulled down, her breasts swollen and quivering with her desire. And the way she had exploded…her entire body bowing with such strong contractions, he had found it most difficult to keep his jewel on the couch. He groaned as his male member throbbed at the memories.

Maybe a cold shower would help.

Turning the knob all the way to the right, he was soon blasted with an icy spray. He gritted his teeth, practicing a self-discipline technique he had learned while training with elite guard in his uncle’s palace.

Catherine would have to marry him very soon.

She would not demur at a simple civil ceremony, he was certain. She was too happy to be marrying him.

She loved him.

Though it was not necessary, it pleased him, it pleased his pride that his future wife loved him.

Her shock at his proposal underscored the reality that she had reached the age of twenty-four without once having had a serious relationship, or even a steady date. Or so her father had asserted and Hakim had no reason to disbelieve him.

Her virginity had been an important issue to Hakim’s uncle. According to the old man, no royal prince of Jawhar could marry a woman of uncertain morals. Hakim felt a certain primitive satisfaction in Catherine’s untouched state, but he hardly placed the importance on it that his uncle did.

After all, he’d been prepared to marry once before and the woman had not been a virgin. Undoubtedly his uncle would not have approved.

And right now, when he wanted very much to bury himself in the silken wetness of Catherine’s body, her innocence was more barrier to pleasure than benefit.



Reentering the bedroom, he found Catherine sitting up in the bed wearing a virginal, almost Victorian gown in white and her dark honey hair hanging over one shoulder in a thick braid. He smiled at her innocence.

As he got closer to the bed however, his smile slipped. He doubted very much that she realized it, but the gown was borderline sheer and the dark aureoles of her nipples were visible as well as the outline of her gorgeous breasts. He wished he’d left his slacks on as the benefits of the cold shower disappeared and the silk of his boxers shifted with his growing erection.

Catherine didn’t seem to notice. Her blue eyes were unfocused as she stared at something beyond his right shoulder. Her lips were slightly parted and he could see the sweet, pink, enticing interior of her mouth.

As he climbed into the bed beside her, she jumped as if startled.

“Hakim!”

“You were not expecting me?”

Soft color flooded her cheeks and she scooted down into the bed so that the quilted spread covered her to her neck. “I was thinking about something.”

“And was I this something?”

Expecting a shy affirmative, he was surprised and chagrined to see her shake her head in a jerky motion.

“What were you thinking of?”

She started. “Just, just a story that’s all.”

“A story?”

“Sometimes I like to tell stories in my head.”

“Our lovemaking was not enough to keep your mind occupied?” The fact his innocent fiancée had been able to dismiss their lovemaking from her thoughts when he had not, irritated him.

“I didn’t want to think about it.”

Offended, he demanded, “Why not?”

And only realized as she pulled back that he was leaning over her in a most intimidating fashion. He did not move back however. He wanted an explanation.

“You said we couldn’t make love until we’re married.”

“Yes. This is true.”

“Well, then what would be the point of letting myself get all worked up if you aren’t going to let anything happen?”

It was a good question. One he wished he could answer, but he had not been so successful in tamping down his own desires. He was rock hard and the only thing saving his pride were the blankets covering them both. Even so, had he not had his body tilted toward her, his erection would have tented the covers and given him away.

It shamed and frustrated him that his usual ice-cool restraint was letting him down. With all his training, she had more control over her desires than he did his. He did not like weakness, even that of a purely sexual nature.

“So you told a story in your head?” What sort of story would have been sufficient to take her mind off of the pleasure of their lovemaking?

“Yes.”

“And it was not about me.” He felt his irritation turn to irrational anger at the thought.

“That would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?” Her tone said her words should be obvious to even the simplest of minds.

He glared at her. “I thought you wanted me to stay with you tonight.”

Suddenly the pragmatic tilt to her mouth disappeared and searing vulnerability beamed at him from the startling blue of her eyes. “Yes. Are you going to leave because I was daydreaming?”

She had much to learn about him. “I made a commitment to stay. I will stay.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, still red and full from his kisses. “Do you always keep your promises?”

“Always.” He repeated the word in his mind, reminding himself he had given her his word to wait until their marriage to receive the gift of her purity.




CHAPTER FOUR


“IN OUR marriage, you will always know that when I promise a thing, it will be done.”

Catherine stared at him. Their marriage? This joke had gone far enough. “Stop teasing. We’re not really going to be married.”

Hakim’s black eyes snapped at her and the darkly dangerous side to his nature she had first suspected became all too real. “When you promise me something I expect the same from you. We will be married.”

“But why?” It had to be obvious to him that he didn’t have to marry her in order to make love to her. She was way too vulnerable to her desire for him and after what had happened on the couch, he had to know it.

He tapped the end of her nose with his forefinger. “Are you so uncertain of your own appeal you must ask this question?”

“But you’re a sheikh for goodness’ sake. Don’t you have to marry a princess or something?”

“We are not quite so medieval in the royal family of Jawhar. Catherine, it is my desire to marry you.”

A twenty-four-year-old children’s librarian who had never even been kissed by a man before that night? “I don’t think so.”

The gentle touch of his palm against her cheek mesmerized her. “I want you, Catherine. I thought that was obvious.”

Was it true? Felicity had told Catherine many times that she was no longer the girl too tall for her age or whose face was pockmarked with severe acne. But Catherine had never stopped feeling like that girl.

He tilted her head toward him. “Accept that it pleases me very much to make you my wife.”

But why did it please him? The only logical answer that she could think of was so beyond the realm of reality, she felt shock thrill through her even contemplating it. Yet, she could think of only one reason for a man like Hakim to marry a woman like her. She had no diplomatic pull, could not increase his cache with his people and while her father was wealthy, Hakim was wealthier.

Love.

He had to love her. It was the only thing that made any sense of their situation. He’d never said the words, but maybe that was a cultural thing. Or an alpha guy, totally in charge and too cool to admit to really tender emotions kind of thing. Whatever.

When she remained silent, stunned by the thoughts racing through her mind, he sighed and rolled onto his back. “The time has come for me to marry. It is my uncle’s wish I marry now.”

“And you picked me.”

“You are my chosen bride, yes.”

She thought of the years since her laser treatments during which her father had thrown men at her head, men interested only in what they would gain materially from the marriage. Men who had not stirred her emotions or her senses as Hakim did. Not only did he stir her emotions, he returned them.

A glorious smile broke over her face. “I want children.” Family who would love her and accept her love unconditionally.

“As do I.”

Then a sudden thought assailed her, one she could not dismiss. Not when he’d withheld the words of love so there was this little niggle of doubt way down, deep inside. “You have to be faithful. No mistresses. No other wives.”

He didn’t smile, didn’t make a joke of it as some men would have. In fact, his expression turned even more serious, his mouth set grimly. “Polygamy is not practiced in Jawhar and to take a mistress would be to compromise my own honor as a prince among my people.”





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