Beauty and the Sheikh(7)

“Not even for your brother’s freedom?”

Her fury deflated instantly, dismay and hesitation replacing it. “You would truly force me to be your lover in exchange for my brother’s freedom?”

“Holly, I have never forced myself upon a woman, and I certainly have no intention of starting with you.” His mouth curved slightly and he reached out to catch a strand of silky hair that taunted him.

He heard her swift inhalation and the flicker of awareness in her eyes. Then there was the heat he knew she wouldn’t want him to see.

“When you come to my bed, it will be willingly. That I can promise you.”

Her expression became one of panic and she gave a vigorous shake of her head. “Never.”

She tried to move past him but he caught her arm, spinning her back around and into his arms.

With a cry of surprise, her palms flattened against his chest. Even through the fabric of his robe, he feel the heat and electricity that seemed to sizzle from her touch. Her soft gasp was a pretty clear indication she’d felt it as well.

“Never is such a final word. You should not be so liberal with its use, habiba.”

It felt too right to have her in his arms again. To want to taste her, touch her, and explore her mouth with his until her defiance and stubbornness melted away into soft submission. Last night’s brief kiss had only whet his appetite.

“You are a beautiful woman.” He kept one arm about her waist while using the other hand to trace the delicate skin on her cheek. “Undoubtedly one of the most beautiful I have ever known. Being seen with you on my arm out in public, letting the paparazzi film us, can only help my reputation.”

“But that’s absurd. You don’t court the tabloids.” She seemed to struggle for words. “You avoid them. I never find your picture in the magazines.”

Had she been looking? The idea sent a stab of pleasure through him, which he swept aside. The notion was ridiculous. “No, you are right. I do not court them. In fact, generally I avoid them at all costs, but they will be of use to me now.” He paused. “It is time I took a wife and considered producing an heir.”

Shock and then something close to pain flickered across her face before she looked away. “How utterly old-fashioned of you. What could that possibly have to do with me?”

“The women of my culture are wary of me.”

“Perhaps that’s because you’re intimidating and a bit of a jerk.”

Amusement pricked that she’d have the courage to refer to him so insultingly—she couldn’t possibly know the punishment her defiance could bring. But more so, he lingered on her first words as the scar on his face seemed to tingle. “I don’t believe it’s my personality they fear.”

She glanced up at him again, and her mouth curved downward. Finally, disbelief flickered in her gaze.

Rafiq continued before she could make some comment of sarcasm or, worse, sympathy. “Having you on my arm will make these women curious. Perhaps even evoke rivalry.”

“Oh.” She pulled back slightly. “Wait. So then, you’re asking for me to pose as your mistress, not actually sleep with you?”

“If it makes you feel better to tell yourself that, then you may.” He stroked his thumb over the lush fullness of her bottom lip and enjoyed watching it quiver beneath his touch. “But I have no doubt that you being my mistress will become the reality.”

“I won’t be your lover.” But her words were belied by the tremble rocking her thin body and the flicker of heat in her eyes.

“Oh, indeed, you will.” He moved his fingers to capture her chin when she tried to turn her head away. “The media will devour our new relationship like the wolves they are. How can they not believe it? We already have passion, habiba.”

“Stop calling me that,” she cried, almost desperately now. “And didn’t you consider for one moment that maybe I faked it? Kissed you back deliberately yesterday? You know I would do anything to make you release my brother.”

Rafiq’s gut clenched as if she’d kicked him and he offered a grim smile. “The way you faked it two years ago, perhaps?”

Her mouth parted and the hurt in her expression was almost believable. “What happened between us then was real.”

It was amazing how easily she lied.

“Whether your passion is faked or real, you’ll do perfectly as my mistress.”

Her face drained of color. “I haven’t yet agreed to anything.”

“You will. For your brother’s sake, you will agree.”

“Why me, Rafiq? You can have any woman.” Frustration and panic laced her tone. “You’re a Sheikh, for goodness sake. Aren’t you supposed to have a harem or something?”

A harem. How presumptuous.

His gut twisted painfully as a memory floated through his head from back when he’d first become the ruler of Raljahar. His ministers had encouraged him to consider some Arabic traditions, including starting a harem, a practice he’d been quite skeptical of and that his father hadn’t used either.

He’d already been wary of the idea, and a conversation he’d overheard while passing by the long-abandoned harem room had made up his mind.

“You have been chosen for the sheikh,” his minister had admonished harshly. “Do you not realize what an honor this is, you pathetic woman?”

The woman’s terrified sobs had forever lived in Rafiq’s mind. An agonizing reminder that even wealth and power wouldn’t always entice members of the opposite sex to share the bed of a man who had the face of a monster. The assassination attempt had been so recent back then even the stitches in his disfigured face had not been removed.

He’d dismissed the idea of a harem the next day. Never revealing he’d overheard the commotion, instead he proclaimed he would choose his mistresses when and if he wanted them.

There had been women over the years, but he never kept them in his life for very long. It was easier that way.

Staring down into Holly’s expectant expression, he murmured flatly, “A harem woman wouldn’t quite do for what I need.”

Her face turned scarlet, while her eyes flashed with fury. She must have taken that to mean he kept a harem inside the palace. “You’re despicable.”

He could inform her of the misconception, but perhaps it was better this way. It would help in reminding Holly of her place. Which was temporary.

Though her barbed words about faking her pleasure had struck their mark, planted the seedling of doubt, he was more inclined to believe she’d been lying. Perhaps she was desperate to deny she’d enjoyed the moment of passion as much as he had.

Soon the world would see Holly as his mistress, and even if she fought it now, she would ultimately share his bed. Though he had no doubt the sex between them would be explosive, it would also be fleeting. Just as every other woman who’d come before her. When he finally did chose a wife, there would be no complicated emotions to muss up the arrangement.

“I want you, Holly,” he finally said with cold bluntness. “You need your brother’s freedom, and I want the world to see you as my lover. This arrangement will work to both our benefit quite well.”

“The tabloids will never believe it. Not after you humiliated me the last time I was here.”

“Humiliated you?” He arched a brow. “How so? By refusing your request for permission to hold a tawdry photo shoot in my country?”

Twin stains of pink hit her cheeks and her mouth tightened. “You and I both know it was in the manner of refusal.”



Holly tried not to flinch as she recalled what he’d said that day, the words he’d hurled at her in front of all the people she’d worked with.

What the hell was wrong with her? She hated being held in his arms like this and yet reveled in it at the same time. Every inch of her was awake with need and awareness, but the moment was demeaned, knowing he held her for no other purpose than to demonstrate his control and desire to make her his possession.

Rafiq gave a nonchalant shrug as his heavily hooded gaze slid to her mouth. “You can hardly deny what your intent was when you first came to Raljahar.”

“My intent was never to seduce you. For goodness sake, I wouldn’t have even known where to begin.” The confession was out before she could stop it, but it didn’t matter. He’d never believed in her innocence.

“Still the same lies, I see.”

He released her so abruptly she almost stumbled backward. The look on his face was filled with such loathing, she could almost believe he hated himself for wanting her.

Holly swallowed the lump in her throat, mourning the loss of the closeness of his body more than she cared to admit.

No one had realized Rafiq had been outside the room that day. She’d been horrified to discover he’d overhead the conversation between her and her manager. The topic had been ugly and degrading. Holly had been about to deliver a blistering refusal to her manager’s suggestion that she sleep with Rafiq to get him to agree to the photo shoot, and then Rafiq had walked in the door.