The Sheikh's Wedding Contract. Andie Brock
hand shakily drew back the fabric a couple of inches. The bed was empty. He must be in the bathroom. The breath finally escaped from her lungs. This was it. All of her carefully laid plans had led to this point. Slipping off her sandals, she climbed into the bed as quietly as she could. Then, squirming on top of the satin sheets, she tried to arrange herself in a vaguely alluring position before lying back against the pillows with her eyes screwed shut. She was ready for her fate.
There was a noise, a sort of low animal growl, followed by a flash of muscled chest and the purposeful swing of arms through the air. And the next thing Nadia knew, she was being pinned to the bed by the considerable weight of over six feet of powerful, adrenaline-fuelled, near-naked flesh.
‘WHO ARE YOU and what do you want?’ Zayed snapped the words into Nadia’s ear, her head twisted into the pillow, a tangle of black curls obscuring the side of her face.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe come to that. With her arms wrenched above her head, both wrists shackled by Zayed’s forceful grasp, the shock and fear that were pumping through her body were threatening to make her lose consciousness completely. Slowly, deliberately, she tried to turn her head, hoping that once Zayed saw that it was just her, Nadia, he would release her, give her a chance to explain. Although she wasn’t sure how she was going to do that.
But what she saw soon put paid to any such fanciful notions. Because the dark brown eyes that she found herself staring into, just inches away from her face, were still glittering with intent, ready to attack. Everything about his forbidding face, the clench of his jaw beneath the closely cropped beard, the dark, untidy brows drawn together in a menacing scowl, the tight line of his lips, told her she was in big trouble. He was going to kill her, wasn’t he? She was going to die. Murdered in a stranger’s bed, then chopped into small pieces and offered as tasty morsels to the palace falcons.
‘It’s only me.’ She gulped noisily, her eyes wide with panic. ‘Nadia.’ She wriggled beneath him to try to free some small part of her trapped body, any part, but the movement simply increased the contact between them and she stopped abruptly. That clenching spasm, somewhere low down where their bodies met, that had to be fear, didn’t it?
‘I know quite well who you are.’ Zayed’s breath swept hot and dry across her face. ‘But what I don’t know is why the hell you are in my bed.’ Anger seethed in his voice and his grip tightened still farther around her wrists. ‘I want an answer, now.’
‘Your Royal Highness.’ Fighting to find her voice that was crushed somewhere down with the rest of her body, Nadia now lay very still, blinking her wide violet eyes at her fearsome captor. Her only chance of survival was to try to talk herself out of this mess. ‘I can assure you, I mean you no harm. I merely felt the overwhelming need to see you again.’
‘Yeah, of course you did.’ Sarcasm cut through his voice and as he shifted his weight on top of her Nadia felt an alarming rush of blood sweep through her. ‘Not good enough, I’m afraid. Who are you working for and what do you want?’
‘No one, really. I am completely alone.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ His voice was a hoarse whisper against her skin. ‘Are you here to distract me? Is that it? Keep me occupied while an accomplice creeps in to slit my throat?’ Locking his arms now, he raised his bare chest enough to twist round to look over his shoulder, as if the assailant might already be there, brandishing a knife, before lowering it back down over Nadia’s breasts. Nadia’s eyes widened. The movement had shifted his weight, the jut of his hips, the meeting of their groins.
‘No, nothing like that, I just—’
‘Or my father’s throat? Is that was this is about? I know my father has many enemies.’
‘No. You have to believe me. I’m not here to slit anyone’s throat.’
Chance would be a fine thing. With her arms pinned above her on either side of her head, her breasts stretched taut and high beneath the rock-hard pressure of Zayed’s chest, she couldn’t have felt more vulnerable, more laid bare. And worse than that, with Zayed’s full weight on top of her, the whole length of his virtually naked body bearing down on her, his masculine heat trapping her beneath him, she was aware of a growing ache, low down in her belly, that had nothing to do with the pressure of his weight alone. She drew in a ragged breath, but it was full of the scent of him, the heady mixture of musky shower gel and pumping pheromones.
‘So just what are you doing here, Nadia?’ Zayed’s face lowered down again, so close now that the space between them had almost vanished completely. His fearsome features blurred out of focus as his mouth hovered over hers and he whispered, ‘You have exactly one minute to tell me the truth.’
‘And I will.’ Nadia bit down hard on her lip to try to get some control. ‘When you have released me.’
‘Uh-uh,’ Zayed grated. ‘That’s not how it works.’ He tipped back his head. ‘You tell me the truth now, or I call the palace guards.’
‘No! Don’t do that.’ Her attempt at defiance immediately crumbled.
This was so not what she had planned, to be pinned down on the bed like a common intruder. She was meant to be alluring, for heaven’s sake. Leading him into temptation and a betrothal that would prevent their kingdoms going to war. That had been the plan, at least. Now that plan had been well and truly squashed, along with her poor body, and the man she was supposed to be seducing looked as if he would much rather throttle her than make love to her. But she had to be strong, try again. ‘Before I tell you anything I demand that you let go of my wrists.’
‘You demand, eh?’ Zayed snorted. ‘That’s a good one. It may have escaped your notice but you are hardly in a position to make demands. I suggest you drop the high-and-mighty routine right now and come up with one good reason for me not to call the guards and have you clapped in irons and thrown into the palace dungeons. You have ten seconds and counting.’
‘Okay, okay.’ Nadia ran her tongue over her dry lips. ‘I came here...’ She could feel her heart hammering between them, hammering more violently with each decreasing second, feel the rough scratch of Zayed’s chest hair, the sheen of sweat that sealed them. ‘I came here quite alone, simply because I hoped... I hoped to be able to make you happy.’ The last words came out in a rush as the ridiculousness of her statement hit home. One thing was for sure: this sheikh looked anything but happy.
‘Time’s up.’
‘No, wait, really.’ Pure desperation clawed at her throat. This was all going horribly wrong.
Alone in her bed in the palace of Harith she had made herself picture this moment, prepare herself, using every bit of courage and fortitude she could muster to help her get through the ordeal that she knew she was going to have to face.
She had convinced herself it would all be worth it. If her virginity was the price that had to be paid to halt the threat of war between the kingdoms of Harith and Gazbiyaa, then she would do it, a hundred times over. Because she loved her country, even though it didn’t always feel as if her country loved her. And this crazy, dangerous, downright perilous scheme was the only way she could see that she could make a difference.
But the heartless sheikh that she had imagined sacrificing her honour for had turned out to be nothing like the real-life version. The darkly handsome man who stared down at her now, his eyes sharply focused on her face, his jaw set with fierce determination, was altogether a much more worrying proposition.
From what she had managed to glean from her father and brother, she had gathered that the newly crowned sheikh was nothing but a brutal, debauched hedonist, a man who spent his time in bars and nightclubs drinking alcohol and pursuing his only real interest: the pleasures of the female flesh. A man who had no regard for his people or his country. For all his multibillion-dollar business empire, he had none of the skills and knowledge needed to rule a kingdom such as Gazbiyaa. Which was why, like a hyena circling a vulnerable lion,