Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave
Author: Brooke, Jessica; Brooke, Ella
Date: 2017-05-12T22:00:00+00:00
Keywords: sheikh; royal romance; ns; ident; JeanneP
Description: The sheikh was given a love-slave...but got a virgin, instead! My father was a thief. He tried to steal a priceless painting...from a sheikh. And there was only one thing he could offer in place for his freedom: my innocent, untouched body. I was sold and taken across the world. Sheikh Ravi Shamon was tall and powerful. His long, dark hair made my belly burn hot as something awoke deep inside of me... An insatiable desire to feel his hands all over my body. Note: Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave is 30k of hot, sexy romance between a young, innocent woman and a powerful, handsome sheikh. It features
Publisher: Ella Brooke, Jessica Brooke

Table of Contents

Sheikh’s Virgin Love-Slave

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

ANOTHER STORY YOU MAY ENJOY

Sheikh’s Unexpected Triplet Babies

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 Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Sheikh’s Virgin Love-Slave

By Ella Brooke & Jessica Brooke

All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2017 Ella Brooke & Jessica Brooke.

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Chapter One

Bridget Callahan pushed an errant strand of honey-blonde hair from her eyes and tried to shake off the hustle and bustle of another very loud day at the pediatrician’s office. December meant flu season, and she knew it was just a matter of time before she got sick, too. She thought her immune system would eventually toughen up after three years of working with Dr. Munir, but that never seemed to be the case.

It was finally Friday evening, and while her ears ached from all the screaming kids, her feet ached from running around the office grabbing files, and her heart ached from her latest dating disaster, she could finally enjoy a night out.

She drained the last of her Guinness as her friend, Cynthia, sloppily slid down onto the barstool beside her and pushed something dark in a shot glass into Bridget’s hands.

“You’re going to need more than that. I knew I never liked Kevin. He was a complete mongrel,” said Cynthia.

“He wasn’t always so bad,” Bridget said, taking a small whiff of the shot’s contents and immediately regretting it. It was definitely bottom-shelf whiskey, and the fumes wafting up stung at her eyes and nostrils. She had no idea how it would feel going down her throat, but she was going to guess that smooth wasn’t it. At least it’d be strong.

“I’m so sorry he was cheating on you. I always suspected those ‘I have to work late’ excuses were trash,” Cynthia said, her green eyes regarding Bridget with genuine concern. “He had no right to do any of that to you. I mean, you get that you deserve better than that, right?”

“I’m twenty-five, have more student loans than I know what to do with, made the mistake of majoring in Spanish Literature in college, and have worked in the same small cubicle for three years. I’m not sure he was wrong about the dumping me part. I’d dump me, Cind. I’m nothing special.”

Cynthia shook her head. “Take your shot and embrace your newfound freedom. This is the best thing that could happen to you! ‘Kevin Sanders, Esquire’ is getting kicked to the curb, and now you can find someone better.”

Bridget arched an eyebrow at her friend before folding to peer pressure and gulping down the shot. It burned so badly that she coughed, and Cynthia had to pound her back a couple of times.

“Wow, that was awful.”

“You need to learn to hold your liquor.”

Bridget snorted. “I need to go home. I’m crazy to be trolling here anyway. I’m just not enough,” she said, gesturing vaguely to her chest, which was a big factor in her fears of “not being enough.”

She was nearly six feet tall, but built more like a willowy bean pole than a supermodel. Kevin always made her feel like garbage about her modest curves. He always had some remark about the more attractive women in the TV shows or movies they watched together and how she didn’t stack up. For her twenty-fourth birthday, he even joked about getting her a boob job once he made partner at his firm—in front of everyone at her party. She had to smile and suffer through it.

But, to be fair, Cindi wasn’t wrong. Bridget had spent the better part of two years trying to please Kevin, but was always left feeling like she was never enough. Kevin never missed an opportunity to tell her that. It just didn’t seem likely she’d ever find a man who’d understand or care about all she had to offer. It was even less likely in a trendy hipster bar off Charles Street in Baltimore. She didn’t need someone who drank Pabst Blue Ribbon ironically and could barely cultivate facial hair in her life either.

Gathering up her purse, she hopped off the bar stool and reached over to hug her friend. “Hey, I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll catch a movie.”

Cindi frowned. “It’s only 10:45. Are you sure you don’t want to try O’Laughlin’s next door?”

She eyed the wall of frat douches and hipster guys all checking their cell phones and barely paying attention to either their dates or the rest of women in the room.

“Yeah, never been more sure of anything in my life,” she said. “I did a twelve-hour shift today and covered when one of our nurses called in sick with a few things. I’m going to just crash and crash hard.”

Cindi nodded and hugged her back. “All right, but grab some chocolate and some beer on the way home. You have every right to bawl your eyes out about that jerk, but tomorrow we look for someone way better than Kevin to fix your problems.”

“Exactly,” Bridget said, faking the smile she just couldn’t feel deep down.

After that, she scurried out of the bar as fast as she could, not wanting to give Cindi a chance to come up with another so-called great idea. She knew her friend was trying, but Cindi had a philosophy that men were like buses and that another one would be right around the corner any moment. She was much more daring. Yes, Kevin had been a jerk, but Bridget let herself believe that she would be getting a ring for her looming twenty-sixth birthday; that even if he had his issues, at least she wouldn’t end up alone.

Of course, it’s probably is a sign of a bad mental health that I even wanted to be tied down to that cheating jerk.

She shivered and pulled her coat as tightly around her as she could as she stepped out into the street. It was an unusually cold night in Baltimore, even for this time of year, and the wind cut through the alleys between buildings with an Arctic-like chill. What she wouldn’t give to have worn pants instead of tights. She was going to freeze her nether-regions off before she got to the garage. Trying to ignore the goosebumps that were spreading across her legs, Bridget cut through the alley beside the Barnes and Noble to get to the parking lot. She was almost to the door to go into the structure when she heard the stomp of a boot behind her.

Confused, she whirled around and looked behind her. Nothing seemed to be in the shadows, but she stayed still a moment longer, straining to hear if the stomping sound would come to her again. There was no sound, but the shrill whistling of the wind through the columns around her.

“Bridget, there’s nothing there. You’re being paranoid.”

Chiding herself, she pulled her purse closer to her body and hurried past the attendant and directly into the elevator. All she had to do was get to the fifth floor, hop in her car and peel out. Easy. Besides, no one was really following her. This was a secured facility with a guard and everything. She should be safe here for the rest of the walk. Heck, no one had gotten on the elevator with her. The doors opened after the car climbed to the fifth floor, and she rushed to her Jeep. The keys were out in her grasp when a large hand suddenly wrapped around her arm and a second clamped over her mouth.

She tried to scream choked on the taste of ash and grime against her tongue. The man’s giant palm had a crushing grip across her face, preventing her from even looking up. All she could do was feel the hot breath against her ear as a heavily accented voice spoke:

“Don’t struggle. We have a Taser, but we’d prefer not to use it.”

She shivered and felt her heart pounding through her chest. Sweat started to pour down her brow, and she bucked against her captor, but couldn’t make him budge. It was like trying to push against a brick wall.

“Mmmrmph!” she screamed, which would have been more effect without a hand locked over her mouth.

“Now, pet, we don’t want to have to do that,” the voice said. “We have orders to bring you in one piece, and the man we work for wouldn’t appreciate you being scarred. Now, just come with us. This can all be resolved quietly.”

Screw quietly!

She thrashed her body as hard as she could, doing everything she could think of to try and break free. Bridget pushed against the side of her car to get leverage and was able to back bend enough to see the faces of three, swarthy-looking men with long beards holding her tightly.

“Oh, Ms. Callahan. That was a poor choice,” one of the men said. Bridget could hear the buzzing crackle of the Taser and could see its sparks of light out of the corner of her eye before it was sudden shoved into her side. The volts lanced through her, stinging with more pain than she could imagine, before she passed out.

Chapter Two

Twenty-four Hours Earlier…

He was enjoying the opera when the alarm went off, the signal blaring out from his cell. Sheikh Ravi Shamon felt the adrenaline surge through his body as he stretched his long legs and unfolded himself from his seat. Il Pagliachi would have to wait for another night, though that didn’t bother him much. He’d never been a fan of the fine arts, but his escort for tonight—Sabella—always had a soft spot for opera. To him, it was just large women in Viking hats singing at decibels he didn’t want to deal with. He reached for Sabella’s hand and pulled her with him.

“Someone’s broken into the summer house, and Allah knows what they’ve been trying to steal. Are you going to come with me?”

She pouted, her lips pursing delicately, making her look all the more delicious. “I wanted to see the second act, habibi.”

He sighed and shook his head. The things he did to please the whims of some of his harem. He dated often and extensively—everyone from the Hollywood starlets to the most beautiful royal heirs of Arabia. Yet, every so often, when he was between his latest conquests, he came back to his lead harem girl. He didn’t love her; he’d never loved anyone in his life. That just wasn’t in his nature, at least not so far. But Sabella amused him, and she could get most anything out of him with an expression like that. So, as usual, he gave in to her demands.

“All right, you stay, and I’ll go and deal with whatever rat the staff has captured.” He squeezed her hand. “You bring me back a program and some of those opera glasses, pet.”

“And then something later tonight?” she purred, turning to press her breasts against him.

He sighed, feeling that boredom creep over him. To be honest, while she was an amusing distraction, Sabella wasn’t what he wanted, at least not currently. However, there was no need to add to the friction, especially not when his app was going off a second time to let him know that security had something big that required his immediate attention.

“We’ll talk about it later. Hopefully whatever is happening will finish up shortly enough, and we’ll be able to move on from there.”

She nodded, but doubt laced her eyes.

Tough. He had other things on his mind, like dealing with whoever had been fool enough to try to steal from him. These weren’t the days of his grandfather, so no one would lose a hand or other appendages, but there would be a swift trial for anyone who dared to rob him followed by years of prison after that. No one crossed the reigning sheikh of Dubai.

No one.

***

“Sir,” Adil said as he walked into the main hall of his luxury vacation estate at the Palms. The old servant bowed low and then stroked a hand through his white beard. “We apprehended some moronic foreigner attempting to steal your latest van Gogh acquisition. He’s detained in the security briefing room, my sheikh.”

Sheikh Ravi nodded and bent low to his old friend. “You don’t have to be so eager to please, Adil. I blame my security for being lax enough to let some…”

“American, sir. It was an American we think.”

“Yes, that would make sense. Only one of them would be either intoxicated or crazy enough to even attempt to do this to a sheikh.”

“True, but I felt briefing you would be best for helping you to prepare for interrogation.”

Sheikh Ravi bunched his fists together at his side. “Tell me, old friend, that the guards haven’t start without me. I don’t like it when people touch my things.”

Adil smiled. “No, sir, the intruder has been left trussed up and ready or you,” he replied as he followed the old servant to the security room.

As the door was pulled open, Sheikh Ravi had to smile as he gazed at the three well-armed guards fanning out around a wiry looking man. He was older than Ravi expected, with greying hair and deep wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. He might have been quite the cat burglar in his heyday, but now it was clear the intruder was past his prime. Ravi almost felt sorry for him. Almost. The jerk had to have been both crazy and desperate in order to try something he was no longer fit for.

To be fair, with the amount of security Ravi had at his disposal, the best thief on Earth would have issues escaping with the painting. This man was completely out of his league. Then again, it was his painting. Its monetary worth and the impression it made on others were meaningless compared to what this painting meant to him. It was dear to Ravi, and this mongrel had dared to violate that. It would be quite the joy to give him a bit of working over before turning him over to a tribunal.

“So, what do we have here?” Ravi said, circling his uninvited guest. “Do you dare to steal from me? Do you really dare?”

The thief’s color drained from his already pale face. “I can explain.”

Ravi shook his head and slugged the thief hard enough for the older man to spit blood. “You’re very lucky I’m not as harsh as the other sheikhs in the Arabian Peninsula. If I were, you definitely wouldn’t have hands any longer, and it’s debatable if you’d have a head. But my mother… well, she always believed in due process, and I do as well.”

The man spit blood again. “Doesn’t taste like it from here.”

“Well, I did almost lose my prized possession tonight. You can’t blame a man for being upset by that. Now, do you want to tell me what you’re doing in my home and why you tried such an incredibly stupid stunt?”

The other man struggled in his bonds before sagging, as if he realized how futile his actions were and how trapped he was. “You don’t know anything about what I’m up against.”

“Nor do I care, but I’ll be honest: I’m about to take you to trial and it won’t be good for you. I’m the ruler here and we have video footage as well as the testimony of the guards. It’s only my mercy that will keep you from spending the rest of your life rotting in a very dank prison cell.”

“That’s a joke.”

“What is?”

The man spit out a tooth, and Ravi frowned. Maybe he’d hit him a little harder than was wise. “My ‘life.’ It’s like you said, right? I’m trapped here, and my stealing got me here. I don’t have anything to barter with, no wealth or anything else. Unless…” he licked his lips and spit the last bit of blood from his mouth. “I have a daughter.”

“And why should I care? You’re not going to give me some sob story about how you have a toddler at home. You’re far too old for that,” Ravi said before he arched an eyebrow. “Unless you like that May-December thing.”

“No, where’s my phone?”

“I’m not giving you that,” the sheikh said as he continued to circle the thief like the shark he was, deep down. “You think I’m dumb enough to give you a chance at one last pathetic call for help?”

Adil coughed behind him. “I have the phone at either rate, my sheikh.”

The thief’s expression brightened. “Then turn it on. I don’t have a passcode.”

“And what?”

“My daughter’s almost twenty-six. I think. It’s hard to remember exactly. I haven’t exactly been home a lot.”

Ravi should have shipped him off to the local magistrates and the court by now, but he was bored and being tangled up with this thief meant that he could put off having to make up an excuse to avoid Sabella. Sometimes in a life of wealth, boredom crept in. If hearing out this man’s last request before the law was called passed the time, then Ravi was game.

“Then I suppose you’re not Father of the Year,” Ravi said dryly.

“No, just look at her. She’s beautiful, one of the prettiest girls out there. Always made me proud the way she turned out. You could have her, or you could send me off to some dungeon.”

“Prison,” Ravi corrected. “We are hardly savages. After all, we don’t take what isn’t ours. Unlike you.”

“True, but you could keep me or you could have her. Wouldn’t a swap be better? I can tell you where she’s living right now, and you could have her and let me go. Even trade.”

Ravi wanted to laugh at such a pathetic trade. He could have any woman he wanted. He had Sabella waiting for him and yet, he was so deathly bored. What if this daughter was worth it? What if she was someone who might actually hold his attention for more than a few weeks at best?

“Adil, let me see his photos.”

“You can’t be serious, sir. This is ridiculous,” Adil said, concern coloring his words.

“There’s no harm in taking a look at what the man is offering.”

Adil cursed low and aggressively under his breath. “I really have to object. This man is probably bluffing.”

“And he’s tied up.”

“Fine,” he said. “But it’s a waste of time.” With that, Adil tossed him the phone. “My sheikh, it’s better to turn this piece of refuse over to the authorities as soon as possible.”

“A glance will hurt nothing,” Ravi corrected as he thumbed to the picture app on the thief’s smart phone. The photos that came up were of museums and art exhibits, taken at angles that belied a curiosity about the security layout more than any real interest in art. But as he thumbed through into the older photos, he found one of a woman who, quite literally, took his breath away. When he could speak again, he eyed the thief. “She seems young.”

“Last time I saw her was at her college graduation. Like I said, she’s almost twenty-six and I assume even more beautiful.”

The thief’s words made part of his stomach churn. What such man would offer up his daughter to someone he didn’t know to save his own skin? And yet, Ravi knew in his bones he was going to take the offer. Scanning through the graduation photos, he came to one with her cap off. Her long, blonde hair—like the color of freshly-threshed wheat—fell down to her shoulders, and eyes the color of emeralds sparkled back at him. But it was her smile, that flash of purity highlighted with enticing dimples that made him want her.

He handed the phone back to a frowning Adil before turning turned to the thief. “Mister...?”

“Callahan. Dean Callahan.”

Ravi smiled in agreement. “Well, Mr. Callahan, we have a deal. Tell me where your daughter is and how to get her, and you can have your worthless life back.”

“With pleasure.”

Chapter Three

The electrical jolt of the Taser knocked Bridget out cold. When she awoke, she found herself lying on an overstuffed leather sofa in what looked like a beach house. The room before her was decorated in cool blues and whites with tessellated tile everywhere. She could see water lapping against a nearby dock outside of the nearest window. Struggling to sit up, she wanted to scream her frustration when she found her hands were bound with something thick like rope behind her back. But if she screamed, she might make people come running for her. She might alert guards.

Bridget looked over her shoulder and did scream when she saw that the guards were already there: the three men who had abducted her were now armed with not just Tasers, but also machine guns. Besides them in traditional, flowing Arab robes were at least six other large men that were armed to the teeth. Her heart beat so hard against her chest that she worried it might actually burst through.

So much for trying to escape.

Before she could even think of anything to say, three new people strode into the room. One was a woman who had to be almost as tall as she was, but far curvier with dark hair that fell almost to her waist and heavily kohl-lined eyes. The second was a man who was bent by age and had a long, white beard. The final person to enter seemed to saunter into the room and radiated power. He was tall and seemed to cast a shadow even over Ms. Va-Va-Voom. His shoulders spread wide under the fabric of his perfectly-tailored suit. She was sure that the suit cost more than a few months of her rent.

The truth was, he didn’t need it. Whoever this man was would have looked amazing in a plastic garbage bag. Dark hair, the color of midnight, hung down to his shoulders in loose waves; his high cheekbones cut sharply across his face, and his eyes, the color of cut jade, were hypnotic.

Despite everything, an unusual warmth flared in her belly at the sight of him. It took more effort than she wanted to admit to push that away. Everyone averted their eyes and bowed low, making it easy to tell that this newcomer was the one in charge here. Who was he?

Come on, Bridget, forget those big green eyes. This guy has to be the head honcho, which means he’s the reason you’re even here.

“Who are you?” she asked, holding her chin up high and eyeing Mr. Tall, Dark, and In-Charge.

“I’m Sheik Ravi Shamon, and I’m your host here in Dubai. In fact, I’m the sheikh of all of Dubai; the ruler of all you see in the entire city. All of the territory.”

“What does that have to do with me?” she asked, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to keep it level.

“It has a lot to do with you,” he said nodding to the old man who stepped forward and cut her arms free.

She rubbed at her wrists and rolled her shoulders, grateful to have the circulation spreading back through her fingers. “I don’t see how it does.” Bridget wanted to run, to try and escape, but she could see at least nine guards with guns trained on her and no clue where she was, or how many more guards were waiting out of sight. Judging by the tropical scenery, there was no way she was anywhere near Baltimore anymore. The only hope she had was to play along and watch for a chance to escape. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“But I know you, Bridget, at least a little bit. Your father, Dean—”

“I know my father,” Bridget interrupted. “He’s a jerk. I haven’t seen him in almost five years, not since my university promised not to press charges on him for trying to steal a priceless statue from the campus art museum. It took a lot of begging for them not to. It wasn’t like I could ever show my face back on campus again.” Her eyes widened and it began to dawn on her exactly what had to have happened. “What did my father do now?”

The sheikh inclined his head and strode over to her. “He stole from me. Actually, he failed to. But he made me an interesting offer.”

Her throat went dry and suddenly she couldn’t swallow at all. It took massive effort to even force the next words to escape her lips. “My father sold me?”

She could feel a cold horror creeping over her heart and through her mind. Yes, Dean Callahan was a nasty father, but he’d never trade her to some sheikh, would he? He had to know what a man like Sheikh Shamon would want.

Goodness, of course dear old Dad did that.

“Yes, but do not think that whatever you’re imagining is correct. You’re not. I have no interest in doing anything untoward tonight.”

“Then I guess I should be glad,” she said, trying to force herself not to cry. “I mean, why would I think that when you had men kidnap me from a car garage?”

The sheikh nodded. “I understand. It was a necessary evil, I’m afraid. But for today, all I need you to do is go with Sabella, and let her help you get dressed. Then, there will be dinner.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the jittery cadre of guards surrounding her. “I don’t want to.”

Sabella eyed her, a nasty frown marring her model-gorgeous face. “I don’t either, habibi. Why don’t you just return this American giraffe back home? She’s not worth the trouble.”

Sheikh Shamon shook his head. “Now, now, Sabella. Be nice to our guest. You’re one of the staff.”

The woman glared at him, but stifled right away.

“Fine,” she said, nodding to Bridget. “Come with me now, American, and don’t make this any harder on us than it has to be. I’ll get you dressed and then you can dine with Ravi. I’m sure he’ll figure out soon enough that you’re not worth his attention.” She tilted her head back to the sheikh. “Don’t worry, American. You’ll be home in a few days. I’ll help you with that.”

Sheikh Shamon’s expression soured and he grabbed Sabella by the wrist. Terse words were exchanged between them in what Bridget assumed had to be Arabic. Sabella’s face grew redder as she cursed, shooting a death glare at Bridget before cooling down.

“Come now,” Sabella said, forcing a fake smile to her lips. “Let’s have some time just between us girls.”

***

Try as she might to make a mental map, Bridget couldn’t keep track of the maze of hallways as they passed through the house. It surprised her that the sheikh was only in a house and not something more grand. Still, when they came to a bedroom twice the size of her apartment with a four-poster bed covered with soft lace fabric, she was impressed in spite of herself. The view looked out on the sea or ocean, whichever it was, with the water gently lapping onto the sand outside her window. If she weren’t the abducted forced guest of a sheikh, it would be the best vacation she’d ever been on. It wasn’t like she could afford to travel on her salary, or ever had time off to take a trip like this.

Of course, if she never got out of here, it wasn’t like she’d have a job either. But prisoners didn’t need those, did they?

“So, what now?” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting down hard on the mattress. Sabella didn’t seem to be carrying weapons, but there was no way to be sure that she wasn’t. Besides, she was no action hero; it’s not like she could successfully overpower Sabella. It was stupid. The only chance she had was to learn as much as she could, to figure out when there might be a better time to get help. “Are you going to paint me up with kohl as well? Maybe you’ll be covering me in a kaftan. Or I’ll have genie pants? Maybe something bangly?”

Sabella shook her head. “If you’d like to be dressed as well as I am,” she said, gesturing to her own flowing dress of bright canary yellow fabric that seemed to still find a way to cling to her hips. “Then we can arrange that. But I know Ravi’s tastes, and he likes to dress everyone up well. You should take advantage of that, American giraffe.”

Bridget swallowed hard. She was called worse than that in high school, but it still reminded of her gangly limbs and, at the time, her knobby knees. Coming from a woman as objectively pretty as Sabella, the taunts hurt even more and cut in deeper. It didn’t matter that she only wanted to go home and had no interest in Sheikh Shamon.

Almost no interest.

Still, Sabella mocking her made her feel low as dirt.

“I’m not a giraffe.”

“Could have fooled me,” Sabella pouted. “I don’t know what Ravi sees in you when he has me.”

Bridget ignored the bite of pain to her heart at that bit of bragging. It didn’t matter that Sheikh Shamon was gorgeous or that he could command a room with his very presence. The man had bought her. Done a deal with her good-for-nothing father and stolen her from her home. She needed to keep her wits about her; it was the only hope she had of escape.

“Well, he didn’t invite you to dinner. Just help me play Barbie dress up for him. Let me get this all over with.”

Sabella shook her head as she opened up the closet. “You should be so lucky. If Ravi really has gone crazy and wants to take you to his bed tonight, remember that there are women all over the United Arab Emirates, and all over the world really, who’d kill for the chance you’re about to have. I know that I would. Not that I’ll have to. He will find only a bit of novelty in making love to a zoo animal.”

“I hate you,” Bridget said, her voice laced with anger.

“I feel the same way, American,” Sabella replied. “But I have my orders for the night,” she said, tossing a dress onto the bed. “This is a Marchesa, and it’s wasted on you, but put it on. You’ll be late for dinner.”

Chapter Four

“My sheikh, I do not advise this as a course of action. We have such good will from the Americans currently, so many of their wealthiest expats live here. It would damage Dubai’s public relations to know that you abducted one of their citizens.”

“I don’t intend for it to become public knowledge, Adil,” Ravi said as he poured himself a cup of tea. He wasn’t an adherent Muslim and allowed himself pleasures of the West like alcoholic drinks, but he wasn’t sure what refreshments Ms. Callahan would want and he wanted to set the pace by being in full control of his faculties. Sipping the Darjeeling, Ravi eyed his servant. “I’ve thought of all the risks, believe me. I’m not flying off half-cocked like you think I am, old friend.”

Adil winked at him. “Well, I can’t imagine how I’d become worried when you’ve been planning things out so well so far.”

Ravi drummed the fingers of his left hand on the table. “I know you practically raised me since Father was too busy, but that doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.”

“I’ll refrain from that, my sheikh, but do try not to get the might of America mad at us.”

“I won’t,” Ravi said, taking another sip of tea. “Besides, I can’t explain it. I’ve never been like this before. I know it sounds insane, but I just saw her photo and I felt drawn to her. It felt as if it were fate. As if the hand of Fatima, herself, was guiding us together.”

“Poetic.”

“Perhaps, but I can admit that I can think of more uses for her than I could for her sniveling excuse for a father. It’s those eyes—”

“Yes, they’re quite lovely, totally worth risking the wrath of a nuclear power.”

Ravi snorted. “No one will find out. I plan to wine and dine her, not hold her prisoner. I’m going to earn her love. I won’t touch her, not unless I have her absolute permission. This isn’t about some outdated conquest or harem. It’s about the feeling that there could be something between us.”

“I suppose, sir, but I’d be a poor friend if I didn’t advise you to think things through. Errors of the heart were your father’s specialty, and they threatened to wreck this nation more than once.”

“I won’t repeat his mistakes, believe me,” he said, donning a megawatt smile as Sabella opened the dining hall doors, addressing her. “I assume Ms. Callahan is joining you?”

Sabella’s expression was nominally a smile, but there was something forced and feral about it. Tough; she’d have to get used to the fact that Ravi never had serious intentions with her. She was fun, but never the type of woman who could serve as a sheikha.

Wait, am I thinking that far ahead?

Did he want to put that role on Bridget? He didn’t know her yet, but he did feel that she was someone he could have more than a fling with, someone who could help break the oppressive spell of his boredom. At least she seemed to have more going on in her life than Sabella did, with her college education and all of that.

“So, Sabella?” he said, tapping his fingers on the table. “Is she coming?”

“She’s right behind me, Ravi, but if you want a better guest, then I’ll be happy to entertain you,” she purred.

“I’ll pass tonight, and every night that Bridget is here,” Ravi rejoined.

She pulled back red lips over her teeth. “Then I hope it’s a short visit.” Sabella, seeming to remember who she worked for, turned and called over her shoulder, “Well, giraffe, time to get your feed bucket on.”

“Adil,” Ravi called, feeling his blood boil. “Feel free to take Sabella on a walk by the shore and remind her at length how we treat our guests…”

He stopped then, the words seeming to die in his throat, even as Adil led Sabella out of the dining room through the servants’ exit. It barely registered to him. Instead, his eyes were trained on Bridget as she slipped into the room, her head held high. The long gold, tear-drop earrings emphasized the delicate curves of her swan-like neck. Her black dress, a slinky number highlighted with dark red rosettes that mirrored the dark red of her lips, skimmed her knees. It wasn’t long as he thought it would be. Sabella might resent their newcomer, but she still complied with her sheikh, and Ms. Callahan looked ravishing.

So ravishing, in fact, that he was glad the wood of the table blocked her view of his lap.

Ravi coughed to try to get his equilibrium back. “You look lovely.”

“I look as I was ordered to,” Bridget replied, before taking her seat.

“Still, you look gorgeous. Just as I knew you would. I could see your beauty even in a billowy graduation robe and a cap; you took my breath away.”

She quirked her chin back at him and spooned out the tabbouleh, a mix of tomatoes and green onions mixed with lemon among other herbs and vegetables, onto her plate and then complimented it with pita and hummus. “I bet you say that to all your captives, Sheikh Shamon.”

“You may call me ‘Ravi,’ if you like. In fact, I’d prefer it.”

“I’m not sure if I’m ready for that step, Sheikh Shamon,” she said, deliberately enunciating his title. “Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was leaving a bar in Baltimore and now I’m in Dubai… which is where, again?”

“United Arab Emirates,” he corrected offhandedly, trying not to let the tenor of the exchange throw him.

It wasn’t like he could just expect Bridget to accept what he’d done overnight, and he did want to give her the time she needed to accept the arrangement and understand that her fate was far from terrible. He knew a dozen women in line for Arabian thrones who would kill to be in her position. But he needed to give her time. He just hadn’t anticipated making her so angry with him to start.

Bridget pushed the onions around on her plate with her fork and barely acknowledged him. She kept her hypnotic eyes lowered and firmly fixated on her food. They hadn’t even gotten to the matchbous, yet. Maybe she’d find that beyond captivating.

Just his luck.

Ravi coughed in order to get her attention again. “You know, I sent your father back to the States and gave him money to help him get his life back on track. I’m not heartless.”

“He’ll waste it in a few months,” she said, her tone hardening. “He always does.” Bridget sighed and picked up a piece of pita, tearing into it with fervor. “Do you want to know the funny thing?”

Encouraged by the fact she was up to talking, Ravi nodded. “Do tell.”

“I’m not even mad at you. Oh, I’m nervous, and this isn’t at all what I want to be doing, but you’ve kept your word so far and not hurt me.”

Ravi shook his head. “I assure you that stereotypes of the Middle East have no place here. I’ve no interest in forcing any woman into anything. I just want to show you the wonders of the city and let whatever may happen take its course.”

She swallowed hard. “Well, I haven’t had a vacation in years, but I’m not saying I like being abducted.”

“Perhaps I should have thought the trade-off through more thoroughly,” he allowed.

“Dang straight,” she replied. “However, it’s not bad. I’ve never worn a designer anything in my life. I just… I’m so mad at my father. The last time I even saw him was my college graduation.” Ravi didn’t mention that was his last photo of her, that it was more than obvious, but instead let her continue. “He showed up so drunk that he thought it would somehow be a good idea to argue with my poli-sci professor, then try to punch him. But that’s Dad, always caught up in some scam or worse. But I never thought it would leave me a captive.”

“It’s not like that, exactly. You can go back to the States whenever you like. In fact, if you truly want to, I’ll let you go home tomorrow.”

Her eyes grew comically wide, like an owl’s. “Are you serious?”

“I said I didn’t like to force anyone. Dine well tonight, sleep on it, and then you can make your choices from there. You father can still have his freedom and his small gain.”

“Because Dad could and would trade me for money in a heartbeat.” She shook her head and sipped her tea. “I guess we can’t pick our parents, can we?”

He stilled at the thought of his late father, before pushing those less than pleasant memories away. Instead, he raised his cup to her and took a sip as well. “No, we can’t, but at least we can enjoy what we have here.”

“And what is there to enjoy, uh, Ravi?” she asked, her tone curious but not accusatory.

That was a start.

He grinned at her and stood from his chair. Sauntering over to her seat, he turned it toward the window so that she could the lapping waters of the Persian Gulf. It was one of the current wonders of the world, or at least, everyone agreed the Palms artificial islands and their accompanying view were engineering marvels.

“We’re in a land of desert heat and sand, and yet, you can see the gulf for miles. There are dozens of beautiful species swimming out there, reefs, and so much more. When the sun sets…well, if you leave,” he said, leaning low to whisper into her ear. “You’ll never see that view for yourself first hand, will you?”

She shivered just a bit, and he knew he’d captured her attention the way he wanted to. He paused to take her earlobe gently between his teeth and apply just the lightest of pressure. Ravi was rewarded with her sitting up straighter and the sight of goosebumps popping up across the delicate skin of her neck. “Oh, Ravi.”

“See, that’s my name, my swan. Don’t you want to stay? To see the world? This is one of the most beloved tourist destinations on Earth.”

“So, still second to Disneyworld?” she joked, and then hissed when he kissed her neck.

The soft creamy flesh there was so perfect, so unmarked. It drove him crazy in her father’s photos of her and now it was too much to refrain from, even with his promises to wait. He had to taste her, at least a little. She didn’t disappoint. While Bridget smelled of fresh freesia and lilacs, her taste was of apples, of sweetness, and summer. He loved it.

Then he sucked at her neck, gratified when he pulled back to find a hickey welling in the place he’d suckled. “You’re so lovely, my swan. One day, if you stay, you will be mine.”

Her posture went rigid, and she pushed away from the table. Too late, Ravi realized he’d pushed her further than her boundaries would allow, at least for tonight. She turned to him, those emerald eyes wide with panic. “I’m not feeling well. Maybe it’s jet lag. I need some time to collect myself.”

He stepped back but didn’t let her leave, instead opting to wrap one hand around her wrist and to look deeply into her eyes. “Bridget, my swan, I know you can feel what’s happening between us. I can see how you shiver at my touch. Just let it happen.”

Her eyes grew large and limpid as shiny tears welled up. “I can’t,” she replied, before storming out of the dining hall before the main dish could even arrive.

Chapter Five

What am I thinking?

Her mind was reeling. She felt like a kid’s toy motor that just kept whirring and spinning without ever going anywhere. This was nuts. It made no sense. She wasn’t angry with Ravi—correction, Sheikh Shamon—like she was at the good-for-nothing-jerk that was her father, but she wasn’t about to fall into bed with him either.

Except now, she was panting from the very touch of him; she could still feel his lips on her ears and smell the exotic scent of his masculine musk mixed with something that smelled vaguely of cinnamon. Her belly was flaring with warmth and a wetness was threatening to pool between her legs. Her heart thudded even harder than it had when she first awoke in Dubai.

Storming into her room, she was relieved that no servants were in. A few guards were stationed at either end of the hallway, but if Sabella had been there, Bridget would have lost her mind and her manners. The other woman could have Sheikh Shamon for all Bridget cared. Really. She didn’t want him. She wanted to be home, back at her crappy eleven-dollar-an-hour job and her empty life with too many Ben and Jerry’s cartons in the freezer, especially after she’d been cheated on. It was nothing compared to the sheikh’s lap of luxury, but it was hers.

“This is nuts,” she said out loud to herself as she carefully pulled off her dress and locked her door behind her. It was already shut, but there was no point in running the risk that someone would sneak up on her. Reaching for her bra, she pulled that off as well and then headed for the dresser. There had to be more underwear, and hopefully pajamas around here somewhere. “I can’t be attracted to him! He talks a good game, but he still kidnapped me. Sane people don’t do that. I…”

Then she remembered the way he made her feel, the heat of his breath on her ear, the force of his lips as he sucked hard on her skin, the strength of his hands on her shoulders. When she first saw him upon arriving at his mansion, he’d been the most striking man she’d ever seen. From his all-consuming jade eyes to his broad shoulders and towering physique, Kevin looked like cheap canned dog food next to him. Heck, Brad Pitt in his prime looked like dog food next to Sheikh Shamon.

Almost unbidden, her fingers found their way to her nipples. Maybe she could just indulge her desires this once. It didn’t hurt to fantasize, did it? No one would ever know, and tomorrow she could lie to herself. She would go back to the life she knew, be the dependable, boring, good girl she’d always been—the perfect contrast to her father’s lunacy. But tonight, just for a few quiet moments, Bridget could pretend she was Sheikh Shamon’s.

Walking to the bed, she pulled back the covers and sheets and then set the pillows where she preferred. Then she made sure to slip out of her panties so that she was as naked as the day she’d been born. Sliding onto the bed, she propped her body up on the pillows and let her fingers explore. To her, in her wildest fantasies, these were the large hands of Sheikh Shamon. No, Ravi’s. It was Ravi’s hands running over her breasts and tweaking her nipples ever so slightly.

It didn’t take long to raise both of them to pebbled peaks as the warmth in her belly spread to her core. Wetness flowed from between her legs, and she felt she was more ready for a man who wasn’t even there than she’d ever been for her scant, previous lovers. Closing her eyes, she imagined what it would feel like, the heft of him leaning over her as he worshipped her soft mounds with his fingers and his mouth.

But it still wasn’t enough. While her right finger and thumb teased one nipple between them, she traced her left hand over the rest of her torso. Her fingers dipped slowly a few times in and out of her belly button, and she arched her hips as heat started to consume her, like flames licking at her limbs.

Then she reached her mons, that triangle of skin at the apex of her thighs. Running her hands through her soft, well-kept curls, she brought her hand lower until it found her folds. They were slick and ready for her touch, so she obliged, not playing or delaying gratification any longer. She used her thumb to put pressure on her pearl, while she eased two fingers in and out of her channel.

But in her heart of hearts, she wished that it was Ravi doing it. She could imagine his length deep inside of her, his fingers playing with her areola, his thumb pressed tightly against her nub of nerves. The heat was rising now, like standing too close to a roaring camp fire, and she arched her hips again. She needed to climax, needed it more in that moment than she needed even air. Thrusting her hand inside of her, she bit her lip to keep from screaming, to keep anyone from possibly overhearing as the fire flared through her as severe and intense as a scorching forest blaze.

The rhythm intensified as she plunged in and out. In and out.

Her rose bud pulsed against her thumb. Finally, she pressed just right against her sensitive nerves and then came with a flurry of heat and light and fire, her body aflame, even as she imagined that hint of cinnamon wafting through her nose, that flash of jade eyes watching her.

When she fell back completely boneless to the mattress, Bridget took long gulps of air and tried to steady herself.

I want him, but I can’t… He stole me from my home.

Yet, how much better would it feel with Ravi inside of her, with his devilish tongue whispering sweet nothings in her ear?

She didn’t know, but she was starting to desperately want to find out.

***

Ravi knocked on the door the next day bright and early. She groaned and looked over at the clock by her bed, which still read only seven o clock. Considering her shock, her jet lag, and then the exhaustion that sprang from her best orgasm of her life, Bridget was still pulling herself together.

“Wow, he must be eager to get on with it,” she said, slipping out of bed and rushing to her dresser for anything at all. It resulted in her putting on a pair of jeans and the first available t-shirt inside, a fact that Ravi was more than happy to share with her.

“That’s an interesting look,” he mused, smirking at her with a look but so delicious and infuriating that it should be illegal in most sovereign nations.

She reminded herself that no matter how strong her attraction was to him, no matter how he called to her and set her blood boiling, she needed to ask to go home; back to her life as a normal person.

“Well, I don’t have a royal stylist, but I manage,” she said.

“Well, I’ll send one of the older female servants around here to help you pick out what’s appropriate for today’s activity. Denim will never do.”

She frowned. “First of all, you said I could go home if I wanted tomorrow.”

“Yes, but I didn’t say what time tomorrow.”

“Second, no more Sabella for me?” she asked, feeling her heart pump wildly. Bridget wasn’t even sure what she wanted. Part of her desperately wanted out of this craziness. Her instincts screamed at her that anyone who was even tangentially connected to her father was a bad person and that associating with him would eventually lead to even bigger problems, and heartbreak. At the same time, Ravi had been nothing but generous with her, and could she really turn down a chance to feel the real thing after literally panting after it last night? “Sid something happen?” she asked, struggling to keep her mind on the events of the day stretching out before her.

“Sabella had some cross words with me this morning, and she doesn’t seem to always remember her place. Besides, I think you’ll feel better today with someone who doesn’t carry such sharp barbs.”

“True, but you said I could leave today.”

“I said if you really wanted to, then you were allowed to go home today, yes. I didn’t say what part of today I meant. My swan, I’m going to show you Dubai as few ever can see it. Allow me to do that one thing for you. Think of it as something for your troubles.”

She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “For you kidnapping me.”

“An unfortunate glitch in my usual decorum and tact, I admit,” Ravi said, his smirk widening. Goodness, did she want to lick at him and his delectable dimples. “Besides, you will have to learn sooner or later that no one argues with a sheikh. Kamala will be here shortly, so get dressed and don’t argue. The limo leaves in thirty minutes.”

He was gone before she could fully process everything.

Wait, limo?

***

Her imagination shouldn’t have been so narrow. Riding in a limo for her first time wasn’t anything compared to the form of transportation she was currently enjoying. And, yes, she was enjoying it, even though she never thought she could. It wasn’t like she’d ever been on a boat like this before. Her mom had taken her on a few Baltimore Inner Harbor rides, but that stopped over sixteen years ago with her mother’s death. Even though she grew up in one of the biggest boating capitals on the planet, she still saw it as a sport for the rich. Boats were beyond her. A luxury yacht with its own live-in crew and large enough to have its own zip code was a seemed like a possibility that was a galaxy away.

Yet here she was, sitting on the deck in a plush banquet and watching the cobalt blue waters of the Persian Gulf whip past her. It was like a dream.

She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t; that this should be a nightmare under any other circumstances. That this was something from Investigation Discovery. It merited its own cheesy headline, something salacious to move copies of The Sun, like “I was a Sheikh’s Love Slave.” Except Ravi had been a perfect gentleman for the last two hours. In fact, he mostly kept with the captain in the motor room. She hadn’t even seen him this past hour, and been left to have the morning to herself to watch the sun’s rays play against the ocean waters and to sip on her mimosa.

Maybe I need to stop thinking about how I got here and Dad’s hand in this and just enjoyed it.

Didn’t that make some sense? After all, she was still reeling from Kevin’s betrayal and floundering for some purpose in life. Who was to say that she couldn’t enjoy a few more days or weeks with Sheikh Ravi Shamon? It made almost as much sense as the idea that her destiny was to grab a mop whenever some kid at her pediatrician’s office vomited with the stomach flu. Actually, she thought, smiling as she watched the fin of a whale poke out from the waves, it was far better.

“You’re thinking,” Ravi said as he came out to see her finally. “That could be either a good thing or a bad thing.”

She grinned and slipped off her sunglasses. “How do you figure?”

“Well, that either means you’re meditating and have found some inner peace or that you’ve been brooding this whole time.”

“If I were brooding, I wouldn’t be scarfing this many mimosas.”

“How many have you had?” he asked, a genuine frown springing to his features as he reached into the cooler beside her. “It’s easy to become dehydrated at sea.”

“I’ve had maybe three? It’s hard to keep track,” she said, hiccuping a little despite herself. “They’re pretty awesome! Also, they have juice, so I’ll be fine!”

He pulled the drink from her hand and then set it on the table by the banquet. “Let’s start with some serious hydration. We’re pulling up to a small island one of The World private islands.”

She giggled again, finding that revelation completely like Ravi and just as ostentatious as everything else about him. “Do you have your own island?”

“I own controlling stock in the project, actually. Would you like to sunbathe with me? If I’m returning you back to a dreary Mid-Atlantic winter, the least I can do is get you a bit of sun first.” He hesitated after that for only an instant. “Of course, you can stay here with plenty of water if you prefer.”

She shook her head and regretted that immediately. Her vision spun and she fell back deeper into the cushions of her seat. “Whoa, okay bad idea.”

He reached up and swept her into his arms. He smelled of cinnamon, but also of the sweet scent of sun tan lotion, though with his complexion, Bridget had to assume he only applied the bare minimum. She was going to need buckets to keep her Irish skin from frying to a crisp, especially in the Arabian sun.

“My swan, let me get you to the beach and one of the servants will bring the water and towels. I think some sun and hydration, anything away from the drinks will do you a world of good.”

“Says you,” she said, giggling again, and leaning against him as he helped her to the edge of the boat. “You smell nice, like an Altoid.”

He laughed as he walked with her across the plank to the shore. “Well, Ms. Callahan, I can honestly say that that’s a compliment no one has ever given me before.”

“Someone should have. You smell amazing! Like cinnamon! It makes my nose tickle like crazy.” She quirked her head up at him as the most insane thoughts raced through her head. Maybe she shouldn’t have lost track of her mimosas after all. “Do you taste like cinnamon too?”

He paused in the sand as if she’d suggested something crazier, like if his erection also tasted like candy. Although maybe that wouldn’t be the worst question to ask next, come to think of it. “Are you serious?”

She hiccuped again. “I don’t know what I’m saying, but you smell so nice. You have so far. I think that’s sexy!”

He shook his head and handed her a bottle of water. “You’re going to need so much more of this, my swan.”

“But it’s not as fun as mimosas.”

“When you don’t pass out from heat stroke, you’ll thank me.”

“Possibly,” she said, sipping her water and pouting that she wasn’t tasting his cinnamon lips.

Just as Ravi promised, a few servants followed them to a perfect location on the beach of the private island. One man in head scarves set down an umbrella, while another man went to work making sure the cooler was within reach and fully stocked with water and sandwiches from the boat. A slight woman with her hair in braids was making sure that the towels were laid out before them on the sand. Once they were done, however, the servants didn’t stay, didn’t even say a word. They just gave a quick bow to Ravi before returning to the boat.

Bridget shrugged. “They could have stayed if they wanted.”

“I wanted some time alone with you,” Ravi confessed, kicking off his sandals and slipping off his own white cotton shirt.

It left him wearing nothing but his swim trunks and she had to lick her lips at the sight. Maybe it was the alcohol and borderline heat stroke talking, negating her usual inhibitions. Whatever it was, she was allowing herself to fully appreciate him. His broad shoulders weren’t the only thing to marvel over. His arms were sinewy and muscular, honed by clear dedication at the gym. He had biceps that belied his strength, but weren’t overly developed or anything that bordered on ‘roid rage candidate. No; Ravi’s arms were perfect, well-sculpted and coiled like steel. His skin was almost as dark as leather, and she fanned herself a bit at the view she had. She could watch the drips of sweat pass over the defined ridges of his abdomen and down the tantalizing dip in his hips.

“Are you okay? You suddenly went quiet,” he said. “Do you want another water?”

I’m not that kind of thirsty. Dear God, Ravi is totally the ultimate thirst trap.

Bridget tried to claw herself back to some sense of reason, to something that resembled clear-headedness even with the mimosas bubbling through her system. Easing down onto her own towel, she slipped off her sundress. That left her pale skin fully exposed to the harsh desert sun.

“No, but wow, I’m going to turn into a crispy critter. My ancestors came from a land of no sun.”

He reached to a small bottle beside the foot of his towel and squirted suntan lotion into his palms. “I’ve got mostly tanning oil on, to be honest, but I can tell you’ll need forty-five. Was I presuming too much?”

“No, even if I go back on a flight tonight, the last thing I need is to be a pink peeling mess back home!”

He nodded and clenched his jaw as he worked out the lotion on his hands. “Do you think you’ll leave?”

“This morning I still would have said yes.”

“And now?” he asked.

She bit her lower lip. “I’ve had a lot of mimosas. I’m not sure. I don’t trust anything that even has a small taint of my father on it, you have to understand that.”

“Well, we aren’t exactly business associates. He was trying to rob me,” Ravi said dryly. “Now turn your back to me, princess.”

“I don’t have to do what you say.”

He grinned that devil’s grin of his and reached for her shoulders. “Actually, you do.” Then Ravi moved closer and grabbed both of her shoulders firmly with his hands. Each one easily covered her shoulders.

What else could those hands do?

He started to knead and rub the lotion into her back. “If you do choose to stay, you’ll get used to it. I’ll be the one calling the shots, and you’ll love that.”

“Oh, will I now?”

“Yes,” he said, more confident than any other man she’d ever met. “I love many things about the West. My mother was from France. She sent me to the Sorbonne for university.”

“You can draw?”

“I mostly paint, actually,” he admitted. His hands were like magic, working not only the lotion over her skin but also working out the tension and knots throughout her muscles. Instinctively, she arched her neck back and mewled a little. He chuckled and worked at her lower back. “Sounds like you’re warming up to the idea of staying.”

She sighed and bit her lip, not sure if she wanted to let reality intrude on her day in the sun. “I need to talk to my friend first. I don’t even care about my crappy job, but Cindi needs to know I’m safe. I just… it’s hard.”

It was sad to realize she could just step out of her life and go as far The United Arab Emirates and almost no one but Cindi would care.

Note to self: get more friends and make my coworkers notice me.

“Is it?”

“I know what I like,” she moaned a little as he reached around to rub the lotion over her stomach, his large hands cupping her narrow waist in the process. Ravi took the opportunity to pull her into his lap, and there was no mistaking the shape of the bulge straining against her. His erection was firm against her rear through the thin fabric of their swimsuits; it was enough to cause heat to flare through her belly once again. “I mean that I know this feels good, but that doesn’t make it a good idea,” she corrected, hoping her face wasn’t as red and as flushed as it felt.

“But if it feels right,” he said, reaching for a bottle of water and a spare towel to clean off his hands thoroughly. “Why fight it?”

“I don’t know. Everything always goes to garbage in my life eventually. Dean Callahan is best friends with Murphy’s Law, and I get caught in the crossfire. I never get to have anything for myself. I never get to have what I need, let alone what I want.”

He turned her around on his lap, and she swallowed hard, sobered both by the water and by the intense look in his jade eyes. It was deep and calculating, as if he could see into her very soul. “And what is it you want?”

His voice was a low bass and from the position she was sitting in, Bridget could feel it vibrating through his chest and through to her. It seemed to cut down to her very core.

“I want you, but I shouldn’t.”

“Well you had a lot of champagne today and that wasn’t the best idea,” he conceded philosophically. “Why did you do that?”

“Because it was fun. And delicious.”

“Can’t you just have fun with me, my swan?” he asked, reaching out and pushing a long strand of her honey blonde hair off her shoulder. “Wouldn’t wherever this takes us be worth it?” He dropped his voice to a low whisper. “I promise I can make you so happy.”

She laughed. “I know you can make me do a lot of things, and... Oh screw it,” Bridget finished, leaning up and kissing him.

Playing it safe had left her lonely and desperate at only twenty-five years old. Being the dependable girl made people look through her like cellophane, meant she could count the number of good orgasms she’d had on less than two hands and that did include last night as one of them. The good girl needed something too, and so she kissed him, and he did taste like cinnamon.

His tongue twisted fiendishly with hers in a dance for dominance. She stroked her own over his, feeling the give and take of his tongue. Then he pulled back just enough to capture her lower lip in his mouth and give it the tiniest love bite. That sent shivers down her back. While they continued kissing, he reached down with one hand to clutch the small of her back, pressing her closer to him. The motion pushed her up tightly against his hardness.

The heat was flaring out from her belly, into her core, and seeping out into her limbs. It felt as if she’d accidentally electrocuted herself on a broken strand of Christmas lights, as if the current was running through her, low and steady. Not enough to be exciting—yet—but still warming her under the surface.

Sparks. She was feeling those sparks.

His other hand snaked low and then teased its way under the fabric of her bikini bottom. He wasted no time stroking over her mons or her thatch of hair. Ravi’s talented fingers were on a single-minded mission and she sat up as best she could on her knees to encourage him to finish it. Long, dexterous digits stroked over her slick folds and she screamed her pleasure confidently. After all, the servants were already gone. They were down on the boat across the beach, and she was free to shout her pleasure, her ecstasy, to just them, the only inhabitants of the private island.

Ravi’s mouth was nipping and nibbling at her own, his tongue like a rapacious conqueror in her mouth, even as his fingers slipped beneath her folds and sought at her channel. Three thick fingers plumbed her depths, filling her in a way she’d never been before. The sparks felt as if they were arcing over her skin, as if she were a live wire made flesh. Then he pressed his thumb against her pearl and began to make slow, tortuous circles.

The bolts of pleasure sizzled through her, and she thrust her womanhood against him, helping him get the leverage needed to go deeper and deeper inside of her. His rhythm intensified to first match and then outpace her own, a rapid tattoo that made her heart race and her body shake beneath him. It felt like hours lying there, under his forceful yet skilled ministrations, hours that could have been forever, lost in the ecstasy of him; of his touch.

Then he found that one special spot, deep inside and she came, her body feeling as energized as if it had been struck by lightning, as if millions upon millions of volts were lighting up every nerve.

She howled again, so loud she was sure she’d scared any and every sea creature near them. Then she fell, loose-limbed and exhausted into his arms. A period of time passed while he laved and nipped at her shoulders and traced lazy patterns with his tongue over her neck, but Bridget finally remembered how to speak.

“That was amazing.”

“Thank you,” he said, smirking back at her.

She blushed again. “I suppose you must hear that almost every night from someone new.”

Great, Bridget. Remind him that he’s a womanizer; that’ll go well.

He shook his head and kissed her lips, that cinnamon now fresh on her tongue. “I’ve never had a better partner, someone as enthusiastic as you. When I watched you climax, my swan, I couldn’t tear myself away from your face, especially your eyes. It was riveting.”

“I’m glad you find me so fascinating,” she said, rolling her eyes and adopting a mock baritone.

“I find you amazing,” he countered. “Come, we can swim a bit and then get back to the mansion for changing. We have dinner plans later, and you’ll clearly want to wash off after more lazing in the sand and surf.”

She blinked back at him. “You have an itinerary for our one day together? Is this some super-organized drill-sergeant thing?”

“It’s an ‘I only have one day to convince you to stay’ thing. I promised to show you Dubai, princess. Now, do keep up.”

Chapter Six

“And so that’s what happened,” she said, biting her lower lip and wishing her best friend would say something, anything.

Cindi blinked back at her with wide, confused eyes. “You were abducted by an oil sheikh?”

“I don’t actually know how he makes his money,” Bridget corrected lamely.

“No, seriously,” Cindi continued standing up and pacing in front of her laptop. “You left the bar like two nights ago, walked across the street to the parking garage, and faster than you can say ‘Allahu Akbar’ you’re in Dubai and in a harem?”

“There is definitely no harem.” She decided not to mention Sabella, in case that woman really did have a special place in Ravi’s heart that he hadn’t admitted to yet. That wouldn’t make her seem less crazy to Cindi. Not at all. “I’m here today, and I’m deciding if I’m going to go home after that.”

“He caught you to let you go?”

“I know. I can’t pretend to understand it either, but he doesn’t want to hurt me or anything bad. I really… it’s hard to explain, but he’s amazing.”

Cynthia shook her head and sat back down at her chair. “He didn’t drug you, did he? He didn’t do anything to make you like him?”

“No, he happens to be gorgeous and charming and, um, talented,” Bridget finished lamely, feeling the blush spread across her face.

Cynthia’s eyes were now the size of hubcaps. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No. Well, not technically.”

“Blowjob?”

She rolled her eyes and reminded herself that her best friend spoke much more freely about sex than she did. Sometimes it made for vicarious funny stories, but often it meant that Cindi would say things out loud that Bridget couldn’t even think, let alone say.

“It was like rounding second base, maybe? Heavy petting.”

Her friend pinched the bridge of her nose. “On one hand, however it happened, I’m happy you’re finally moving on to someone to wash the taste of Kevin out of your mouth.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, admit it. Kevin was a huge loser. We both know it.”

“True.”

“But, I don’t know how happy I should be that now you’ve moved onto some sheikh who kidnapped you. He could be hiding huge secrets or danger from you!”

Bridget narrowed her eyes back at her friend. “He’s the ruler of Dubai, not some terrorist!”

“I didn’t go there, but if you want to talk Freudian slips...”

“No, Cind, you do not get to psychoanalyze me on this one,” Bridget said. “My point is that I don’t know what I’m going to do. All I know is I feel more alive in the last twelve hours or so than I’ve ever felt, and we still have whatever we’re doing tonight, whatever dinner or plans to get through before I decide. I wanted you to know I was safe, and that I’m probably going to be home soon. You know?”

“Just be smart and careful, chick. You know I can’t just replace you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Ditto, even if I hate your cats,” Bridget said, chuckling to herself. “I gotta go. My, uh, servant—for now—Kamala, is coming to help me get dressed.”

“See, now you sound uber-fancy. ‘My servant.’”

“Cind, I know this can’t last. I’ll probably be home soon. Even if it’s all nuts, I have to see where it goes. I’ve spent my whole life being the most boring person on the planet. Now I can at least say I had one grand adventure.”

Her friend nodded and smiled broadly. “Look after yourself and do what you need to do. You just better get back to me in one piece or I will be waging some serious war on this guy all by myself.”

Somehow that made Bridget feel a million times better and no longer as homesick.

***

“You look lovely,” Ravi said as she slid into the limo beside him.

She wasn’t sure if those were the right words to describe how she looked. There were things about her body that tended to depress Bridget. She knew she was gangly, that she was built somewhat like a coat rack, as her dad would snarl when he was especially drunk and yelling at her. Her modest curves always made her feel intimidated in the dating world. So she wasn’t sure what Kamala had been thinking when she draped a sky-blue, gauzy, see-through kaftan over a matching gem-studded bra and harem pants. It wasn’t exactly indecent, but it was easy enough to see through the kaftan’s thin material and gaze at her stomach and navel.

To see plainly that she’d never be as curvy or beautiful as Sabella—or as a lot of women.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly as the car started off from the Palms and to the heart of the city.

“You don’t sound comfortable. Are you regretting what we did this morning?”

She shook her head and stared into those jade eyes, knowing how easy it would be to lose herself in them. “It’s the one thing I’m mostly sure of.”

“Then was your call home upsetting?”

“No, but I just… I appreciate that tonight you want to show me Dubai and that must include some of the traditional entertainment and dining, but I don’t exactly feel like Princess Jasmine over here.”

Ravi’s face scrunched up as if he’d eaten a particularly sour lemon. “I’ve always loathed that film.”

She blinked back at him. “Really?”

“I spent time traveling in France and most of Europe as a teenager at Mother’s insistence. So often the media makes us the bad guys or gets it completely wrong. I found so many aspects of Aladdin completely ridiculous. Besides, the tale is originally Chinese.”

“I didn’t know that.” She frowned, considering his words. “You mentioned your mother again, but you haven’t said much about your dad.”

Ravi’s jaw tensed. “Mother was wonderful. She died about ten years ago. She was hit by a car while traveling, nothing political. Some drunk local when she was exploring D.C. and then Mother was gone.”

“And your dad?”

“I became sheikh about five years ago,” he said stiffly.

She nodded, knowing the only way that could have come to pass. “I hate my dad, too.”

“I didn’t say that I hated him.” He grinned at her and took her hand in his. “At least not in so many words.”

“Trust me. I know that look. I’ve seen it enough times in the mirror. My dad is always running some scam. When I was younger, I used to hate that he was never there. Then, after my mom died, I hoped he’d become more stable. I still had this crazy delusion that he could change, be the kind of good father like yo see on TV. Then, I just was glad when he went radio silent. I should have known he was getting into bigger trouble.”

Ravi nodded. “You’re in no trouble. I meant my words. You can leave after dinner if you choose to, and I’ll understand. I wish I had had your problem growing up. I confess the idea of a father who was never around appeals. Mine was always about duty. I love my people, but Father only saw his role as training me to be the next sheikh. He never…” Ravi broke off and looked back out the window of the limo, although he didn’t drop her hand from his grasp.

“What?”

“Sometimes I think he forgot that his duty was also to be a father and not to merely train a successor. Pity he never figured out the difference.”

She reached into the mini-fridge with her free hand and pulled out two bottles of water in quick succession. Opening and raising hers with both hands, she waited for Ravi to do the same. “To fathers,” Bridget exclaimed. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”

“Hear, hear.”

***

They finished dinner when the entertainment came to the floor at the traditional Emirati restaurant that he selected. Ravi had been delighted to see the joy and adventurous spirit Bridget had exhibited. She sampled every delicacy from lamb to roast camel to shawarma and swallowed it all. Granted, she hadn’t asked for a second bite of camel, but she was polite enough to try the delicacies of his culture, and he had to love her for that.

Wait, love?

No, that was nuts. He was captivated by her, wanted her. He sought her out, but he didn’t yet have feelings that deep for her. On the other hand, he knew that after the day they spent together, it was no longer just infatuation that was pulling on his heart strings. There were layers to his swan, and he wanted to spend years at least getting to peel back and understand every one of them.

How wounded she was, yet resilient. He admired that, wished he had some of that spunk for himself. She seemed to have divorced herself more successfully from her father’s long shadow than Ravi had, and that was an awe-inspiring feat. Yes, Ms. Callahan had so much to draw him to her, and he wanted to explore all of it.

Now that the belly dancers had come out, Bridget watched them with rapt attention. He wasn’t even sure if she realized that she was moving her arms in rhythm with their own undulations and waves. Eventually, two of the dancers saw what she was doing and pulled her up. Bridget looked over her shoulder and saw the crowd before her and froze. Her body went rigid and she shook her head frantically before leaning forward to whisper frantically into the lead dancer’s ear.

Worried for her, Ravi stood and asked was about to ask what was wrong, when Bridget turned to him and smiled broadly. Then she tugged lightly on his arm and away from the lead stage. The main dancer took a minute of intermission from the affairs behind her to lead them both to a private corner of the restaurant. She bowed low for Ravi and then pulled back the bangle-encrusted curtain. Behind it was a private room with a single divan in the middle and sumptuous red silk hanging from the ceiling.

He licked his lips and frowned down at Bridget. “I don’t understand.”

Bridget swallowed. “I know what I want, Ravi.” Then she nodded to the dancer. “Thank you for showing us to somewhere private.”

The dancer nodded and smirked at both of them as she drew the curtain closed again. “It is my pleasure to do whatever makes my sheikh the happiest,” she said.

That left Ravi to wander to the divan and sit on it. To his surprise, Bridget didn’t follow. “I confess, I’m a bit confused. If you wanted something more private, we could have gone back to the mansion. Besides, what do you mean that you know what you want?”

“I know. I knew in the limo, but I want to stay, and I want to prove to you how much I mean that,” she said, steeling her shoulders and holding up her chin high. “Did you know I used to dance ballet? I mean, I wasn’t great and I stopped when I was ten because after Mom…” she shook her head and started again. “I had to quit when we didn’t have the money or any way for me to get there, but I used to be an okay dancer.”

Ravi’s eyes widened and the blood starting flowing further south to the hardness building between his legs. His budding erection at least certainly liked where this was going. Truth be told, so did the rest of him. “And?”

She smiled at him and spread out her arms to chest level. A new song was blaring out in the other room, the clarinet and drums setting another sensuous rhythm for the entertainers to dance too. Bridget gave a flick of her hips that left him standing at full attention in more ways than one. With one fluid motion, she pulled off her kaftan and let it fall to the floor. He loved the way she looked, the seeming miles of creamy, white skin. He adored her breasts, not too small, but just right for him to cup his hand around and the gem-studded bra that Kamala had chosen accentuated her curves beautifully.

Bridget started to move in earnest now, her arms moving with a dervish’s flourish as her hips rolled from side to side. As he watched, the bangles and bells around her waist started to beat in time with the music out there, and he felt himself lost in the dance, lost in her. Her belly dipped and twitched with expert precision, and Ravi suspected she was more than just ‘okay’ at ballet as well, even if they were very different types of dances. However, he was wrong on one thing. As the tempo of the music sped up into a rapid tattoo, that was when Bridget truly became a whirling dervish—leaping, twirling, and even arching her back in bends that would have left an untrained person in traction.

Dear Allah, how flexible she is.

Now his hardness was pressing painfully against the fabric of his slacks. Dang, how badly he wanted her. All of her.

As if reading his thoughts, she sashayed over to him, her hips still moving with sultry aplomb in time to the music. Then she straddled him. Bridget smiled and stared at him through heavy lidded eyes. One hand reached up to stroke his hair back from his forehead, and the other reached down to stroke his member through the thin cotton of his pants.

“I know that’s not exactly traditional belly dancing,” she said, stroking him again.

He groaned. “I think I can forgive you just this once for inaccuracy. If you stop stroking me, I think I’ll die right here. Of course, my swan,” he highlighted his point by stroking the delicate arch of her neck. “If you don’t stop touching me, I’m afraid I won’t last long. If your touch doesn’t drive me wild.”

Her smile was an inscrutable expression that reminded him of the Mona Lisa. “I don’t think we want to have that.” Then she eased her hips down on him and pressed her body flush with his, her core over his length, her warmth almost sizzling up against him. Bridget threaded her hands through his hair again and let her fingers trail over his ear lobes. He shivered and felt the attraction pulsing through his body and to his erection. “Do you want to get out of here, my sheikh? I think of better things we can be doing,” she practically purred.

He kissed her lips, capturing them with his own. “I thought you’d never ask.”

***

Bridget was in the bathroom beside Ravi’s master suite in his mansion. She came home and gathered up something special that had been left in her dresser; a few things that probably had fit Sabella’s taste, but would work for what Bridget had in mind. However, part of her felt as she had at the dinner and dance: like a girl playing dress up. She was mimicking what she’d seen Sabella do or those dancers, even some of Cindi’s wilder stories.vThis wasn’t her.

Yet, she felt something in the limo, something deep. This was a man who was wounded and, despite the kingdom around him, perhaps as lonely as she was. Certainly, Sheikh Ravi Shamon was an orphan and she was effectively one. Dear old Dad was worse than a dead father, that was for sure. She wanted to touch Ravi. She wanted to reach that wounded soul inside him, that small glimpse she’d already been treated to. Yes, she wanted the sexy god she saw at the beach, but she also wanted to know Ravi, all of him. She used the dance as a way to offer that olive branch, to show him how determined she was to stay and try whatever odd relationship was unfolding between them.

But now she was standing there in a pink satin chemise that fell just below her rear and dipped ridiculously low on her breasts. It left nothing to the imagination. Surely, he had to see through her in a place as intimate as his bedroom, that she wasn’t the one he could possibly want. Her overactive imagination had been running wild for ten minutes as she pretended to wash her hands with lifelike scenarios of her stepping out and him both laughing at her and sending for Sabella instead.

She just wasn’t that girl, and never had been. Surely Ravi would see through that eventually? After all, Kevin had.

“My swan?” Ravi asked. “Are you ready?”

She gulped and took one last deep breath to steady herself. It was better to go out there and do her best, to try to explore what they had and find out if they were fully compatible—no matter how that resolved itself—than it was to run through worst-case scenarios on a loop.

“Come on,” she muttered to herself. “You can do better than skanky Sabella. I know you can!”

Exhaling one last time, she slipped out of the bathroom and into the cavernous bedroom before her. Ravi wasn’t in the bed and that surprised her. Instead, he was standing up, the moonlight playing over the lines of his torso and the ripples of his abs. He put the average washboard to shame. Heck, he put Michelangelo’s David to shame, too. Clearly, he was both genetically gifted and someone who hadn’t missed a workout. Ever.

And he’s all mine. At least until he gets tired of me.

She pushed the thought aside. If she were just some crazy phase of his, then she’d enjoy it for what it was. This was her carpe diem, her chance to seize what was before her and drink deep the best wine life had to offer her. That was what she needed, that self-confidence from the restaurant. That girl she morphed into for one dance would know what to do.

Ravi nodded toward her as he stalked over with all the grace of a lion hunting out on the Savannah to meet her. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

She felt the heat flush through her cheeks and wished she were darker like Ravi or that perfect Sabella. Then no one would be able to read her so easily, to see her every change in mood just by observing the color on her face and the changes there.

“You’re not bad either, definitely easy on my eyes,” she said. Then, it was almost as if instinct took over her, as it had at the restaurant. Falling to her knees—well sliding to them to avoid hurting herself—Bridget readied herself. It was like falling into a profane prayer, genuflecting before her new god.

What would that make Ravi? God of P90X? Oh, I know! He’s the God of Orgasms.

But two could play at that game. Kneeling up higher, she stuck out her tongue and flicked it against the happy trail of hair leading low to the waistband of his boxers. Then she arched her neck up so that she could finally trail the tip of her tongue on the ridges of his abdomen. She could taste the hint of salt on his skin even as his musk filled her nostrils.

Mine.

He was gorgeous, and no matter where else he’d been, Ravi was also hers for the night. Bridget intended to make the most of that. To show him everything she could and would do for him.

“Oh, my swan,” he said, stroking his hand through her hair. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

She grinned up at him, hoping he understood from her expression how game she was for everything. Her hands seemed to run on their own accord as they reached for the waist band of his boxers and pushed them down over the sharp bones of his hips. His erection sprang free, and her mouth watered at the perfect view before her. Opening her mouth wide she flicked her tongue out and tasted the tip of him, loving the saltiness and meatiness of him. Then she went to work, wrapping her mouth around his hardness and moving back and forth as her tongue laved at him.

He groaned and began to thrust against her, delicately as though not to push her, and only daring to go so deeply. It was okay for her, as it allowed her to keep lapping at him, to tease him with his tongue, as he actively made love to her mouth.

She snaked her hand out and cupped him, taking his testicles in her hand and teased them between her fingers, rolling them easily. Her rhythm with her mouth increased, as she was spurred on by the taste of him, the emphatic sounds of his shouts and curses. She swirled his tongue around the tip and it was enough, he came then and she swallowed it up greedily. It was something she’d never done before, and she couldn’t quite explain it, except that that Ravi was unique, a man who stirred her in a way no other man had. She got to her feet and he smiled back at her, and then kissed her lips.

“Did you like that?” she asked, amazed at the husky tone her voice had taken on.

Ravi kissed her again and stroked her tongue with his own. “You know that I did. Give me time,” he started, “I’ll pay you back.”

She smirked up at him. “You better. With interest.”

***

He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. It didn’t make complete sense. She captivated him since the moment he saw her in the photos on her father’s phone; he had to have her. That was the expression in her eyes, her piercing green gaze that seemed to reach not just to his nether regions, but also to his soul. It was so much more than that now as he watched her lying before him on the bed, ready for his embrace. It had been a bit of time since she pleasured him with her mouth, since he felt the ecstasy of her tongue, oh so warm, against his flesh. He was ready sooner than even he estimated, his hardness returning with a vengeance within half an hour.

He was so very hungry for her, and small tastes were never enough. None of it was enough. He tasted her mouth, snuck fingers inside her channel, and had her mouth over his length. It didn’t suffice, and he needed to be inside her, to own her totally and completely. Ravi opened a drawer in his bedside table and pulled out a condom. It took little time to tear open the foil packet and slip it over his length, and his swan watched all of that through those limpid green eyes of hers.

“Are you ready, princess?”

She teased her nipple with her fingers, raising it to a rigid peak that he couldn’t wait to have in his mouth. “I’ve always been ready, at least for you.”

It was the cue he needed. He strode toward the foot of the bed, and then he started to climb up over her, feeling like a tiger stalking his nubile prey. As he made his way up her torso, he stuck out his tongue and flicked it against her soft belly, letting it dip in and out of her belly button. She shivered and bucked under him, letting out the most delicious mewling noise beneath him.

He picked his head up as he made his way to lie totally over her body. Taking a deep breath, he reveled in the smell of her, in the hint of strawberry in her shampoo, the freesia and lilac wafting from her skin. She was like a garden, a fresh bit of wild nature splayed before him on his bed.

Then there were her eyes, so emerald and sparkling, so deep that he could lose his soul in her.

Dear Allah, I want to.

He nudged his length against her entrance, already feeling his eyes roll back in his head at the warmth that greeted him.

“You’re so ready for me, my swan.”

She bit her lip and moaned again. “I need you,” Bridget said, her voice small and breathy. “Please, Ravi, no more waiting.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, princess,” he said, slipping inside of her, easing into her channel inch by inch.

The heat of her almost felt scorching against him as he slid in. When he was as deep as he could go, when he felt her womanhood flush against all of him, Ravi flexed his hips. It was like ripples of fresh water, clean waves lapping against him, the first volleys of pleasure teasing him.

“Are you ready? You’re comfortable?” he asked, kissing her lips and then both cheeks.

She blushed, and he loved the way that expression looked on her. “It’s good, just been a while.”

He rolled his hips and she moaned and bucked against him, raising her hips to meet his. “I can do whatever you need, my swan, whatever tempo.”

She swallowed hard, a bit of mischief gleaming in her green eyes. “Fast. Make love to me hard, Ravi, please.”

Part of him—the evil part—wanted to draw this out, to torture her with the slowest pace he could force himself to keep up, but he was as hungry for her as she was for him. Ravi could hold back no longer. He started pumping his hips in earnest, letting the waves of pleasure crest and wash over him. Beneath him Bridget mewled again and reached up with her hands, running them over his back and digging her nails in as he plumbed her depth. Their rhythm raced together, both of them moving in tandem.

There was so much around him now: his own ragged gasps, her moans, the scent of sex and freesia in the air and the silk sheets beneath his knees. It all began to merge into one, long blur as they thrust against each other.

Finally, she came, spasming around him, and it was enough to have the final tsunami of ecstasy surge over him as his testicles tightened, heavy with seed, and he came, flooding inside of her.

Wait…

She arched her neck back and screamed, her body quivering between them. Ravi waited till he had full feeling back in his limbs as he slid out of her. He cursed when he noticed the tear in the latex sheathing him.

“Idiot.”

She sat up and frowned back at him. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re on the pill, right?” he asked. “The condom broke.”

She stilled. “Yes, of course I am.”

He nodded. “I’m clean as well. I can have the royal doctor show you my sexual health check-up records.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure it’s something you pride yourself on to keep your health up.”

“Yes, but I’m sorry. That won’t happen again.”

Bridget got to her knees and then wrapped her arms around his waist. Soon soft lips were pressing against his cheek. “It’ll be fine, Ravi. We’re still protected, no worries.”

Chapter Seven

She snuck into the kitchen later that night, not sure if she was allowed, but finding it through a sheer mix of desperation and following her nose toward the strong sense of garlic. When she slipped inside, she found three industrial-sized fridges waiting for her. Ducking into one, she pulled out a carton of milk and grabbed a banana that was out on the counter among tons of other fresh fruit.

Sitting at the table, she peeled the banana and bit eagerly into it. Sex often wiped her out, leaving her both literally thirsty and starved. Ravi was sleeping away, but she needed a bit more in her stomach before she could get some rest.

“You look so happy,” the old servant she met on her first day in Dubai noted as he walked into the room.

She nodded back up at the older gentleman. “Thank you. Forgive me, but I forgot your name.”

“Adil. I’ve been watching after Ravi my whole life.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.”

He gave her a small smile and took a seat beside her. “I felt like I needed to say something.”

She looked down at the large t-shirt and boxers she’d stolen for the night from Ravi, glad that she looked decent for a stranger. “I’m sorry. I should have waited for breakfast, but I was hungry.”

“No, that’s quite alright. In fact, if you make a list, we’ll be sure to get you anything you need.” He grinned at her again. “Now that you’re staying, that is.”

She blushed a little and pushed her hair behind her shoulders. “I’m that obvious?”

“You seem to be positively glowing, Ms. Callahan.”

“I am. I just… this is so magical. I know that sounds crazy when it started out with fear and a crazy plane ride, to say the least.”

Adil gave a brusque nod. “Again, understandable.”

“Still, this has been one of the top best days of my life.”

“And I’m glad that for both of you it doesn’t have to end,” the older man said, patting her hand. “I’ve taken care of Ravi since he was little, like I said. I haven’t seen him smile—really smile—since his mother died. It was rare enough even in those days. Any time after his father sent him to military school for high school. It was like the carefree child I knew was slowly replaced with someone else, with someone who found it hurt to breathe, let alone smile.”

A pang struck through Bridget’s heart. She hated that for Ravi, loathed that his father’s expectations had weighed so hard on him, that they seemed to haunt him so even now.

“That’s horrible.”

Adil sighed. “Indeed it was, but the old sheikh had his duties too. Ravi’s a brilliant military strategist and a good sheikh. He has just been someone who was so very lost and seemed to be hunting for something. I can’t promise that you’re it, but I can say this smile is new.”

“Thank you, Adil,” Bridget said, as he stood and turned back to the exit. “I’ll get you that list in the morning. It’ll be good to take those small steps to settle in here.”

“Indeed, and I’ll speak with Kamala. She’ll take you shopping for clothing that is also your taste.”

“That’d be lovely as well,” she said, turning back to her milk and taking a long sip in the darkness.

Her mind swirled with a myriad of thoughts: Is he really feeling what I am, even a little? Goodness, I never felt this way with Kevin, and it’s not just the sex. Of course, he’s great at that, but it’s something else. When he looks at me, it feels like he can see into all of me. It wasn’t just like we were making love—though that’s enough. It’s still so nuts, but it felt almost like souls coming together, like I was meant to be here.

She sipped her milk again and rubbed at the cold liquid still on her lip. “Maybe I do belong here.”

“I assure you that you don’t, American giraffe,” a familiar voice called.

Sabella.

The woman sauntered to the room in nothing more than a nightie. Clearly, the other woman had both no shame and was bothered by no longer being the sheikh’s favorite distraction. Not that Bridget was a distraction, just that it was clear Sabella was jealous and hoping to reclaim her role in the sheikh’s life. Bridget would have to be an idiot not to see that. Of course, the other woman wasn’t playing it subtle either. All she needed was a sandwich board that said “Free Lunch.”

“I don’t need this,” Bridget said, standing up and trying to brush past the Arabian girl.

Sabella planted a hand on her shoulder and held her still. “No, American, hear me out.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“But you do,” she said, her voice a low, disgruntled purr.

“What? So you can threaten me, tell me that I’ll never be good enough? I know that!” Bridget said before throwing her hands up over her head and taking a step back from the other woman. “Don’t you think I know that? Everything I do is never good enough, but right now? I’m the one Ravi wants. I bet that must eat at you.”

Sabella’s usually pretty features tightened up, as if she’d sucked on a lemon or a lime. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I don’t have to,” Bridget replied. “I know that I’m getting to you. If I weren’t, you wouldn’t be stalking me at 3 a.m. and in your best ‘here kitty-kitty’ ware. I get it. You were some hotshot before I got here. You’re leggy and curvy and way hotter than me in a Playboy bunny way. Great for you. Still, no matter what you do, you’re not the one Ravi wants right now so just deal with it.”

Sabella laughed, low and menacing. “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Sabella shook her head and pushed a strand of errant hair out of Bridget’s face. “You’re not the first woman he’s brought home, and you won’t be the last. He’s dated actual princesses and the most gorgeous models, but in the end he always returns to me. And when he’s bored with you?” she chuckled again, as if it was the funniest joke in the world. “Which, let’s be honest, won’t be long, giraffe. Then he’ll come back to me. He always does.”

Bridget swallowed hard. “Right now, Sabella, he has no interest in you, and that’s your problem. Deal with the fact that you’re not the one.”

“For now, American.”

“I have a name. It’s ‘Bridget,’ and you could at least be bothered to call me by it.”

“Why?” Sabella asked.

“Because it’s polite. I know your name.”

“Oh, I know it,” Sabella replied, turning on her heels to leave the kitchen. “I just don’t care to learn it. You’ll be gone before it even matters.”

That left Bridget gaping, her mouth falling open and closed like a fish on land gasping for its last breaths. She stood up and put her glass back in the sink. It didn’t matter now or at least that’s what she tried to tell herself, but her heart stung as she tried to get back to sleep, even Ravi’s arms around her not comfort enough to block out Sabella’s words.

What if it was true?

Chapter Eight

“So, is Skank-a-rella still giving you problems?” Cindi asked over the Skype connection.

Bridget sighed. It had been an amazing four weeks. She’d gone on excursions with Ravi to the Dhofar coast and the luxurious locales of Abu Dhabi. He even jetted her to Paris on a whim just last weekend. Yes, he had work to do both for the nation and for his company’s oil interests, but he was always conscientious about making time for her, always sure to make the extra effort to ensure she was attended to.

She blushed, thinking about the lovemaking they engaged in until the wee hours of the morning. Ravi was more than attentive.

Sabella, however? Yes, Sabella was still a thorn in her rump.

“You probably shouldn’t call her that.”

“If the title fits...” Cindi said, smirking back at her.

“Yes, Sabella’s awful. No, we probably shouldn’t call her a skank.”

“Could we call her a hussy-whore?”

“No, pass on that too.”

“What about a jerk with a capital ‘B?’” Cindi chimed back.

Bridget broke down giggling. “Okay, that’s a good one. We can call her that.”

“Oh, when you’re not around, I’ll be calling her a lot more,” Cindi said. “Still, is it going okay?”

“Ravi’s amazing. Kamala and Adil are kind to me. It’s just that occasionally Sabella sneaks up on me like Jaws coming out of the water. I know she’s a servant in the house, so Ravi’s not going to just send her away, although he basically stationed her in the other wing of the mansion.”

“Wings. Your lover has wings for his house.”

“His summer house. He hasn’t shown me the Burj Khalifa tower his father built or the main palace outside of the city. We’re planning to go there in a few weeks after the grand ball.”

Cindi beamed back at her. “Awesome, chick. Way to get your inner Cinderella on.”

Bridget quirked her head back at her friend. “Actually, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. The fittings are kind of overbearing, and I have no idea what the dress is eventually going to look like. Besides, Ravi wants the ensemble to be a surprise. It’s killing me to think about what I’ll look like in front of all these fancy people in Dubai. I mean, I’m worried I’ll eat the food the wrong way or use the wrong knife during dinner. Wait, are there two knives?”

“I think you’re confusing dinner fork and salad fork. If Titanic taught us anything, just eat from the outside in. Channel your inner Leo.”

She laughed. “Thanks, but yeah Sabella just won’t give up. It’s annoying.”

Cindi wasn’t appeased by that answer, but Bridget shouldn’t have known the other woman wouldn’t be. After all, her friend had always seen right through her. “You shouldn’t let her get to you. I can tell from the way you describe her that she’s a gold digger, some annoying hanger-on.”

“Who looks like she should be on every magazine cover ever!” Bridget patted a few times at her chest. “Let’s face it; I’m nothing special. Not really.”

“Clearly you are, or Ravi wouldn’t even be with you.”

“Adil, one of the servants, swears that’s true, but in the back of my mind, I get so nervous that I’m just a distraction. I’m so scared that I’m not anything.”

“You are, hon. Now, go have a good day! Seriously, always aim to take that jerk Sabella down a peg.”

Bridget laughed. “I will, and I’ll see if Ravi can invite you out, pay for a ticket or send one of his fleets. You have to see it out here. It’s amazing!”

“I don’t doubt it, chick. Now, go wow your Sheikh Charming some more.”

***

The tunnel curved up and around her, and Bridget couldn’t help but gasp as she saw the fish swim over her and dart above her head. No, that was too small a word for the variety of marine life flitting around her in and around the tunnel walls. She loved watching the animals pass before her—the flapping wings of the sting rays, the bright, neon orange coloring of the clown fish, and the massive bulk of the nurse sharks skimming by. All of it comprised an incredible underwater ballet that was hers to enjoy at the largest aquarium in the world. She looped her arm through Ravi’s.

“You didn’t have to close down the entire aquarium just for us.”

He laughed, and it was a sound as smooth as velvet. “Actually, Adil insisted. He deemed an attraction like this too big a security risk if I were to come here in the midst of crowds. But if this serves to impress you, I’ll take the credit for that as well, my swan.”

She grinned as they passed under the cool tunnels and waved to the small, South African penguins bobbing at the water’s surface and leaping to and fro on the small rock outcroppings. “Still, this is amazing. Everything so far has been indescribable. Just when I think you can’t come up with anything more exciting, you think of something else.”

“It’s not quite a dinner date at the top of the Eiffel Tower,” he riposted.

Her smile widened as she recalled that outing. “You do shut down everything wherever you go. You should just admit it now,” she chirped.

“Well, I open things up, too,” he said as they came to the end of a labyrinthine hallway and turned toward an Employees Only door.

“Is that a double entendre?”

He draped an arm around her shoulder and leaned low to whisper into her and, like always with him, it spread goosebumps running over her skin. “It might be, but only if you’re a good girl.”

Bridget chuckled and kissed his cheek. “I thought you liked me more when I was bad.”

He shook his head and parted from her long enough to shake the hand of the trainer who had just come out of the restricted area. Ravi winked at her before exchanging a few quick words in what she assumed was Arabic with the newcomer. The man nodded briskly and opened the door wide, giving them both full access to whatever lie beyond those doors.

“After you, my swan,” he said, waving his arm towards the room beyond.

She eyed him, unsure of what he’d arranged. It could be anything from petting a horseshoe crab to swimming with dolphins. No matter what he claimed, her sheikh always considered himself a showstopper and was always looking for a way to outdo himself. Bridget passed into the room and couldn’t keep herself from squealing when she saw the female trainer there holding a small, chittering, brown mass in her arms.

“Oh my goodness!” Bridget said, sounding more like a valley girl than she ever had in her life. She found that Ravi brought that more frivolous and—yes, fun—side out of her. “They’re otters!”

Ravi nodded and watched her carefully, those jade eyes as calculating as always. “They’re baby sea otters to be more precise. They’re about three months old and still too young to be with anyone but their mother in isolation. They won’t be introduced to the group for months yet. Would you like to hold one?”

“I can?”

“Yes,” the trainer, whose name tag read Ashira, said as she handed her the baby. “This is Oscar.”

“Oscar Otter?”

“We have fun with names. Last time we named them after Disney characters. Next year, they’ll be Marvel superheroes. This year, Oscar and Oliver are ‘O’ names.”

Bridget took the little fellow in her arms. He blinked sleepily back at her but continued to chuff to himself, his little whiskers moving every time he did so. His black eyes were deep and soulful, and his thick fur was slightly slick and wet against her arms. Someone had clearly been swimming lately.

“He’s so cute. Aren’t you, Oscar?” she cooed at him.

The otter surprised her by slipping out of her grasp and climbing quickly to perch on her shoulder, as if she were the tallest hill and he’d now become king of the mountain. The pup kissed her cheek or, well, licked at it a bit and then went back to squeaking at Ashira. Bridget was pretty sure that, unlike whales, otters had no language, though at the same time, Oscar certainly had some agenda on his mind.

Ashira nodded and pulled the bucket up from the floor. “He’s a con artist, that one. A born beggar. He’s had most of his sardines already, just had lunch, but would you like to feed him?”

“Of course,” Bridget said, holding out her hand. Ashira showed her how to hold it flat, and she understood why. It was the same with horses. If you didn’t keep your palm flat, then eager teeth might accidentally bite you. The slimy fish was a small sacrifice to make in order to watch Oscar slip down onto her arm and shove the fish quickly inside his cheeks so that they puffed out as he finished chewing his meal. “Okay, that’s the cutest thing he’s done so far. In fact, I somehow have a feeling that Oscar has the market cornered on cute.”

“Oliver has tricks of his own, too,” Ashira replied, nodding to the enclosure. “Would you like to see him?”

She giggled as Oscar snuffled at her hair. “I think I have enough to keep me busy here without dealing with Oscar’s even more ambitious twin. Ravi, do you want to hold either of them?”

Her sheikh shook his head and straightened the lapels of his jacket. “Not in Tom Ford I don’t. Besides, I have something in my pocket, and I don’t want the little guy to steal it from me.”

Curious, Bridget handed the otter back to Ashira, although she promised herself that she’d be grabbing that warm little bundle of sunshine back soon. “Okay,” she said, bringing her hands to rest on her hips and thrusting out her chin. “You have me intrigued—the private tour, the up-close and personal date with the cutest guy in the room—”

“I resent that.”

“Admit it,” she said point to where Oscar was chewing at his front paw with his teeth. “Even you can’t out-cute him.”

“I dunno, does he do the things with his tongue I do?”

“Uh, eww. But also good point. There are things that human guys do that are hotter but Oscar’s cornered cute. He needs his own inspirational desk calendar, is all I’m saying. Still, you’re giving me a full court press, even more than usual. What are you planning, Sheikh Shamon?” She gasped when he pulled a large velvet box, easily the size of his palm, from his pockets. She knew it couldn’t be a ring, both because it was far too early in their relationship and the sheer size of the box, but it was clearly jewelry.

She teared up a little, wishing she could hold it back, but no one in her terrible rolodex of dating history had gotten her anything truly nice. The only jewelry Kevin begrudgingly got her came from K-Mart and cost less than his gaming system. Bridget wasn’t an expert, but she was pretty sure whatever Ravi got her would be worth more than a video game.

“I… you didn’t have to.”

He opened the box and she gasped at the two interwoven strands of pearls, one a shining white and the other a smooth grey. The pearl at the center was easily the size of a gumball and a silver color that was the perfect shade between the two main strands. She’d never seen anything like it.

Ravi said nothing—unusual for him—as he walked behind her, pulled up her hair, and clasped the necklace around her throat. “You look perfect, princess. I knew this would show off the curves of your swan-like neck perfectly.”

She blushed back at him and brought her fingers to the new decoration at her throat. “I don’t… you can’t be serious. This has to cost so much money. I can’t accept this.”

“You can, but if you’re worried, then just consider it a loan. There’s a gala and dance to celebrate a new art exhibit opening at the Burj Khalifa this Friday, and I wanted to present you to all of Dubai as my date.”

Bridget turned around and looked up at him with wide, scared eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest and her palms grew slick with sweat. “You what?”

“We’ve been together for well over a month.”

“That’s nothing…”

He reached up and cupped her cheek. She felt that heat flare in her belly and that electric current just simmering underneath her skin as it always did whenever he was near to her. “I’ve never dated anyone for six weeks, ever. I want to show my country and my people what you mean to me.”

And what is that, exactly? She wondered.

She wasn’t sure what the answer was herself. First she was his captive, and then she was his lover for a fun-filled fling. Currently, she could feel the passion and trust blossoming between them. Still, she thought of Sabella, and of those cold words she heard whispered to her almost daily. It could all end tomorrow. Making it public—putting it on the world’s stage—would make her humiliation that much more exquisite when things ended. They had to end eventually, if only because she was never that lucky.

Just look at her fractured home life for proof, or at her relationship with Kevin for that matter.

“Maybe we can talk about this when we’re back at the palace,” she said, looking over her shoulder to catch Ashira heading out a back door to another part of the complex. At least that woman knew when to avoid awkward situations. “This is just so much at once.”

“You’re my princess, and I think you should be proud of that,” Ravi said, even as a small line formed between his brows.

“And I love this,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I love you, and I love being an ‘us,’ but I’m not a big ‘events and galas’ girl. I’ve never even been to a formal dance since senior prom, and I didn’t have the best time there either. I’m nervous.”

“Well, if you’re worried about attire, Kamala is picking out something for you to wear with the necklace. If you’re worried about the inanities of small talk, don’t be,” he said, leaning down and kissing her lips, teasing her mouth with his own. “I am a very possessive man, my swan, and I’ll keep you dancing all night just with me.”

The fact that he did want to show her off when he never had done anything like this with any other woman, even an heiress or a movie star, appealed to her. Besides, it sounded like fun to get dressed up and dance the night away with the man she was beginning to care so deeply about.

I promised myself stories for a lifetime, didn’t I? Besides, I’d hate to disappoint him.

She nodded back and kissed him, letting her teeth nibble and tempt his lower lip. Bridget relished the low growl she got in response. “All right, but I’m not promising to know any waltzes. I do okay with the electric slide. I had that down at my cousin’s wedding last year.”

He laughed, picked her up, and spun her around a couple times. “I’m sure that we can find a happy medium.”

“You say that now but—” She stopped then and clamped her mouth shut as her stomach lurched. Bile worked its way up her throat, and she knew she was going to be sick. “Ravi, please put me down. I need to find a restroom. Now.”

***

As far as how to act when receiving a gift, Ravi wasn’t sure that Bridget had a clue. Granted, the reason he cared about her so much was in part because she was different from every other woman he dated. It wasn’t just that their relationship had lasted the longest so far; it was more about why it had. She wasn’t the type to be a gold digger or ask for fancy things, or demand things as Sabella did with pouty lips or the occasional foot stomp. No; Bridget was modest and always seemed overwhelmed by what he offered her, as she had moments ago with the necklace. He appreciated that, but still, he loved lavishing her with gifts. There was no need for her to refuse. There was no way that he could ever feel taken advantage of by his swan.

Now, though, he was worried. She’d been in the private staff bathroom for a while, and even though the faucet was running he could still overhear her retching. After a while longer, she turned off the water completely and opened the door. Her face was blotchy and her eyes watering a bit, but he knew that the sounds beyond the door had not been his imagination. His princess was sick.

Reaching out, he brought the back of his hand to her forehead. “Are you all right?”

Bridget nodded and wiped at her eyes. “I think that spinning around in your arms like a sheikh-tilt-a-whirl after I had the nachos at the refreshment stand was a bad idea. I’m fine now.” She took two steps before she stumbled, as if drunk, and then sagged into his waiting arms. “Okay, and a bit dizzy.”

He frowned again. “You don’t feel warm.”

“Like I said. I don’t think it’s a stomach bug. I probably ate something I shouldn’t have. Maybe the dates were a little off at breakfast.” She smiled serenely back at him. “Ravi, I’m going to be fine. I love the gift you gave me, and I’ll be ready to dance by Friday, I promise.”

He helped steady her on her feet even as he pushed a strand of golden hair from her face. “All right, but if you feel sick again, you can always have Adil or Kamala summon the mansion doctor.”

“You have a mansion doctor?”

“More like a personal physician, but Dr. Hakmad is one of the best general practitioners in the world. If anything else happens, you must tell me,” he said, trying to push the worry away. She was probably right. He had warned her away from those nachos and their thick coating of pickled jalapenos. Yet, something else was bugging him, something that he couldn’t quite figure out.

She nodded and leaned into his shoulder. “I promise, Ravi. If anything else comes up, you’ll be the first to know.”

Chapter Nine

His breath caught in his throat.

Ravi had always found that to be a stupid, impossible expression. After all, there was no way just the sight of someone else could force the air from one’s lungs. Except that now, he realized he was wrong as he watched Bridget saunter into the gala with Kamala trailing behind her. The old servant had done well, and he was going to triple her pay for her skill in picking out Bridget’s outfit for the night. The sleek black silk sheath hugged her body in all the right places, but the best part was the full slit up the right side of her body that ended at her hip. It helped to highlight both the diamond-adorned broach gathering the fabric together on that side but, more than that, it helped to tease those sensual glimpses of her creamy, white thighs.

He was glad he chose the robes of his people for the traditional gala. It was easier to hide the erection he was cultivating, and he could feel as the blood rushed rapidly from his brain to his groin. He want her, badly, but that was nothing new. Since he met Bridget, she was like a fever working her way through his system; so contagious that he couldn’t escape her influence—and he didn’t want to.

She came to stand before him and looked nervously over her shoulder. “Is this okay?”

He took her in one more time from the pearl necklace around her throat, to the long, lean legs of hers to the way her hair was piled up in golden curls atop of her head and kept there by jeweled combs. How could she even ask him that? She was more than ‘okay;’ Bridget was a vision, and the stirring in his loins agreed.

He leaned forward and kissed both of her cheeks, mindful of the appropriate image for the crowd of dignitaries around them. Some of his colleagues and fellow Arabian leaders were more adherent, and there were strict rules about displays of affection, even if he was breaking one already by having an American in her own, preferred dress before them.

“You’re amazing, my swan,” he said, holding out his hand. “Do you want to have this dance?”

She grinned and took his offered palm. “I do.”

He swept her up into his embrace and they both swayed in time to the delicate music throughout the Burj’s main ballroom. He settled on a mix of acts for the venue, both Eastern and Western. Currently, the DJ was playing a collection of golden hits from the 1940s in America. Old Blue Eyes himself, Frank Sinatra, crooned over the sound system as they swirled around the dance floor.

They stayed like that, moving through floor as if they were the only two people in the room, as Sinatra transitioned Billie Holiday. He could have spent forever like this, hearing her light breath, smelling that seductive aroma of freesias and strawberries, and reveling in her warmth pressed up against him. Yet, Ravi had something he wanted her to see. Reluctantly, he pulled his head back to look at her.

“My swan, I have something else I’d love to show you.”

“I don’t need anything else, Ravi. Just you,” she said, the force of her tone surprising him.

He placed two fingers under her chin and forced her to look at him, for her emerald eyes to catch his own. “You don’t have to be so adamant about gifts, my princess. I know you’re not trying to get me to buy favors for you. I would never do that anyway, and you know it.”

“But I feel greedy. I’m serious. It’s enough just to be with you.”

He nodded as he led her to his favorite corner of the ballroom, to where the heart of the new art exhibit was being shown off for the night before rejoining its proper place. The security around it was tight—six armed men—and after the scare Ravi had with it, that might still have been not enough.

She gaped at the painting. “I’ve seen this. I had to take art history in college for some liberal arts credits. Is this a van Gogh?”

He nodded. “It’s Starry Night. It recently came up for sale.”

He didn’t mention that when he came up with the idea for this art exhibition, that he contacted the curating body for the painting and offered a sum so large they couldn’t refuse. It was necessary. While his personal collection had so many French impressionist masterpieces, there was no exhibit without this linchpin. Ravi knew, however, that Bridget felt skittish around his money and influence. The less he said, the better.

“It was my mother’s favorite. When she grew sick, we flew her to New York to see it as often as possible. It raised her spirits. Then, I bought a penthouse for her in Manhattan. The last few months, I spent the days with her and we’d get sun in Central Park and go to see this painting together. She never grew tired of it, and neither did I.”

Bridget hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re a van Gogh fan as well?” he said, trying to keep his tone light, even though he felt as if he were standing before her stark naked. In point of fact, Ravi would have preferred that over putting one of the most painful periods of his life on display before her. “I didn’t know that, my swan.”

“He’s good. I like his sunflowers, but you know what I mean. You didn’t have to tell me this, to be that open. It means so much to me that you’ll tell me things that no one else has heard from you.”

Ravi nodded and pulled her close to him, kissing her temple. “Your father must have been incredibly desperate. This is what he tried to steal from me. I just needed you to understand why it was so special to me, why…”

She turned to him, her green eyes brimming with earnestness. “There had to be a price.”

“Yes. Even though I regret how we met,” he started, threading his fingers through hers, “I’m glad we did. I meant what I said. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I’m so honored to have you as my date tonight, to be able to show all of the Emirates the woman who has captured my heart.”

“Ravi!” she said, her eyes shiny.

He kissed her lips. “I mean it. In fact—” He groaned when his phone buzzed. “I apologize. I think this is a business contact, and I need to talk about some sensitive oil sales to Japan or else I’d have it off. Curse these time zones,” he broke away from her, watching as she rushed across the hall and rejoined Kamala.

Then his stomach churned. He recognized the number—Sabella.

Practically growling, he pressed his phone on. “What do you want? You were explicitly not invited.”

“Look behind you.”

He did and glared at her since she now snuck behind him. Her dress was too short and too tight for such a gathering, and it looked cheap on her. So much looked cheap on her, and he didn’t know how he never noticed that before. Maybe it was because he never had Bridget’s easy style and grace to compare Sabella to. Well, he did now.

“I did not ask you to come here.”

“No,” she said, grinning like a cat that caught a canary. “But the nephew of the sheikh of Abu Dhabi needed an escort.”

“I’m sure you’re good at those services.”

She reached out and traced a finger down his front. “How quickly we forget good times, Ravi.”

“You forget your place, Sabella. You’re not my equal.”

“I’m a servant, right? Just the woman you need when it’s convenient.” She shook her head and glared back at Bridget who was animatedly talking with Adil and Kamala both. “I want to talk with you. I’m better than that American giraffe over there, and I deserve more than a brush-off after all we’ve been through together.”

“I owe you nothing.”

She narrowed cold, black eyes at him. “You may not think so, but I’ll make a scene right here, Ravi. Ruin the opening day of your mother’s exhibit.”

His jaw clenched and he led her out to the hallway. When they were in a private corner of the hall, he glared back at her. “You’re low. Did you know that?”

“But I get my way,” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I want you to remember something.”

“What?” he asked, his stomach still churning with bile.

She kissed him so suddenly that he barely had time to process any of it. Then she draped her leg over his waist, pressing up against him fully. In his shock, he let the moment pass and then collected himself to force her off of him.

“No,” he said, straightening his robes. “We are never doing this again. It’s over, Sabella.”

She laughed at him, as if only she were privy to a secret joke. “No, my so-called sheikh. It’s only just begun.”

***

Bridget was enjoying the stories both Kamala and Adil were telling her about a certain precocious, curly-haired boy who eventually grew to become Ravi. The old man had just finished telling her about how a frog ended up as part of the former sheikh’s entrée at a dinner years ago thanks to Ravi’s mischief, and she was bent over laughing at the thought. Yes, Ravi was adventurous in so many ways now, but she wanted to know more about that carefree boy, the one who set a live frog down on his dad’s dinner plate when Heads of State were coming; the one who had laughed so easily.

The one who didn’t seem so haunted by the loss of his parents in very different ways.

“That’s nothing. I have a far better one about Sheikh Shamon and the chicken pox,” Kamala started.

“Oh please, I’m all ears,” she said. Then Bridget frowned when her phone dinged. She had a text. “Sorry, let me take this,” she said, pulling it from her clutch. It was Ravi. He’d stepped out of the ballroom for his business call, and she was glad it was over. Or at least that it hopefully was.

Meet me in the lobby.

She rolled her eyes and hoped that it wouldn’t be another piece of jewelry. The pearls around her neck were more than enough. Bridget meant it earlier when she proclaimed that he was all she wanted. Frankly, after the few crappy boyfriends she had, he was the ultimate precious stone for her. Still, she was missing him desperately. Excusing herself from Adil and Kamala, Bridget made her way out of the ballroom and then turned her head.

Her heart shattered. It just crumbled in her chest.

There was Ravi making out with Sabella, and that witch had her leg wrapped around his waist.

Pain burned through her and the nausea was back as it had been every day since the aquarium. Bridget just hadn’t had the heart to tell Ravi, to worry him. What a waste of kindness that had been. He clearly didn’t care about her. Chewing back her nausea, she rushed for the nearest ladies’ room, even as tears fell down her cheeks. Rushing in through the door, she slammed it behind her and lunged for a toilet. Her retching was familiar after a week, but the new ache in her heart and, seemingly deep down to her soul, was so very new.

She thought she was crushed when Kevin cheated on her, but that was a mosquito prick compared to the bite of a giant bear. Everything about her was tearing apart, and after she took cool mouthfuls of water from the sink, her mouth tasted of ash.

“I knew this was coming,” she said, as she splashed more cool water on her face. Her tears wouldn’t stop, and she had no interest in seeing Ravi again. She was glad she came separately with Kamala. Hopefully the servant woman could get her back to the mansion without her having to interact with that jerk ever again. If she saw him, she would weep so hard that it would never stop. That much Bridget knew was true. “But why?”

The door swung open and Sabella sauntered into the room, moving like pure sex. She sold it everywhere she walked, didn’t she? No wonder Ravi had fallen back into her arms.

“I know why.” The other woman purred, proud of her victory.

“You know I saw?”

“I always catch mice scurrying out of my way,” she said, her tone blithe. “You understand now, don’t you?”

She spun around to face Sabella and crossed her arms over her chest. “I understand what?”

“That he was never yours to have. Ravi was never going to be yours, American. He needs to stick with his own kind.”

“A Muslim?”

“No, with someone beautiful and well-versed in the traditions of the wealthy, not some thief’s daughter from nowhere. You’re trash, Bridget, and you know it. How do you think the rest of the sheikhs gathered here would feel or act if they knew how he really met you? That your father is nothing more than a common criminal? That you were his ‘get out of jail free’ card?”

Her throat tensed and ran dry. It took a few seconds for Bridget to be able to speak. “My father isn’t me. I don’t have a thing to do with him.”

“You carry his name, Bridget Callahan, and you pay for his mistakes. What’s the expression you American’s have? ‘Gutter trash,’ is it?” Bridget’s hand slapped against Sabella’s face before she knew what was happening. For a moment, the other girl looked stunned but then just rubbed her face and laughed. “Oh, the little mouse has claws! American, I’ll make you a deal. I have a car waiting and airplane ticket just for you, an open-ended flight home to Maryland I’ve had since you got here.”

“What?”

“I knew he’d come back to me, and you did too. Now just get outside, take the car, and leave Dubai. Otherwise, how many people—how many reporters here to cover the gala—will get a front row seat to your delicious humiliation?” To emphasize her point, Sabella yanked the ticket from her own clutch. “Get out of here, Bridget. You’ve been beaten.”

Tears streaming down her face, Bridget did as she was told and rushed out into the night, her heart far too broken to do anything else.

Chapter Ten

Two Months Later…

“We need to talk,” Cindi said, her frown clear on her face.

Bridget looked back over the trash can she’d just ruined by vomiting into it. Dang, and I usually make it. In the two months since she fled Dubai, her life had gone to perdition. She was able to get a job working as a receptionist for a psychologist associate of Cindi’s. However, she wasn’t sleeping—at least not well. When she dreamed, she was always back in the Middle East and at the mansion. In her good dreams, which were few and far between, she was back in Ravi’s arms. In her nightmares, she always seemed to stumble on Ravi and Sabella locked in an embrace or something even worse. Her physical health was even worse. She vomited every morning at about ten a.m., no matter what she ate the night before, but she was ravenous by six p.m. She developed the weirdest taste for putting sweet pickle chips on pizza, and she might have gained about ten pounds. Soon she’d have to take her paltry life savings and buy a new wardrobe.

With all of this, she hadn’t been able to deal with her feelings for Ravi. For the first few weeks, she half-expected him to re-abduct her or to come here and beg for her to return home. He had texted and send letters and emails. He even sent flowers every day for six weeks, but he never came in person and she had to wonder if he was secretly glad by now that she was gone. After all, he had Sabella to keep him busy.

Bridget was just the American. Just the klutzy giraffe. Albeit one who was starting to feel like she swallowed a bowling ball. The best she could figure was not only had Ravi shattered her heart, but a trip to his country had also left her with some horrible parasite.

“Goodness, I know what this is,” she said, shoving a pillow over her head. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”

Cindi snorted and then yanked the pillow back off Bridget’s face. “No, but I made an appointment with an OB/GYN friend of mine for you. It’s a favor to me because I think I know exactly what this is, but I need to be sure.”

The words sounded with a deep thud to her ears. No, that couldn’t be possible. It was absolutely not reality. She was on the pill, and they used a condom every time. “No way.”

“Well, you two did it like monkeys while you were there.”

“Hey!”

Cindi rolled her eyes. “You ‘made love,’ fine, or at least what you felt was real and that rat was leading you on. All I need is five minutes alone with him and access to an aluminum baseball bat.”

Bridget sat up and ignored her usual morning dizzy spells. “It’s sweet that you want to help me by doing bodily harm, but it hurts, too. Ravi… I thought we had something good, but we always used protection.” Then she paused, her memory landing on the first night she and the sheikh had spent together. The condom had broken, and she had skipped a few days until the staff had been able to get her pills. But surely missing a few days wouldn’t have caused this? “Oh, no,” she said, shoving her head into her hands.

“What?” Cindi asked, sliding down next to her on the mattress and patting her shoulders. “You thought of something.”

“I… the first time, there was an accident.”

“Huh?”

“Broken condom, but it was just the one time.”

Cindi sighed and smiled at her sympathetically. “The nuns at catechism always used to say that it only takes that one time. I hated those penguins, but they weren’t wrong. Look, we’ll get you to see Janey, and we’ll figure everything out from there.”

“I can’t be pregnant. What will I tell Ravi?”

“Look on the bright side, maybe it is just a parasite!”

***

Dr. Murfee shut the door behind her as she entered into the small examining room. Of all the rotten luck, the doctor’s office was undergoing maintenance and the techs managed to knock out the air conditioning. During this unseasonably warm March day, both she and Cindi felt like they were dying of heat stroke. At least Dr. Murfee was quick and efficient. The whole blood draw had been painless and the test analysis took no more than twenty minutes.

Yeah, the longest twenty minutes of my life. Of course, if I am pregnant, it’ll be a long eighteen years too...

Cindi slid her hand over Bridget’s shoulder and offered a comforting presence. “What have you got for us, chick?”

Dr. Murfee shook her head and pushed her thickly rimmed glasses up her nose. “Ms. Callahan.”

“Oh, ‘Bridget’ is fine. We’re all acquainted now,” she said, pointing to her polka-dotted examination robe.

“Then, Bridget, the tests were positive. You’re definitely pregnant.”

Her heart lurched. It couldn’t be. Would she have to tell Ravi? Wait, could she deny him a family, especially knowing how much he missed his mother? Then again, he didn’t care about her. He had bought her jewelry and told her what she wanted to hear while sucking up to Sabella and making a fool of her.

But she still loved him.

Cindi considered the situation, and then turned to Dr. Murfee. “Janey, can you give us a second?”

“Of course, take all the time you need. I’d like to do the ultrasound and all the checkups you’re behind on once you’re ready.” With that, the doctor eased back out the door.

Cindi turned to her, blue eyes brimming with concern. “What do you want to do now?”

Her hands covered her belly almost of their own accord. “Keep him or her. There’s no other way. It’s part of me and Ravi, and I loved him…” she couldn’t keep the tears from coming anymore. It was all too much. She broke down crying, her shoulders heaving and the sobs tearing from her throat. “I still love him. I can’t make myself stop, no matter how badly he hurt me.”

Cindi wrapped both arms around her and rocked Bridget. “Shh, I knew that much. I knew you’d never think of that. I just meant how are we going to tell Ravi?”

She stilled, even as tears slid down her cheeks. “I don’t know how to tell him. I’m not sure I know how. What would I even say? Would he want to know he has an illegitimate child from a fling? With an American at that. There’s no way.”

Her friend sighed. “Then you don’t have to tell him. He’s the toe who cheated on you. Whatever you decide, I’m here for you. Aunt Cindi is going to help take care of the best niece or nephew ever, even kids aren’t really my thing.”

Bridget broke out laughing despite everything. Cindi was the type of gal to have X-rated tales of college exploits and more than a passing familiarity with marijuana. No, she wasn’t exactly Mary Poppins. They would definitely have to arrange some babysitting ground rules. A lot of them with ironclad penalties for violations.

“Trust me, Cind, I know.”

The other girl pulled back and stroked Bridget’s hair. “I’ll do whatever I can for the ankle-biter though.”

“I know you will.”

“We’ll get through this. Sheikh Can’t-Keep-It-In-My-Pants missed out big time.”

She nodded and offered her friend a weak smile. Bridget knew Cindi only trashed Ravi in order to make Bridget feel better. It just never worked. She was furious at Sabella, but even that wasn’t a consequence to how mad she was with herself, for believing the fairytale when all Ravi offered her were lies.

So, she forced herself to smile even more broadly and tell another lie. “You’re right. Who needs a sheikh, anyway?”

***

“Master Ravi, my sheikh, perhaps you should actually call the girl?” Adil said.

Ravi shook his head and turned his attention back to the latest profit reports. He’d been staring at them for hours. Maybe half a day. None of it made any sense, but then again, nothing mattered—not even profits—when he couldn’t hold Bridget in his arms. When he couldn’t smell the hint of freesia and strawberry in the early morning.

“I’ve tried. I tried for over a month, and she screened me every time. I promised myself that first day, after I came to my senses that I wouldn’t force my swan—I mean, Bridget, to do anything she didn’t want, and that includes her going home. Now that she’s back in the States, I can’t just sweep in and take her back.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that you send out commandos, sire,” Adil said dryly, running a hand through his snowy white beard. “But it’s a shame for you to quit on her. You don’t have to bring her back from the States, but you should go and see her. You’re miserable.”

He clenched his jaw and shut his laptop. Obviously, he wasn’t going to get any work done tonight. Not that he’d exactly gotten any work done before then, either. “Thank you, Adil. I wasn’t aware of that.”

“You know what I mean. Ms. Callahan was well-liked by all of the staff, and we all miss her. I miss the man you are when she’s here. It’s like…” he trailed off, unsure if he should finish his sentence.

Ravi stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. “No, old friend; you decided to open start this, so finish it. If you’re going to pressure me, to tell me about what I need, then you better say all of it.”

“Then,” Adil said, “You’re more like the boy you were before your mother died. I missed that young man. He was full of hope. He cared about himself.”

“I care.”

“You care deeply about Dubai and about the Shamon holdings, but you don’t care about yourself. You either work yourself to death or take time off for hedonistic abandon, but not for commitment, not for anything real. When Ms. Callahan was here and with you, Ravi, you were the man I always hoped you’d grow to be.”

“But she doesn’t want to be here,” he countered, even though Adil’s words struck him like a knife to the heart. So it hadn’t just been in his head that he was a different person when she was around. He felt the changes, the lightness in his soul, but he also began to wonder if he was imagining it. After all, things always seemed different in hindsight. “My father took my mother in an arranged marriage. I almost fell into a similar pattern with Bridget by bringing her here at all. If she wanted to leave then and stay gone, then I have no right to go back and grab her up. I promised myself I’d be better than him.”

Adil nodded. “You are. I cared for your father, too. He was a brilliant general and a great leader, but he never was kind and generous at home like you are, my sheikh.”

“I hope not, Adil,” Ravi said, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve spent my whole life not trying to be him, at least in relationships.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I guess that’s part of the reason that I’ve never had relationships, period. However, I won’t go yank her up.”

“Then at least try to call her one more time, or contact her friend. Surely Cynthia has a direct line to Bridget.”

He sighed. Adil and Kamala were clearly as taken with Bridget as they said and missed her presence almost as much as he did. They had a point; the mansion had been so dreary without her that he returned to his penthouse in the Burj Khalifa to pass the time.

“All right, I think I can find that contact still in her Skype files.”

“Splendid, then maybe there’s a more traditional way to appeal to Ms. Callahan than…”

“Abduction?” he added, shaking his head. “I know now how wrong that was, how beyond the pale... I just… there’s something about her, and even if I never see her again, there always will be.”

“Then, my sheikh,” Adil said as he turned on his heel and headed to the door. “Let us hope that you can rectify the situation.”

Ravi shrugged and keyed in the Skype log in code. It was still only six p.m. in the States. Hopefully Cynthia would be out of work and around by now. It took several rings before a face flicked to life before him on the screen.

The pinched look on her face told him he was getting the Mamma Grizzly defensive side of Bridget’s best friend. The way she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as he came fully into view on her screen confirmed it. “Sheikh Shamon. What a surprise.”

“Cynthia…”

“It’s Cindi, and you better make this quick.”

“You know I am royalty, right?”

“I know you hurt my best friend, that what you did still hurts her every day. What, did you run out of roses to send? Her apartment was covered in those for over a month, then you went radio silent. I don’t get what kind of games you’re playing.”

“I’m not playing games, I swear.”

“Could have fooled me,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m serious. What is your angle? What is it that you really want?”

“Just Bridget.”

“That’s rich after how you treated her.”

“I don’t understand.”

Cindi snorted. “I highly doubt that. You know exactly how to spin a girl’s head around, how to flatter and send mixed messages, and then run away.”

He stood up and started to pace, not caring if it sometimes blocked his view to the woman. “She ran from me to another continent.”

“You pushed her first.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Oh, you do, and playing dumb makes it worse. Look, Bridget is going through a lot, especially being back home and with so many changes.”

“What changes?” he asked, stopping before the camera again. “Is she all right?”

“She will be,” Cindi said, squaring her chin. “But she won’t be if you keep trying to get at her, so just stop, Ravi. She’s not interested.” With that, Cindi cut the connection.

Enraged, Ravi swept all the files and papers from his desk in one motion, managing to just miss his laptop. “Idiot!”

“Well, if you offer,” Sabella purred, leaning against the doorway.

“What are you doing here?”

“Kamala summoned me. I’d left some things of mine in the spare room of the penthouse, and she’s been doing spring cleaning. However, I still wanted to see you. I haven’t been able to talk to you since the exhibit opening.”

“You mean ambush me and then shove your tongue down my throat.”

She strode into the room, exuding sex and promise with every step, offering him things that he once used to not only want, but take for granted. Now, it all just left a foul taste in his mouth. “Now, now, you know it felt like old times.” She emphasized her point by running a manicured fingernail down his tie.

He grabbed her wrist and held it firmly. “Well, I have managed so far to avoid the clap, let’s keep it that way, shall we? I don’t want you anymore.”

She laughed and pulled her hand back. “Oh right, you want that American giraffe of yours.”

“Her name is Bridget.”

“Yes,” Sabella purred again. “And Bridget’s in another part of the planet, across a large ocean, and has absolutely zero interest in speaking to you. Dear Ravi, why would you want an amateur—and a pathetic one at that—when—”

“Sabella,” he said, clenching his jaw before he could speak again. “You need to leave here and never come back. I have no interest in you, and no matter who calls for you—and they won’t again, I’ll see to it—don’t you dare come to my properties or my events. Not if you want to remain in Dubai.”

“You’d deport me?”

He laughed, a brittle bray of a sound. “I probably should have years ago.”

Chapter Eleven

Six Months Pregnant, Almost Five Months after Leaving Dubai…

Twenty-five pounds.

It wasn’t a massive amount of weight gain, but more than recommended, especially with the regular walking exercise that Bridget was able to get in at Dr. Murfee’s suggestion. However, she’d always had an Olive Oil body type, or maybe a bit of a Paris Hilton physique. Wiry and gangly were sort of her thing, and now having all that extra weight basically centered around her stomach left Bridget feeling even more klutzy than usual. It also drained her. While she was far past the morning sickness and even some of her weird cravings had subsided, Bridget just felt so tired all the time. Dr. Murfee was adding extra Vitamin D supplements to her regimen. Hopefully she would start feeling peppy again.

Of course, even now, it could be her broken heart.

She was six months pregnant, and every day she looked at the ultrasound pictures of her son—their son—and think about how she needed to give it all up and call Ravi. Then again, Ravi had let Sabella ram her tongue down his throat and didn’t give a hoot about Bridget. Would she bring a child into a situation that loveless and messed up? Wasn’t it better to keep the baby here and away from a father who didn’t care, and from a country that would speak ugly of their sheikh’s mongrel, American heir?

Thanks to her own father, she knew exactly how horrible it was to have a dad who didn’t want you in their lives or who, at best, only used you when it was convenient.

The doorbell rang, knocking her out of her morose thoughts and same circular logic. Struggling up out of the couch cushions, Bridget made her way to the door. She definitely made it at about a third of the speed should would have months ago, but at least she didn’t have more than one more trimester to go.

Yanking open the door, she smiled, expecting Cindi to be stopping by after her final patient of the day to do a girls’ night with Chinese and bad DVDs. Her expression froze on her face when she found her father standing before her, more bedraggled than usual. Dean Callahan seemed as shocked to see her as she was to be gazing upon him. His eyes were wide and he couldn’t stop gaping at her ever-expanding belly.

“Whoa, so you got yourself knocked up.”

She stepped outside of her apartment and shut the door behind her. “You have exactly five minutes to give me a good reason not to just call the cops. I’m sure you have outstanding warrants. Maybe there’s a bench warrant somewhere.”

Her father started to look over his shoulder anxiously, enough proof to let her know she was right. It wasn’t hard to guess; a leopard couldn’t change his spots, and Dean Callahan would never be more than a failed thief.

“Now, sweetie, let’s not go that far.”

She put her hands on her hips. “That far? You sold me to Sheikh Shamon. You left me to be a prisoner in your place.”

“Well, then word on the street from an old Baltimore friend of mine—”

“You have no friends.”

“Fine, a bookie I owe money to. Anyway, I heard you were back in the city and in the family way.”

“Can’t imagine how a lowlife would know that. I try and stay above the law. It’s actually not that hard.”

“Well, that’s the beauty of having connections. He knew what he needed to.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did,” she said, her tone clipped. “I repeat: why are you here?”

“I wanted to get the story from my little girl. You’re pregnant, so tell me if it’s just some barfly or guy at your office. Or is this a bigger deal?”

A pang dug deeply into her heart. Surely he had to be kidding. This couldn’t be why he was visiting. Unbidden, both her hands came to her belly and cupped it protectively. “You better not be implying what I think you’re implying.”

“Is it the sheikh’s child?”

“I…”

He grinned, looking like he just won the lottery. “It is, isn’t it? Kiddo!” he exclaimed, hugging Bridget for the first time in years. “Do you know what this means?! That’s a billion-dollar brat in your stomach. No, it’s better than that. That kid in there is worth billions, plural. Do you know how much oil money is in Dubai? I mean, that guy buys van Goghs and everything else like it was nothing and…”

“Stop!”

“What? Come on, tell me you’re not a little like your old man. That was so smart of you, leaving off your pills or whatever. Now we’re set up for life.”

She shoved him off of her. “No, there’s no ‘us,’ and there really hasn’t been since long before Mom died. You know that, and there certainly never will be again after you sold me! What happened between Ravi and me was complicated.”

Her dad smirked. “Ravi, see? You do know how to be like your old man. You got the mark to really care for you.”

“Ravi isn’t a ‘mark’ or a part of a plot or anything else. He’s the father of my child, and I do love him, Dean, but he doesn’t love me. So you just need to get out of my life because I swear to heaven, if you come near me or my son again, I will call the cops and you will rot in jail like you should have long ago.”

“Baby, don’t be like that.”

“Get out!” she said, before ducking back into her apartment and slamming the door in his face.

***

It ached.

It ached so badly to be in D.C., to be less than an hour from where his habibi—his true beloved—lived and not to be able to see her or hold her. He knew what her own refusal to talk to him had told him, what Cindi had told him, what logic and decency even indicated, but he was still tempted after this museum visit and publicity event to go to see her. In fact, he’d probably have Adil bring his limo around early. He respected her autonomy, and he never wanted to be his father, to arrange marriages or force relationships, but he couldn’t be in the same dang area she was and not try in person.

She was worth fighting for, and if Bridget truly didn’t want him anymore, then he would live with that. But still, he needed to see it in her emerald eyes and hear it from her own lips.

He was surveying the latest exhibit for the National Museum. Ravi had donated a few rare Monet’s for the event, and it was in his best interest, PR-wise, to make an appearance. As he rounded the corner, he came face-to-face with someone he never expected to see again: Dean Callahan.

The man cleaned up well overall, but he still had patches of stubble on his face, indicating he’d shaved in a hurry and his rental tux was obviously a few years or more out of fashion. An illusion, like always with a thief.

“What are you doing here?” Ravi asked, his voice a low growl.

Dean smiled with a knowing expression that irked the sheikh even more. “I called in the last of my favors.”

“You may regret wasting those if you’re here casing the exhibit.”

“I’m not because I have a better lead. I don’t know what happened between you and my little girl.”

“She’s hardly a daughter you care about.”

He shrugged and sipped his flute of champagne before grabbing a second quickly from a passing waiter. “No, but I bet I know something about her that you don’t.”

“I highly doubt that,” he said, trying to force his bravado. Actually, if Dean had even talked to her in the last almost five months then that would put him ahead of Ravi. “What do you want, Callahan?”

“Is that anyway to treat family?”

Ravi gritted his teeth at such a poor joke. “We’re not family. I can’t even get Bridget to talk to me.”

“Then you must be losing your billionaire playboy touch,” Callahan noted.

“You have sixty seconds before I have you kicked out of here. I’m a very powerful donor to the Smithsonian so I’m sure they’ll be happy to oblige and remove the vermin for me.”

“Well, Dad, I’d hate to do that. I mean, now that Bridget’s pregnant, we really are family, aren’t we?”

“She’s what?” Ravi asked, his head spinning. There was no way that he was hearing what he was. If Callahan were telling the truth that meant that she was carrying his child and hadn’t even told him. “You either lie, or she lied to you. It can’t be mine.”

“She tried to hide it, at least at first, but congratulations, sheikh; you’re part of the Callahan Clan now. So, seeing as how we’re related now, and we both care about Bridget, maybe you could spot me a loan?”

Blood boiled in Ravi’s veins. “No. You get nothing from me, and you get nothing—ever—from Bridget. You leave her alone. You’ve caused her nothing but pain.”

Callahan laughed. “Then that makes two of us, Ravi. I saw her just yesterday. She was wrecked, clearly been crying a lot, and it wasn’t about me this time. So, you need to ask yourself: are we really that different?”

“Yes, because I’m going to go see her now, and I will be there for my child, no matter what. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He tried turned to leave but Dean grabbed his arm. “What about the tabloids? Is this something you want the rest of your sheikh buddies to know about? I’ll talk to The Enquirer!”

Ravi rounded on him, snarling and pinning the man to the nearest wall. “You’ll do nothing of the sort. You leave my child alone, and you leave Bridget alone. I already love them both, and they’re not dirty secrets. You get the heck out of my life.”

“Sir,” one of the guards from his staff strode toward them. “Do you need help?”

“Yes, Nabeel. Please detain Mr. Callahan here, and then call the cops. I’m sure there’s something to detain him for.”

“With pleasure, my sheikh.”

Ravi pulled out his phone and dialed Adil. “Bring the car around, old friend; we have a stop to make.”

Adil chuckled on the other end. “I think I can guess where we’re headed, and can I just say, sir… it’s about time.”

***

There was probably a finite amount of time that someone should spend curled up in their pajamas, eating cookies, and watching Netflix on an endless loop. Cindi had a date that night, and Bridget was facing a long, lonely Friday night as a hermit with no one to hang out with. Maybe one day she would join a Mommy and Me group and have mom-friends or something, but for right now, Bridget was embracing her solitary lifestyle with the finest Canadian reality TV that Netflix had to offer her.

Seriously, who knew there were nine seasons of a show based around finding Canada’s worst driver? Weird…

When there was a knock on her door, she was reluctant to answer it. There was every chance it was her father again, seeking easy money or about to offer some other get-rich-quick scheme. This time, once she waddled off the couch, she was sure to look through the peephole. It was then that her heart lurched. Ravi was there, standing behind the door and looking as gorgeous as ever in a dark tux.

The roses in his hand and the teddy bear were a nice touch.

She frowned and considered pretending she wasn’t home, except the bear was a tipoff that he knew more than she thought he did. It was powder blue and made for a toddler, not some cutesy gift from a flower shop for a girlfriend.

How?

Curiosity and her aching heart got the better of her. She flung open the door and, despite all her resolve of the last few months, threw herself into Ravi’s embrace. The bear and bouquet pressed awkwardly against her back, but she didn’t care. It was home.

She had been back in the States for months, but only by being in Ravi’s arms could she finally feel at home.

“I missed you,” she said, in between choked sobs.

“May I come in?”

She nodded against his shoulder. “You have so much explaining to do. I just… I don’t have the strength to fight it anymore.”

Ravi patted her back the best he could before leading her into the apartment. He surveyed the surroundings and offered her a kind smile. “You have a nice place.”

“It’s kind of a wreck. My life’s been a mess ever since I realized…”

“That you were pregnant,” he supplied as he sat down next to her on the sofa after setting the gifts on the table. “How long have you known?”

“Not as long as you’d think. At first I thought morning sickness was a parasite from the Middle East. It took Cindi to figure it out and get me to a doctor to confirm it about three months ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“First: are you here because she let the cat out of the bag?” Bridget asked, not sure if she was glad her friend had done what she didn’t have the strength to, or upset at the betrayal of her secret. Maybe she was both. “And second: you need to tell me so much about you and Sabella that it’s not even funny.”

Jade eyes widened in what she thought was genuine confusion, but Ravi had been a gifted actor and liar back in Dubai. Even if he had roses and a bear, she couldn’t let her loneliness and hormone fluxes get the better of her. He’d broken her heart.

But he’s the baby’s father. Now that he knows, at least hear him out. How can you explain anything less to your son?

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s rich. You were kissing Sabella at the gala. That’s why I left. I saw you in the hallway and there was no way I could face you after that. It made me feel like some private joke between you, that American girl you were duping and laughing at the whole time in secret.”

Ravi grabbed both her hands in his own. “You don’t understand… You got it wrong. Sabella dragged me out there on pretense and then kissed me out of nowhere. It lasted about a split second and then I shoved her off of me. She’s been exiled from the palace and my life since then.”

“What?”

“Yes! She manipulated me to meet with her out there, and she was waiting for that moment to pounce.”

“The weird text from you. It was a number I didn’t recognize as yours but it said your caller ID on my cell so I assumed it was a spare phone. She set us up,” Bridget said, her voice wavering. “All this time, I was here punishing myself, feeling I was totally crazy for trusting you at all, and she set the whole thing up to break us apart.”

Ravi gathered her up into his arms, even if it took a bit longer to acclimate himself to her changed body, and kissed her lips. She missed this—that taste of cinnamon on his breath, that slight scrape of his five-o’clock-shadow against her chin, and the strength of his tongue in her mouth, dominating her own. The happier dreams she’d had, the memories of their intimate times, were pale projections next to the real thing. Only her sheikh could satiate her.

When they broke apart, she was panting. “I missed you.”

“You didn’t answer my calls.”

“Can you blame me? Sabella really set us up, and I just thought you went back to her. Found someone better.”

He held her chin between his fingers. “There’s no one better than you. You’re all I want, my swan. You’re the only one I ever want.” Reaching out, he placed his hand over her belly. “And I’m so glad to know we have a son together. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, a family.”

“I love you,” she said. “But I still don’t know how you knew. Did Cindi tell you?”

“I did Skype her, but she told me in so many words to drop dead. You have a fierce friend. I think that she would have pulled out a shovel and offered to bury me, too.”

“Nothing says ‘you’re my best friend’ like threats of bodily harm,” she said, sniffing and rubbing at her nose. “Then how?”

“Your father.”

“Oh goodness,” she said, feeling the baby flutter and kick. Yeesh, even her son knew that grandpa was bad news. “You can’t be serious.”

“He snuck his way into a museum event and wanted to make a deal.”

“Over his own grandson?” She blushed and looked away, too disgusted with her family to even look at him. With how messed up everything was, how could Ravi even want her again? “I’m so sorry. That must have been humiliating.”

“Actually, it let me know about my son, and then it helped me to do something I should have done months ago.”

“What?”

“I had my guards detain him until we could call the authorities. He had a warrant out for him in Anne Arundel County, Maryland for racketeering.”

She had to laugh at that as she snuggled back in Ravi’s embrace. “Then we think alike. When he came by here, he tried to get me to call you, to use the baby against you. I told him to go to perdition and I’d get him arrested.”

“I didn’t want it to come to that. I know you—”

“I don’t love my father, not the man he is now. Maybe actually paying some penalty for his crimes will make him get better? I hope someday he can actually improve, but I can’t have him in my life or our son’s life until then.” Ravi grinned, and she wasn’t sure why during such a bleak topic. “What?”

“You said our son.”

“Of course, he’s ours. I was wrong not to tell you. I was just so scared you were with Sabella and you wouldn’t want him.”

He brought his hands to her belly. “I’ll always want him. You and he are all I’ve ever wanted. So, say it again.”

“He’s your son and mine… ours,” she said, her giggles muffled as he kissed her again.

Then he carried her to the bedroom to do so much more.

Epilogue

Three Years Later…

Ravi Shamon II was a beautiful child. Now, Ravi knew he was probably biased, that every father assumed his child was the most brilliant, most talented, and cutest toddler to ever walk the Earth. However, as he watched Ravi’s mop of dark curls fall into his eyes, ones as verdant as his mother’s, the sheikh knew his assumptions were right. There were few children on the planet as cute as his son.

It was probably genetic—as was his interest in art.

He sighed and looked over at Kamala, who came to join him at the arts and craft table. Ravi II recently discovered finger paints and favored an almost exclusively primary color palette. Unfortunately, quite a bit of it had drifted to the table’s surface as well.

He knelt before his son and looked at the picture. “It’s good, kiddo, what is it?”

“A puppy. I asked Mom but she said I had to ask you. Can I have a puppy?”

“We’ll talk about it,” he said, patting his son’s head. The little guy’s hands were too dirty to hug him, not if he didn’t want to ruin his ceremonial robes. “We have to wait a little bit before we make a big change like that.”

“But I’ll walk him lots and lots.”

Ravi laughed and then kissed his son’s temple before standing back up. “Somehow, I think I’ll be the one walking him lots and lots.”

“I would! But maybe also Adil.”

Kamala chuckled as well and took Ravi’s little hand. “Let me get you cleaned up before bed. Your mother and father deserve a bit of rest.” Before she left, she leaned over to whisper in little Ravi’s ear. “I do agree, though, Adil could use the exercise.” Then she stood and led his son off to a much needed bath.

The sheikh looked down at the bright blue dog running through a field of purple flowers. His son might have a while to go before the Sorbonne. “Perfect for the fridge.”

A familiar laugh, so like the tinkling of bells, rang out behind him. “We’re not buying a fourth fridge for all his art.”

He spun around and swept his wife up into a close hug. “You look lovely, my swan. Was the nap helpful?”

She sighed and rubbed at her lower back. “I swear I’m never doing this again. One girl and one boy is good, right?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking about having a houseful of children.”

“You would. You don’t have to have the backaches and the swollen ankles and the weird pickle cravings.”

He nodded and kissed her, his tongue probing hers. After all this time, she still smelled of freesia and strawberries. She was like a bit of fresh, ripe fruit in his life. “Not all the side effects are terrible. Kamala is helping Ravi get cleaned up for the park later. He’s talking about a puppy again.”

She shook her head. “Not until this baby is at least a toddler. Dogs and babies don’t always mix, and who’s going to walk him?”

“Kamala and Ravi both agreed on Adil,” the sheikh replied.

Bridget laughed and swatted at his shoulder. “All of you need to stop ganging up on such a nice old man! Anyway, which side effects are good? Because the indigestion is killing me, especially with all the hummus and chick peas around here!”

He drew her as close to him as he could and pressed his hardening length against her. “You’ve been so enthusiastic lately. Would you care to relax a bit? Help deal with the some of the cramps without Advil?”

She grinned, a lascivious smile lighting up his swan’s face that made the blood flow faster to his groin. “Why, Sheikh Shamon, are you trying to seduce me?”

“I think I already have, many times over,” he said, looking down at her stomach. “I love you, Bridget, and I hope I show you that every day.”

She nodded and kissed him, a bit of gravitas having seeped into her expression. “I know, and I have no idea what your father was like. I mean I can guess and piece together a not great picture from what you’ve told me.”

“Indeed.”

“But I see how you are with our son, and I see how excited you are every day about our daughter, and she’s not even here yet. There’s no better father I know, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

He kissed her again, his tongue tangling long and lovingly with her own. When Ravi pulled back he reached out with a free hand to stroke her hair back from face. Always like spun wheat, always so enticing. “No, my princess, my sheikha—I’m the lucky one.”

“And you always will be.”

THE END

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Sheikh’s Unexpected Triplet Babies

By Sophia Lynn

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Sheikh’s Unexpected Triplet Babies

By Sophia Lynn

All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2017 Sophia Lynn.

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Chapter One

Bedelia adjusted her headscarf for what felt like the millionth time, aware that she was drawing curious looks as she did so. It was bad enough that the only headscarf she could find to buy was a floral monstrosity that was really only ever seen on the heads of grandmotherly ladies carrying their wares on their back, but it seemed to add insult to injury that she couldn't even wear it right. When she felt that it was close enough to snug, she lowered her hand and looked around, finally able to pay attention to the thing she had come for.

The people of Masir had been interested in the arrival of a foreign woman in their midst for at least a little while. But then there was a commotion from the end of the track, and she was promptly forgotten as the crowd burst into excited cheers. Even if she was there only as an observer and researcher, Bedelia couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement, craning her head from her place on the straw bale bleachers to see the horses brought out.

Bedelia had been raised in farm country out in Iowa in the US, so horses weren't new to her. Even if they didn't pull plows anymore, she had friends and acquaintances who did trail rides or worked at stables. However, the Quarter Horses of her childhood had nothing to do with the lean and gleaming horses that she saw now.

Led by their proud grooms, the line of horses were trotted out onto the track in front of the audience, and to her each one seemed more beautiful than the next. They were as lean as whippets, and their coats had a mirror-bright sheen that barely seemed believable. They were the horses that were owned and prized by the nomadic nations that had come to settle the United Arab Emirates, and even here in the obscure corner of the emirate known as Muneazil, they still received their due.

She snapped pictures as quickly as she could, desperate to catch the beauty of the animals on display, their smooth gaits, their narrow and noble heads, the way they seemed like stars brought to earth and given the forms of horses.

Of course, just when she was getting into the picture-taking process, her phone rang. For a moment, she thought of ignoring it, but then with a sigh, she brought the phone to her ear.

"Lindow. For the love of all that is holy, tell me that you are at the horse show right now. Don't tell me that you got delayed or in an accident, because so help me God, I will fire your rear so fast..."

"Don't worry, Mr. Miller, I promise, I am at Masir and working hard. I promise that you will have the pictures you want in just twelve hours."

"Dang right I will. Make sure you keep your word, Lindow, I have a very poor tolerance for liars."

"I know you do, Mr. Miller," she said soothingly, and after a few more similarly threatening phrases from him, her boss hung up.

Bedelia sighed. Some days, she wanted nothing more than to tell her boss to research his own novel. If he had the money to pay her to roam the world, surely he had the money to see it himself. But then she supposed that would bite into his self-pity time as an unappreciated genius.

Still, if she hadn't fallen into the gig as Jacob Miller's personal assistant/wandering pair of eyes, she would likely still be scraping a living together in New Hampshire, and that was no one's idea of an exciting time.

She forced her attention back to the track where riders were beginning to mount up. On a word, the horses broke into a trot, then a canter, and then they were brought up to a full gallop, their bodies as streamlined as a ray of sunlight, dashing along the track with a grace like flight. She barely remembered to get video of the performance before it was over. Somehow, seeing them made her heart take flight, and she knew there was something magical about it, something splendid and wonderful.

The horse fair at Masir had been operating for more than three hundred years, and this was always the start of it. The horses that were for sale, the stars of the show, would be displayed like this before the rest of the fair took place.

She stiffened when a shout went up, and she saw a commotion go up from the horses, now being slowed again to a halt. While the main body of the small herd scattered away, two horses--one a midnight black and the other a bright gold--screamed challenges at one another, their proud heads snaking back and lunging forward again as their riders tried to fight them.

From the babble of Arabic around her, Bedelia heard quick speculation that these were both young stallions, full of fury and pride. They snaked and bit at one another, and Bedelia covered her mouth when one rider slid off his mount to the ground below. There were hands to pull him away before he was trampled, but the other one clung on until a particularly powerful lunge flung him off.

Bedelia felt frozen and helpless as people tried to grab at the rampaging giants, and buckets of water and shouting did nothing to make them lose their deadly focus on one another. The black latched his teeth into the shoulder of the gold, and she felt faint when she saw blood drawn.

It was all chaos and fear and shouting, but then a man stepped out onto the track. For some reason, Bedelia found her eyes drawn to him even before he did anything. He was a tall man, lean, and like the other men, he wore the black trousers and close-fitting, dark tunic that was the general garb of the region’s horsemen. However, there was something about him that made him stand out to Bedelia, that made a strange shiver run through her body.

When he moved, he was at least as fast as the horses themselves. Darting between the two horses, he handily caught the reins of the black. At first, to Bedelia it seemed as if he had somehow forced the enormous horse to turn with the strength of his body alone, but then after a moment, she realized he had simply redirected the horse's force. A slight change in the lunging horse's trajectory turned it away from its adversary, and while it was still blinking in surprise, the man took a firmer grip on its bridle and whipped out a dark scarf. It was the work of a moment for him to blindfold the horse, which calmed almost immediately, while a half-dozen men calmed down the gold.

Bedelia couldn't help herself. She leaped to her feet and brought her hands together in excited applause. The rest of the crowd followed suit, and soon cheering had taken the place of the horrified shouts when the horses had started to fight.

The man who had calmed the black horse looked up once others had the giant in hand, and even from where she stood, she could see the look of surprise on the man's face. He was handsome, as handsome as a movie star, but what captured her attention were his eyes. In a region where most people had eyes as dark as night, his were an extraordinary copper, a bright color that glinted in the sun.

Dragon eyes, Bedelia thought with a shiver, and perhaps there was something of the legendary beast in the man who now faced the crowd.

With a slight smile on his face, he gave a quick bow before disappearing back into the crowd of trainers, riders and owners. Bedelia wondered if he was one of them, but something made her doubt it. There had been something, something indefinable, that had set him apart, that had made him stand taller than those around him.

She shook it off. Whoever he was, it wasn't important. She was here with a job to do, and she had to do it.

***

THE FIRST HINT Jahin had gotten that something was wrong was a startled shout. He had been standing next to the track, watching for the horses he had picked out earlier for their paces, temperament and natures, when the roan with white socks that he’d had his eye on reared away from the herd, trying to get away from the center of the commotion.

Out of the chaos of shouts and screaming horses, he saw two giants emerge in battle, the black and the gold, and for a moment, he was simply struck by their power and beauty. Then one rider lost his seat, falling back to the track. The track was soft enough, but the horse hooves certainly weren't, and Jahin joined another pair of men who dragged the hapless rider off to one side.

Letting others make sure that the rider was all right, Jahin returned to the horses. Goodness, they were both gorgeous, and though the gold had caught his eye earlier, he remembered passing up the black. He had thought the black lacked passion and a certain ferocity he looked for in his own horses, but now apparently he was being proved wrong.

Without pause, he inserted himself into the fray and thanked all the stars in heaven when he managed to grab the black's bridle on the first lunge. The horse turned with surprising ease, and then he was able to calm it further by covering its eyes.

When the horse stilled, he could feel the nervous tremors running through its enormous body, the way sweat dripped from its hide.

"Ah, you were merely anxious," he murmured. "Well, easy enough to fix."

The black's owner hurried over, and Jahin gave up the reins without a protest. After all, he decided, it was only going to be temporary. He had made his decision, and sooner rather than later, he was going to have the black for his stable.

Jahin was just getting ready to move off of the track when he heard the faint sound of applause. He looked up only to hear the applause growing louder and louder until it seemed as if the entire crowd was shouting for him.

It was...a surprisingly good feeling. Most of his life, people were applauding his arrival at an event or an elegant party or the opera. This applause was for his prowess with horses, and it was somehow more honest.

As he bowed, Jahin was startled to catch sight of a foreign woman in the crowd. Women were not all that common at the Masir horse fair, and foreign women were doubly unusual. She wore a flowered headscarf that properly belonged on an ancient woman selling potions by the side of the road, but even from where he stood, he could see that she was young. Her scarf slid back to reveal russet hair in brown and red and gold, and her eyes were almost startlingly green.

For some reason, the sight of her made Jahin smile, warming him in a way that he did not understand.

He shook his head and strode off to the sidelines. The sales at Masir went fast, and the last thing he could be concerned with was some little fool of a foreigner making eyes at him from the sidelines, even if those eyes were a very beautiful green.

***

AFTER THE RACES, an ancient bell rang in the center of the Masir town square. That meant the sales could begin, and frenzied bargaining broke out all around her.

The horse fair was of course the main event, but there was also a small marketplace that had sprung up not far away where locals could sell everything from a bit of food and drink to gorgeous hand-embroidered clothes and handcrafted instruments and housewares.

Maybe it's time to invest in a new headscarf, Bedelia thought wryly, but perhaps that should wait until she knew how to wear this one.

Still, she envied the young women of Muneazil who wore their headscarves with a certain élan and style she knew only came from years of practice. Muneazil did not have have compulsory rules about headscarves, but most women here seemed to wear them anyway, the edge sitting far back on their heads and falling down their backs, their bangs and the front part of their hairstyle exposed.

There was a lot to envy, Bedelia couldn't help thinking. The women of Muneazil tended towards the tall and willowy type, with flashing dark eyes and skin like warm amber. Next to them, Bedelia felt like the classical ugly duckling.

She wasn't unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. She was short, no more than five foot one inch, and curvy, with hips and a bust that had gotten her so much attention that she was happy to cover up in the Muneazil tradition of voluminous belted tunics for women. She wasn't quite sure that she had put together a respectable outfit, but the black trousers and gray tunic were wonderfully comfortable and made her feel impressively invisible. The other women wore the bright colors of butterflies and flowers, and yet invisibility still seemed easy for them.

Just as she was tempted to run to the vendor area to pick up a kebab or a skewer of fruit, her phone chirped, telling her she had a message. Bedelia glanced at it.

Don't mess this up. I can still fire you, and then you can find your own way home.

She rolled her eyes and set to typing something impressively consolatory. She reminded herself that every job had some rough spot, and while it was a little unfortunate that her rough spot was actively her employer, it wasn't so terrible. After all, here she was at a horse show that had existed before the United States had even become a country. She had traveled to a corner of the world that few would ever come to.

She could see why Miller would want to set a novel in Muneazil. It was one of the most powerful members of the UAE, but it was isolated, almost painfully so. Unlike other emirates, which had embraced the modern world’s glass and silicone, fast cars and loud lifestyles, Muneazil had looked at all of that and ventured perhaps a cautious “maybe.” The emirate's capital, which named the emirate as a whole, was modernizing, with some comparing it to Dubai or perhaps Tokyo or Beijing. But once outside of the city, there was something eternal and timeless about the rest of the emirate.

If she were honest with herself, Bedelia was not looking forward to what Miller would write about a place that she was beginning to love. He wrote action-adventure novels featuring a spy/mercenary/bounty hunter macho man, complete with swooning, scantily-clad women on the lurid covers, and his novels were apparently successful enough that he could send her to do on-the-ground research.

"Can't stand to go to those countries myself," he had said with a surprisingly delicate shudder for such a big man. "Not really my cup of tea."

Well, Miller's loss was her definite gain, and right now, there was nothing she wanted to do more than to work. Bedelia decided the kebab could wait, and instead, she wandered into the lines where the horses were staked.

Each seller was only allowed to enter one horse in the opening run, and that meant there might have been as many as eight hundred horses staked in the lines now, by Bedelia's rough guess. And there were easily twice as many men venturing up and down, inspecting the horses available to them.

She paused to hear two men haggle over a mare and her foal, and she watched entranced in the crowd as one man directed his horse to rear up and lash out with powerful hooves in what would have been a deadly strike if there was anyone in front of him.

The sheer variety of people and horses was amazing, but it wasn't long before Bedelia realized one very important thing about the lines. She was the only woman there, and worse, some of the men were taking notice. She had seen plenty of women at the vendor stalls, selling and buying and chattering with each other, but since she had come to the main business area, she had not seen any other females there at all.

Uneasily, she ducked her head and started to make her way back to the vendor stands. She didn't think she had given any offense, but she did remember from the guide book how very separate the lives of men and women in Muneazil could be. In the city, it was very much what she was used to back home in the States, with men and women mingling as they pleased. Out here in remote Masir, however, it seemed that things were different.

She nearly ran straight into an older man with a flowing white beard, and he scowled at her, spitting something out in Arabic that she didn't understand. Her Arabic was passable, but he was either speaking too quickly or perhaps in a dialect she wasn't familiar with. In either case, the distinctly unfriendly look on his face unnerved her, and she walked a little faster.

Of course, after ducking under a rope and then another, she quickly realized that she had gotten turned around. What she’d thought was a shortcut was nothing of the sort. Well, no matter; she could find her way back easily enough now.

She was just beginning to relax, thinking that nothing would happen to her, when suddenly a hard hand fell down on her shoulder, bringing her around. Bedelia yelped in a way that made an old cob next to her snort in displeasure, and then she was looking up into a pair of grinning faces.

The men were both taller than her, which wasn't hard, and while one was bearded and the other nearly bald, they both had rather menacing grins that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up.

"Look what a pretty filly we've found here," said the bald one. "Do you think we can afford her?"

"Oh, we might not even need to do that," replied his friend. "After all, a filly that runs wild doesn't have an owner that will be too worried, even if we just borrow her for a while."

"I don't have an owner at all," Bedelia said in indignant Arabic, right before she realized that perhaps admitting this was not such a clever plan.

At her statement, the men's eyes glowed with a kind of acquisitive fervor, and her heart leaped into her throat.

She felt as if she were standing in frozen water, but slowly, ever so slowly, she forced her hand down to the pocket in her trousers, the one where she kept a slender little metal canister no larger than three fingers held together.

"Oh well, of course you must let us try you," said the bald man. "If you have a pleasant enough pace, and a hot enough temperament, we can give you a good home, can't we?"

The bearded man gave a chuckle that made Bedelia a little sick, and then, faster than she thought they could move, they both grabbed for her.

She took two rapid steps back, her hand coming up smoothly as she had been taught. There was a fraction of a second where she ascertained that the orange nozzle was pointed away from her, not towards her, and then she sprayed a fine mist of pepper spray straight into her attackers' eyes.

They shouted with fear and pain, clawing at their faces, and the bearded one stumbled forward, lurching for her. He didn't find her, but he did run right into the hindquarters of the gray cob she had ducked around. The cob had had quite enough of this nonsense, and with a stamp of a rear hoof, ground the bearded man's foot into the ground.

When he screamed, Bedelia had a moment where she thought that she was going to get away all, but then the bald man caught up with her. To her dismay, she could see that while his eyes were read and weeping, it was his companion who had borne the brunt of the spray.

"You little dog," he snarled, and she was too slow to stop him from latching a powerful grip around her arm. She tried to raise her pepper spray again, but he knocked it from her hand, and when he raised his hand to strike her, she knew there was nothing she could do about it.

Bedelia raised her free arm to try to cushion the blow, but it never fell. Instead, a dark shape seemed to blot out the sun, and she looked up to see that a man astride a tall horse had captured the man's arm in a grip that looked as solid as iron.

"I would not do that if I were you," the man said calmly in Arabic, and in a strange moment of shock, Bedelia recognized the man's copper eyes. It was the same man who had calmed the black earlier, and it was that same black that he was riding now.

She was surprised, but that was nothing compared to the shock on the face of the bald man. He went ashen, and he started speaking in such a torrent of Arabic that there wasn't a chance that she could understand him.

More importantly, however, his grip on her arm went limp, and she was able to twist away. The man on the horse started to say something to her, but she was too smart to push her luck. Bedelia pulled away, narrowly missing tripping over the man who had gotten the worse of the spray, and was off through the crowd.

She thought she could hear the man with the copper eyes calling after her, but she would not stop for anything.

Chapter Two

Jahin saw the girl sprint off in a swirl of unfashionable clothing, and he swore in three different languages. He looked down at the man he held in disgust, releasing him so that the man fell back on the ground with his still-groaning friend.

"Great Lord, you have misunderstood everything," the bald man whined. "The girl, she is a prostitute, nothing more. She made deals with us, and then she went back on them--"

"You are a liar," Jahin said coldly, "and I have a feeling that if I asked the men around us what happened, they would agree with me and not with you."

He had seen the commotion from two rows over, and when he had seen that ugly floral headscarf, he knew at once who was involved. Navigating the lines on his new mount had been a slightly dicey business when he and the black were still so new to each other, but the horse had obeyed, and they were on top of the situation before anything terrible could happen.

He had just gotten close enough to rescue the girl when she’d pulled out that pepper spray and seemed more than capable of rescuing herself.

A man with an official's badge pinned to his tunic appeared.

"Great Lord, your pardon," he said, bowing low. "These two are known troublemakers, and we have been searching for them for some time. Do we have your permission to take them?"

Jahin nodded, his face dark. Muneazil was modern, or at least the city was. Here in the more obscure corners of his emirate, however, banditry, robbery and worse was still more than prevalent, as was the respect his people had for him. In the city, he was a civic leader, a celebrity and a sheikh. Here, his word was law, and sometimes the weight sat heavily on him.

The girl had disappeared by the time the men were in shackles, and he had a feeling that he should find her. Jahin tried to tell himself that it was foolishness, that of course a girl that quick and smart on her feet would be fine. But there was no changing the fact that she was a foreigner in a strange place. If she’d had a local guardian, she would never have been allowed to wander off unattended.

It is my duty to find her and make sure she is well, he tried to tell himself, wheeling his horse around with nothing more than a click of his tongue.

But even as he made his way towards the direction she had been fleeing, a part of him wondered at that. He was a man whose life was directed by duty, but it had never called to him like this before.

***

BEDELIA FELT AS if everything was too bright, but her head was so light that she could barely stay on the ground. Her encounter with the two men seemed like a dark and shadowed thing, something more like an encounter with monsters than a real thing that had happened. Had it really happened? Had she really pepper-sprayed one man and led him to be stomped on by a horse?

If she thought about it too long, her heart seemed to beat too quickly, and for some reason, tears threatened. All she could do was run until she was too tired to run anymore, and then with some frantic sense of irony, she realized that she was exactly where she wanted to be...the vendors area. There were other women here, walking about, doing their business, and for a moment, she felt so safe that she could have cried.

In a heartbeat, however, that sense of safety was ripped away, replaced with a sense of fear. Would the man on the horse simply let her attackers go? Would they come looking for her? She started to shake, but she knew if she let that go on too long, she would freeze up.

Bedelia stumbled towards a small tavern, one where she saw a woman leaving. When she got inside, it was cool and dark, and to her relief, there was a small nook off to one side, a place where she could squeeze herself in and be small and unnoticed.

The friendly waitress came over, and for a moment, Bedelia thought she had lost all of the Arabic she had been so careful to learn. She stumbled over a few English words, and then she finally managed to say that she wanted a soda. The waitress nodded, looking at her a little nervously, but she went away, which Bedelia wanted far more than she wanted a soda. The only reason she had been able to come up with it at all was because it was a line from one of her language modules.

You're fine, you're safe, nothing terrible is going to happen to you, she repeated to herself. There's nothing wrong right now, you're safe, you're safe.

She was almost on the verge of believing it herself when the door opened and in walked a man who looked shockingly familiar, even from the side and with his face turned away. Bedelia was confused by her sense of recognition at first, but then he turned towards her and there was no mistaking those eyes.

She was just beginning to wonder whether it was a strange coincidence when he spotted her and strode over. Her heart leaped up into her throat, and then he spoke.

"I just wanted to tell you that that was neatly done..." he started to say in English, but just about then, her overloaded nerves gave up their tenuous grip on control.

She couldn't help the tears that welled up in her eyes or the whimpers that came up her throat. Bedelia knew she was shaking as if she had a fever, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. All she could do was cover her face to hide her embarrassment, and hope against hope that he would go away.

Unfortunately, he swore instead, and then he slid into the booth next to her, murmuring something she couldn't understand. It might have been English, but right now, the release of panic and fear were so intense that she couldn't figure it out.

It should have been the wrong thing to do. After her encounter with the men at the horse fair, and after her desperate search to find a sanctuary, having a man there in her personal space should have driven her into a deeper panic.

Yet somehow...somehow it didn't.

Instead, the moment that Bedelia felt the warmth of this man's body next to hers, she found that she craved it, that she needed it. She turned to him immediately, burying her face in his chest. He smelled like sun, like horse, like sweat and underneath it, a warm cologne that surprised her.

He sat frozen for a moment, but then he pulled her in close for an embrace. Once again, it should have been all wrong, but in that moment, it was the best thing that could have happened.

She knew she was sobbing into the shirt of a stranger, but when he was murmuring soothing things to her, stroking her hair, just being a stable thing in a world that felt as if it were swinging out of control, she couldn't stop herself.

Slowly, slowly, her tears dried up and her shudders started to smooth over and even out. For a long moment, she simply rested her face against him, and then reluctantly, Bedelia pulled away.

"I am so sorry about that," she said. "I don't know what I was thinking, and--"

"You were badly frightened, and I caught you while you were trying to compose yourself," he said with a slight grimace. "Truly, the fault is mine. Are you all right?"

Bedelia was relieved when his question didn't bring up a fresh tide of tears. "I'm fine. Just a little shaken up, I suppose. It's...it was a little unnerving, that's all."

He looked concerned. "Was it just their words and them grabbing you? They didn't do anything else?"

"No," she said darkly, "though I have the idea that they wanted to. Thank you for making sure that they wouldn't."

"Well, as far as I am concerned, you more or less rescued yourself," he said with a slight smile. When he smiled, she caught a glimpse of sharp white teeth, and for some reason, that made her shiver a little. "I merely came along for the ride."

Bedelia scrubbed her hand over her stinging eyes. It should have been embarrassing to be this disheveled in front of a man who was so handsome, but right now, that was the last thing she cared about.

"I'm the one who should have watched where I was going. I didn't even notice for a while that there were no other women in the lines of horses. Something worse could have happened much sooner. I got lucky."

To her surprise, he put his hand over hers. His hand was as warm as the rest of him, and she had to swallow before she could look up to meet his eyes.

"No. You might have been lucky, but it was certainly not your fault. Muneazil has...perhaps a long way to go when it comes to true equality, but it has never been appropriate or legal to touch a woman in a way that she does not welcome. You might have been unaware of how things are usually done, but they had no excuse."

She could see how intent he was about the situation, and she merely nodded at first. Then it occurred to her that they were speaking English, something she hadn't done since she had left the emirate's capital city.

"You speak English very well," she said. "Did you spend some time studying abroad, perhaps?"

He grinned faintly at her. "I did. I spent some time at Oxford before I decided it was not for me, and then I spent a year in Canada on a foreign exchange. The travel was exciting, and I will never regret learning a language that so many people in the world speak, but at the end of it, it was very good to be home."

"Muneazil is beautiful," she said, hoping she hadn't come off as if she were making fun of his home. "I...I'm from Iowa originally, in the United States, and I have never seen anything like this. This is one of the most amazing places I have ever been, and even what happened earlier...that will never make me regret coming here."

The man flashed her a smile that was as bright as the sun. "I am very glad to hear you say that. My country...well, it is my heart, and outsiders...foreigners...do not always have such a kind view of it. Thank you for restoring my faith a little."

Bedelia smiled, but her smile faded slightly when she thought of what Miller was likely going to do with the information that she gave him about Muneazil. Perhaps she simply wouldn't mention that to this man.

"I'm glad I could do something for you that didn't involve ruining your day," she said with a smile. "I’m Bedelia Lindow, by the way."

"I am very pleased to meet you, Bedelia. I am called Jahin."

He offered her his hand, and when she took it, instead of shaking it, he ghosted his lips over her knuckles. It was a strangely gallant, courtly gesture, and yet somehow, on a man like Jahin, it didn't seem that strange at all.

"That was an impressive stunt you pulled with the horse on the track," she said. "I heard someone saying that they might have to shoot to wound to get them apart."

Jahin's face darkened unexpectedly. "Fools. Even some of the so-called experts here. They are fools, and should never be allowed around horses of any kind. The black is nervy and more aggressive than he should be, this is true, but he is also very young. I found that out when I talked to the breeder. He is large for his age, and he lost his head, that is all."

"Oh, I thought perhaps he was yours, that you were selling him."

Jahin flashed her a grin that was surprisingly boyish. He was a handsome man in general, but when he smiled, her heart beat faster.

"Quite the opposite, really," he said. "Immediately after the run, I went to find his breeder, and as soon as the bell rang, I paid full-price for him. Blood like that belongs in my family's horses, and I already have a few plans for him after he proves himself, which I am certain he will."

He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, there was something cautious about his tone. "Would you like to meet him?"

There was honestly nothing that Bedelia wanted more. A part of her tried to say that it would be excellent research for Miller, but another part of her simply didn't want to let go of Jahin, not when she had just met him.

"Do you mean it?" Bedelia asked shyly. For some reason, she was suddenly nervous about it, as if a man like that could never ask her for something like this. "I mean, I feel like I have already taken up enough of your time..."

"Certainly, I mean it," he said, his voice firm.

Jahin climbed up from the booth, offering her his hand. "Come on."

It was on the tip of her tongue to question him again, but something held her back. There was something about this man that did not care to be questioned, and that meant he was a man who knew what he wanted, and as far as she could tell, he had told her what he wanted.

She took his hand, and with nothing more than that, he led her back out into the street.

Bedelia was startled at the difference that an escort made. Before, she had been almost painfully aware of being an outsider, of being someone who was not quite a part of things, who would never belong. On Jahin's arm, however, even with her pale skin and painfully unfashionable clothes, she felt like people simply looked over her, accepted her as a part of things. It was a strange lesson, and one that she was still thinking over when he led her to a trailer that had been staked out a little way apart from the rest of the fair.

There were plenty of people who were camping out and sleeping rough, but there was something distinctly luxurious about Jahin's camp. There was a yurt that looked as cozy as a real house might be, and there were two spacious horse trailers, which suggested that he was interested in bringing home more than one horse.

Tethered next to one of the trailers, placidly mouthing some hay that had been left out for him, was the black, whose small and almost delicately-shaped ears perked up at their approach. For a moment, Bedelia was nervous that she and Jahin would need to run, as the animal threw its head up and snorted. But then, without a trace of fear, Jahin stepped up to the stallion, offering it his hand.

Bedelia held her breath, and after a long, long moment, the horse nuzzled Jahin's hand in a surprisingly warm and friendly way.

"It's all right now," he said. "He's a little nervous, but sweet once you get to know him."

Bedelia came to stand next to Jahin, and then it was her turn to be inspected. Up close, the black looked somehow even bigger, even more imposing, and the fact that such an enormous animal could look at her so gently and nuzzle her hand with such affection startled her.

"He really is quite gentle," she said, stroking the velvet of the black's nose. To her surprise, there was a tiny patch of white under his chin, and when she tickled it with her fingers, the horse made a sound that was so close to a purr that she laughed.

"Oh, he wouldn't be if we were stallions who wanted his territory or an idiot groom who thought that a horse like this can be treated like a cow," Jahin said with a shrug. "But this is a horse who wants his own way, and as smart as I think he is, he might be right a high percentage of the time."

"So you need to respect his intelligence?"

"Exactly. When I am adding new blood to my stables, I look for intelligence as well as strength and heart. This beauty seems to have all three."

"Lucky horse," she found herself saying, and she was startled when Jahin laughed.

"Why do you say that?" he teased. "You sound almost jealous."

"Oh...you, I was..."

Bedelia knew she was stuttering with a face that was likely bright red. There was nothing to do but to try to explain herself as best she could.

"Go on," Jahin said, a slight smile on his face. "Exactly what were you thinking of?"

"Oh, well, I guess among other things, I was thinking of what a good home he would have with you, and how few animals ever got a home that understood them that well. And I suppose I was also thinking while I was at it that precious few people ever did either, and if you have to really consider it, then heart, intelligence and strength wouldn't be terrible things to look for when you were looking for...for a partner...I suppose..."

She knew she was babbling, and when she realized that at no point was Jahin going to stop her, she trailed to a stop on her own. Her reward for her ill-advised little ramble, however, was a laugh from Jahin that seemed to warm her up from top to bottom, and he shook his head.

"You are truly a fascinating little thing, aren't you?" he asked. "I suppose you are not wrong, though I am certain that is not going to be what I am looking for when the time comes for me to wed."

There was a small voice in her head telling her that it might be a really good idea to get off of the topic of women and wives, but she couldn't help herself.

"I think that sounds like a fairly universal criteria for someone that you want to spend your life with," she hazarded. "I mean, what else could you ask for?"

Jahin gave the black one final pat, then led her away back to the bustle of the crowd. For a moment, it felt as if she were back in Iowa, walking through the county fair. Of course, back then, she had never been on the arm of a boy, let alone a man, let alone a man as handsome as Jahin.

"Hmm. That's a good question. Well, the first thing I suppose I would look for is beauty."

For some reason, his response stung her more than she thought it would. Of course men would say they were looking for beauty, but she wasn't sure how many of them would say it so bluntly and so baldly.

"Beauty?"

"Oh yes. The woman that I marry will need to be a beauty. After all, she is the one who will be bearing my children, and I do feel a certain responsibility to give them every advantage they can have in that regard."

Bedelia eyed him skeptically. "So a beautiful spouse is just so your children turn out well?"

He winked at her. "Well, maybe not just for them. I am a man with a man's needs, after all. I think a beautiful woman could keep me from straying the way a plainer one would not."

"I think you're the one that needs to keep yourself from straying, not her," Bedelia said tartly. She couldn't imagine the woman that Jahin might find someday, but she suddenly felt a deep and visceral sympathy for her.

"If you say so. And of course the woman I marry must be composed and suited for the social events I attend, both for work and for pleasure. I expect her to have...let's say, her own charity or some kind of work, but I also expect her to be well aware of what I am doing so that she can speak about it convincingly."

"And I suppose you will also know about what she is advocating for?"

"I'm sure I will," he said negligently. "I imagine we will choose it together."

"So she's allowed to be invested in something that you choose together, but not at the expense of your own passions and interests. That sounds like a splendid deal."

Jahin shot her an amused glance. "Let us be fair, it is not like I am asking for all of this for free. I am prepared to give her the life that she wants, one where she will never want for anything, surrounded by beauty, wealth, every advantage..."

Bedelia wanted to fight him for a moment, to tell him that there were women who did not want such a life, no matter how much he promised them. Then she sighed, because there were probably women who would be more than happy with a life like that.

"It doesn't sound so happy for me," she said, stopping to look at a few hand-carved toys that a woman was selling from her stall. They were ingenious little things, slightly crude but very lovely.

"So what would make you happy?" Jahin asked, a teasing note in his voice. "What would make you realize that a man was the one for you, and that he was the one you wanted in your life for the rest of it?"

"Well, I was going to say that it should be obvious, but after our talk, I'm not sure it is," she said with a wry grin. "It's not something I have ever thought about...but I think in general, I want a man who is honest, who has a passion in his life, but who makes me...the most important part of it. Because that is what I would do for him. I would make him the most important part of it, and I want someone that I could look at who I would be proud to do that for. And I want him to be proud of me."

Jahin tilted his head at her. "That is very broad."

"Well, we don't all have lives like yours," she said with a shrug. "And isn't that better anyway? If I tried to be with a man who wanted to direct my activities, who expected me to be beautiful every moment of the day..."

"That's not what I said--"

"You might as well have. If I had to be with a man who thought so little of me, I would never be happy, and in fairly short order, I believe I would start to make him very unhappy as well. That is not a thing that anyone wants, I believe."

"That is what you truly want? In your heart of hearts?"

She smiled a little, because she supposed she deserved to be caught out. "Well, yes. But it sounds like you're asking if I want more. And if I am honest with myself, I do. I want...romance as well. I guess I want a fairytale."

She shook herself.

"It's dangerous to want things like that in real life," she said, looking up at him. "I know that."

"Do your hands know that?"

She looked down, startled, and realized she was holding a little wooden figurine of what looked like a young woman, her headscarf and tunic elaborately painted, who held a beautifully detailed bouquet of red and white flowers in her hands. The look on her face was mysterious; her tiny red smile seemed to hint at secrets that she would keep.

"She's lovely," Bedelia said, and Jahin nodded.

"That's Meelia, the flower girl," he said. "Her betrothed went off to war, and she said she would water a valley with her tears. She cried so much for his loss that she blanketed the valley with those white flowers she is holding."

"Did...did he come back?"

"Some stories say yes, some say no. When he comes back, they are wed in a glade full of white flowers, and when she weeps with joy, the flowers come up in red instead. When he doesn't, we say that she is the reason we still have white flowers today."

"Oh, then I am glad that this Meelia got her betrothed back," Bedelia said, pointing at the red flowers mixed in with the white.

She started to put the little toy back, but Jahin stopped her. As she watched, he pulled a small handful of notes out of his wallet and handed it to the vendor woman, who gaped at the amount and tried to protest. Jahin only grinned, told her that it was fine work, and pulled Bedelia away.

"Oh, you shouldn't have..." Bedelia protested, but he shook his head.

"Take it," he said, his voice oddly tender. "For someone who wants a fairytale of her own, it will serve as a good reminder of what you might have someday."

"Do you think I'll have that?" she asked without meaning to.

He glanced down at her, and she wondered if there was something wistful in his copper eyes.

"I certainly hope so," he said.

Chapter Three

Jahin meant to walk the foreigner girl--Bedelia, her name was Bedelia--back to the hostel where she was staying and leave her there. The horse fair was only heating up, and there were still things he wanted to do. The lines might have closed at dark, but there were deals to be made in the light of the numerous bonfires, as well as people he only saw once a year to greet and laugh and drink with.

However, while he did meet some people and did get some information, he did it all while pulling Bedelia along with him. She was fascinated by every aspect of the horse fair, and he had certainly never met a foreigner before who was so fascinated by stud rights and the intricacies of Muneazil equine bloodlines.

When the sun had nearly set, however, he could tell that she was flagging. A little guiltily, he remembered how he had dragged her all over the fair, especially after she had suffered such a shock earlier. It was no surprise that she had gotten quiet, even if she continued to look around her with all the avidity of a small hunting bird.

There was something a bit odd about it, he decided. When he’d met her, he would have said she was quite plain. He liked his women dark and lovely, often as tall as he was with forms that were as graceful as willows. She was shorter than he was by almost a foot, curvy in a way that was attractive but usually not to his taste, and unlike any woman he had spent much time with. However, despite these things, he still found himself sneaking glances at her more often than he had ever thought he would look at a woman like that. There was certainly something compelling about her, and that was why he asked her to dinner.

"I don't want to impose," she started to say, but Jahin had gotten fairly good at fending that off.

"You never want to impose, and I will never let you impose," he said crisply. "We are agreed. I am asking you to dinner as my guest. I would enjoy your company, and I think you would enjoy mine, so yes or no? You are the only thing that is stopping us."

She laughed, and a part of him responded to that. He wanted to hear that sound more and more, and to his delight, she nodded.

“All right, if you're sure?”

“I am always sure,” he said with an expressive grin. “Come on.”

This wasn't the capital or Dubai. As much as some part of him wanted to see what she would make of delicacies from around the world, he contented himself with taking her back to the small tavern where they had first spoken.

“I don't think this place has changed much in the past few decades,” he said with a wry grin. “Muneazil does have more to offer, but right now, this is the best that I can do.”

She laughed again, that lovely bell-like sound, and Jahin couldn't help but lean in a little closer.

“I think that if people have been enjoying it for such a long time, then I am not one to question it. What do you want to get?”

There was a pot of simmering goat stew on, and despite Jahin's doubts, it turned out to be amazing, rich and dark and spiced enough to make both their eyes water.

Between bites of bread and drinks of milk, they still managed to talk, and Jahin was slowly putting together a picture of a woman of a kind that he had never met before.

“I'll admit, you are a bit of a novelty,” he said after she enthusiastically told him about her high school job of delivering newspapers. “Women who want to work are a bit of a rarity where I come from.”

“Oh, well, I'm really not much of a rarity at all. I mean, I don't always want to work. Sometimes, I get up first thing in the morning, and all I really want is to crawl back into bed! No, I do enjoy the work, I do. It's just that sometimes, I really have to work to find the joy.”

“I see. And you find that worthwhile?”

She looked at him as if he had said something insane. “Of course I do. Otherwise, what's the point?”

Jahin laughed, shaking his head. “I work hard to make sure my concerns are taken care of, and the work I do is challenging and enjoyable, but most of the women that I have known, especially the ones as young as you, want to do very little.”

“Or that's what they show you. Or that's what they're offered, and they do not know that there is a more fulfilling time waiting for them.” She shrugged. “I've known plenty of people like that, and when they are actually offered a chance to make a difference, they seem more than happy to take it.”

“I envy your idealism. Are there many like you where you come from?”

She looked faintly insulted at that for some reason, but then her face took on a strangely melancholy cast.

“I'll be honest, I feel alone a lot,” she confessed. “I... Everything I do makes so much sense to me. Leaving Iowa made sense. Coming to Muneazil to do research makes sense. Heck, even wandering into the lines today made sense until something horrible happened. But when I reach out and try to find people who are like me... It never seems to work out. No one seems willing to...to meet me on my own terms, let alone give me that fairytale that we discussed earlier.”

She ended her sentence blushing slightly, and for some reason, that made Jahin ache. She might not have been to his usual taste, but she was still lovely, and it seemed as if every moment in her presence, she only grew lovelier. Why wouldn't she be found by someone with half a brain who could value her and love her as she craved?

He started to say something of this sort, but then there was a commotion at the door, and to his surprise, he recognized the two men who had entered. In the same moment that he recognized them, they spotted him and made their way to the booth that he and Bedelia were sharing at the back.

“Sheikh Jahin! A pleasure to see you here tonight!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bedelia's head come up at the title. A part of him felt a strange sadness at being revealed for himself. There had been a part of him--not a large part, but a real part--that had liked speaking with her on his own terms, without titles and the usual flustered admiration getting in the way.

His friends, who were in Masir for the same reason he was, made their departures after paying their respects, and the silence between him and Bedelia stretched out like sticky candy.

“Well?” he asked, unable to bear it any longer. Jahin looked up to find Bedelia watching him with those large green eyes, and her expression was surprisingly thoughtful.

“So I take it that wasn't some kind of exaggeration?” she asked. “You truly are a sheikh?”

“That's the kind of exaggeration which could have gotten you executed just a hundred years ago,” he said with a wry smile. “And yes. I am Sheikh Jahin Abdul Kattan, sheikh of Muneazil, its first Lord and Protector.”

He was expecting stuttering awe or some kind of flailing, but Jahin wasn't expecting her eyes to go wide as if she had seen something wonderful and beautiful.

“That's amazing!” she blurted out. “What is it even like being you?”

Jahin blinked. “I'm sorry?”

“I mean, that means that your family's been ruling this country for centuries, doesn't it? And you're related to Addas the Lawmaker, and to Hela, who fended off the hordes of foreigners from her tower...”

Jahin couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud.

“Only you,” he said, shaking his head. “Most people want to ask about the wealth or the power. You want to know about the fairytales.”

“They were real people,” she protested, and she paused when he reached out to take her hand.

“They were real people. Their blood runs in my veins, and I am proud of that every day. But their stories are more real than they are at this point, and I find that I am completely unsurprised that you are gravitating towards their stories.”

She was quiet for a long time, and then to his surprise, when he looked up, Bedelia had a serious look on her face.

“I need to tell you something,” she said. “I'm not sure if you're going to like it or not.”

“And what is that?”

“I'm working for a writer back in the United States. He writes these...ugh, he writes these terrible books about a spy or something, and they're full of the worst action scenes. He's having me research Muneazil for him, and...I am having such a good time with you, but I don't want it to come out later that you thought I was...that I was mining you or something. Really. I'm not.”

Jahin had to shake his head at her earnestness.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he said, amused. “But believe me when I say that I wouldn't have taken it so personally. Heck, the woman who used to do my mother's manicures, her daughter tried to tell stories to tabloids all the time.”

“And your mother wasn't hurt?”

“Oh, she was very hurt. She had watched that girl grow up, after all. But the Abdul Kattan line has a great deal of power, and when we want to quell gossip, that is absolutely something that we can do.”

“I'm not worried about whether you stop me or Mr. Miller or not,” Bedelia said with a shrug. “I just didn't want you to be hurt.”

She was saying something else about the history of his family, but Jahin found that he wasn't listening.

What was this girl, anyway?

***

FOR A LITTLE while, Bedelia had gotten to have at least a small fraction of her fairytale. However, a part of her had always known at the back of her mind that the clock was ticking on it, just as Cinderella must have known. Cinderella had been told from the beginning that her time as a princess would end when the clock struck twelve, and she had simply been grateful that for a night, she had gotten to live out her fondest dreams.

Still, there was a small part of her that protested when Jahin offered to walk her back to the hostel. She wanted to ask him if there was a chance that they could see each other again, a chance that perhaps they could have another day like this one. However, she knew that wealthy men, especially wealthy men who ran whole emirates, didn't waste their time on women who weren't drop-dead gorgeous and apparently obedient to their husbands' wishes.

After such a dreadful beginning, the day had turned out to be one of the most enjoyable ones she had ever had, and she was sorry to see it go. No matter how much she had liked it, however, Bedelia was not going to sour things by making an issue of it.

“Well, this is me,” she said at the gates of her hostel. “Thank you for walking me back; you didn't have to do that.”

“I'd have worried that you were getting into trouble if I hadn't,” Jahin said with a slight smile.

It was still startling how good looking he was, but a part of her had grown used to it. She didn't think she would ever become immune, but she was beginning to see him as just a regular person, albeit a very handsome one.

“I should probably hop inside,” she said with real regret. “They're going to lock the doors in the next hour and...”

“You don't need to.”

She blinked, looking up at him. “Um, I guess you could order them to keep them open, and they would listen to you, but there's really no need for that, is there? I mean, I'm here, and I'm pretty sure we've exhausted all of the options for fun in Masir at this point...”

“Not all of them,” he said, and to her shock, he took her hand again.

No, she had not become immune to him at all. A few moments ago, she had been enjoying their time together, laughing with him as if they had known each other for years. Now in the fading evening light, there was an edge of hunger to him that called to something dark and primal inside her. There was risk and danger here, and the shock that traveled from his body to hers just through his touch was unlike anything she had ever felt before.

“Jahin...”

She couldn't say any more before he pulled her close, cupping the side of her face in his free hand. Bedelia only had time enough to realize that his hand was wonderfully warm before he dropped his lips to hers in a kiss.

She had kissed men before, of course. They had all been fumbling things that left her wondering what all the fuss was about. She had even wondered more than once whether she was frigid and cold, unable to respond to others the way the world told her she should.

With one kiss, however, Jahin told her that this was certainly not the case.

His kiss was fire and fury, igniting a response from within her that made her heart beat faster. Suddenly, with a single gesture, he changed something inside her, and all she wanted was to learn more about it. With a wild abandon she had never felt before, Bedelia threw her arms around him, dragging him close and tilting her head up so she could feel the kiss more clearly. She might have started out as shy and nervous, but soon she was boldly exploring the kiss, learning and craving more with every moment.

When they finally pulled back, she knew her cheeks were pink and she was breathing hard. She looked at Jahin as if he were some kind of god or hero, someone who could change the way the world worked with just a moment's touch.

To her surprise though, there was a slight knowing smirk on his face, which brought her right back to the ground. She hadn't expected him to be as awed with their touch as she was, but perhaps she had expected something a little less...smug?

“My goodness, you are a woman of passion,” he said with some satisfaction. “Perhaps you would like a chance to show me more?”

“What...what do you mean?”

“I mean that I have been reading your signals all day, and right now, I am inviting you to go back to my camp to show me exactly what you would like to.”

“I'm sorry... Did you think I was trying to...to seduce you or something?”

“You can call it whatever you want, beautiful one,” he said. “I just know that there is a pull between is that we do not have to ignore. This isn't some ancient time where a single hot look represented a lifetime of commitment.”

“Say it bluntly,” Bedelia said, surprising herself with how steady her voice was. She knew that all she was doing was buying heartbreak with this, but she had to be sure.

Jahin raised an eyebrow at her, shrugging slightly. “I am inviting you to my bed, where I would make you feel as good as it is possible for a woman to feel. I hardly think that a woman like you would balk at the idea.”

“A...woman like me?” The hits just kept coming, and for some reason, she couldn't seem to stop. There was a smart thing to do here, and that was to simply thank him for helping her when she needed it and go inside before she had to hear any more of this. Before she had to listen to him destroy all of the pleasant things she had thought and dreamed of throughout the day. She had known that those pleasant things were far from real or true or even possible, but they had still been lovely, and she didn't want to give them up.

“Well, you are in Muneazil by yourself, and certainly from the way you kiss, you are a woman of the world. You have struck me as a woman who knows what she wants, and who knows that I can give it to you.”

His grin turned sly, and a part of her was still resentful that he could be so handsome while he was being such a jerk.

“Come now, no games,” he said coaxingly. “Why bother playing games when we could be making each other feel so very good, so very whole?”

Somehow, Bedelia found herself smiling. It was a strange smile, one that didn't have much to do with anything else. She saw Jahin's grin widen, as if he had convinced her and he had won.

She kept smiling as she stepped a little closer to him and then slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

The force of the blow traveled from her palm up through her arm then through her entire body. She felt as if she was on fire, and that anyone who looked at her too hard would simply be burned. The look on his face changed from smug surety to shock, and she shook her head.

“Yes,” she agreed softly. “Let us not have any games. And I am a woman who knows what she wants, and what I want right now is to be away from you.”

He looked at her, speechless, which was satisfying in a dark kind of way, and then she spun around on her heel and walked away.

She didn't break down into tears until she was alone in her room, stifling her cries in a shirt. It had been an illusion. The whole day with a man she could honestly look at and call a prince was an illusion, and somehow, now that it was over, all she could do was mourn it.

Chapter Four

Back in his trailer, Jahin shook his head and examined the hand print on his face.

She is small, but she is mighty, he thought ruefully. He could see every finger outlined on his skin, and the place where she struck him still tingled.

Even though his face was sore, he couldn't find it in himself to be too angry with her. She was a romantic, and he had a feeling that romantics could be formidable indeed when their dreams and ideals were threatened. Hers had simply run a little deeper than he’d thought they would, and he had paid the price for underestimating them.

He stretched out on the small camp bed in his trailer, so different from the luxurious one that he was used to in the capital. It wasn't like he could have offered her very much in the first place even if he had gotten her to come back with him. And if she had, then what? They would have had a single night together, and then it would have been straight back to normal.

What is wrong with me?

The more he thought of it, the more foolish it looked for him to think that she would be all right with sharing a single night with him. A woman like that, she wanted a lifetime, and that was not something he could give her.

No, it was more than foolishness, he realized. There was something about Bedelia that had drawn him in, even if it was a strange attraction and unlike one that he had felt for anyone else. It didn't make sense, not in the women he had been with in the past, not with the women he wanted to be with in the future.

He pushed aside the doubts that told him to go speak to her, to apologize and tell her that if he had hurt her, it hadn't been his intention.

Instead, Jahin stayed right where he was. There was no point in doing otherwise. All he could do at this point was hurt her more, make her angry or insult her. No, he thought ruefully, he had acted to protect himself, and now this was the consequence of doing that altogether too well. There was no way she would come near him now, and his infatuation--because now he could see that that was exactly what it was--was over.

“I am sorry, Bedelia,” he muttered to thin air, but it did not make him feel one bit better.

***

BEDELIA FELT A little better when she got up the next morning. Someone had left a plate of slightly stale pastries on the hostel's table, and she helped herself to one as she sat and thought about her day. There were about eight messages from Mr. Miller to get back to, and she didn't think he was going to be impressed with the fact that she had gotten her heart slightly broken by a random man at a horse fair.

She tried to tell herself that what had happened with Jahin was likely for the best. They came from worlds that were so different that it was bizarre they even breathed the same air. However much they had enjoyed each other's company, there would always be a limit to how much they had to say to one another, and at the end of all of that, there was nothing to be done.

Bedelia remembered the things he had said with a kind of shiver.

That is the kind of man he is, she tried to tell herself. When someone tells you clearly and effectively who they are, you don't doubt them and look for excuses that they could be otherwise. You believe them, and you act accordingly. “Acting accordingly,” in this case, meant that she should realize she was far better off without a man like that, no matter how handsome or funny he was.

Still, a part of her couldn’t quite believe that the man who had rescued her earlier in the day had turned into such a careless monster at the end of it. She didn't know what it meant. A part of her couldn't understand what he had done or why he had done it. It was a puzzle to say the least, but it was not one that she had the time or the energy to understand.

“Not my problem,” she said, standing up decisively. She wasn't sure that it was true, but it felt good to stand up and say something decisively. It certainly didn't matter in the least that a part of her couldn't think of Jahin's copper eyes and lithe frame without a deep pang inside her heart.

“Let's find out where Miller wants me next.”

She had been planning to stay at the horse fair for at least another day, but right now, she wasn't sure she would stay even if people tied her down. The chances of running into Jahin, or worse, the two men who had accosted her, were too great, and they made her nervous. No, it would be better to move on and figure out what she wanted to do next.

Miller had given her a budget and a list of things he wanted, so it was easy enough to find out where her next research location was going to be, and also to start looking to the future. Even if a part of her kept looking over her shoulder and hoping to see a familiar smile and a pair of copper eyes, it was time to move on.

As she packed, she came across the little wooden figurine that Jahin had bought for her, the girl Meelia who had watered the valley with her tears. She held flowers of both white and red, and something in her painted face made Bedelia feel better.

It'll be fine, she told herself. Life goes on, and I am not going to miss him at all.

Chapter Five

Muneazil shared borders with the other emirates of the UAE, but unlike its desert neighbors, Muneazil also boasted a deep mountain range along one edge. Where some of the emirate was given over to golden sands, Muneazil also had dark mountains, and after a long and bumpy bus ride out from the capital, Bedelia found herself high in the mountains, looking around in awe at the town she had come to.

While the capital of Muneazil was impressive, the town of Cechon was amazing. It had been carved directly into the rock, an existence scraped out of stone over the course of five centuries. She had read that the first settlers had come there and found enough scraps of greenery to make them think they could live. As it turned out, they could, but that living had been perilous until the twentieth century brought improved farming techniques and better building abilities.

You can feel the history everywhere, Bedelia though wryly, dodging a pair of teens who were too busy looking at their smartphones to note where they were going. That was the sort of detail that she’d once thought Miller would like, but time after time, he had disregarded it, asking for the “real” stuff instead. She thought she was now getting closer to what he meant, at least, which was a good thing.

The town was bustling with the festival that she had come to see. According to the guide books, the festival celebrated a defeat by Rada Abdul Kattan over his enemies, and it had been celebrated for more than three hundred years. It seemed at first glance like a setting an action novelist could use in his work at any rate, and it was about as far removed from the horse fair and from the capital as she could get.

She had finally found some bobby pins, so at least her headscarf stayed in place. However, she still felt achingly out of place among the women of the town, who all seemed to have their own work and their own business to attend to. The festivities were due to start that night, and until then, she decided to get set up at the small hostel.

It was comfortable enough, with just a few international students who seemed pleasant, but for some reason, Bedelia couldn't relax. The wise thing to do would have been to nap so that she was awake for the festivities that started after dark, but instead, she secured her valuables in the communal safe then walked out on the streets.

She found her thoughts drifting back to Jahin as they had with almost alarming frequency for the past week and a half. It had been some nine days since she had left Masir, and for some reason, she couldn't get him out of her head. Perhaps it was because she had never met anyone like him before, or perhaps it was because he was so handsome. But the more it happened, the more it felt as if she had simply left a part of herself with him.

How strange would it be, she thought wryly, to go up to him at a press conference or something and say, “Excuse me, I think you have a bit of my heart. Care to give it back to me?”

She still generally thought that she had acted correctly at their last meeting, but there was a small part of her that demurred. She was without him right now, and she would have been no matter what she did. However, the choice she’d made left her thinking about him at odd moments. The other choice would have told her how those beautiful hands would have felt against her skin, how his mouth would have tasted if she had kissed him again, and she couldn't quite bring herself to completely believe that she had made the right choice.

Well, maybe if I ever see him again, I'll make a different one, she thought half-flippantly. It was a safe bet, because she was likely never going to see him again, but right then, she heard something that made her heart beat faster.

“I told you, I'll be back in a few days. I understand it is urgent, and to that end, I have left instructions explaining what is to be done in my absence. A member of my family has opened this festival every year for the past few centuries, and short of actual war or pandemic, I am not going to be the one to break that tradition...”

She would have told herself that she was mistaken, but Jahin had made enough of an impression on her that there was no way she would mistake his voice for anyone else's. Feeling a little like a sitting duck, she glanced around the corner, and there he was, as handsome as ever. This time, instead of the traditional clothes of a Muneazil rider, he was wearing a thoroughly modern Western business suit in charcoal, his white shirt almost blinding in how crisp and clean it was in this nearly medieval mountain town hewn from rock. There were two men in dark clothing standing respectfully next to him, and she wondered if they were guards or assistants.

Jahin looked irritated, talking with people on the phone who apparently wanted him to return to the capital, and finally he simply hung up, shaking his head.

“Fools and worse than fools,” she heard him growl. “They seem to think that the only people I rule over are the ones who live in the cities.”

The man standing to his right said something that made Jahin bark a quick laugh, and he looked like he was on the verge of replying when suddenly he froze. Copper eyes met green eyes, and she saw him shape her name with his lips, lips that she could still not think of without a shudder of pleasure.

It was exactly what she wanted. It was too much, it was far too much.

Without thinking of what she was doing in the least, Bedelia spun around on her heel and darted through the crowd. It was the only thing she could think of to do, and even as she dodged past people carrying things around for the celebration, chatting and laughing with one another, she wondered why she was doing it.

The reasonable thing, the adult thing, would have been to wave to him and then move on. If he wanted to talk with her, she could have been cool and calm and rational. She would have been polite, and she wouldn't have said anything about their last interaction if he didn't.

Instead, she darted behind a stand that was so covered with flowers that it was impossible to see the wood or the canopy, and as a confused teenaged vendor looked at her in surprise, Bedelia peeked behind her. She was half-convinced that she would see a bustling street full of people wondering why a woman had just raced past them pursued by nothing at all. She was well-prepared to feel foolish because at the end of the day, Jahin simply didn't care about someone like her at all.

Then she saw him standing in the middle of the square, looking around slightly wild eyed, and she realized her mistake. Just as she was coming to this realization, his eyes met hers, and suddenly they were off again, her dodging through the stalls and the workmen, and him shouting after her.

Bedelia might have been curvy and short, but she had also run track when she was a teenager. While she was no sprinter, she was someone who had plenty of endurance, and she used that to her advantage now, dashing through alleys and sprinting around people who swore at her for nearly upsetting their bundles. She figured that if she could just make it worth it for Jahin to quit, he would... But he didn't.

Every time she glanced over her shoulder at him, he was gaining on her, and now that he had a solid visual lock on her, he wasn't wavering at all.

Bedelia finally ran out of breath and out of will to keep on running when she turned down an alley that had been open just two hours ago and discovered the way was now being blocked by a large truck. The alleys of the town were made for horses, not trucks, and there was not even a space where she could have slipped through. She was seriously contemplating trying to slide under the truck when a hard hand clamped around her upper arm, holding her as still as if she had been stuck in cement.

For a long moment, they simply stood and breathed hard at each other. Even if she could run like that, it didn't mean that she was used to it, and though Jahin was in good shape, it didn't mean that he was prepared to do it on a moment's notice.

“So,” Bedelia said brightly when she had finally gotten her breath back. “What brings you here?”

For a moment, Jahin simply glared at her in disbelief, and then an unwilling smile broke across his face as he shook his head.

“I cannot believe you,” he said. “I can't.”

“Oh? Am I that hard to believe?”

“You slap me, and then when against all the odds we meet again, you run from me, making me chase you across all of creation. What the heck, Bedelia?”

“Well, I wasn't sure we had anything to say to each other.” Whether it was the lack of air or something genuinely funny about the situation, she started to smile as well.

“You could have said 'I don't want to speak to you again,' which would have been fair. I suppose you could have slapped me again, which would not have been pleasant, but which would have been within your rights to do after how I acted. I might have preferred a 'hello,' but apparently that was something that was really off the table from the beginning.”

“You...you're sorry for how you acted?” she asked tentatively, and she was startled when he nodded.

“I am. There was... Well, we don't even have to go into what I was doing and what I was thinking. I should not have asked that of you no matter what I had thought, and I am sorry that I did it. It was a poor choice on my part to say the least. I apologize, and though you are in no way bound to do so, I hope you accept my apology.”

It seemed so strange that a man like Jahin could think to apologize to her, and after a moment, Bedelia nodded cautiously.

“All right. I accept your apology.”

“Thank you. And if you are done running, perhaps now we can stop and say hello.”

“Hello, Jahin,” Bedelia said obediently, and then she laughed at the face he made.

“Hello, Bedelia, how nice to see you again. Fancy meeting you in an alley where someone is unloading a great deal of ham and sausage.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, ignoring his quip. “I mean, I assume that you were buying horses in Masir, but what brings you up to Cechon?”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her in a way that made her feel briefly self-conscious. Then, almost hesitantly, as if he were afraid she was going to refuse, he slowly offered her his arm. She accepted, and then they were walking down the street, her hand snugged on his arm as if this was a normal thing that they did every day.

“I have been thinking of you a great deal,” he confessed, and she glanced up at him to see if he was joking.

“Really?” she asked skeptically. “Amidst all the beautiful women that you have been courting?”

He had the grace to flinch. “I suppose I deserved that. The truth of the matter is that when I was with you... I wanted to get to know you better. I wanted to learn more about you. I think I chose a short cut instead of trying to figure out how to do it best.”

She thought about what he had said for a moment. Bedelia could imagine how that might make sense. “So what are you going to try to do now?”

“I think it rather depends on you. I...would like to get to know you better. Talk to you. See you. But only if you wish, and only if it makes you happy. After all, I'm not actually interested in getting slapped again.”

He said the last so calmly and matter-of-factly that it took her a moment to realize he was joking. She looked up at him wide-eyed, and then she laughed.

“All right, you've made your case,” she said. “I'm in. I would like to see you and talk to you as well...”

Is that really all you want to do? She told the voice in her head to shut up, because it didn't matter if it wasn't a fairytale. She could have a friend, couldn't she? That was what Jahin was offering, and she wanted badly to accept. However, there was something else in the back of her mind, something that said maybe...

It wasn't happening, and it would be wrong to say yes just because she thought there might have been more to it. That would be a lie at best, and a disaster at worst. After all, there was nothing wrong with having friends, especially friends who were as clever and funny as Jahin was.

“You never told me what it was you were doing here,” she said.

“Ah yes. Well, as the sheikh of Muneazil, I have a number of duties that I must attend to, and one of those duties is to open the festivities here in Cechon. There are a few other duties I perform that are similar, but the one that I do here is one of the oldest around. When I begin the festivities at nightfall, it is meant to ensure a successful year for the town and for the country at large.”

She tilted her head to one side. The way he spoke, perfectly matter-of-fact, made her wonder what he thought about it all.

“Is that a thing you believe in? That if you open the festivities, people are going to be better off?”

He shot her an amused look. “I'll tell you what I told the people who would much rather have me back in the capital right now. I will say that one way or another, this has been a part of the job of sheikh for a very long time, and I am not interested in the least in ending that tradition. Basically, if it's not broken, why fix it?”

She laughed a little at his statement.

“No, that makes perfect sense to me,” she said with a smile.

“Does that appease your curiosity? Will I see this in the next book that the reprehensible Miller writes?”

Bedelia was already shaking her head. She had come to this decision some time ago, and she was certain about it.

“I'll tell him about how the roofs might be a good choice for a chase scene or how the green lanterns give everything a really frightening glow. The things that you have told me... I'm probably flattering myself, but, well, they're mine.”

She was prepared for him to laugh at her, but instead he shot her a look that was oddly sweet.

“I am glad,” he said simply.

As they walked down the street, she could tell that preparations were coming to a head. Vendors were making sure their stalls were in order, and people who were vending food were making sure that everything looked and smelled amazing. Despite how tantalizing the meat on spits and beautifully arranged fruit looked, however, no one was taking a single bite.

When Bedelia commented on it, Jahin smiled slightly.

“They're not going to, either. People don't starve themselves on this festival, but food that is made for this festival is only eaten once the festival begins. There are some foods that are only prepared for this festival alone; they are only made once a year.”

Something about that thought, of food that was so precious or significant that it was only prepared once every year, struck her. It made Bedelia glance up at Jahin, thinking about it. She could only imagine how one might wait all year for a special treat, only to realize upon eating it that it would be a full year before you could taste it again. You would think of it, and you would dream of it, and throughout all of it, you would be sure to love it.

“Here, let me show you something...”

He led her down a few streets, and then to her surprise, she was confronted by an enormous citadel, a grand building three stories tall and built directly into the rock.

“The Shining Star,” she whispered in awe, and Jahin looked at her with a small smile.

“You know it then,” he said warmly. “The home of my ancestors, or some of them, at any rate. This is the place where we came first when we wanted to keep people safe. When we wanted them to know that we were powerful and strong and would protect them. This place, more than any other.”

“This is what I came to Masir to see,” she said quietly, “but I will admit that some part of me came to see it because of you.”

He gave her a gentle look at that, something warm enough to make her smile, then they continued their walk together, arm-in-arm through the descending night.

It would be all right, she decided. It will be all right. I know it will be.

Walking through the dusk with a man who made something flutter inside her like the wings of a bird, she felt strangely at peace, even if she had no idea what the next thing would bring.

Chapter Six

Almost four hours later, she had quickly decided that things weren't going to be all right after all.

They had spent an enjoyable time together, eating and talking, keeping to safe topics and making sure that neither felt too uncomfortable or nervous. Of course it was just an accident when her hand brushed against his as they shared an excellent meal of kebabs and greens. Of course their legs only ended up pressed against each other because the booth was so narrow.

In fairly short order, however, Bedelia had to admit that things were burning, even if the burn was slow, even if she was the only one who had noticed it. She was, as her Iowan grandmother would have said it, playing with fire, and it would be far better to excuse herself before it got more risky. However, she told herself this was fine. This was limited. They were friends, nothing more, and nothing was going to happen between them, nothing at all. She was confident in that, so confident that when Jahin asked her to stand close as he opened the festival, she agreed without thinking of it.

“It is not a long or onerous ceremony,” he said. “And afterward I would very much like to speak to you more. Perhaps if you stay close, I will not have to risk chasing you across the town.”

She blushed a little, nodding.

“I'm not planning on running,” she said with a toss of her head. “At least, I am not planning on running unless you do something particularly foolish.”

Almost every other man she had ever met would have been offended or irritated. Jahin, however, only smiled at her, tipping her a wink.

“I am foolish on a fairly regular basis,” he said with a smile. “So I suppose I had better get good at running.”

He was opening the festival in front of the citadel, where an enormous stage had been erected. The people of Masir and the people who had come from distant parts of the country to be a part of this ancient festival were gathered in front of it by dusk, and by dark, Bedelia could see that the square in front of the platform was utterly packed with people. If she hadn't been with Jahin on the platform, pushed towards the back with a few town officials and Jahin's discreet bodyguards and assistants, she might have worried about being trampled.

There was something deeply human and historic about the scene in front of her. Night had fallen, and the stars above were bright now that the electric lights had been doused for the occasion. The platform that she was standing on was lit with torchlight, and out of the dark shadows, the mayor of the town, a round man who had obviously been drinking, stepped forward.

It only took a few moments before Bedelia realized that she didn't understand what was being said at all. Her Arabic was passable, even good, but this seemed to be some other dialect, one that slipped and slid around without her being able to grasp it at all.

Well, it's probably not that important that I understand it, she thought.

The mayor finished with what he had to say, and then he came back to the sidelines, where he stood with her. Up close, it was even easier to tell that he had been drinking, and she was relieved when all he seemed to want to do was to wink at her. He had seen her and Jahin standing closely together earlier in the day, and she supposed that was all that was necessary for someone to think that they were together in this part of the world.

There was a gasp and a cheer as Jahin stepped out under the flickering light of the torches. He was dressed in his suit, but there was still something about him that fit perfectly into this place and this time. He was doing what his ancestors had done for decades, and unless Bedelia missed her guess, he was doing it very well. She felt a deep pulse inside her pull her towards him, and she couldn't imagine what it was to be standing up in front of all those people the way he was.

He started speaking, and he was using that same dialect that the mayor had used. She could not understand it at all, and she hugged herself a little bit, feeling like more of an outsider than ever.

He spoke, and his voice was low, but there was a power to it that made it resonate. He walked right up to the edge of the platform, coming face-to-face with the people below. When he spoke, they were hushed and waiting, and when he stopped, they cheered. There was a connection between them, people to lord, and she could feel it as well, a kind of gravity that he exerted.

He said something, the crowd roared with laughter, and for a moment, she thought he was done. He started to walk away from the crowd, and then suddenly everything shifted. She heard the mayor's boozy laugh, and she felt a hard shove from behind that put her straight in Jahin's path. She stumbled, and she would have fallen if he hadn't wrapped his arms around her. It was strange. One moment she was falling, and the next she was perfectly, utterly safe.

She looked up into his copper eyes in the torchlight, beautiful and bewitching, and in that strange and wild moment, she knew that a part of her would always belong to him. He watched her, and for one insane moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. That was foolishness, of course, and he pulled her to her feet. That was when the crowd broke into a loud and raucous chant.

"What are they saying?" Bedelia asked, unable to stop herself from pressing against Jahin's body.

"They're telling us to kiss," Jahin said with an exasperated smile. "It's an old tradition, one that goes back a very long ways."

The moment he said the word “kiss,” Bedelia felt her cheeks heat up. She was still warm from the dancing, but she knew that this heat was entirely different, something that started from deep within her and swelled to cover her entire body. It was something that she was becoming quite used to after spending any amount of time with Jahin, apparently.

"Well, we can't really," she started to say, but then the crowd grew louder, and Jahin looked at her with a wry smile. She was convinced he was going to tell her to hop down off of the platform, but instead, he took her in his arms. He was as quick and as strong as she remembered him being, and when she looked up into his extraordinary copper eyes, she was convinced that they were lit from within by some kind of heavenly fire.

"Sorry about this," he muttered, and she had just enough time to think that he didn't sound sorry at all, before his mouth swept down on hers. There was no artifice about the kiss. There was no gentle peck to calm the crowd, there was no show where his mouth stayed a centimeter from hers. This was real in every way that mattered, and Bedelia felt herself swept away in the passion of the crowd, in the feel of his lips on hers, in the way his mouth claimed her completely. She wrapped her arms around his neck to keep her balance, but after a moment of shock, she found herself kissing him in return, giving herself up to him with a deep and passionate need.

Bedelia barely noticed as the crowd let up a wild cheer, and when Jahin drew back from her, she looked at him wild-eyed. For a moment, she couldn't understand why he had stopped, and then she remembered where they were and blushed anew.

"I..."

"Come on," he said, taking her hand. "We should go."

She had no time to protest before he dragged her down off the platform, making their way to the quiet of the old palace behind them. The guards at the door let them through with a nod, and when the door shut out the crowd, they were suddenly bathed in a silence so deep that it felt like heavy velvet.

"Why did we have to leave?" Bedelia asked once she had gotten her breath back. "We could have stayed..."

"I suppose we could have," Jahin said with amusement, "but if we hadn't gotten out of there right then, I believe they would have started shouting things that were perhaps more graphic than you cared to indulge."

"More graphic..."

At first she had no idea what he meant, but then her mind filled in the blanks. Bedelia's hands flew up to cover her mouth, and she gazed at Jahin wide-eyed.

"Surely not!" she said, and he laughed at her. She could imagine how unworldly and prim she looked then, and she hadn't thought that she would be able to blush harder, but yet here she was.

"Perhaps not," he relented, "but I think you were studying the history of this festival, no?"

"I was," she said indignantly. "It had nothing to do with...with public displays..."

"So what was it really about?" he asked with amusement

"Why, fertility, and growth...and...and..." Bedelia trailed off before making a face. "Oh, that was obvious, wasn't it?"

"It was," he said with assurance. "Those are the old ways, and I'm sure no one would have done anything. However, I do believe that some things are hardwired into people. There are some things which simply feel right, and once upon a time, the people of the mountains watched as their great lord took a young girl's virginity on the night of the full moon."

Bedelia shivered. It was all too easy to imagine. She had danced the village dances, she had laughed and eaten and caught the eye of the great lord. The kiss was the innocent ghost of a much older tradition, one with a very dark shadow.

"And now?" she found herself asking.

"This is a place that my family came to every year," he said. "My mother and father before they died, my aunts and uncles, my cousins and I, we would all marvel at the past here. Do you want to see my favorite spot?"

"I would like that very much," she said softly.

He took her by the hand again and led her through the open foyer and up a long, wide flight of stairs. Through what felt like a maze of rooms, he led her through the dim corridors, and then as he opened one door, he led her into moonlight.

It was a terrace, one high up in the sky, and it was completely open to the stars and the enormous, honey-gold moon far above. There were small benches scattered here and there, and most lovely of all, a small garden growing lush and green along one side.

"What a beautiful place," she murmured, looking around in wonder. "Did you come up here often?"

"I did," he said. "At night, as we are coming now, and often I found myself looking up into the sky, gazing at the moon and wondering at all the people who would look up at it after me, and all those who had come before."

"And here we are," Bedelia said.

"Yes," Jahin agreed. "Here we are."

When he turned her so that she faced him and bent down to her, it felt like fate and magic. She tilted her chin up to meet him, and this time, their kiss was almost solemn, gentle and quiet. Instead of the ravishment that had occurred earlier in front of the shouting crowd, this kiss was exploratory. Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, his tongue pressed between her lips, sliding into the warmth of her mouth and stroking against hers. Bedelia had never understood before how someone could find this gesture so erotic, but now, hanging on to him so she didn't fall over, a pulse of heat ringing through her body, she understood completely.

"I want you."

Bedelia was a little surprised to realize that the words had come from her. They were breathed so quietly that he might have missed them, even standing as close as he was, but she knew right away he had heard them, because his body tightened. For a moment, Jahin held her almost crushingly tight, but then he regained enough control to look at her.

"Are you sure?" he asked roughly. "That is not a good thing to tempt a man with, not when you are all alone."

"I know what I want," she said, her voice trembling a little. "And I am not scared of you."

His laugh was dark and rueful. "What a beautiful little puzzle you are, my darling. Perhaps it is time for us to see if we can unravel you completely..."

She started to make a retort to that, but then his mouth was back on hers. His kiss had a dark edge to it, something ancient and modern and male and all him. It beckoned her to the dark places, it told her that there was more than this pleasure open to her if she would just open, if she would just trust...

The kiss went on and on, and when it was over, Jahin scooped her up in his arms. She tilted her head back as her carried her, seeing the great arc of sky and stars overhead. The moon had sailed higher; it looked smaller now, but still one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Bedelia looked up into Jahin's copper eyes that seemed so warm that surely they could melt her where she stood. It seemed to be a night for beautiful things.

He walked her straight to the edge of the terrace, where there was a tall stone ledge all the way around.

"I want..." He paused for a moment, his voice rough. "I want you. Do you trust me?"

There was no answer she could give besides a murmured and breathless “yes.” It was the answer that her body needed, that she demanded. It was the only one possible.

"Good," he said, and he reached for her clothes.

There was something ceremonial about it. There was no hurry at all in his hands, nothing rushed or demanding. Instead, it was nothing but control, even if his hands shook a little. In the end, her underthings and shoes were piled discreetly to one side, and her dress he had laid over the ledge, where it fluttered slightly like a white flag of surrender.

It was the first time she had stood naked in front of a man, but for some reason, there was no embarrassment and no humiliation. She didn't reach up to cover her round breasts from his eyes or to shield the delicate fluff of dark hair between her legs. Instead, she looked up at him with her chin tilted up slightly, almost defiant, almost challenging.

This is me, she thought. Could you want me? Would you have me?

The answer in his copper eyes was nothing but “yes.”

"You said you trusted me," he said, and without waiting for her response, he lifted her up to sit on the terrace.

The first thing that struck her was the cold of the stone. Despite the warmth of the night, the stone ledge was icy, and when the warm skin of her rear hit it, it felt even colder still. Bedelia gasped, and then she glanced behind her, at the people who were still celebrating below. They were so far up that the people looked small to her, and she knew that at this late stage in the celebration, none of them would think to look up.

Jahin's soft chuckle made her jerk her eyes back to the man with the copper eyes, the great lord who brought fertility and wealth to the land.

"Don't look down at them," he said. "Look down at me."

At first, Bedelia had no idea what he was talking about, but then he was dropping to his knees in front of her. No, not in front of her, between her legs, and he parted her knees easily. His hands were warm, and she sighed as he stroked them along her waist and thighs.

"Trust me," he murmured. "I would never let you fall..."

She started to respond, but then he pressed a warm kiss into the crease of her thigh, and Bedelia whimpered instead. His kisses were gentle at first, almost innocent, but then they grew more heated. He was licking along her sensitive skin, making her moan, and then slowly, he spread her open even farther.

Bedelia couldn't stop the startled cry she made. Her hands, wild and looking for something steady, landed in Jahin's hair, making him laugh.

"Try and control me if you think you can, beautiful one," he taunted, and then he placed one long, strong lick right along her slit, ending with a nearly breathtaking pleasure against her clit. Bedelia's cry was as much surprise as pleasure. No one had ever touched her there before; even her own explorations had been slow and fractured, always ending with a sort of confused pleasantness rather than the explosion she had heard about from magazines and blogs.

Jahin took a moment to savor her moan, and then he lapped at her fiercely. There was none of the slow patience that had come before. Instead, he stroked and licked her with the hunger of a madman and all the pride of a man who knew he was entitled to everything he laid hands on. Bedelia knew in this moment that she belonged to him, and that meant her pleasure was his as well. It would always belong to him, and her hands tightened in his hair.

"Oh, I can't, I can't!" she cried suddenly as the pleasure inside her rose up to a wicked spike. She had read about this moment so many times before, but now that it was upon her, she was afraid. It was like a leap into the unknown, it was power that was going to explode, and who knew what would happen to her when it did?

Weakly, she tried to fight off the pleasure, but even as she did so, she knew that it was a fight she was going to lose. Bedelia could feel herself start to shake and groan; her body was moving without her volition. The pleasure raced through her, and she could hear Jahin growling his satisfaction, demanding every bit of her even as his tongue brought her to a pleasure she had never understood.

Her eyes, which had been squeezed shut, opened suddenly, and she looked up into the bright stars and the velvet night. This was what those women had felt when they made love to the great lord to ensure the wealth of the nation and a good harvest. This was what they had seen, and this was what she was seeing too.

The moment she set eyes on the stars, the pleasure raced through her body, setting her alight. There was no resisting it this time, there was nothing but surrender as she burned to a crisp, her body shaking hard.

"Oh...oh my goodness, Jahin!"

She slumped forward when her climax finally let her go, and he caught her in his arms.

"Beautiful girl," he murmured, planting kisses all over her face. He tasted of her and her pleasure, and though the thought should have embarrassed her, it made Bedelia purr with pleasure. She felt as if she had marked him somehow, as a lioness marked her mate. It made him hers, if only for a little while, if only for a night.

"I feel as if there's nothing left of me," she murmured as he walked her towards a bench.

"Oh, there's plenty left of you for my purposes," he murmured, and she started to ask what he meant when he lay her down on the padded bench. It was enormous, as long as a twin-sized bed and nearly as wide, and when she lay down on it, she purred at how soft it was. She started to say so, and then Jahin was rising over her, spreading her legs so he could lie between them.

"Jahin!"

"Shush, darling, if you trust me, this will all be fine, I promise..."

"I do," she said, but her brain was so soaked with pleasure that her thoughts felt as if they were trying to tumble through mud. All she could do was whimper as he undid his trousers. A pang of desire went through her all over again, but she was painfully aware of how little she knew of what was to come.

When she felt the tip of his cock at her warm entrance, the words she needed to explain to him how very little experience she had were tumbling just beyond her gasp, and the shiver of pleasure that ran through her was not making things easier

"Shh, do not worry, this will feel so good," he crooned, and then he was sliding inside her.

She was warm and wet, but there was no way to prepare for what came next. He sheathed himself fully inside her in one deep stroke, and she yelped at the shock of pain that went through her. Her cry made him freeze as though someone had struck him, and the look of surprise on his face was so funny that she would have laughed if the pain hadn't made her whimper.

"Jahin..."

She groaned when he pulled out of her, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he looked down at her with shock, eyes wide.

"You didn't tell me," he said, his voice as rough as gravel. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Rationally, she knew he wasn't angry at her, but the hard edge to his voice and the rawness of her emotions were too much just then. Instead of making the very well-thought out and logical statement that she was intending to make, she whimpered as tears welled in her eyes.

Jahin cursed in a language she did not know, and he pulled off of her entirely, rolling to one side so he could gather her in his arms. Somehow, despite all of the sensations that were besieging her just then, this was precisely what she wanted, and she buried her face in his chest. Her storm of tears was intense, but it was mercifully brief, and finally, she could look up at him again, her breathing level.

"Are you all right? Sweetheart, I'm so sorry..."

"Are... are you sorry about what we did?" she asked hesitantly, and she was relieved when he shook his head.

"Never. As long as you enjoyed it, as long as I did not make a muck of it, I will never be sorry about it. But I hurt you, and that was the last thing I wanted."

He paused. "Bedelia, why didn't you tell me that you were a virgin?"

She refused to blush, not over something so silly. She utterly refused.

"Because I'm twenty-four years old," Bedelia said with as much dignity as she could muster. "I'm a late bloomer, all right? Other people lost their virginities years ago, and yet here's me. Silly and foolish and ridiculous and..."

She came to a stop when he pressed his finger over her lips.

"No," he said firmly. "You will not speak of yourself like that again while I am here, while you are in my arms. You are none of those things, and if anyone ever told you that you were, they are fools and worse."

She felt something warm inside her that had nothing to do with pleasure or sex. She started to say something, but he got up, pulling her with him. For the first time, she felt truly conscious of the fact that he was clothed and she was utterly naked. Instead of embarrassing her, some part of her liked the contrast, liked it a great deal.

"We should get in my car," he said, already leading her away, and for some reason, she couldn't allow that.

"No," she said, stopping in her tracks. He turned, looking at her as if she was crazy, and then she wrapped her arms around him, half-demanding and half-beseeching.

"No," she repeated. "We're not done here yet..."

This time, Bedelia was the one who tugged him down for the kiss. She was the one who slid her tongue between his lips, and she was the one who pressed her body against his. Somehow, the power had shifted again, and instead of feeling like some kind of shivering sacrifice, she was a goddess in her own right, come to take the man she had chosen for her own. This night, and every night that came after it, she would choose this man, and she would never have any regrets over it.

"You're sore, I hurt you," he protested, but she shook her head.

"I don't care," Bedelia murmured intently. "I want you, and I need you... Please, Jahin..."

It was the “please” that did it. She could tell. When she said that word, a shiver ran through him, and his arms came up around her, crushing her to him.

"Heaven help me, I couldn't stop now if I tried..." he swore, and then he was leading her back to the bench. This time, though, he paused to strip his clothes off until he was as barefoot and naked as she was. She only had a moment to admire his beauty, however, because then he was lying down on the bench, bringing her close.

"I want you on top," he murmured. "I want you in control of things. If it is too much, stop, get off, do what you need to do."

"And if it is not too much?" she asked imperiously, and she was answered with a wolf-like grin.

"Then you show me how well you can ride," he said, and her heart started beating faster.

He guided her onto his body, showing her how to straddle his hips. For a few moments, she was fascinated at the feeling of rocking her still warm and aroused flesh over the hard column of his manhood, feeling how much he wanted her, how very hot it was, but when he groaned, she knew he couldn't wait any longer. If she was honest, neither could she.

With a trembling hand, she reached down beneath her to position him correctly. She could feel the tip of his manhood at her entrance again, and her body shivered at the memory of the sharp pain. Then her need and his reasserted itself, and taking a deep breath, she slid down on him completely.

Their cries mingled in the night, but this time, there was no pain. Instead, there was only a feeling of fullness, a kind of pleasure that seemed to take her over and make her eyes open wide.

"Bedelia? Bedelia, are you all right?"

"Yes, yes," she whispered. "Oh Jahin..."

"Try moving," he suggested, and from the strained sound of his voice, she knew he was teetering on the edge but wanted her pleasure more.

Tentatively, she raised herself a bit and then lowered herself again, feeling a pleasure that was similar to the one she had experienced earlier with his mouth on her. When she repeated the motion again, more surely and more firmly, she whimpered a little at how good it felt.

"You feel like heaven," he groaned, but she couldn't reply because she was experimenting, rising up and sinking down, rocking forward and back and then side to side. It was as if her body was capable of things that she had never imagined before, as if there were colors she had never seen before, and now she wanted nothing more than to gorge herself.

Bedelia could feel the swells of pleasure rising up in her again, deep and enduring, but Jahin's needs were sharper. She could actually feel the moment when his control snapped, and his hands came up to grip hard at her hips.

One moment, he was letting her play, and the next he was using his awe-inspiring strength to simply lift and lower her down on him even as he thrust up into her.

"Oh! Oh my goodness, Jahin, please, please more," she cried, and whether he heard her or he was simply obeying the demands of his own body, he started to surge up into her with even more power, with even more need. The pleasure was sharper now that he was moving so powerfully, and before she knew it, she was shaking and trembling again, fisting her hands on his chest and crying his name over and over again.

Just when the pleasure broke over her, she felt him stop short and grip her even tighter, burying himself as deeply as he could in her body as he found his own release there.

Their cries spiraled up into the night sky, slowing and quieting before disappearing entirely. Bedelia felt as if she had been entirely wrung out. Every part of her buzzed with pleasure, and all she could do was pull away gingerly just enough to pull them apart, and then collapse on Jahin's chest.

"I can feel your heartbeat," she murmured with a smile, and he chuckled as he stroked her dark hair.

"I can feel yours," he replied. "Bedelia...are you all right?"

"I feel amazing," she answered honestly. "Just...very tired."

"We probably ought not stay out here," he said reluctantly. "Can I convince you to come to my car with me?"

"Are you going to give me a ride home?" she asked, trying to conceal her sudden disappointment at the idea. She knew this wasn't a fairytale. She knew that men like Sheikh Jahin didn't have more than one night stands with her. Somehow, though, it still hurt.

"I am not, actually," he said with a grin. "If you want a ride to your place, I'll call you a cab. However, if you want to come with me... Well, my family's townhouse is quite a bit closer, and we can shower, get some sleep, and perhaps order something good for breakfast in the morning."

Bedelia had never had anything like a poker face. She knew she beamed at him like the sun even as she nodded. She knew better than to think that this was anything real, but perhaps for a little while, she could have a fairytale.

"I would like that very much indeed," she murmured, and he grinned at her.

"Good. Now let's see if we can make sure that we take every piece of clothing that we came here with, or we're going to look like fools for my chauffeur..."

***

HOURS LATER, JAHIN looked down at the girl sleeping so soundly and so trustingly in his bed. Who would have thought that he would have come back from a festival with someone like her?

There was something strange about the entire night, and if Jahin believed in fate, he would be a very nervous man indeed. What were the chances of running into the very same girl first at the horse fair and then at the festival a week later? Was there something that would explain the power of his attraction to her?

If he let his mind wander, it would settle uneasily on how he had come down between her legs, pushing deep inside her as if he was some kind of barbarian lord and she his prize. It was still altogether too clear in his mind's eye how she had flinched and looked up at him with those great, wounded green eyes. He had even touched her before, noted how tight she was and how new to pleasure she had seemed.

In the old days, if he had taken her virginity like that, they would have been married. She might have been the most junior of his wives, and she might have been only a simple peasant girl before, but she would enjoy all the rights and privileges that were bestowed upon a woman worthy of the sheikh's attention.

Now...

Jahin felt a pang go through him.

He had been concerned with his emirate's affairs for a very long time, but that hardly meant that he had been a celibate monk. There had been a parade of women through his bed at one point or another...beautiful, assured women who would take what he gave them and satisfy themselves with his wealth, or his good looks and prowess in the bedroom. When they had parted, it had always been mutual, a game played out to the satisfaction of both parties.

However, much as she was proving to be different from any woman he had ever met before, Bedelia was proving to be different in this way as well. She was sweet and lovely with a smile that could light up the world, but the truth was that the change was happening inside him. He couldn't imagine that a woman as innocent as Bedelia would simply smile and leave. He had seen the light in her eyes, though, and he wondered if there was a part of him that would be broken if she did.

What a strange position I have found myself in, he mused.

He wasn't sure there was space in his life for someone as sweet and innocent as Bedelia, to say nothing of that stubborn streak that seemed to run through her like a river. Still, there was something about her that called to him, that made him want to give her the fantasies and the stories that she craved.

Jahin shook his head. His emirate was no storybook land, as beautiful and as wild as it was, and he was certainly no storybook prince. This was the real world that she was living in, and if he were smart, he would have disabused her of any romantic notions that she had as soon as he could.

However...

However, he wanted to make love to her in the morning. He wanted to give her a proper breakfast, and perhaps let her try his Turkish coffee, if only to see the face that she would make. He wanted all of that, and he could have none of it if he sent her away.

So she would stay. For a little while. Jahin resolved to be very clear with her about what she could expect and what he would offer to her.

He looked down at her sleeping face and traced the soft curve of her cheek with one gentle finger. And when she smiled in her sleep, he couldn't help but smile in return.

Chapter Seven

The moment she woke up, snuggled safe in Jahin's arms and blinking blearily at the pale morning light, Bedelia knew she had made a terrible mistake.

Oh my goodness, what have I done?

This was wrong. This was all wrong. This wasn't where she was supposed to be. This wasn't the place for her. She knew who she was, and she wasn't a person who threw everything over for a night of passion. This felt like a fairytale, and she knew that no matter how much she craved one, this wasn't where she would find it.

She glanced at Jahin's sleeping face, and she had to resist an urge to touch it.

No. I can't let this happen.

Keeping her panic in check, she slowly inched out from under his arm. At the last moment, he grumbled in his sleep, dragging her close to him again, and she had to start over. This time, it was even harder for Bedelia because she could feel how warm his bare flesh was against hers, and how his body was becoming aware of her naked presence, even if he was still asleep.

No, this man is more of a temptation than anyone has any right to be.

When she finally made it into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, Bedelia felt her mind clear, and she could think at least a little.

This is just going to get my heart broken, was her first thought. It seemed inevitable. She would never be more than a brief affair for Jahin, and that might break her in a way from which she would never recover. She knew herself too well, and she was far from worldly. There would never be a place where she could be happy with this.

I need to be smart and end this, she decided.

She had thought she would at least get some relief when she had made a decision, but apparently that was not meant to be. Instead, she felt worse. She shook her head. It was too much, and of course there was the fact that he was her first, and she hadn't even gotten around to freaking out about that yet.

She had always wanted her first time to be special, and when she thought about it, that had been fulfilled and then some. Having her first experience with the physical realities of love take place on a high terrace with a man like Jahin? That was the stuff dreams were made of. Apparently, she had just forgotten to specify that her first time should also be with a man who would stay. The thought of Jahin leaving created such a tearing sensation in her heart that she couldn't bear it. She had to do something else, and she made herself get in the shower.

The moment the hot water hit her, she felt a little better, a little less frozen, a little more as if she could think about what was happening to her.

She knew what she wanted. She wasn't going to get it.

So then, what did she need to do from here?

I don't want to be strung along and toyed with. I don't want to pretend that this is some kind of romantic thing when I know it's not. I can't be the untried and inexperienced girl that he holds in contempt.

That was a part of it, she had to admit. She could never stand for people to laugh at her. She had had too many people who pretended to be friends, only to reveal a little later on that they were nothing of the sort. She didn't want Jahin to pretend to be sweet and romantic with her when the truth was a much different thing. She couldn't bear it.

I want nothing but the truth, she decided. No matter what that looks like.

It might not have been an amazing solution, but it was the solution that she had. When she had so few bargaining chips, she had to be very clear about things...

Bedelia's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening. She jumped a little, but through the shower stall’s steam-fogged glass, she could recognize Jahin's shape. She caught her breath when she saw him strip out of his clothes, and by the time he reached the shower door, sliding it back just enough to ease in with her, she was achingly aware of his nudity.

"You're so beautiful," she blurted out, and he looked down at her, his copper eyes wide for a moment before he chuckled.

"I climbed in here to seduce you," he said with a smile. "I hadn't thought that you would be the one trying to seduce me."

Bedelia blushed, and it wasn't just because of the heat of the water streaming down over them.

"I'm afraid you are going to have to take what you can get," she said with dignity. "I do not have many skills when it comes to seduction, and this is the best I can do."

"Oh, I beg to differ," he said with a smirk. "I think your seduction skills are superb."

She couldn't stop herself from laughing at his patently ridiculous sentence.

"Do you really expect me to think that you are a man who is seduced by a line about how beautiful he is?" she mocked. "I know I'm just a little hick from Iowa, but come on!"

Those copper eyes darkened, and she shivered, because by now, she knew what that meant.

"No, it's true," he purred. "Our disagreement seems to come from the fact that you think that it is only words that seduce."

Bedelia looked at him, baffled but amused. "Really? Are you saying that I am calling to you with my thoughts or something, like some kind of psychic vampire?"

"What a strange woman you are," he marveled. "Here we are, naked in the shower, and you have no idea how appealing you are."

He moved so fast that suddenly he was pressing her back against the glass, his body warm and alive and so good against hers that she whimpered.

"All of you seduces me," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "All of you. Your hair. Your eyes. The roundness of your shoulders and the sway of your breasts. Your waist and hips and thighs that seem to call to my hands. And the looks you give me, woman. The looks could tempt a holy man to the worst kind of sins. You don't even know you are doing it, and that could drive me insane. Except..."

"Except?" she asked, her throat suddenly dry.

"Except for the fact that I know I can drive you just as crazy."

This was what she was afraid of. This was the thing that frightened her. She craved him so much, and it wasn't just his body. It was all of him, the sweet words he could say without really meaning them, the heat that he promised her that would only leave her cold in the not-so-distant future. She had to be on her guard, but god, that was so difficult.

In a matter of seconds, her hands were pinned above her head, and he was kissing her slowly and with all the time in the world. His free hand, the one that was not trapping her flat against the glass, was exploring her body, lazily roving from shoulder to breast, to belly to thigh and back up again. He moved as if he had all the time in the world, as if the rest of the world would simply wait for him until he had what he wanted.

"Your body is a treasure," he murmured, and she would have assumed that he was laughing at her, making some kind of joke, but then she realized that there was nothing but sincerity. There was a kind of worshipfulness that was so total and so enamored that she would have to be blind to deny it.

"I...I am glad you like it," she said. "It gets me where I need to go..."

She might have said more, but then he dipped his head down and kissed the side of her neck. She could feel the sharp edge of his teeth, but he was so gentle with her that she shivered. The water was warm, but it was no match for the heat of his kiss, the way it trailed down to her breast before he took one brown nipple between his teeth.

"Oh goodness..."

She could feel how very sharp his teeth were against that oh-so-tender flesh, but the risk only made fireworks go off through her body. Her hips bucked up when he bit down gently, and he chuckled.

Instead of saying anything, however, he simply slid his hand up her thighs, nudging them apart until he had clearance to exactly what he wanted. There was something terribly intimate about standing like that in front of him, but she couldn't bear to try to shield herself, not when he stroked her most intimate flesh with such an assured touch. She gasped when he slid a finger inside her, but he pulled it away again just as quickly. She realized he was testing her readiness, and the thought made a deep shiver run throughout her body. His thumb rubbed languid circles over her clit, making her shudder and thrash again, but he refused to hurry. Once or twice, he slid a finger down inside her again, but he must have been displeased with what he found because he only returned to rub her clit over and over again.

It felt like there were half a dozen urges fighting inside her. On one hand, her body yearned for the release that she knew he and he alone could give her. Then he slid a finger inside her, and she knew that she wanted nothing more than to be filled up with him, to bring him as close as she could be to another human being. Then she remembered the way his hand held her pinned against the glass, and all she wanted to do was to be released so that she could touch him.

It was nothing less than a full-out assault on her senses, and she had just managed to piece a sentence together when he made electric sparks shoot through her, destroying any sense that she might have been trying to make.

She was just on the verge of spilling over, helpless and wailing, when he pressed his lips against her ear. For a moment, he was content to mouth at her lobe and nibble on the tip, but then he spoke.

“This is perfect,” he growled, his voice low and nearly guttural. “This is mine.”

She could barely speak when those words sunk in. They lit a kind of passion inside her, and without thinking of what she looked or sounded like, she couldn't resist trying to press her body against his.

“Please, I need you,” she whimpered. “Please don't deny me.”

He froze as if he had been struck by lightning, and then he moved so fast that he took her breath away. He dropped her hands, and his hands came down to cup her rear lovingly, lifting her straight up off the ground. For a moment, there was a sensation of terrifying weightlessness and then her back pressed against the glass behind her and her legs clamped firmly around his hips.

“I'm going to fall,” she cried out in panic, but his chuckle was supremely confident.

“No, you're not. I won't let you, I promise.”

She might have protested longer. She had never been one of those light-as-a-feather girls who could be tossed around with ease. But then she felt the tip of his manhood pressed against her entrance, and she lost all ability to fight. All Bedelia wanted just then was to have him fully sheathed inside her, or she thought she would go mad with the lack.

“Please, please,” she murmured, and it seemed as if Jahin knew exactly what it was that she craved. He entered her with one strong stroke, filling her completely and making her cry out with the perfection of it. There must have been an edge to her voice, however, because he froze.

“Bedelia?” he asked softly. “Are you all right?”

She could have sobbed in frustration. Her hands fisted on his shoulders, and she buried her face in his chest.

“Move, please, move, I need you,” she gasped, and with a fierce smile, he did as she said.

There was nothing hurried about this at all, nothing frenzied or out of control. His grip on her body remained firm and rock-steady, and all she had to do was feel the sensations that rolled over her body like a tide. She was held safely in his arms, and all she had to do was enjoy the sensations that he was offering her. There was something deep and beautifully abiding about his movements, about the way he slid in and out of her. It was primal, it was the most natural thing she had ever felt, and it was all she wanted forever.

The intensity of being joined with him was so good that she almost didn't notice the pleasure that rose up within her. This flame built up steadily like a carefully tended bonfire, but in a surprisingly short time, it was too powerful to ignore. Bedelia could feel her body start to shake, and she tried to resist it. What she had with Jahin in this moment felt so good that she couldn't bear to let it go, especially when it might be the last time it happened. She tried to push off her pleasure for as long as she could, but after a few moments, Bedelia knew it could not be denied.

Pleasure started to pulse through her body, as inexorable as the tide, and she dug her nails into his shoulders, her eyes squeezed tight. When the cascade of sensations started, all she could do was hold on tight, groaning through gritted teeth as she allowed it to take every part of her. The fire spread slowly and then more rapidly, and finally she was consumed in the flames, helpless to stop the pleasure that she was being given.

Bedelia cried out with her pleasure, unable to keep quiet, and when she was at the peak of her climax, she felt Jahin start to shudder as well, his body slamming into hers with thrusts that were less controlled, more wild, more unconstrained. Somehow, that made it better. He wasn't lying when he said she could drive him wild, because she could feel the proof of it right now. She could feel how much he needed the release that she was giving him, and a part of her thrilled at forcing this reaction out of him.

The sensations ebbed from her body slowly. It felt like it took an age for her to catch her breath and return to any kind of real awareness. Slowly, Bedelia came down from her summit of pleasure, and realizations started trickling back in. She was briefly surprised by the fact that there was still water coming down around them, that her legs, aching slightly now, were still locked around Jahin's hips.

He glanced up at her and grinned, and slowly, carefully, he set her down on the ground.

“Well, that was one heck of a shower,” she said, her voice hoarse and rusty. “Shall we get out?”

“Well, I haven't had mine yet,” he said practically, and with a grin, she reached for the soap.

Running the lather all over his body wasn't the same kind of pleasure as being taken against the shower wall, but there was something calm and quiet about it that made her feel surprisingly, blessedly whole.

Which was why this needed to stop as soon as they got out of the shower.

Chapter Eight

When he stepped out from under the shower, drying Bedelia gently with one of the big, fluffy white towels before he dried himself, Jahin's mind was buzzing. There were a dozen thoughts that clamored for his attention, but at the very top was one that he could not deny.

I do not want to lose this.

Last night, he had told himself that he wanted this for a short time, both to protect her and to make sure that his life stayed free of complications. Now, in the light of morning, after a bout of passion that he couldn't even believe, things looked a little different.

He couldn't marry her. When he married, it would be for position and power, to someone who would carry out his name and legacy with a full understanding of what history and tradition had come before. There was no foreigner who could understand that.

No, marriage was off the table, but perhaps...perhaps other things weren't. There might be years yet before he had to get married, and there could be so much pleasure, so much fun...so much passion.

Jahin didn't think of himself as a passionate man, not really. He did his duty, and he had his fun when he was able to do so, but at the end of the day, he did what was required of him.

For the first time, Bedelia was making him question all of that. She made him feel as if he was flying, as if everything was brighter, more beautiful. He didn't want to let that go. He couldn't.

That was why it was such a surprise and an unpleasant shock when she turned to him brightly at breakfast, a sweet smile on her face, and said, “I think, when it comes to one-night stands, that we've had the best one in the world.”

Jahin had to do a double-take and look at her closely. At first, he thought she must be joking, but under her smile, he could see she was perfectly serious.

“One night stand?”

“Of course,” she said, tilting her head. “Um, is that not a term you know? It means...”

“I know what it means,” he said, more snappish than he would have liked. “I just want to know what you mean by it.”

She looked taken aback by his sharpness, casting around her for a moment.

“I mean...last night was amazing and wonderful, and I do not think I could have asked for anyone better when it came to my first time,” she said cautiously. “I just...I just know that we're really not made for the long-haul, that's all, and um, that's fine.”

It didn't matter how gentle her words were. There was still something about them that stabbed him straight through the heart. How could the girl who had sighed in his arms last night, who had clung to him this morning, speak so baldly of their passion, as if it was nothing more meaningful than a coffee date?

“I did not know that's how you felt about things,” he said, frowning.

She shrugged, looking down at the food in front of her. He had ordered them up a bag of breakfast pastries, something that had delighted her when she saw them.

“Practically, I think that's how we have to feel about things,” she said. “I...I wasn't joking when I told you about what I want. The fairytale, the romance, all of that. If we keep this up...well, I think that will go badly for both of us. Or at least for me.”

She slid him a grin that was only slightly crooked. “I don't think you can really fault me for wanting to protect myself, can you?”

He couldn't, but his mind was working furiously. There were words that were on the tip of his tongue...about how he had never known the kind of passion she had given him, how they had something special that should not be denied. But he pushed them away. She would think they were manipulations, or worse, perhaps she would think they were sincere but mock him for them. He did not think he could bear that.

“I want you to protect yourself,” he said, his voice level. “But I think you are forgetting something.”

She looked at him, suddenly wary. “And what am I forgetting, Jahin?”

Even his name in her mouth sent a sensual shiver through him. Before, it had given him a thrill and made him want to sweep her up into his arms. Now he wondered whether she would take advantage of it, whether she would find him contemptuous or laughable. What did one say to a one night stand that had gotten too clingy, after all?

When he spoke again, his voice was short and clipped. “You are forgetting that I am the sheikh of Muneazil, and the fact that you stand in this emirate is because of my grace and my grace alone. If I wished, I could have you barred from my borders, and if I spoke to the right people, from the UAE as well.”

He felt no pride or justification when her face went pale. There was not even a whisper of satisfaction there, but he went on anyway.

“And I think you have also forgotten how easy I could make it for you.”

“Easy?” she asked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Last night, you went to the citadel with me, and you saw it as few ever do. It is an amazing place, isn't it? Valuable for your work and for your job? I hazard that you found it quite enjoyable and exciting as well, what we did all aside.”

She still looked a little taken aback as she nodded slowly. The look she was giving him was cautious, but there was definitely something curious about it as well. “Yes, and I have to say that what we did was quite enjoyable and exciting, too. What are you getting at?”

“I think I am in a place to make your job much easier and much more interesting than it might be. If I wish, I could show you all of the odd and beautiful corners of this country, and believe me, I know them all. You will never have a better guide or a better opportunity to see the ancient and modern beauty of this place.”

She nodded. There was a hint of suspicion in her eyes still, but he could also see the longing there. He might not have known Bedelia long, but he knew very well that there was a curious streak in her a mile wide. Still, though, she was cautious.

“And what exactly would I have to give you for this amazing experience?”

“Your body,” he said, and he took a certain amount of satisfaction in the way her green eyes widened.

“I...beg your pardon?”

“Don't play innocent,” he said casually. “You may be new to what a man and woman's bodies can do together, but that doesn't mean that you are ignorant of what happened between us last night. And this morning.”

“It was amazing,” she admitted, and he nodded.

“Exactly so. That pleasure is something that few people ever really experience, and it is not one that I am willing to let go of so easily. So. Here is my proposal. You stay with me for as long as you want, giving me...giving both of us what we had last night. As long as you are with me, I will show you Muneazil as very few locals even get to see it. Your client will be pleased, you will have the adventure that you have been craving, and we will both have our fill of this thing between us.”

“This thing between us... It sounds so cold when you say it like that,” she murmured softly, and he shrugged, even if it sounded cold to him as well. This was the way things had to be, and he did not regret it, not if it would put her into his arms one more time.

“You can think about this if you want to,” he offered. “I do not want you to make a decision that you might later regret.”

Even as he said it, however, she was shaking her head and rising from the table. For a moment, he thought he had offended her so badly that now she was going to leave. For some reason, his heart was pounding as she approached him.

“No, I don't need a few moments to think about this,” she said, sounding soft and almost shy as she came to stand in front of him.

He was suddenly aware, in a way he hadn't been before, that she was standing in front of him wearing nothing but a thin white silk robe. Jahin's mouth was suddenly dry, and he couldn't take his eyes away from the deep V of the robe where it stopped between her breasts.

“Then you have your decision?” he asked, and he might have wondered why his voice sounded so hushed when she came close to him.

“I do,” she said. “I accept.”

He started to say that this was very wise of her, but then she bent down, her small hands on his shoulders, her glorious brown hair falling around her face. When she reached down to brush her lips against his, he could feel fireworks go off in his brain, and then, instinctively, he pulled her onto his body so that she was straddling his lap.

“I don't want to make you do anything that you don't want to do,” he said, his voice strained, and the look she gave him was frankly impish.

“You won't,” she said softly. “I don't know you that well, but I know that you wouldn't do something like that. However, I want to make sure that you will give me what I want...”

There was something so sensual, so womanly about her response, that he thought he would die if he could not kiss her right then. When her mouth came down over his, when he slid his tongue into her mouth for her to suckle on it, he felt as if he were flying, or falling, or perhaps with this fairytale girl, there was no difference between the two.

***

AS MUCH AS they might have wished to do so, there was no way that they could simply stay in the townhouse and do as they pleased. The festival was still going on, and would continue going on for the next few days, but Jahin needed to get back to the capital, and of course that meant Bedelia would go with him.

He promised her that he would take her to see the sights in just a few days, and with a regretful kiss, sent her back to her hostel to gather her things.

The man who drove her over to the hostel, carefully maneuvering through the streets full of revelers, was pointedly polite and discreet about it, and of course that gave her far too much time to think about what was happening to her.

Is this it? Bedelia found herself wondering. Is this how I utterly lose my mind?

She knew how insane this all was. Not an hour before she had made the decision that this man, this situation, and perhaps even Muneazil, were dangerous to her. There was already too much of her heart invested here, too much of herself that she had given over. She was still spinning from what they had done on the citadel’s terrace, and if she was going to be any kind of logical human being, she would stop and think about things. She would consider what her feelings were, and then, most likely, she would lock them away, because this was too much.

And yet.

She couldn't stop herself. When Jahin had looked into her eyes and made his offer, it had become astonishingly clear that she was going to go with him. She was going to follow him, and she was absolutely, beyond a doubt, going to give him what they both craved.

Was this what a fairytale really felt like, she wondered. Did girls get dumped into strange and foreign situations, ending up overwhelmed and in over their heads? Were they swept along at what felt like the speed of light, barely able to keep on top of things? If she thought about the fairytales she knew, things weren't really happy and safe until the end, and right now, she did not have any idea at all how this was going to end, not even a little bit.

Back at the hostel, she quickly packed up her meager belongings, aware of the fact that the chauffeur was waiting on her. She knew that a truly cultured and wealthy woman would be aware that he was getting paid the same either way. She was herself, however, and never wanted to make people wait.

Even in her hurry, however, she was stopped by the little wooden figurine with red and white flowers in her hands. The figurine looked up at her with its hopeful, secret smile as if telling her that it was not all so bad, that if she simply took heart, things would be sure to work out. Red and white flowers, that meant that her lover had returned to her.

For a moment, Bedelia looked at the little figurine, and then she closed her hands over it, feeling the smooth surface tight between her palms.

“I hope you know what you are doing,” she murmured, but she didn't even know who she was speaking to.

Chapter Nine

“I really hope you know what you are doing,” Bedelia murmured as Jahin kicked the black into a canter, and he laughed softly in her ear, his breath warm. It sent a delicious shiver down her back, but that was decidedly the last thing she wanted to be focused on when she was this high off of the ground.

“Of course I know what I am doing,” he said with utmost confidence. “Trust me. You are going to love this.”

Bedelia supposed that her mistake had been telling Jahin that she had never been on a horse. For a man who had been riding since he could walk, this was apparently criminal, and the very next day, they’d taken a small plane to the very north of the emirate, where the horses of the Abdul Kattan family had historically been reared.

When Jahin had talked about the stables, she had imagined something like what she had seen once in Kentucky, a place of rolling green hills and white fences. However, when the plane landed and Jahin came out to greet the stable master, she was struck by the barren nature of the place. There was a desolate beauty to all of it, but it was still Muneazil, with desert scrub land all about, and to the north, dark mountains that bit into the darkening sky.

She had thought they were going to spend the night at the small manor house that Jahin kept here for the nights he wanted to stay close to his herds. He led her up towards the house and showed her a closet full of clothes that she recognized immediately as women's clothing.

“No need to worry about a headscarf out here, but there are clothes here that will help you do a little better when it comes to riding. The long sleeves and split skirts will protect you, and there should be something in your size.”

“Where did these clothes come from?” she asked, and she knew that she had not been successful at hiding the hint of jealousy in her voice because Jahin smiled at her slightly.

“They are remnants from my mother and grandmother and some of my female cousins. They are certainly not going to begrudge you as they have traded these clothes back and forth for years. Don't worry about it.”

That comforted her a little, though she could not imagine him telling her baldly that the clothes had been left by previous lovers. Sometimes, she caught hints of thoughts like that sliding into her mind, but right now, the prospect of an adventure was too much for her to resist.

Alone in the small room, she went through the clothing, looking for ones that would fit. A set of loose trousers with legs so wide that they looked like a skirt was easy enough, but she seemed to be bustier on top than the women who had stayed at the manor previously. Finally, she found a loose shirt that laced up the front, giving her both coverage and a surprisingly curvy shape in the mirror. She made a face. Well, he had said that there was no need to stand on formality while they were out in the country, so she was going to take him at his word.

She walked back down to the door with him, but before she could say anything to him at all, she caught his shocked expression.

“Um, should I go back and change? Did I do anything wrong?”

He blinked at her a few times as if he needed to figure out what she was actually saying, and then shook his head.

“No...nothing wrong at all. It is only... My goodness, woman. You have no idea how you look, do you?”

She felt a dull, hot blush rise up on her cheeks, and she crossed her arms in front of her, frowning at him.

“You told me I was fine and that there wasn't going to be a problem,” she said. “If there was actually going to be an issue, you should have told me--”

To her surprise, however, he swept her up into his arms, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

“Jahin!”

“You look amazing,” he said softly. “I wish I could keep you like this all the time, or perhaps even a little more bare. Unfortunately, that's not something I can do, so I am simply going to enjoy this while I can.”

She felt the heat rush to her face again, but this time, it was for an entirely different reason. “Oh...”

“Oh indeed,” he said with a grin. “But come on, there's someone that's been waiting for us.”

Instead of leading her over to the stables, Jahin took her over to a fence, which seemed to border a wide open area so large that she couldn't see the end of it. When she remarked on the barrenness of the space, Jahin gave her a grin.

“We do not really believe in coddling our horses here,” he said. “They get the best treatment, but my family has always found that giving them the most freedom creates the bravest and most spectacular mounts.”

She knew that Miller would be thrilled to learn this about Muneazil and the way they reared their horses, but in that moment, she also knew she could not share it with him. This felt like something special, something that existed between her and Jahin.

As she watched, he stepped up to the fence and whistled, a high and piercing sound that slid up and down on a scale she couldn't quite pin down. For a moment, nothing happened, and then with a rumble, a small herd of horses thundered towards them across the twilight plain. They were gorgeous animals, tall and deep-chested, all with an intelligence in their dark eyes that took Bedelia's breath away. In that moment, she truly believed what Jahin said, and understood it in a way that she hadn't before. She could see where the freedom made them better, stronger, smarter, and in that moment, she adored Jahin a little more for it, too.

It only took a moment before the black pushed himself forward, shouldering the other horses aside to receive his share of treats and pets.

“Do you remember this one?” Jahin asked. “It looks like he remembers you.”

The horse that she had seen Jahin wrestle under control at the horse fair seemed even larger as it swung its head towards her. Instead of the fear and pain it had been showing that day, there was nothing but calm curiosity in its eyes now as it nuzzled Bedelia's hesitant hand.

“Are we really going to go riding?” she asked. “I thought it was dangerous to go riding at night, and it's getting dark so fast.”

“It's dangerous to go at a full-out gallop,” Jahin said dismissively. “But we're simply taking a little night ride, nothing dangerous about it.”

He had pulled the black through the gate and saddled it rapidly as Bedelia watched in fascination. This was another task she had always imagined the rich would delegate, but Jahin seemed content and comfortable with it. The more she watched him, the more of a sense she seemed to get for the kind of man that he was. He was a man who would calm a frightened horse rather than dismiss it out of hand. Of course he would see to his own horses and his own tack.

After the black was saddled, he boosted Bedelia up onto a horse that seemed suddenly even taller than it had from the ground. She didn't have a moment to panic, however, because Jahin leaped up behind her, his arms around her to grasp the reins and his thighs settled right behind hers.

“This is cozier than I thought it would be,” she murmured, and she heard him laugh softly.

“Do you dislike it?”

“Not at all,” she murmured.

Walking was fine, and she had almost gotten used to the bumpy motion when with a click of his tongue and squeeze of his knees, Jahin urged the black forward into a trot, and then a canter.

He was right, though...she did love this. She had never been on a horse before, but very quickly, she learned to move her body with his, to anticipate the horse's movements as well as the man's, and to work with both.

She was lost in the motion of the black and the feel of Jahin behind her, and she almost didn't notice the way the sky was shading to blue and then to black. Soon enough, though, the moon rose, full and bright, and there was plenty of light to see by.

Far above, a riot of stars lit their way, and when Jahin pulled the black to a stop, she settled back in his arms to stare up at them.

“This is amazing,” she murmured. “I don't know if I've ever seen stars this bright.”

“Once upon a time,” Jahin said, “these were the stars that everyone saw. You could look up into the sky at night and realize that you were seeing more or less the same thing as people all over the world.”

He slid off the black and pulled her down with him. As Bedelia watched, mystified, he pulled a thick blanket from the saddle bag. He hobbled the black and left it grazing contentedly on a patch of scrub grass, then led Bedelia a short distance away.

She helped him spread the blanket on the ground, and then she went to join him on top of it.

“Stargazing,” she said with a smile. “I love this, but I hadn't thought that it would be a thing you would enjoy at all.”

“And why is that?” he asked, amused. “Did you think I was too busy?”

“Too busy, too rich, used to rarer pleasures, I don't know. All I know is that I am so happy to be here with you. To be close to you. To see this sky with you.”

“As beautiful as it is, this is not what I brought you here for.”

“Oh?” she asked, her voice low and amused. “Though if you are implying what I think you are implying, I might honestly wish that you had brought along some more blankets.”

He stared at her in the dark for a moment, and then he laughed so loudly that the horse, several yards away, looked up, startled.

“Well, I certainly have to say that you are a woman of ideas,” he said with a chuckle, “and perhaps the next time we come out here, I will be sure to have a few more blankets, but that's not what I was thinking of before. Though perhaps you have the right idea...”

She started to ask what he meant, but then he pushed her down on her back, leaving her staring up at the night sky as he kissed her neck. She whimpered at the pleasure of his mouth on her skin, and he chuckled a little.

"Of all the things that I like about you, and the truth is that I like many things, perhaps one of my favorites is how easily and quickly you respond to pleasure," he said softly. "Do you have any idea how rare it is that you are able to simply offer up your pleasure to me?"

"I should imagine that it is the easiest thing in the world," she retorted. "I mean, as long as it is truly you. You can draw pleasure out of me as easily as I breathe..."

She gasped as he feathered breath over her shoulder, tugging down her tunic just enough to expose the sensitive skin there. She could feel where his kiss left her cold, and then how his hand came up to warm her after.

"No, not for me. Too many women...shall we say, hide their pleasure. They react too much to show me how responsive they are, or they keep their reaction from me because it would embarrass them to show off how much they want a thing. Simply letting me see your pleasure...that is wondrous and rare indeed."

She gave up on trying to argue with him because he had found a particularly sensitive spot on her ear. She was just closing her eyes to let him touch her like that, so gently and so sweetly, but then he pulled away a few inches.

"Look up into the sky," he murmured. "I actually did bring you out for a reason.”

"In all fairness, you are not making this easier for me," Bedelia complained, and he chuckled.

"Consider it a challenge," he said heartlessly. "Look up, little one. You'll see your reward soon enough."

With a soft sigh, she opened her eyes to look up into the deep velvet night. There was something perfect and wonderful about seeing something that had been the same for thousands of years, knowing that more or less she was seeing what had been seen so long ago. She knew she would be able to focus so much easier and so much more effectively if he would take his mouth away from her neck, but she couldn't stand for him to stop that either...

With an abrupt cry, Bedelia suddenly sat up, pointing into the sky.

"There!" she cried out, but the streak of light was gone.

"What did you see?" Jahin asked with a slight grin, and she smiled at him.

"A bright streak of light, brighter than stars, brighter than anything, falling to earth," she said excitedly. "That was amazing! I have never seen a shooting star before!"

Jahin laughed at her enthusiasm. "Even if you had, you would never have seen it the way you saw it tonight. Where we are, we are high above sea level in a place that is mostly untouched by air pollution. The stars here in this region of Muneazil are among the clearest and brightest in the world."

"It was very beautiful," she said, impressed and awed that Jahin had shared such a thing with her, and then he pointed up again.

She was shocked into silence when she saw another two stars falling, and then one more, and three after that.

She was too stunned even to yell when the stars kept falling, peppering the sky with streaks of golden light. She was too afraid to look at Jahin for fear that she would miss something, but she reached out blindly for his hand as they both lay back on the blankets. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed hers back immediately. In that moment, they didn't need words, not even a little. It didn't matter who had more money or who wanted this relationship to be a short term thing with no emotional strings. What was important was that they held each other's hands as they stared up into the sky.

Finally, the falling stars seemed to slow, and with a single star falling and none others following, Bedelia heaved a sigh.

"That was amazing," she breathed, and as she turned towards him, Jahin cupped her face in his hand and turned her for a kiss. She wondered if somewhere in the back of her head, she should have been insulted. This was the textbook example of what their time together was meant to be like. Experiences for her, her body for him, and yet somehow, despite everything that should have told her that such a deal was demeaning to say the least, she couldn't find it in her heart to care. Not when the man she wanted like she wanted the air and the stars above was kissing her, not when she snuggled next to his big warm body to fend off the cold.

"Perhaps next time when we come out here, we will bring a tent," he said, helping her to her feet. "I have never been a great one for camping, but I have an idea that I can cobble together a campsite for one night. We could watch the stars, listen to the quiet, use that quiet to do whatever it is we want..."

He gave her a look that made the color fly up to her cheeks again, and he laughed, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Far too easy, Miss Prim, " he teased. "I'll have to dial things back by quite a lot if you are going to be shy and nervous about everything..."

Bedelia wanted to challenge him, but she quickly realized that any words she might have to say were going to be far weaker than anything she could do.

With no warning at all, she hopped up to throw her arms around Jahin's neck, dragging him down for a deep kiss. He was surprised, but only for a moment. Then he wrapped his arms around her and started kissing her in return, his hands roving her body sensuously as he ravaged her mouth.

By the time he pulled back, he was looking at her in awe, and she was grinning at him.

"You are a menace," he told her softly. "You make me want to bend you over and see to you in a way that would leave you shouting your joy up to the stars..."

"Promises, promises," she teased him. "I happen to know for a fact that it is frigid out here, and that you are not going to do a single thing to me until we get back to the house near the stables."

Jahin raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, you might be right about that," he conceded, "but remember, little American beauty, it is a rather short ride back, and I will certainly remember everything that you say to me."

"Oh good," she sighed, and after a stunned moment, Jahin laughed out loud, dragging her into his arms.

"Heaven only knows how a woman like you was created," Jahin said with admiration.

Chapter Ten

It was perfect. It was nearly perfect.

The days passed, and though she did not see Jahin every single day, she saw him far more than she had any other person in the last few years.

Sometimes, business took him into the parliament house in the capital, and sometimes it took him into the elegant and impressive rooms in Dubai where deals were struck and allies made. Sometimes, he came back to the penthouse that became their base of operations in the capital of the province, and he would be grim and tired.

At first, Bedelia thought that more than anything else, he would want to be left alone when he was in that state. But soon enough, she realized she could soothe him, bring him out with gentle words and smiles until the care was erased from his brow.

There were plenty of days, however, where they were able to simply be with one another. He fulfilled his promise and took her to the beautiful and hidden spots of Muneazil, places where she would never have been allowed, places that she didn't even know existed. He took her to those places, he told her about them, and more often than not, he took her into his arms in a quiet corner and kissed her there.

"It's like you're giving me a kissing tour of Muneazil's most beautiful spots," she teased one night as they walked back to the car after exploring a gorgeous and ancient salt cave.

"No," he said, suddenly looking hard towards something to his right. "I am showing you to the history of my country."

"What?"

Of course, that was when he was saved by the bell. His phone went off, and there was something desperately urgent that he needed to attend to on the other line.

As he took care of it, however, Bedelia thought about his words. Why in the world would he want to show her off to the beautiful and sacred places of his people? What could it have meant?

She thought as they walked, but then when he got off the phone, there was another excursion to discuss, another event to consider, and she more or less forgot about the strange comment.

Perhaps of more pressing concern was the fact that he wanted to spend money on her. Not long after their excursion to the royal stables, he noticed how small her suitcase was.

"Is that truly all you have with you?" he asked, his voice so fascinated that she laughed.

"It's almost all I have in the world," she admitted. "I got rid of a lot of stuff before I moved. This is the bulk of what was left. I figured that whenever I got back stateside, I would start to rebuild my wardrobe."

"Well, that will hardly do," he said. "I am sending for a personal shopper to get you some clothing."

She started to protest, but he sent her a quelling look.

"This is not a place where you can argue with me," he said firmly. "Next week, I am hoping to take you to one of the ancient mosques. That means that you must be dressed respectfully and decently."

"All right," she relented, "but seriously, just make it a few pieces, all right? I don't like to be in anyone's debt."

She had thought that the conversation was over, but then he took her into his arms, making her look up into those gorgeous copper eyes.

"This isn't a matter of being in anyone's debt," he said gently. "Tell me, do you like having nice things?"

She frowned at him, because what kind of question was that?

"Sure, I do," she said cautiously.

"And I like buying nice things for you," he said firmly. “We are not negotiating here, not really. We are simply giving each other...what we want. That is all. Nothing more."

Well, it was only a few pieces of clothing, she decided, nothing to get too worried about.

Of course, she was very, very wrong.

The shopper came in with racks and racks of clothes, and some of those clothes were just for finding which things would fit her well. Then there were discussions of events and materials and fiber and wear, and by the end, Bedelia was so stunned that she had no idea what in the world she was signing up for.

"I...I don't know what you need to know," she said finally, and her personal shopper winked.

"You should leave it all up to me, my dear," she said. "After all, this is not going on your tab..."

Before Bedelia could wonder if that was some kind of strange dig or insult, the woman was off again, and Bedelia found out somewhat helplessly that she was someone who looked very good in warm colors.

"And of course, you always tend to look best in the colors that draw you in..."

"Copper," Bedelia said immediately. "Something really rich and bright."

While the woman was cooing over her good choice, Bedelia thought of Jahin's eyes. She felt a touch of defiance. If he was going to dress her, she might as well wear his colors like some lady in a blasted ballad.

He noticed her choice right away when she went to dinner in a copper dress that fell in beautiful silken folds to her calves. The shoes matched the belt, which matched the copper ornaments in her hair, and she found herself looking up at him with a slightly arrogant tilt to her chin.

"Well?" she asked daringly, and he grinned.

"Why, you look quite beautiful, my lady..."

He told her she looked beautiful frequently, but he also showed her how beautiful he thought she was. His touch in the night, his kisses, the nearly worshipful way he brought her to climax after climax...she could never doubt his attraction. Somehow, it began to quiet the voice in her head that shouted at her that this was all temporary and that it would all go away sooner than she would believe, and perhaps that was when she started to get into trouble.

They were in the capital, and he was off doing the work he did with the government, administering to his country. They’d had a late night the evening before, and he was going to be late getting home. Left to her own devices, she went prowling through the city streets.

Miller was getting antsy, and she knew precisely why. Before she had met Jahin, she’d put everything into the reports. Sometimes, he demanded such avid research and such a large amount of writing from her that she guessed he intended to use her work whole cloth afterward.

Lately, however, she had been leaving things out. She always did a fairly decent report of the places that people could go to, telling him about the layout, the people, the number of administrative personnel that were wandering around the place. However, when the spots became more personal, when Jahin took her to houses that his family owned or to a goat ranch on the border of the country in the mountains, she couldn't bring herself to give Miller the deep and intimate details that she knew he craved. It had all become much too personal, much too close to her. This was something that belonged to her and Jahin, and when Jahin forgot about her to look for the woman who would rule beside him, they would belong to her alone. There was something in her that refused to share it with Miller and with his readers, and she could tell from his increasingly short and irritated emails, he was noticing.

That night, as she walked along the bright streets of the ultra-modern capital, she was thinking of nothing more complicated than Miller's last email before a newspaper caught her eye.

There were still plenty of older people in the capital who would have a newspaper with their tea or coffee, and this small box was such a one. With trembling hands, she slotted in some coins to make the box buzz and open, and she was able to remove a newspaper from within. She felt as if she was handling something foul or dangerous, and she tucked herself into a nearby cafe before she started to read.

Her ability to read Arabic was indifferent, but with the help of her phone, she figured out that her suspicions were confirmed.

SHEIKH DISCOVERED COURTING DUBAI ROYAL, WEDDING BELLS IN THE FUTURE?

It was all too easy to remember the trip that she and Jahin had taken to Dubai just a week ago. He had been so busy there for awhile. They had only had a few days to see what they wanted to see. The rest of the time, he was out with the trade delegation, greasing palms and making sure the interests of Muneazil were represented. There were nights when he had stumbled in late, too tired for words, and she had simply cuddled up with him in bed.

Apparently one of the things that had tired him out was someone by the name of Princess Layla Marid, a tall and willowy beauty with eyes as dark as black honey and whose hair curled down almost to her hips in the picture that was presented.

The article said very little, but it hinted at a lot. The two had been friends since childhood, and they had spent a great deal of time at the trade summit talking with one another, chatting, laughing, and passing the time as old friends, and perhaps more. The article said they were always noted for their closely related goals, and wondered if there was a hint of royal romance in the air. If there was, the article implied, it would be perhaps the best royal match to be seen in the past few decades...

Bedelia let the newspaper drop out of her cold hands, and she stumbled back into the street. Everything before had looked brightly gorgeous, full of life and sound, and now it felt as if a pane of glass had dropped down between her and the rest of it. The world had turned surprisingly dull, and the sound was all far away. She didn't realize that her steps had taken her to the penthouse before she was in front of it, and numbly she went up the elevator to find that Jahin had come home unexpectedly early and was waiting for her.

"Hello beautiful," he said, dropping a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I am glad I caught you. If we move quickly, we have some time to get some lunch in, and..."

He stopped for a moment, looking at her closely. "Is there anything wrong?

There was a choice in front of her. For a moment, all she wanted to do was ignore the newspaper and cling to whatever fun and excitement that she and Jahin might have left. She also wanted to pointedly ignore him, to be cold and distant until he begged her to tell him what was wrong, to reduce him to groveling.

At the end of it, however, both choices sounded terrible to her. She had entered into this strange arrangement with honesty and integrity, and she would be darned if she let it go now.

"Who is Princess Layla Marid?" she asked, her voice hollow, and he tilted his head, looking at her in confusion.

"Layla? An old friend of mine. She and I attended Oxford together..."

"That's not the answer that I want," she said heatedly, and Jahin looked at her with surprise, a dark frown hovering on his face.

"And pray tell, what kind of answer do you want?" Under the reasonable tone of his voice, she heard something else there, something dark and almost dangerous. A part of her, a primal and female part, told her to tread carefully, but she surged on, heedless.

"I want the truth," she said, her voice tightly controlled. "I want to know all about your...your romance, and what it means for your emirate and about how you have known each other since you were children, and..."

She meant to keep going, but her voice broke in the middle of it. Suddenly, Bedelia felt utterly drained, even a little dizzy, and she sat down suddenly on the couch. For a moment, Jahin stood in front of her, and all she could see were his legs, but then he came to sit down next to her.

They were silent for almost a full minute. She could feel that his breath was synced to hers, and they simply breathed in time with one another. It felt almost like an undeserved closeness, something fragile and precious that was slipping through her fingers.

Then, just when she was certain that the next few words out of Jahin's mouth were going to be to tell her to pack her bags, he pulled her quietly into his arms.

"You're going to tell me what this is all about right now," he said softly. There was a gentleness to his voice that she had never heard before, but there was also something dire in it, something that wanted answers and wanted them right away.

"There was a newspaper article." Her voice was soft, but it was strong. If he thought he was going to get some kind of capitulation out of her, if he thought she was going crumble into tears, he was sadly mistaken.

"A newspaper article?"

"Yes. One with a picture of you and the princess looking very...very loving. When I read it, it had plenty to say about how you two have always had feelings for each other, and how wonderful an alliance between your houses would be, how you would benefit. It even talked about how you have always carried torches for each other, and now you could finally fulfill that."

Jahin's arms tightened around her. He rested his chin on the top of her head and was silent for a long moment.

When he spoke, his voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of strength there, something that would not be denied. "Darling, that article is conjecture and borderline libel."

"Jahin..."

"Listen to me now, please. I had to listen to you spout the most ridiculous nonsense for a few minutes there, and I expect to be repaid for that rather unpleasant experience." He smiled slightly to take the sting out of his words.

"Layla and I have been friends for a long time, off and on. It is more or less inevitable if you were raised the way that we were. We went to the same parties, we know the same people, and generally we have many of the same views.

"But that must have been a very slow news cycle if they trotted out the idea that Layla and I are looking to get together. Articles come out like that nearly every week or so, matching me with an eligible woman that I have been sighted with, matching her with anything male in the vicinity. It's a dead bore under the best of times, and irritating and frustrating most of the rest of the time."

"So it wasn't true?"

'I'm sure that some parts of it are true," Jahin said with a shrug. "We are friends, we care about each other a great deal. We support each other when we are on the same committees and delegations. I thin you would actually like her very much, and if you wished, I could certainly set up an arranged meeting for the two of you. But the gist of the article? That we might decide to take each other's hand in marriage? That is very false, and if you go back to look, I'll bet it was never said outright. Just sort of implied until you were certain that they must have said it."

When she thought about it, she could quickly see that Jahin had the right of it. There was very little in the article that pointed to a real match, and she sagged against him in relief. For one brief and shining moment, everything was all right. Everything was the way it had been.

Then reality intruded, and she knew that very little would be the same again.

"It wasn't true this time," she said softly, "but it will be at some point, won't it?"

He paused for a moment. "How do you mean?"

"I mean...at some point, you really will want to marry someone. Someone appropriate. Someone who may not be Layla, but will certainly be like her."

Jahin sighed, and instead of letting her go, he simply held her a little tighter. If she didn't know better, she would have believed that he was unwilling to let her go, upset and saddened at the idea, but that couldn't be right.

"Someday," he said finally. "Someday, I will be called to do my duty, and my duty is to marry and to produce an heir, just like it is my duty to lead my people in times of peace and war. Someday...this will all change, and it will...be something that we both have to deal with. Sometimes, life provides us with no easy options."

She twisted out of his arms to look at him. He must have seen the panic in her, because he reached out to run a finger, feather light, over her cheek.

"That is someday," he said quietly. "This is now. This is the now that I have wanted without ever knowing that I have wanted it, and it is one that I will keep for as long as I am able. This is what I have with you, and I do not want to lose it sooner than we have to."

On that, they both agreed, and she nodded reluctantly.

"You will likely see those articles in the future," he said. "In fact, I am a little surprised that you have not run into it before."

"And what should I do when I see them?" Bedelia asked, her voice quiet and level.

The smile he gave her was brilliant, small but honest and perfectly him. In this moment, it was as if his eyes lit up from inside with some kind of secret fire.

"When you see them, you should ignore them because you are an intelligent woman who knows better. Alternately...simply have faith in me. Have faith in the fact that I cherish you, and that I will not lie to you."

His words had comforted her at least a little, but that night as they lay in each other's arms, she wondered. Being cherished was different from being loved, she knew that.

Now that the thought had occurred to her, it refused to stop, and she wondered a little wildly when it would all end. How it would end.

Who he would move on to next.

***

AFTER BEDELIA’S UNFORTUNATE discovery of the newspaper, Jahin lay awake for a long time. He knew she did as well, but he could tell when she dropped off to sleep, uttering a sigh that was little more than a dry sob. Her sadness and confusion struck him like a hammer, but he had no idea what to do.

The truth was that she was right. At some point, the newspapers would be true when they talked about him with this princess or that duchess. He had been hearing the mutters for years about how it was time for him to wed, and now that he had turned thirty, they were getting louder.

A young man's taste for the bachelor life was one thing, but his elders had always said that people liked to see who was going to be running the country in years to come. Without a clear succession, there could be trouble, and with it came the vulture-like attentions of foreign competitors, and even other emirates. It was a duty his parents had been very careful to hammer into him before they died, and it was one he took to heart.

He knew they would not have approved of the length or depth of his affair with Bedelia, and looking down at the woman who slept next to him, he felt a deep stab of injustice at that. Bedelia, who looked at the world with courage and curiosity, who didn't have a cruel or malicious bone in her body, would have been looked down upon, and he had to stop his fists from curling in rage.

But...wasn't he the cruel one?

He was painfully aware that the only reason she was with him now was because he had offered to show her Muneazil as no foreigner ever saw it. Muneazil was a beautiful land, harsh and lovely by turns, and he had held it over her like a bargaining chip. He could still remember the look of shock on her face as she’d realized what he was demanding, and that twinge of guilt rose up a little further.

If he was going to be truly kind to her, if he was going to be truly a decent man, as he was raised to be, as he was told that he had to be, he would let her go.

He would wake up in the morning, tell her how sorry he was for all of this, and tell her that she was free to go, to walk his emirate and the UAE at large like any other tourist or researcher. Because the truth was, eventually, one day the headline would be true, and whether she loved him or not, she would be hurt. No one liked to be replaced, and that was exactly what was going to happen. In the most brutal and practical terms, one day he would have to marry someone suitable, and that person wouldn't be a little foreigner with no ties, no money, nothing but the biggest heart and the most breathtaking smile he had ever seen.

She whimpered a little in her sleep, and he realized somewhat guiltily that he had been hanging on to her tightly. He loosened his grip, but the truth was plain.

There was no way he could let her go before he absolutely had to. There was no way in the world that he was willing to let her go before she let go herself. The time that they had spent together...it was too important, and he knew that from this moment on, he had to cherish every moment that they did get together.

The word thudded in his mind and in his heart. Love. It was there, and it slept in his arms. Someday, perhaps someday very soon, there would be a reckoning, and that love would walk away from him.

Jahin had always thought that he was a strong man, but in the face of this pain, a part of him wanted to break down and howl. It could not face the possibility of losing her without a fight. It could not take the possibility that she would no longer be there.

He looked down at her sleeping face, a faint frown on her brow. He gently touched her face, and the frown smoothed out to a soft smile, possibly the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

"Forgive me, beautiful one," he whispered. "I do not wish to let you go..."

Chapter Eleven

Things returned to normal for the next two weeks or so. There was something dark and grim waiting in the wings, but now that she knew its face and shape, Bedelia knew how to avoid it. She concentrated on her work, she concentrated on Jahin. She never thought about tomorrow.

Jahin, for his part, seemed to focus all of his attention on her when he could. He made time for his governance and for the business concerns that belonged to the royal family, but otherwise, he was with Bedelia.

Somehow, for some reason, they couldn't keep their hands off of each other after that night. In her more thoughtful moments, Bedelia likened it to two people who knew that the end was nigh. Why wouldn't you kiss and make love when the world was going to end?

Almost two weeks after their discussion, she called Miller.

"There you are, Lindow," he snapped. "Where have your reports been? I've been waiting almost twenty-four hours, and believe you me, this is not what I bloody well pay for..."

"You won't be paying for it anymore at all," she said, her voice cold and distant. "I quit."

There was a solid pause on the line that was so quiet she wondered if he had heard her at all.

"What do you mean, you quit?" he raged. "I don't pay you to gallivant all over the Middle East for you to leave me high and dry!"

"You certainly do not," Bedelia said. "And I am done with you. I have given you more time and effort than you deserve, and for what? A bad paycheck and the knowledge that I am going to be contributing to one more crappy spy novel?"

Miller's gasp was almost operatic, so over-the-top that she had stop herself from laughing. She didn't know why she wanted to spare her old boss that much, but she did.

"You can deposit my last check into the same account that you always have," she continued, "and before you quibble with me about price, let me tell you that I know exactly how much you owe me. Down to the penny. If you try to shortchange me...I will go after it, and I will make you sorry. I have made some very good friends in the UAE, and I am sure that they want you to be fair."

She knew that the message had gotten through, because Miller simply started swearing. He was careful, however, not to direct all of that swearing at her, and after a few more moments, she quietly ended the call.

He was right about one thing. The pay he was giving her was becoming rapidly inadequate for her to continue reporting on the locations she was visiting. The places were beautiful, and some of them were holy, and some of them were remote, and some of them were all three. There was something beyond sacred about them, and to have them used in the backdrop of some dumb spy thriller, ones where Jahin and his beloved people were never more than the victims at best and the scenery chewing villains at worst, that was something that she could not bear to have on her conscience.

After she quit Miller's assignment, Bedelia felt immediately lighter and more free. Suddenly it felt as if she was completely herself, and she could be completely with Jahin. She pushed away the thought that he would never be completely with her. This was a victory of sorts, and she was determined to celebrate it.

Jahin was pleased that she had left Miller, who he had always thought was a wretch of the first order, but he was less pleased at how fatigued Bedelia looked at dinner that night.

"I know it is never a good idea to say this," he murmured, "but are you all right? You look pale and troubled."

She laughed a little, but even she could hear the weary note in it.

"You are making me sound like some kind of fainting Victorian maiden," she teased. "I'm probably still reeling from quitting, that's all."

Jahin looked unconvinced, but he nodded. "If you continue to feel poorly, please speak to my physician. He is quite good, and if there is something wrong, it is always better to see to it sooner rather than later."

Bedelia hardly disagreed, but she didn't feel bad, exactly. She felt a little tired, and she felt a little worried, but beyond that, she was still able to run and walk and hike and make love to Jahin. She was sure that she was simply a little stressed or under the weather, and the fatigue would go away.

It didn't, however, and one day while she was dozing in the corner of the couch at the penthouse, an explanation occurred to her.

"No," she whispered in shock. "No, it can't be..."

She checked her calendar, counting back over the four months that she had been with Jahin, in his house, in his arms, making love to him. She thought of the IUD she’d had inserted several years ago, how she was supposed to check its placement every month, and how she never did. A panicked examination in the bathroom proved her fears, and now she was confronted with the reality that had never occurred to her before, not even for a moment.

She was pregnant.

Somehow, Bedelia stumbled to the living room again, her eyes wide. She felt as if she couldn't breathe, as if her head was lighter than air. Surely there was no way she could be pregnant, but she quickly realized that this was nothing more than denial. She took a deep breath, which seemed to help, and she made herself face facts.

Her mind spun, and slowly the pieces fell into place. She had been feeling so tired lately. Her moods had been all over the place, and when Jahin had left this last trip, she had seen him out the door before crying stormily in the living room. The intensity of her emotion frightened her, but Bedelia had assumed that was just another indication that she was in over her head as far as Jahin was concerned.

This...this was something else.

There's nothing confirmed until I've taken a test, she thought, and shrugging on her coat, she headed out to get a test. It was as simple and straightforward to get one as she had suspected it would be, but on the way back, she caught sight of a news box that had yet another story in it about Jahin and another woman, this one an Italian countess.

Though the test was burning a hole in her pocket, she couldn't stop herself from staring at the picture. He had told her to ignore them, that they would keep on going together as long as they could, but there was something about the pictures that always ate away at her. She believed Jahin that they were nothing more than innocent photos, and she had read enough of the articles at this point to know they were nothing more than fluff and speculation.

This is the man I love, she thought, and she wondered at how it felt to really admit that to herself for the first time. She truly did love him, and when she was being honest with herself, it felt like a knife every time she saw one of those articles. She knew that for the duration of time they were together, there would never be an end to them.

Bedelia forced herself to keep walking. There was nothing to be gained from staring at things that were going to hurt her. Right now, she needed to take action, and the more she thought about it, the more likely it was that she was going to need to take action while Jahin was out of town, while she still had the ability to act and move independently.

She read the instructions carefully, grateful that they were in English as well as in Arabic, and after she set the stick aside, she had five minutes to pace and worry.

What was he going to do when he found out? What was he going to say, and what would he think? What if he thought she had planned this in a weak attempt to trap him? Would he send her from his side in disgust?

A spasm of fear wracked her body as she had a new thought. What if he wanted to take the baby away from her? The two of them had never really spoken about children, but she had heard him talk more than once about his bloodline. His duty was to his country, and his duty was to produce heirs. What would happen when he realized that his firstborn child was going to be produced by a woman with no money, no pedigree, with no property to boast of?

She hugged herself, suddenly cold. It was hard to imagine Jahin playing the part of a cruel landowner in some Victorian play, but she knew very well that he saw things differently than she did. He was literally the law of the land in Muneazil. She was a foreigner of no account, without even fame or money to protect her. What did this mean for them?

Her phone chirped, absurdly cheerful, to tell her that the test was done. She ventured into the bathroom feeling as if she were walking to her doom. When she got there, it was almost an anticlimax to see that her suspicions had been correct.

She was pregnant, and now she needed to decide what she was going to do about it.

Strangely enough, the first thing that Bedelia wanted to do was nap. The emotional exhaustion of the morning was catching up with her, and she looked down at her belly ruefully.

"If you could just let up a little so that I could decide what to do, kiddo, that would be great," she murmured.

Somehow, speaking to her child like that made it feel more real. Right now, it only had her to protect it against the world, and whether she was ready or not, Bedelia knew she had to do a great job. Tentatively, almost shyly, she wrapped her arms over her belly. In just a few months, there was going to be a new person in the world, one that she and Jahin had created together...

Almost as if her thoughts had summoned it up, she received an image of Jahin bouncing a baby in his hands, a wide smile on his face as the infant shrieked with joy. It sent such a deep stab of longing through her that she nearly cried, but she knew that it was a fantasy.

I should call him at once, she thought. He deserves to know...

The thought was pushed away almost as soon as it arrived. If he came home and she told him everything, she could lose it all. She would be at his mercy, she and their child with her. With a great wrench, she knew that this was not a risk she could take.

No, she thought with dawning dismay. I need to make sure that I am safe first. After that, I can tell him. After that, we can figure out what needs to happen, but if he finds out while I am still in Muneazil...

She knew Jahin was a man well used to exercising power, and when he had to, he would use it to further his own goals. She didn't begrudge it to him, but right now, she could not be the person he was using it against. She didn't dare.

She took a deep breath, ignoring the fatigue that seemed to set into every part of her. She had to plan, and she had to be ready.

He was going to be away from the penthouse for at least another day. There was a window there. It wasn't a huge one, but it was one that she could use if she were willing to act now.

Bedelia glanced at the clock. He was likely in a meeting right now, and his phone would be set to voice mail. That was the best method, she thought. If she had to talk to him, hear his voice and listen to him laugh and smile, she would never be able to do what had to be done.

The phone rang for what seemed like a terribly long time, and then his voice mail picked up, much to her relief.

"Hello, Jahin," she said, her voice falsely cheery even to her own ears. "Um, this is just a call to say hi, and that I was thinking of you. I know you usually call me later, and I just wanted to tell you not to bother. I'm feeling so tired right now, and I think I'm just going to lie down and try to sleep it all out. Um. I'm always happy when you think of me, but man, right now, I really need my sleep! I hope I'm not coming down with the flu or anything, ha ha! But yeah, I hope things are going well, I'll see you later!"

She ended the call, her face bright red and her hands shaking a little. She had sounded ridiculous, speaking too fast and too nervously, but it would have to do for the moment. At the very least, that meant she could make her preparations without him calling in concern. Maybe he would just think of her flustered ramblings as an artifact of the illness.

With any luck, however, it had bought her time, and that was what she needed the most.

"Don't worry, baby," she whispered, stroking her belly. "I will take care of this."

Chapter Twelve

Jahin walked out of the meeting with a bounce in his step, not necessarily because things had gone so well, but because they were simply over. The talks had seemed to go on forever, but he had hopes that in the next five years, they would be seeing some real environmental gains from the talks that had happened today.

He grinned when he saw a message from Bedelia. He thought about calling her before listening to it, but then he thumbed the message to play on a whim. As he listened, however, his smile grew smaller and then disappeared entirely off of his face.

There was something wrong, he could tell instinctively. The way the legends spoke of horsemen who were attuned to their mounts, who knew when they were sick and when they were well, he felt similarly attuned to Bedelia. She would not be pleased to be likened to a mare, he thought, but the sense was the same.

She was speaking too fast, and the cheer in her voice seemed at best a fib, at worst a cover-up of something much darker.

"What's going on, love?" he murmured, looking at his phone as if it might have some of the answers. He listened to the message again, and this time, Jahin liked it even less.

He wavered for a moment, fighting with himself. Technically, there was a second meeting that evening, but he knew from experience that it would be an informal and casual thing, something where more pleasure was discussed than business. It would still be useful; there was nothing like sitting and sharing food with someone for getting to know them, but the bulk of the conference's work had been done.

I really should stay, though, he thought. As much as he wanted to see Bedelia, there were people who were expecting him, and it sounded like she was going to sleep all day and all night anyway. He could take one of the earliest planes out the next morning, see her as soon as she woke up, or even crawl into bed with her while she was still sleeping. He smiled at the thought of crawling into bed with a warm and sleepy Bedelia, listening to her murmuring with surprise as he touched her. Yes, that was likely the best thing to...

NO.

The sensation of wrongness and fear burst over him, and before it had even subsided, he was striding towards Sheikh Masoor Al-Bihari, an older man with a magnificent sea-captain's beard.

"Will you make my apologies to the others?" he asked, slightly breathless. "I am very much afraid that I will not be able to make the evening session."

Sheikh Masoor frowned at him. "Why ever not? Is everything all right?"

"I dearly hope everything is all right," he said, ignoring the man's first question and turning towards his car. "I very much hope so."

All the way to the airport and in the plane, he tried to tell himself that he was being ridiculous. He trusted Bedelia, and it was probably fever that was making her speak so quickly and so nervously. Likely, after she had hung up the phone, she had fallen into bed and even now was fast asleep. There was nothing wrong with her that rest and relaxation wouldn't fix. He was being ridiculous for rushing home when all that told him to do so was a dark little voice in the back of his head.

He leaned back in his seat in first class and tried to relax. However, there was something about the situation that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he didn't think he could wish it away, not honestly. He wanted to call her back, but he was unwilling to do so, not when he might be taking her out of a restful sleep merely to indulge his nerves.

No, the best thing to do would be to get home as soon as he could, reassure himself that all was well, and simply let her rest. Tomorrow, she would wake up, see him there, smile, and life would continue.

Jahin told himself this over and over again, and by the time he landed in Muneazil, he almost believed it. He had his own car waiting on the ground, and as soon as he was in his home emirate, he started driving towards the penthouse.

When Jahin got there, it was dark, and for some reason, it felt slightly chilly to him. He knew his imagination was likely getting the best of him again. Of course Bedelia would keep it dim as she slept, especially if her head hurt.

Jahin kept his step light and gentle as he made his way through the darkened house, not turning on the lights or making more noise than he had to. The moment he stepped into the bedroom that they shared, however, he could tell that something was wrong. He stood in the doorway for several long moments, listening desperately for the light breathing that should have been there and hearing...nothing.

He reached for the light switch. In a panic, he wondered if he would find Bedelia fallen on the floor, dead from some household accident or perhaps simply not breathing in the bed, victim of some disease that had spread ridiculously fast.

He saw neither, and as his breathing slowed down, he felt that fear grasp him again. There was a folded sheet of paper on his pillow, and feeling as if the world was slipping sideways, he picked it up.

He recognized Bedelia's neat handwriting immediately, and for a moment, he had no idea what he was looking at.

My dear Jahin:

This is perhaps the hardest thing that I have ever had to write. First, I must apologize. I lied to you on the phone earlier, and I hope you will not think too badly of me in the time to come. I needed the time to leave, and I could think of no other way to make sure that I was uninterrupted.

Second, I dearly hope that this will simply be 'until we meet again' rather than a farewell. My heart is overflowing with feelings for you, but this needs to stop for now. If you will allow me to do so, I will contact you once I am in the United States. Perhaps sometime in the near future we can speak again.

There followed a series of cross outs so dark and violent that he could not figure out what was being said there. She had obliterated the next part with such a great deal of force that the paper was nearly torn there before it continued.

I care for you so much, and that will always be true. Please think well of me.

--Bedelia

He stared at the letter, and for a moment, he was simply stunned. What did she mean about all of this? Did she truly think that he would be all right with her simply walking off and leaving nothing but this letter behind? Was this really all she thought of him?

The logical thing to do would have been to simply let her go. His father had once told him that when a woman wanted to leave he should let her. The right one would want to stay and wouldn't mind saying so.

However, this was Bedelia. In so many ways, she felt like the right one, regardless of her birth or her lack of wealth. She was the right one because of her smile, because of her heart, because of the body that could draw a response out of stone. She was perfect, and she was gone, and dang it, he refused to let that be the end of it. He read the letter through one more time, trying to figure out what the missing piece was, why she would flee when things were going so well, when they made each other so happy, but he found nothing at all.

There were two paths in front of him. One led towards a perfectly reasonable woman who would be his sheikha, another guiding hand for his country, a woman generations of his family would think of as suitable.

On the other path was a girl with green eyes that outshone emeralds and a heart that called to his like a siren, and in the end, it was no choice at all.

He folded the letter carefully, stuffing it into his pocket, and then he picked up the phone.

For a moment, he debated calling Bedelia, but he dismissed it with contempt. She had decided to leave without saying a word, which meant she didn’t wanted to speak with him. Right now, actions mattered more than words, and he was nothing if not a man of action.

Instead, he dialed the Muneazil airport.

"Hello, I am Sheikh Jahin Abdul Kattan, and I must speak with representatives from ticketing and from the flight control tower..."

He waited impatiently while the exclamation on the other end of the line died down, and then he started telling them what he wanted.

In less than ten minutes, he was out the door and in his car. He could make it back to the airport in forty minutes, and though his body cried for rest, he refused to stop, refused to even take a break.

In the back of his mind, there was a fury simmering there, something dark and roiling, but behind that, there was fear. He was never a man who could deal with fear, however, and he pushed it away.

Instead, he focused on the image of Bedelia, on her smile, the way she reached for him, the soft sound of her breath at night. More and more, he was realizing that he did not want to live without her, and what this meant for them moving forward from this moment was anyone's guess.

***

THE MOMENT SHE got on the plane, Bedelia felt herself relax. It was a narrow seat, and she was pinched between an irritated business man and a woman with a small baby snugged to her lap, but it was still a relief. She had searched for fares online before being simply reduced to calling the airlines heading out of Muneazil and Dubai. She had gotten the bad news over and over again; everything was booked up for the next forty-eight hours. She had said over and over again that she needed to leave the country, to return to the United States, but it had all been futile until she had reached one sympathetic representative in Muneazil.

"I can't get you to the United States," he said reluctantly. "But I can route you to Istanbul, and from there, you can take a flight to the United States almost immediately. Will that be acceptable?"

It wasn't, really. Istanbul still felt too close, too near to Jahin's grasp, but it was the best she could do. She agreed, winced as she gave him her credit card, and after that, she threw everything that belonged to her into her bag.

It gave her a surprising pang to leave behind the clothes he had bought her. It wasn't because she loved wearing them or because they were valuable, although both things were true. It was because she had so many memories of wearing them with Jahin. She could remember which dress she had worn to go to the national gardens, which tunic she had worn to the races. She shook her head, refusing to allow herself to take even one for the memories. It would feel too much like stealing, she’d thought with a pang.

Instead, she had put on her old tunic and trousers, throwing a black scarf over her head. Still, she’d had to pause when she found the little wooden figurine he had bought her on their first day together at the horse fair. For a moment, looking down at the figurine's smiling face, she’d wanted to break down into tears again, but somehow, she’d stopped herself.

What would you have done? she asked the wooden girl silently. You mourned, and you swore to never stop mourning until your lover returned to you. My issue...is a little more complex.

In the end, she couldn't bear to leave the talisman of their relationship behind. She rolled the figurine in a pair of socks and tucked it into her bag. She couldn't leave it, but if she kept on looking at it, she might simply start sobbing.

You can stop affecting my moods any time, kiddo, she thought, touching her stomach, but she knew it was more than just hormones. There was a part of her that was actively in mourning, but she couldn't allow herself to give in to it just yet. It would be safe when she was on the plane. She could cry all she wanted to on the plane, and then she would land in Istanbul, and after that, she would be in the United States, where she could only imagine that she would spend the next few months weeping at every turn.

She was tense all the way to the airport and navigating her way through the crowds there. At any moment, she expected Jahin to come out of the crowd, to demand an explanation for what was going on.

Even as she thought of it, however, she knew how unrealistic it was. He knew they were having a temporary affair. He knew there was nothing binding them to each other. He would simply let her go, and that would be that. If he knew she was pregnant, however, things might change, and she could not risk that.

Still, when the plane made its way down the runway, picking up speed as it did so, something in her loosened. Bedelia couldn't help but notice that the woman in the seat next to her had a fat gold wedding ring, and she knew somehow that the woman and her child were returning to a man who loved them.

Oh goodness, I really don't want to cry all the way to Istanbul, she thought in horror, but it was certainly looking as if that was what was going to happen.

She was just wiping her eyes when the captain turned on the announcement system.

"We regret to inform you that due to circumstances beyond our control, the plane will be landing again immediately..."

Amidst the chorus of groans and grumbles, Bedelia froze. There was no way that it could be what she thought it was, but there was a cold certainty at the bottom of her stomach that was certain it was Jahin.

As the plane turned a giant circle to land again, she took a deep breath, trying to make sure that she stayed calm. There might be equipment failure. There might be some kind of security issue. It didn't have anything to do with her at all, or at least that was what she told herself to stay calm.

However, even that illusion of calm disappeared when the plane landed and two men in dark suits and sunglasses appeared. They made their way straight for her, one standing in front of the seat, one behind, both watching her with the uncanny attention of cats.

"Miss Lindow, you will exit the plane now..."

She had to awkwardly climb over the woman with the baby, and she was painfully aware of the looks they were giving her. They were wondering what kind of criminal she was, what kind of security risk she had to be before they turned the plane around for her and forced her off of it.

Even though she had done nothing wrong, Bedelia felt a blush of shame bloom across her face.

As she walked off the plane, however, there was also a sense of relief and freedom that she hadn't expected. It was as if the worst had happened, and now she didn't have to worry about it any longer. She didn't want to smile, she didn't want to cry. She simply existed in a state where she did not have any say in what happened next, so she could just relax and stop worrying about things.

The men in dark suits did not seem overly inclined to hurt or harass her. She thought they might be rude or curt, but instead, they were extremely courteous and deferential. She didn't know if they were just naturally polite or if they had received instructions not to harass her, but either way, she was grateful for it. Under their guidance, she got into a sleek black car, and then she was driven back to the penthouse where she had departed from just a few hours ago. She had not expected to see this place again, and now that she had, a part of her felt thankful. This place was immensely dear to her, and she hadn't even begun to fully mourn it yet.

They followed her into the elevator, and she realized they were concerned she might dart out on another floor and try to flee again. She could have told them that they had nothing to worry about. Now that her plan had been foiled, she felt like a deflated balloon, without the ability to move herself forward or back, up or down. The ride to the penthouse seemed to take forever, and when the door chimed and opened, she stepped through on her own.

Seated on one of the wing chairs, one ankle propped casually on his knee, Jahin looked every inch the ruling monarch. He was dressed in simple black, but there was something imposing and commanding in him as he watched her. She had never seen his copper eyes so cold before, and when he gestured at the chair across from him, she didn't dare defy him.

"I suppose you want an explanation," she began, but he cut her off.

"I was worried about you," he said, his tone harsh. "I returned home to Muneazil early because of you. I was concerned that you were sicker than you were saying, or that you might hurt yourself in your delirium. After your message, I flew here, and when I went up to the bedroom, I found your note."

He gestured towards the crossed out scrap of paper where she had penned what she thought was going to be her goodbye. Bedelia flinched a little. She knew very well what was written there, and it hurt to imagine Jahin reading it.

"I couldn't believe it," he continued caustically. "When I came home and found you gone, it was as if someone had carved the heart out of me. For a moment, I thought you were kidnapped, not that you had left, and when I realized that you had left, I had to also realize what a fool I was."

"Why did you call me back? Why did you ask your men to find me?"

He scowled at her, and she thought that if she were capable of feeling anything right now, she would be afraid.

"Because I needed to find out why," he growled. "I have been open and honest with you, and despite the evidence that lies in front of us, I believe that you have been open and honest with me. You fleeing for the United States...that is the part that feels strange and dishonest to me, like it is something that does not fit.

"You are a woman of passion and truth," he said, and it had never sounded less like a compliment in his tone. "What would send you running back towards the United States?"

There was a practical voice in the back of her head telling her to lie. It was there, it told her that if she said enough cruel things, if she whined and groaned and begged, then he would let her go. But she was tired, and as she watched him, something occurred to her.

This man was the father of her son or daughter. Whatever role he took, whatever the circumstances of the pregnancy, that would never change. In that moment, she realized she could not lie to him, and she lowered her eyes, giving up.

"I am pregnant," she said, her voice soft and without inflection.

He was still so long that she thought he hadn't heard her, and then he was across the space between them, his hands rough on her shoulders, hauling her up to look at him. She gasped at his strength and speed, and then she was looking up into his copper eyes.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

His quick and sudden motion somehow jump-started the emotions within her that had felt so frozen. This man was the father of her child, and right now, his grip on her shoulders ached. She couldn't stop the tears from welling up in her eyes, and she put up her hands to push him away. She knew it would be like a gnat trying to stand up against a storm, but for her safety and her child's, she had to try.

"I'm pregnant," she shouted, lurching away. He was so startled by her pushing him off that his hands fell down by his sides, and his expression would have been funny if she wasn't so pained.

"I'm going to have a baby, I am going to have our baby," she said, hugging herself, and she watched as the bafflement in his face skyrocketed up into rage.

"And you never thought that I might have something to say about this?" he snarled. "Did you think you were really going to simply sneak off into the night, keeping my child away from me?"

"What could you have to say?" she demanded. "You're not my husband, and we both know this relationship is going to end sooner rather than later. There's nothing between us, Jahin! There is nothing, and I refuse to allow you to...to fulfill your bloodline and take this child away from me."

"Do you understand that what you have done would once have been considered treason?" Jahin growled.

She glared at him defiantly. "Are you going to charge me with treason? Do you think that I won't yell my head off at anyone who will listen about me and my baby? Do you think I'll be too ashamed to get the help I need?"

"You are incredible," he said with disgust, shaking his head. "I have given you everything a woman could want, and you decide that you need to kidnap my firstborn because...because what? You couldn't abide by the relationship we had set up?"

"Everything's changed!" she cried. Why couldn't he see it? Didn't he understand that the child changed everything? "I was afraid you were going to take my child and..."

The scene in front of her wavered, and she scowled until it came back into focus.

"I...I can't. I can't explain to you what it felt like when..."

The words were barely out of her mouth before it felt as if the floor was rising up to meet her, arching up and gravity pulling her down. She grabbed onto the chair beside her, and it stilled her fall long enough for Jahin to catch her. She had just felt the safety of his arms around her when the room swam, and she was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

When Bedelia regained consciousness, she was startled by all the white around her. Everything was so clean that it seemed to glow, and she was in a bed she had never been in before. It was so new and she was so raw that she couldn't prevent a small mewl of panic, and then she felt her hand squeezed gently and comfortingly. When Bedelia looked to her right, she saw a grim-faced Jahin sitting next to her, his hand covering hers.

"It's all right. You are at the hospital, and you are stable."

"The hospital...?" A sudden gasp of fear took her. "Oh goodness...the baby..."

"As far as the doctors can tell, everything is fine. You weren't out that long, but soon enough, someone will come in with an ultrasound machine and tell us more."

Bedelia bit her lip, her free hand stealing over her belly. Had something she’d done hurt her child? Oh goodness, what if something was wrong? She thought of all the times she had felt tired and sad. What if they had been signs that she was ignoring?

She felt Jahin's fingers tighten over hers, and she looked up at him. There was still an invisible wall between them, but his eyes were warm, and somehow, she was comforted.

"It will be fine," he said. "I will accept no other option."

She smiled at him a little. "I am glad that you are confident."

There was still so much to say between them, but for the moment, they simply sat in silence. Every part of her except for the hand that he held felt cool, almost cold.

It felt like an eternity, but it was likely only a half hour before the doctor came in to see them. He was an older man with a jawline beard and a friendly smile that made Bedelia feel instantly comfortable. She had to let go of Jahin's hand to shake his, but Jahin reclaimed it instantly, which made her feel oddly safe.

"I am Dr. Saati, and I'm here to get you on track," he said briskly. "It seems as if your blood pressure spiked, which is not uncommon for women who are pregnant, but is something that should be watched. Do you have an OB/GYN?"

Shame-faced, she had to shake her head.

"I only found out about my condition a day ago," she said softly. "I haven't spoken to any doctors yet..."

The doctor frowned, looking surprised. "That startles me a bit. Usually women are aware of their pregnancies by this point."

"I knew I was putting on a little weight," she hazarded, "but that's all."

The doctor asked her a few more questions, and she was nervous when she realized she was not giving him the answers he was looking for.

Finally he shook his head. "Well, let's see what the ultrasound has to say. That should give us a good picture of what is going on, so to speak..."

The jelly that they spread on her belly was terribly cold, and she saw Jahin frown out of the corner of her eye. She held on to his hand tighter, and no matter what was going on between them, she was grateful that he was there and looking out for her.

"Oh...well, this explains some of this," the doctor said thoughtfully, and she thought she heard Jahin growl very softly next to her.

"Tell us what is going on," Jahin demanded, and the doctor swung the screen towards them. For a moment, Bedelia was simply fascinated by the display of black and glowing blue. This was her body seen in a way that she had never seen it before, but then the images resolved and her eyes widened.

"No..."

"Well, this is your child here," said the doctor. "And so is this, and so is this. Congratulations, Miss Lindow, you are having triplets."

She didn't realize she was holding Jahin's hand much tighter until she shifted. Still, he never made a sound. They both looked at the doctor, and then they looked at each other.

The look on Jahin's face was not one that Bedelia could have predicted. She would have guessed that he would be shocked, or perhaps that he would be confused. She might even have guessed that he would be furious, though she would not have liked to consider that.

However, the actual look on his face took her breath away; it was joy, pure and simple.

"Triplets?” he said finally when it was clear that Bedelia was breathless. "Truly?"

"Yes," said the doctor with a nod. "Not usual, certainly, but far from incredibly rare. Do either of you have multiple births in your family?"

As a matter of fact, both Bedelia and Jahin could come up with at least a few relatives who had produced twins, but triplets seemed to be an altogether new idea.

"Is it dangerous?" asked Jahin, his voice oddly tight. "One of my cousins, she had complications with her twins, and one did not survive."

Bedelia was startled to hear the grief in his voice. There was sadness there, and a very real fear that she slowly realized was all for her.

The doctor reassured him that it was not dangerous at all as long as proper monitoring was performed. She would have to check in with the OB/GYN on a regular basis, and of course she would have to watch her diet, but other than that, it was relatively safe.

The three of them talked a little longer about what changed with triplets and what they could both expect, but finally the doctor held up his hands.

"There is a lot of information to cover, but I am afraid that if I give you more of it, I am going to swamp you. There is literature I can give you, and research I can recommend, but at the bottom of everything, I want you both to relax and simply take it easy. Please stay calm, and remember, this is a joyous occasion. There is nothing wrong here at all, I promise.”

The doctor took his leave, and Bedelia turned to Jahin.

"Jahin, please, I need--"

"No." His voice cracked like a whip, making her jump.

Her eyes widened as he pulled his hand away from hers and got up to pace. Not knowing what to do, she folded her hands over her belly and watched him. It was like being in a room with a dragon, unsure whether it was going to strike or lie down quietly.

"This changes things."

She wasn’t sure she had ever heard words quite that frightening before, and she clasped her hands tightly, trying to stay calm. There was nothing to be afraid of here, she tried to tell herself, but from the dark look that Jahin was giving her, she wasn't quite so sure.

"Does it?" she murmured.

He glared at her. "It must. You must have known that, or you wouldn't have tried to flee to America."

He watched her to see if she would dare argue, but she stayed silent. He was right. If not for the pregnancy, she would never have left, but something deep inside her had told her that she had been right to do so. She needed control, and when she was with Jahin, no matter how kind and generous he was, she would never have it.

"Our former arrangement is done," he said harshly, and despite how she had steeled herself for what he was going to unleash, she couldn't stop herself from flinching away from his sharp words. "That agreement ended when you tried to leave without my knowledge."

"And I suppose the one who is going to create our new arrangement is you," she said bitterly, and the look he gave her was shuttered and distant.

"I am. There is much for me to think about, and perhaps I should have thought of this a long time ago, but I am dang sure that I am going to think of it now. But first, you are staying in Muneazil. That is non-negotiable. My child...my children will not be born outside of this emirate's borders. If they are ever to inherit much of anything from me, they must be citizens."

"So you are going to keep me a prisoner here?" she demanded, and he lanced her with a dark look.

"Do not tempt me," he said distinctly. "There is a part of me that would like nothing better than to have you actually confined while you are pregnant, to suspend your passport and make sure that no one in the outside world can reach you at all."

She gasped at his flat tone.

"You are talking about actual imprisonment," she whispered in shock, and he nodded grimly.

"I see that you understand what I can do. I do not want to do it. It would mean breaking the law, it would mean doing something grossly unethical, and it would be cruel. I do not want to do such a thing, but Bedelia, I absolutely will do it. There is nothing in me that is going to hesitate if I think that you are going to take my children away from me. Show me that you understand."

Jerkily, she nodded. He watched her with those bright, intent eyes, and when he had ascertained for himself that she would abide by his rule, he nodded.

"There is a great deal for me to consider," he said. "I am...angrier than I have ever been, and that will take some time to figure out. Until then, you will stay at one of my family's townhouses. There are going to be guards posted at the door for your protection, as well as to provide me with a little insurance that you will not flee again."

"But where will you be?" she asked, and despite the charged nature of the situation, she could not keep a slightly plaintive note out of her voice.

She had thought it would be a simple question, but in the space of a heartbeat, he had crossed the room, cradling her face in his hands. His touch was gentle, but tension made him tremble, and his eyes were alight with fury.

"I will be at the penthouse," he growled out. "It does not matter that you are carrying my children in your belly, and it does not matter that I still want you as much as the land wants the sun. After what you did and what you tried to do, I cannot be close to you right now."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and he released her with a tight nod.

"I see that you understand," he said caustically. "Don't worry, you will see me again, Bedelia. But first, I need to think."

With nothing more than that, he spun on his heel and stalked out, leaving Bedelia feeling more cold and lost than she ever had before.

She supposed that in another few minutes, a nurse would come in and let her know that there was an escort for her. Perhaps it would even be the two kind men who had taken her from the airport. They would take her to the townhouse where she would be staying for the foreseeable future, and that would be that.

If someone had told her that Jahin would say such terrible words to her, she would have expected to burst into tears. However, it seemed as if some things were beyond tears, beyond grief, and instead, all she could do was muster up a wild, lost and cold feeling, one that felt as if the life had been taken out of her.

Tentatively, she got out of the bed, finding herself satisfactorily stable. Her purse and things were laid out for her on a nearby table, but she felt a distant chill when she realized that her phone and identification were gone. She could feel a distant echo of the violation and fury that she would feel later, but right now, it was all she could do to hold herself together.

"We're going to be all right," she whispered to her belly. It was still hard to believe that there could be three children in there. "I promise, we'll all be all right."

***

JAHIN HAD SAID that he was going off to think, but the truth was he was going off to drink. He was not a man who was given to strong drink at all. He’d had a few wild nights while he was at school in England, but overall, he was much better off without the stuff.

Apparently, there were some pieces of news that called for alcohol, however, and he went back to his penthouse with that in mind.

After slamming back a shot of good whiskey and relishing the burn, though, he realized how empty it felt. No matter how numb he got, the feelings would still be there waiting for him, and eventually he would have to deal with it.

He would have to deal with the fact that Bedelia had tried to leave him, and he would also have to deal with the fact that unless he had come home early, he would never have known, and he would never have been able to stop her. There was something terrible about that most of all, how close he had come to losing it all.

In another world, one in which he had simply stayed in Dubai, she would be in the United States before he figured out what was going on, their children living who knows where and completely unaware of their heritage at all. It was enough to drive something in him mad.

He reached for the whiskey again, but then, shaking his head, he put it down. There was nothing there for him, and if he was to consider what needed to happen next, he needed a clear head.

Jahin sighed.

If he were a wise man, he would never see Bedelia again. He would wait until she bore the children, and then he would send her away. Throughout her pregnancy, he would keep her in the lap of luxury, making sure she got everything she needed, and he would keep his distance. There was something about her that altered his judgment, that kept him blind to what was going on around him.

In a word, she was dangerous, and no sheikh could allow his judgment to be compromised like this.

He sighed, shaking his head.

That was going to be impossible. It might be the smarter thing by far to do. It might be the thing that would save his sanity and his emirate. However, Jahin knew himself and his heart well enough to know that he couldn't do it. There was something that bound him and Bedelia together. The ancients might have called it fate, or perhaps there was some darker word for the pull between them.

No, he couldn't be rid of her, and he couldn't go to her as he wished to do, either.

For a moment, unbidden, he fell into a fantasy of what he should be doing right now. He itched to see her naked body, to catalog all the ways that it had changed since she had started growing the new lives inside her. He wanted to touch her, even now, run gentle fingers over her curves, see her smile, lean down and kiss her, gently at first and then with more passion. It seemed like the cruelest thing in the world that he could not do so.

Jahin shook his head, going to his desk. There was no reason to put it off. He needed to be prepared, and he had to make sure that he was protected, that their future children were protected, and he even needed to make sure that Bedelia was protected.

His heart felt as if it was being torn apart, but he sat down, and he started to work.

Chapter Fourteen

The townhouse was beautiful.

That was the first thing that Bedelia thought upon walking in, and then immediately thereafter, she felt guilty for having such a shallow thought when there was so much in chaos all around her. She wrapped her arms around her body, wanting desperately to do what she could for her children, but for now, all she could do was wait in this strangely beautiful place.

It wasn't an aggressively modern living space like the penthouse was. She had loved the penthouse, with its angular grace and spare elegance, but the townhouse was something else. There was something classic about it that put her in mind of Victorian buildings, with a certain grace and charm to the furnishings and the space that were designed to delight. With the hardwood floors, the beautiful scrolled ornamentation, the velvet drapes and wool rugs, it looked almost like a movie set, a place she was too nervous to really live.

However, the couches were pleasant places to sit and nap, and the bookshelves were filled with modern works of literature as well as the classics. And when she opened a cabinet, she found a cunningly hidden flat screen television. There was no shortage of things for her to do or to entertain herself with, but there was also no escaping the fact that she was a prisoner.

She learned the first day that while she could surf the Internet to her heart's content on the new phone someone had left in the townhouse, she couldn't send out any information. When she wanted to go for a walk, one of the guards at the front door went with her, and from time to time, she could see them patrolling the walled courtyard around the house. Whether she liked it or not, she was someone who was being kept away from the rest of the world, and for that alone she could have cried.

She did cry for most of the first morning she was there. She woke up in the violet bedroom, a lovely space with soft lavender walls and a charming purple rug, thought about where she was, and simply started to weep. It was all too much, and if she didn't let off the steam somehow, she was going to die.

Then, after a while, she cried herself out, and she felt better. Bedelia got up, put some cold water on her face to bring down the swelling, then went to see what food had been left for her in the refrigerator.

This is my new reality, she thought grimly. If I just mope and cry, that can't be good for the kiddos in my belly. I need to be productive. I need to do something.

Before this had all started, she had been a researcher, after all. So she started to research her pregnancy. She was startled to realize that she knew so little about it, and by the end of three hours of reading, she was firmly impressed by what her own body could do. A single birth alone was fascinating. The fact that she was going to be giving birth to three sounded beyond fascinating.

She realized that the doctor had been right, that things would likely go well enough as long as she was carefully monitored. There was a good chance that she would deliver early, and she might get symptoms more strongly than women carrying one child at a time, but beyond that, it was not so terrible.

"I wish you were here," she said quietly to empty air.

At odd moments, she found herself missing Jahin. When she learned something new about multiple births, when she wondered what her pregnancy was going to be like, she looked to one side as if a part of her expected him to respond.

She thought about him a great deal, but the man himself didn't show up for another two days.

That morning, she received a call as she sat down to eat something made of bran, more than a little bland but apparently very good for pregnant women. She was just dubiously poking the dish--it looked a bit like oatmeal--when the house phone rang. Despite their situation, she found her heart leaping when she saw that it was Jahin.

"Yes?" she asked, barely able to keep the excitement out of her voice.

There was a pause, and then a slight chuckle.

"So eager to get out?" he asked, but before she could respond, he continued speaking. "I'm going to be coming by in a few hours. I am ready to tell you what is going to happen. Be ready."

She started to make a tart retort about his overbearing tone, but then he hung up on her. She stared at the phone in disbelief, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, she felt something more than the quiet despair that had been hanging over her. Previously, she’d had to fight to feel anything at all, but right now, it was easy.

She was furious.

All right, she thought. You know what's going to happen? Well, maybe I do as well.

***

Bedelia's clothes had been brought to the townhouse, not only what she had in her luggage but also the sumptuous clothes from the penthouse. She thought about shunning the clothes he had bought for her and wearing only her own, but why should she? Jahin was already paying for her imprisonment, he might as well pay for her clothing as well.

She went to her closet like a warrior choosing her armor, and she found a severe, dark red dress that felt right. It was cut to accentuate her curves, and it was just barely on the decent side of risqué. She had not had a chance to wear it for Jahin before their relationship went up in flames, and now he was in for a surprise. She left her hair loose, applied a bit of lipstick and blush to accommodate her rather pale skin at the moment, and when he came to the townhouse, she was ready.

She waited for him, standing at the parlor’s mantle place every inch as if she owned the property they were in. She saw his eyebrows go up at the figure she cut in the long red dress, saw his mouth open slightly. She felt his gaze on her figure as if it were hands, and when he closed his mouth with a click and a glare, they both knew where his mind had been.

When Jahin took his seat in one of the wing chairs, she took a seat as well, and after taking another glance at her form in the close-fitting dress, he began to speak.

"I have made a decision about what is to come," he said, and she narrowed her eyes.

"I can't wait to hear it," she said acidly, and he glared at her.

"You are going to stay here. If for some reason the townhouse is not to your liking, you are welcome to try any of the other properties that I own until you find something that suits. The only prohibition is that you cannot leave Muneazil. Other than that, you may go where you please."

"Thank you so very much," she murmured sarcastically, but he wasn't done yet.

"You will stay in Muneazil, receiving the finest care, until the children are born. Believe me when I say that I will make that as easy on you as possible. I understand that you have been doing your research, and that means you know that multiple births can be complicated. It is certainly in your best interests to stay."

She stared at him for a moment as what he had said sunk in.

"You saw where I went on the Internet!" she said indignantly. "You knew what I was searching for!"

He shot her a grim look. She could see the fire in his eyes was banked, not quenched. That meant it could flare up whenever she trod a little too carelessly, but right now, that was the last thing she cared about.

"I am taking no chances," he said. "You already tried to deprive me of my children once. I am not going to let it happen again.

"Moving on to what will happen after the children are born... I want you to stay in Muneazil."

Despite herself, Bedelia perked up at that. He still wanted her close by at least, perhaps that meant there was some hope for them...

"I will set you up on a property that is some distance out of town where you will be provided for. As long as you maintain a good semblance of being a good mother to the children, all of your whims will be met. For the first year or so, they will stay with you, but after that, I assume that they will be healthy and stable enough to begin merely visiting you, say, every other weekend."

"No!" The word that was surprised out of Bedelia's mouth was so sharp that it made Jahin look up, shocked.

"No?" he asked, and she ignored the dangerous note in his voice.

"No," she repeated. "You are not going to take my children away like that! I refuse to live like some...some mistress on duty while my children are only allowed to visit me! No! That is completely unacceptable."

The look he gave her was as hard as a diamond. "I beg your pardon, Bedelia, but you are absolutely in no position to tell me what is and is not completely unacceptable. You gave up that right when you tried to steal my children--"

"So then it's right for you to steal my children from me?" Her voice broke slightly, but she made herself keep going. This was far too important for any kind of failure at all.

"You cannot do this, Jahin. You can't. You know that children belong with the mothers who love them. I have loved them so, so much since the moment I realized I was carrying them. Right now, even the idea of being without them makes me want to break down and cry. If you let me love them for a year...and then you take them away from me..."

To her relief, his face softened a little. He crossed the floor to where she sat, kneeling down in front of her and taking her hand. It felt as if it had been years since they had been this close. It was painful to think that it had been less than a week since they had made love, that they might never do so again.

"I am trying hard to find the solution that will save us, that will save all five of us," he said softly. "I...am doing what I need to do. I want our children safe and happy. Believe it or not, I want you safe and happy as well."

"Jahin..."

"You are a threat to me," he said, his words bitter. "Don't you understand that? I am a man who must have control. The world I live in is a cruel one sometimes, and more than simply defending myself, I need to defend my people as well who depend on me, who cannot have me at less than my best."

"I'm...a threat to you?" she asked, barely able to understand what he meant. "Are you serious?"

It made no sense at all. He was the man with all the power. He was the one who’d had her virtually imprisoned.

"I am," he said, slightly ruefully. "If you could have read my mind while I was frantic and looking for you... A sheikh should not think such things. He should not be so frantic for someone he...for a situation like this one that he cannot think. It is not proper. It is not safe."

He shook his head and stood up, stepping away from her. Now, though, Bedelia wondered if she saw something else in his eyes besides disdain. She realized with a start that there was still a great deal of desire there, a great deal of need. The thing that existed between them was still there, powerfully drawing them to each other, and he was doing everything he could to resist it.

And he was failing.

That realization rendered Bedelia silent as Jahin got up and started to pace.

"I do not want to hurt you, Bedelia. I swear to you that is the last thing I want, now and forever. However, I need to protect my country and my legacy, and that is what lies in your belly right now."

"I see," she said softly, her mind racing. "I understand. Or at least I think I do."

"Good," he said, and this time she could see he was relieved. If she allowed him to, he would pull away from her as much as he could, until the bond between them was worn tight and thin from distance. It might still be there, but it would be something that he could ignore for at least a little while, and maybe that would be enough to make him feel safe.

"This isn't a fairytale," he said, shaking his head. "The sooner we both realize that, the sooner we can figure out what comes next. We can do the best thing for ourselves, and for our children."

"Are you still intent on taking them from me after they turn one year old?"

He hesitated, and she thought then that she could see the Jahin she knew in his eyes, the man who wanted her, who’d saved her, and who never wanted to hurt her.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "Let us simply move forward for now."

"Yes," she said softly, never taking her gaze off of him. "Yes, we shall."

After he left, her mind replayed their interaction over and over again. Instead of despairing, though, she came away with three realizations.

He had stopped once while speaking. He had almost said something else, and she would have given a great deal to know what he’d almost said instead.

The second realization was that he thought he had stripped away her power, but somehow he had overlooked something very important. He had said she was allowed to stay wherever she wanted, and she fully intended to take advantage of that.

The third realization was that he still wanted her. The look of astonishment on his face when he saw her in her dress had been followed by a moment of what looked like pure possessiveness. He wanted her, and he wanted to make sure that no one else got to see what he saw.

It wasn't much, but it was more than she’d thought she had before.

He had told her that she wasn't living in a fairytale, and she knew it was true.

But she also knew that no fairytale heroine ever gave up until she had saved the day and gotten what was rightfully hers.

***

JAHIN MADE IT back to the car, and then he simply sat behind the wheel for several long moments, taking deep, deep breaths. He felt as if he had left a piece of himself in the townhouse, and it took every bit of his considerable willpower not to run back there and get it.

It was that condemning red dress, he thought resentfully. She had appeared there, and he had forgotten almost everything that had happened. All that mattered was that she was there, she was beautiful, and she was his. Even now, thinking of her lush body, he shivered. Her pregnancy was growing slightly more obvious. There was a curve to her belly and a ripeness to her body that hadn't been there before, but it only made her all the more desirable.

He’d had to stop himself from going to her then, and he had to stop himself from going up the stairs to her now. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that it would have broken something in him to make love to a woman who had shut him out.

He clung to his pride, to the fact that she had left him, rejected him in one of the most brutal ways possible, but it was still barely enough.

Jahin made himself take several deep breaths before he thought it was safe to drive in traffic again. He couldn't spend all his time fretting about Bedelia and the children she carried. She was under the care of one of the best obstetric wards in the world. She would be safe. All he had to do was keep his distance, and hopefully by the time she gave birth, he would be levelheaded enough to make calm arrangements for what happened next, whatever that was going to be.

It had seemed so simple when he was planning last night, but now by the cold light of day, Jahin could tell that the plan was ridiculous. He knew Bedelia, and there would be no way that she would allow him to take her children away. It had been the gesture of a desperate man, and if he were painfully honest with himself, he had wanted to hurt her.

When he realized that, Jahin felt a deep pain and shame inside him.

There was nothing in him that could hurt Bedelia. It would only be hurting himself, and he knew it.

No, he simply had to wait for time to fix some of this. He would wait, and things would get better.

As he drove, however, Jahin felt the deep hole in his heart, and he wondered if that was the way he would feel forever.

Chapter Fifteen

Bedelia spent the remainder of the day resting. She did some of the light exercises that the doctor had passed on literature about to her, she ate the green and mostly palatable food in the fridge, she slept when she was tired, and she got up the next morning bright and early. She washed in the small private bathroom, and for a moment, she felt a slight twinge of wistfulness.

The townhouse was beautiful, and if things were anything other than what they were, she would have liked nothing better than to stay there to enjoy it. It was a place that called to her soul, and she had never been in a house she liked better.

She shook her head. She loved the townhouse, and perhaps in the future she would be returning to it, but right now, she had a mission.

She went to get her suitcase, and she dumped out the clothes she had packed what felt like a lifetime ago. A part of her was startled that she had ever gotten Jahin's attention wearing such dowdy things, but she decided quickly that it was to Jahin's credit. He was a man who saw beyond the surface of things.

But if yesterday was to be believed, he was also a man who liked...some surface things.

She tidied her old clothes away, and then she turned to her new closet. Her criteria for the clothes that she was going to be wearing was simple, and it took only a half hour before she zipped her suitcase shut and dragged it to the front of the house.

The two men in dark suits who had been stationed to guard her looked at her warily. With some slight amusement, she wondered if they thought she was going to make a break for it. She could have told them that it was quite the opposite. She was through running, and now Jahin was going to have to deal with her.

She smiled at them politely.

"I take it that the sheikh has given you some standing orders?" she asked warmly.

The men glanced at each other, clearly expecting some kind of trick, but then one of them nodded.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "We're to escort you wherever you want to go, but we're not to let you wander about on your own."

Her smile grew a little sweeter. "And I believe he also said that I could stay wherever I liked. Whatever property of his I cared to be at, if this one did not suit me."

The other man nodded. "Yes, ma'am, he did tell us that."

"Well, good. I am glad we are all on the same page. Will you take my suitcase, please?"

The one who had spoken first took the suitcase from her, while the other directed her towards their car.

"Where are you interested in going, ma'am?" he asked, and she smiled at him.

"Well, wherever the sheikh is currently in residence will do for a start, I am sure," she said brightly.

***

JAHIN HADN’T HAD a day as bad as this one in quite some time. He had tossed and turned all night after leaving the townhouse, and when he had finally slept, his dreams had all been about Bedelia...Bedelia lost, Bedelia hurt, Bedelia crying somewhere that he couldn't reach her.

After that terrible night, he had spent all day on conference calls with investors from Argentina who seemed very interested in developing Muneazil with resorts in mind and yet somehow completely unwilling to commit to the idea of having actual citizens working at those resorts. The discussion had gone around and around until he was certain that his brain had turned to mush, and then they’d had the gall to threaten him with a complete abandonment of the issue.

Finally telling them that abandonment was just fine by him felt good, but it was only a momentary relief. When he had walked out of the office where he conducted business, he felt as if a hundred bricks had suddenly settled on his shoulders.

I want Bedelia, his mind whispered, and he’d had to remind himself that it wasn't going to happen. It wasn't something he could allow himself, even if he knew exactly where she was, exactly how she would smile and speak....

When he got off the elevator to enter the short hallway that led to the penthouse, he saw the two guards there, and he scowled.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, too tired to be diplomatic. "Is there something wrong at the townhouse? I swear, if you left her unguarded..."

"I promise you, Sheikh Jahin, we have done nothing of the sort," one of the guards said stiffly. "But the lady requested a change of properties, and she indicated that this was the property she wanted to be at."

Jahin stared at the man for a moment, and though the man quailed, he stood firm.

Jahin couldn't blame him for this. He could only blame himself, and setting his shoulders straight, he walked into the penthouse, resisting the urge to knock because after all, it was his penthouse.

"Bedelia?" he growled. "Where are you?"

He had it worked out in his head. He would talk to her seriously, tell her that the rules were in place for her own good, and that flouting the rules to irritate him was simply not going to work out for her. Surely she would see reason after that...

He received no answer, but then he heard the hiss of the shower, and his heart sank.

There was a smarter version of him somewhere, he thought. A smarter man would have waited for her in the living room, never thinking about what was going on in the shower. But his mind provided him with vivid pictures, richly detailed, of what she was doing in there, how he had once touched her body, making her sigh with pleasure, and how she had touched him.

I'm just looking for an answer, he told himself. I just want to know what she's playing at.

He knew it wasn't true the moment that he thought it, but knowing that didn't stop him from opening the door and stepping into the steamy warmth of the bathroom.

Her hazy and obviously naked form turned behind the shower door’s fogged glass, and the door rolled open to reveal her inquisitive face. Instead of being shocked or indignant, she smiled at him, that same sweet, faintly mischievous smile that he had grown to crave.

"Hi," she said. "You were working a long day today."

"You have no idea," he said, momentarily distracted. "It just never stopped, and..."

He paused, shaking his head. "That wasn't what I came in here to discuss..."

"Good," she said with a laugh.

"I meant that I want to know what you are doing here," he growled. "The last I heard, you were doing well at the townhouse. I was prepared for you to stay there for at least a while."

"Oh, the townhouse is amazing," she said sweetly. "I loved it there. Did you spend a lot of time there when you were a child?"

"When I was... No, not really, it belonged to a relative then who has since passed on... Bedelia, what are you doing here?"

She looked at him as if it were obvious. "I am taking a shower?"

"I can see that," he said, and for some reason, that made her smile.

"Do you really?" she asked, and his heart beat a little faster as she slid the door open wider. Even through the narrow opening, he could see a thin strip of her belly, the roundness and the sweetness of her form calling to him.

"Close the door," he said, and he knew his tone was coming out harsh and strange.

Making a brief moue of disappointment, she did as he said, but she didn't close it entirely.

"I'm doing what you told me I could do," she said with a careless shrug. "You told me that I could go to any property of yours that I wanted to go to, that I could find a place that was comfortable to me while I was pregnant. Was I wrong to take you at your word?"

Her green eyes were so large and deep that he could drown in them. He knew how dangerous that could be, losing himself in this woman. After all, he had done it once already.

"No, of course not, but I hardly expected that you would--"

"Good," she said briskly. "Now, Jahin, I really do have to insist."

"Yes?"

"I'm taking a shower, and the more I stand here with the door open, the more I'm losing hot steam. So you have a choice. Either step outside...or come in here."

The blatant heat of her invitation left him gaping. Was this truly the shy virgin that he had taken in the citadel in Masir? The look she gave him was hot enough to scorch leather, and almost before he could stop himself, he took a step forward.

Jahin wanted her, he wanted her with every fiber of his being, and if he couldn't run his hands over her sleek curves right now, he thought he might die of it.

Then sense returned, and he took a step back.

"Very well," he said, and he walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Jahin felt a little better when there was a solid wooden door between them, but at the same time he knew how very easy it would be to simply open the door again, to strip off every stitch of clothing and join her in the wet warmth of the shower. He could run his hands over her luscious curves, he could taste her soft skin, the very interiors of her mouth...

He shook himself, wondering savagely when he had lost so much willpower. If he had thought that he would be acting like this a year ago, he would have laughed himself sick. He was Sheikh Jahin Abdul Kattan, and to be brought low by a woman was unthinkable.

Yet here he was, and he knew that if it were not for that last shred of strength, he would open the door and go back to do every single thing he had thought of to her sweet body.

With a shudder, Jahin walked into the living room, his hands fisted with control.

***

IN THE SHOWER, Bedelia rinsed her hair out slowly. She was mildly disappointed that he hadn't come into the shower with her, but this was still the first opening gambit. She hadn't expected it to be easy, but as openers went, it was promising.

When he had opened the door to the shower, she had been afraid that he would simply shout at her, telling her that she had to get out of the penthouse. Then she had heard him freeze in the doorstep, and she knew that wasn't going to happen.

Bedelia chuckled a little to herself when she thought of the look on his face, but if she were honest with herself, she hadn't been unaffected either. It might have only been a short while since they were together, but her body had gotten used to the pleasure they could create together, the fire that could spring up at a moment's notice between them. It was delicious and hot and everything she had ever dreamed of sex with a man being and more.

She hadn't expected to be so very seduced by his seduction, and she knew she needed to keep her wits about her.

Bedelia resisted the urge to hurry through her shower. She was a naturally polite person, and normally if she knew that someone was waiting for her, she moved faster.

But right now, she was playing a game.

She rinsed herself off slowly, then she toweled herself dry with deliberate care. She dried her hair but left it slightly damp, hanging down over her shoulders. Her silk robe, the one he had brought her when she’d complained about being cold one night, was still hanging on the door, and she slipped into it.

For a moment, the memory of him giving her the robe, her delight and his delight at her pleasure, made her sad. Was she just shouting into the wind? Were they ever going to get back to that? There was no way to tell, not really.

The important thing, she thought decisively, is that I am not going down without a fight.

A thin silk robe was about as far away from being armor as it was possible to get, but she tied it tight around her waist and made her way casually to the living room as if it was just a normal evening.

It wasn't a great sign that Jahin was pacing close to the mantle, but she ignored it for the moment and curled up on one end of the couch.

"I can't tell if I'm getting lazy or if the pregnancy’s catching up with me," she said. "It's getting so I don't want to stand up for very long."

Jahin turned towards her, frowning with concern. She caught the slight hitch in his breath when he saw her bare legs stretching out from under the robe, but he recovered quickly.

"Are you feeling unwell?" he asked. "Should I call for the doctor?"

"Oh goodness no," she said, waving away his concern. "I'm fine. They said I was going to be getting tired easily in general, so I just have to watch for that."

He scowled at her, but at this point, she thought the dark expression must be more reflexive than anything else.

"Are you going to keep standing up over me?" she asked softly. "Why don't you come sit with me?"

For a moment, she thought she had him, but then he straightened up.

"I do not think this is a wise idea, Bedelia. If you are having issues standing up in the shower, a bath would likely be better for you. The townhouse has a bathtub, and..."

"Or I could just take sponge baths," she suggested. "I mean, that would be easy enough, right?"

He stared at her, and with a growled curse, he strode out of the room. She heard him pace to the bedroom that they had shared before slamming the door, leaving her in silence.

For a moment, it occurred to her to be hurt, and then she started giggling instead. She had mentioned the sponge bath as an alternative, more for making conversation than anything else, and now she realized how he must have taken it.

Your move, Jahin, she thought, going to the guest room. Some part of her wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with him, but she thought that might be pushing too far, at least for the first night.

In the darkness of the room, however, she felt far less confident of what she was doing, far less assured.

After all that had happened between them, she ached for him, and the idea of having him just a short distance away was a kind of subtle torture. Even though the room was perfectly well heated, she couldn't help but feel a little cold tucked under the covers. She thought suddenly that if she couldn't return to him, she would always be a little cold.

Oh Jahin, please, she thought, tears beading up in her eyes.

Chapter Sixteen

The next day, Bedelia rose early and found a fairly nutritious breakfast in the fridge. The early morning light streamed into the tall windows, and dressed in a light tank top and a pair of yoga pants, she took herself through the exercises that she had been taught.

She heard Jahin stirring in his room, and then his familiar step in the hall, but she ignored him. She could feel his gaze on her back, but she continued doing the graceful exercises that would keep her limber and healthy throughout her pregnancy.

"Who taught you how to do that?" he asked softly, and she still didn't turn.

"The people at the hospital gave me a few pamphlets, that led me to a few different sites, that led me to some videos," she said, gesturing towards the replacement phone Jahin had left for her use at the townhouse, which she’d brought with her. "I don't have them memorized yet, but I figure that I will after a few repetitions."

"And these are meant to make labor easier?"

"Yes, and to keep me active for my pregnancy. I can already tell that it's very easy to give in to the fatigue and the sleepiness. It'll be better for me and for the children if I stay up and on top of things."

There was a pause, and somehow Bedelia was still certain that he was behind her, watching her with a dragon's avidity.

"There is a long tradition of dance among the women of Muneazil," he said softly. "I think in the West you call it belly dance, but there are dozens of different dances that are celebrated here. The dances are taught and performed for celebrations throughout the year, but the history states that they were originally created to help women through childbirth."

"Really? That sounds amazing. I don't know how to dance, but I've always wished that I did."

Jahin chuckled softly, and though she wanted to turn towards him and throw herself into his arms at that sound, she kept herself back. It felt as if anything at all could break the spell, and right now, she could not bear that.

"But of course you know how to dance," he said. "Every woman does."

"That doesn't sound very scientific," she commented with a slight smile. "When I was in the fifth grade, I danced so badly once at a school event that I knocked over an entire table of drinks, and that was basically that for my dance career."

"Ah, but you are not in the fifth grade any longer."

She gasped a little when she felt his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face him. They were so close that she could feel the warmth of his body, closer than they had been since before he’d left, since before she’d found out about her pregnancy.

"Here, let me show you..."

He placed one of her hands on his shoulder, one of his on her hip, and he clasped their free hands together as he hummed a soft song.

"Now just follow me, forward and back..."

She did as he said, clumsily at first, but he was almost shockingly patient. In less than fifteen minutes, she was slowly but smoothly following him around the room. He was in a suit, and she was in workout clothes, but somehow, she had never felt more graceful and elegant than she did in his arms just then.

"And step back, and I bow to you...and you incline your head graciously to me. Good, just like that."

They stepped back from each other, and in the morning light, they simply looked at each other. It was as if they had never seen each other before and were just now noticing the other person.

He was still a painfully handsome man, but for some reason, that wasn't the most important thing, Bedelia thought. She could see now, after having spent so much time with him, how kind his hands were, how his mouth was made for laughter and for talk and for pleasure, how his copper eyes showed what he was feeling, sometimes whether he wanted you to see or not.

This was the man she loved, and every part of her ached for him. That would never change.

"See?" he said after a moment. "Easy as anything. I knew you would be a natural at it."

"If we have a daughter, will you teach her as well?"

He looked surprised at her statement, and then a kind of softness that she had never seen spread across his face. No matter who his children were or what became of the two of them, she knew he would always love them, and it made her chest contract with longing.

"But of course," he said, bowing to her slightly again.

The spell was broken, and he had business with the governmental offices that day. After the door closed behind his exit, the apartment was so quiet that she nearly went to the men stationed outside for a talk.

What if he doesn't come back? she wondered. The thought was horrid, but she had to face the possibility. If he was truly irritated with her being here, if he didn't want to see her, there were things he could do. Jahin could go to one of the other properties that he owned, and this time she might not be able to find him so easily. He might go to a hotel where she could not follow him.

She shuddered.

He could go stay with the families of one of the women who he was routinely associated with. Wouldn't that delight them, the sheikh showing their daughter such favor.

For a moment, Bedelia wished intently that she was one of those women, born wealthy and beautiful with a place in Jahin's world as fixed as the North star. She longed to be someone that it was appropriate for him to look upon, to court properly, but then in the next moment, she dismissed it.

"This is where I want to be," she said out loud, and she was surprised to realize that it was true.

If she was one of those girls, she and Jahin would never be in this situation. Their children wouldn't exist. There would always be a wall between them, one made of expectations and assumptions. That was one thing they had going for them; they had always seen each other truly and honestly.

Bedelia sighed, gazing out the enormous windows. Below her the capital city buzzed away, thousands and thousands of lives rolling on whether hers did or not.

She didn't know what she would do if he didn't come back. How long could she chase him? How long before she grew tired and heartsick?

She squared her shoulders.

I will chase him as long as it takes, she thought to herself. As long as it takes.

***

JAHIN FOUND HIMSELF thinking of Bedelia throughout his day.

She was in the back of his mind as he went over the budget with his chief financial officer.

She popped up with her sweet smile and green eyes as he was trying to hammer out a good plan with a policy maker from Dubai.

She was with him when he ate and talked and waited for meetings to start, and he knew that he was in a dangerous place.

During a short break, he sat at his desk, all ten fingers buried in his thick, dark hair, and he simply breathed.

The image of her in the shower, blurred and warm and wet, echoed in his mind, but he knew that wasn't it.

His craving for her went beyond the physical, though he thought that the physical was plenty powerful enough, to be sure. No, he wanted more than just sex. He craved the warmth that had been between them, the power of her heart and the cleverness of her mind.

You can have that, his own traitorous brain whispered to him. Of course you can have that...

He couldn't. She was dangerous. She had tried to betray him. She was perhaps the least suitable woman he could bring into his life, and they were both lucky that the tabloids hadn't gotten wind of their affair.

For some reason, the word “affair” made him flinch. That wasn't what they had, but it was what the world would call it. It made him furious, and that was not a thing he could afford. She deserved so much more than that, and he felt as if he could have cheerfully killed anyone who put her in that position.

The clock was ticking, and Jahin realized that he had to make a decision. According to the men he had guarding her, she was still at the penthouse. At some point, he was going to need to decide if he wanted to come back--come home--to her, or if he was going to find some other place to go.

It would be the smart thing to go to a hotel, he knew that. He could go to a hotel and bar her from entry. There were, after all, plenty of other properties where she could be very comfortable. He could bar the hotel’s door against her, no matter how much that would hurt her, no matter how much it would hurt him.

Or...

Or he could return to the penthouse. He could order some food delivered to them. Was the Chinese place they loved so much too greasy for her now that she was pregnant? He was troubled he didn't know. And they could simply...forget that the past week or so had happened. They could be themselves again. They could be happy.

It would feel so good. He could feel himself longing for it even as he thought of it, longing for the warmth that had always come so easily to them.

He wondered bleakly if that was what had put him in such a foul mood. The thought was uncomfortable, to say the least. Instead of it being a betrayal that had made his heart constrict, that had made that black despair rise up within him, it was merely her absence. There was something in him, that strong blood that had driven his ancestors to conquer, to protect and to rule, that roared in denial of being that much in thrall to anyone else, of allowing himself to be ruled.

However, he had to admit to himself, if someone had to rule him, there would be far worse choices in the world than Bedelia.

Jahin put his head in his hands. For the last few days, he had been in a fog. He kept waiting for it to clear up so he could think, so he could act, do what was right, but now as he pressed on, nothing was clear. Every way he turned, there was nothing that would help him.

Chapter Seventeen

The day faded and turned to night. Bedelia kept herself occupied by reading up on multiple births, by learning of what she could expect, and occasionally by watching television, but the day stretched out endlessly until it was over.

She paced in the living room restlessly, looking up at every sound. She heard the guards outside the door change shifts, speaking quietly to one another as one pair left and another arrived. She found herself strangely envious of them, with lives that looked so simple from where she was sitting.

She contemplated doing another set of exercises, but if she went through the same motions again that day, she thought she might scream.

The hands on the clock ticked to eight. Then to nine. They hit ten, and she felt something soft and small inside her quiver and shake with pain.

When the clock struck eleven, Bedelia had to hug herself against the pain.

He's not coming back here, she thought, and she tried to stop the pain that raged inside from destroying her. She kept her tears back as best she could, but a few escaped anyway, running down her face where she brushed them aside angrily.

Silly little fool, she thought viciously. Did you think it would be so easy? Did you think that someone like you could simply seduce a man like him into doing your will?

She wondered what was in front of her now. Would she have the courage to chase him? That had been her plan, but now that she thought of it, she wondered if she had the stamina to do so. Her heart wanted to keep chasing him, but when she glanced down at her growing belly, she wasn't sure.

Multiple pregnancies meant an increase in the amount of fatigue she was going to feel. She knew that, and now she could feel that. If Jahin wanted to get away from her, then he absolutely would, and there would be nothing she could do about it.

She winced away from the image that she presented, the unmarried mother chasing after the man who had abandoned her. Her pride wailed in protest, but her heart, her foolish wounded heart, could not see any other way.

No, I'll find him, she thought. Not tonight, I need to sleep or I will be utterly destroyed tomorrow, but I will find him.

Despite her resolution, she found that she couldn't go to bed. She dressed herself in a long, embroidered cotton nightgown, and instead of going to the guest bedroom or Jahin's master bedroom, she stayed in the living room. Perched in one pale wing chair, she looked out over the city, which twinkled with a thousand bright artificial lights. The stars above were canceled out by the lights below, but she knew they were up there. They had held silent witness the first time she and Jahin had made love. She wondered what they thought now.

Bedelia rested her hands on her belly. Even in the last few days, it had felt rounder, firmer. After the initial shock had set in, it had become all too believable that there were children inside her. Well, she understood in her mind, at least. She suspected that it would probably take a little longer before she truly understood in her heart that she was carrying three children.

"Hey kiddos," she said softly, cupping her hands over her belly. "Some of the articles that I read said I should talk to you. No time like the present to start, huh?"

She paused as if she expected them to reply somehow, and then she chuckled at herself.

"So even if I'm just vibrations to you right now, I bet you can feel some of what's been going on lately...and babies, I am so sorry. I am so sorry that this is happening, and I am sorry that you are feeling it the way that you are."

She felt her voice wobble, and she kept the tears back.

"Life...life isn't always this sad or this scared, okay? I promise. I promise that I will do whatever I can to make the world as good for you as I can. Your daddy will too, I know that."

Even as her heart ached, she knew that was true. If his children needed anything, Jahin would move heaven and earth to get it for them.

"Let...let me tell you a story." She could feel herself getting sleepy, as she did so easily these days. Bedelia knew she should get up and go to bed, but the chair was so comfortable, and if she got into bed, she would have to realize all over again that she was alone in it.

"Once upon a time, there was a foolish young girl who crossed the ocean and ended up at a horse fair. The horses were all so beautiful that she lost her way and ended up menaced by a pair of wolves. They were going to catch her and eat her right up when a bold sheikh rode up on his jet-black horse and saved her.

"They...they fell in love, and for a while, the sheikh showed her the treasures of his land. They laughed, and they ate, and they cared for each other so much that it was like a burning brand in their hearts. If this was another story, this is where they would live happily ever after..."

She wiped her eyes, but right now, she was more tired than sad. It occurred to Bedelia that this was how love died. One day you were in love, and then the next you were heartbroken. That was all the songs ever told you, but the truth was that after heartbroken came tired, so tired. She could barely keep her eyes open, but she kept talking. There was something soothing about the words of their story, hers and Jahin's and their children's, falling into the familiar cadence of a fairytale.

"But the girl got scared. They were having such a good time, but they both knew that they couldn't be together forever. At first she thought she could be all right with that, but then something happened, and she knew she couldn't be.

"So she ran. She climbed on the back of an enormous flying bird, and she tried to fly away, but the sheikh was a great hunter. He sent his two fine hunting falcons after her, and when he brought her back, he was so angry that he locked her in a tower."

Bedelia paused for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"She thought the tower would have been fine if he had stayed there with her. She could live in a cave as long as the sheikh was there with her. She got so lonely that even though she was carrying three children in her belly, she chased after him. Perhaps if she chased after him hard enough, perhaps if he saw her, spoke with her, touched her, he would remember what they had."

She was on the verge of drifting off to sleep on the couch when a quiet voice broke in.

"Did it work?"

Bedelia was so tired that she didn't even jump. Instead, she only turned to see Jahin stepping out of the shadows. She realized he had entered the apartment while she was speaking, without her being aware of him at all.

"I don't know," she said softly. Her gaze met his in the dark, and if her heart could have broken any more, it would have. "I hope it works."

For a moment, it looked as if Jahin was going to speak, but then he only sighed.

"Come on, storyteller," he said softly. "You can't sleep there."

She didn't protest as he lifted her in his arms. There was simply something so very right about being held close to him, about hearing his heart beat in time with hers, that she relaxed instantly. She had been so tense, and this was what she had needed to make it stop.

Bedelia was vaguely aware that he carried her to his bedroom. She remembered the feel of the mattress, the singular scent of his fresh sheets. She murmured with pleasure as he drew the blankets over her shoulders, but when he tried to pull away, she grasped at his sleeve.

"Stay," she said imploringly. "Please. Just for tonight, I don't want to be without you."

He was still a long moment, and then with a sigh, he kissed her forehead.

"All right," he whispered, and a sleepy smile crossed her face.

She fell asleep listening to the familiar sounds of Jahin stripping to the skin before coming to lie behind her in the bed. His long, lean form cupped hers perfectly, and finally, finally, she was able to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

***

Bedelia woke up feeling whole and healthy, and at first she was confused. She hadn't slept well in days, and to wake up feeling so alert and cheerful now was almost strange.

Then the memories of the night before came rushing back to her, and her eyes widened.

The bed next to her was empty and cold, but she could hear someone moving around in the main part of the penthouse. She bit her lip, wondering what she should do.

Finally, she took a quick shower and dressed herself. She thought about putting on an outfit that was alluring and designed to catch the eye, but regretfully, she put the thought aside. It seemed silly and cheap now by the light of the morning. Instead, she pulled out a gray-green dress that made her eyes glow bright, and she took a deep breath.

"Wish me luck, kiddos," she said softly, stroking her belly, and then she walked into the living room.

Jahin wore a pair of black silk boxers and a silk robe. Despite its already being mid-morning, he was obviously not going to work, and she felt a small hint of hope.

Instead, he was seated at the breakfast nook, and there was a full breakfast of bread, fruit and coffee in front of him.

"Is this a private breakfast, or can anyone sit down?" she asked.

"Well, I'm afraid that I have a guest coming," he said politely, and at her crestfallen look, he laughed ruefully. "I'm sorry, I think I'm still getting used to...well, never mind. It was a joke, and a bad one. Of course the other seat is set for you, Bedelia. Please, sit down."

She smiled a little at her own foolishness and took her seat. A brave woman might have simply launched into a new attack, but right now, it felt too good to be doing something as normal as having breakfast with Jahin that she couldn't interrupt it just yet.

"This looks amazing. I can't have the coffee, but the rest of this is perfect."

"Ah, I had forgotten about the coffee. What would be better for you?"

"Anything that doesn't have caffeine, really," she said with a shrug. "Not a big deal. Most of the eating changes I have to make are ones that I should be making anyway. I like my junk food way too much."

"Ah, so no more spicy kebabs?" he asked teasingly, and she groaned.

"Don't even mention them. I can have them after the kids are born, but until then, I should really be eating better than that."

There was a pause while she ate some delicate melon and a croissant, and when Jahin spoke again, there was a thoughtful tone to his voice.

"There is so much that I never knew about pregnancy. I suppose a part of me always thought it was woman's work, that I would not have to know at all..."

"Well, that's terrible," she said tartly, but he continued.

"But now that this has happened, now that you are carrying my child, my children...I want to know all about it."

She blinked in surprise at him, and when she spoke, she felt oddly cautious. "There's a lot to know, and I'm still learning...but do you want to learn with me?"

He smiled at her, and she was surprised by how shy his smile was. "I do."

She had a moment to bask in the warmth, but then he continued.

"There is...so much between us right now," he said heavily. "Sometimes, it feels as if we will never come out into the light again."

She started to protest, but he held up a hand, and she fell silent.

"Let me speak, please... The truth is that we have muddled things, you and I. I have always believed that there is a proper time and place for all things, a rhyme and a reason. We have done things out of order. We have feelings we shouldn't have had, we will have children that shouldn't be--"

Bedelia lurched to her feet, all but snarling at Jahin. In the back of her mind, she was shocked at how quickly she could go from happiness to rage, but then the rage consumed her.

"Don't you say that," she cried. "Do not say that about our children, that they shouldn't be, as if they were some kind of mistake!"

He rose up across from her, putting his hands on her shoulders. She nearly went to strike him, and he grasped her wrists in his hands. After a moment, she realized there was nothing she could do against his much greater strength, and she subsided, glaring at him. Bedelia allowed him to guide her back to her chair, but she still fumed with rage.

"That is not what I meant, and I am sorry." There was real regret in his voice, so she would believe him for the moment, but still she watched him, suspicious now.

"I didn't mean that they are mistakes. I meant that... Bedelia, I was taught that marriage comes first, followed by children who are born into a safe and stable place. That troubles me, and there may be problems down the line..."

She started to argue again, but his next few lines stopped her cold.

"But right now...there is nothing we can do but enjoy each other. We should simply enjoy what we have right now, Bedelia. I am tired of holding myself back from you. There is simply so much between us that we want, that I am almost afraid that I need."

It took her another moment to find her voice.

"What are you saying?" she whispered.

"Until the children are born...I want everything back the way it was. I want to be with you. I want to forget that the last few days took place.”

It was everything she should have wanted, but somehow, she found herself objecting. “But they did happen. We can't erase them. We are the people that we are because of what happened.”

“I know,” he said, and he looked straight into her eyes. She was startled when she saw a hint of pleading there. It shook her to the core, seeing that there was something he wanted that she could grant him like this.

“What are you asking me?” she asked, finally sitting back down. She felt as if her skin was buzzing with electricity. She felt as if at any moment, she might have simply toppled over from too much exhaustion, too much stimulation, simply too much.

For a moment, Jahin only looked at her, his eyes lit up with that light she had always thought of as dragon fire. He was impossible to read right now, and before he even started to speak, she was grinding her hands together, trying to figure out what was coming forward.

"I want you," he said softly. "Pure and simple."

"There's nothing pure and simple between us," she commented with some bitterness. "Not after I ran away. Not after you decided to hold me here and tried to steal our children."

He waved his hand, and she fell silent. Bedelia noticed there was something in him that was no longer angry. He was tired, and a part of him longed for her, but right then, the rage that had been such an obvious part of their dealings for so long was banked.

"I know that very well," he said with a shrug. "I know that better than you do, I think. For the past few days, I feel as if I have been nothing more than a victim of my emotions. I have been pushed here and there by my head, my heart, by you, by everything that I know is true."

She could at least understand that. Some part of her was pleased that she was not alone in all of this. Another part of her was confused as to how they could ever get through this, together or apart.

"I want a clean slate," Jahin said finally. "I...I do not know if this is a cowardly thing to ask, and I certainly do not know if it is something that will harm us in the future, but right now, that is what I want most."

"A clean slate," Bedelia said, looking at him. She saw nothing but honesty in his face, no ploy, nothing that was going to rear up and bite her if she wasn’t careful. "Tell me what you mean by that."

"I want to stop being angry," Jahin said simply. "I want to simply be with you, and to be a part of things. The children that you are carrying, they are my firstborn. They are...they will be part of my legacy, whether they stay in Muneazil or they return to the United States as citizens."

She frowned at him. "You are...willing to let them make their own choice?"

"I am inclined in that direction," he said. "I stayed up last night thinking, and I am not sure if I received more than a few hours of sleep. I told myself that I am going to have children; I do not want to be at war with their mother."

"This was never a war," she began, but he shook his head.

"We were treating it like one. And when a mother and a father fight, the children must be counted as casualties."

She shivered at that. Her parents had stayed together, but plenty of her schoolmates had parents who were torn by divorce and bitter recriminations. She ran her hand over her belly, knowing in that moment that she wanted far better for her triplets. For all of them.

"So then, sheikh," she said softly. "What does a peacetime truce look like between us?"

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"You have been pursuing me," he said with such assurance that she couldn't even begin to deny it. “In your mind, what does it mean to you?"

Bedelia frowned. In some ways, this was everything she had hoped for, but there was something wrong with it. She didn't quite understand what. It felt empty, and it felt strange, but she pushed that aside.

"I want us to continue as we were," she said. "Blank slate, like you said. Until the children are born at least...Jahin, I just want to be with you. I haven't felt good, and I haven't felt safe since I was last in your arms."

The last came out in a rush, and though there was definitely a pleading note in her voice, she couldn't bring herself to pull back from that vulnerability. She wanted to protect her children more than anything in the world, but she also needed Jahin.

She tried to hide her naked need for him by looking down, but he reached across to tilt her chin up with a single finger.

"In my anger, I could not hear you," he said cryptically. "And when I let my anger go, you are as clear as sunlight, as a fresh mountain stream."

"I don't know what that means," Bedelia said, feeling somehow as if she were on the brink of tears.

He smiled at her ruefully. "It means, in my own foolish way, that I should be beaten for how stubborn I can be. No tears now, beautiful one. Let's...let's simply be as we wish to be. We will feel what we want to feel, laugh as we wish to laugh, and for now, just be together."

She looked up at him hopefully, and when he nodded, she came forward to throw herself into his arms. She had thought she would weep, but instead, she simply rested against him and shook. This was what she had been craving. This was what she had needed, and now that she had it back, everything felt too bright, too real.

"I want to be a part of things," he said, almost too quietly for her to hear. "When you go to the doctor, I want to go with you. I want to show you even more of my land, and I want to make sure that you see what your children are inheriting. Will you allow me that?"

"Yes," she murmured without looking up. "I trust you."

She hadn't intended to say the word “trust,” not really. There was another word that sat hot and longing on her tongue, but this wasn't the right time to say it.

Sometimes, she thought that she never would.

Chapter Eighteen

It was easier than Bedelia thought it would be.

The last few days, so bright and hot and vivid with anger and frustration, were etched indelibly on both their minds, her flight and his fury. However, once they both decided to look away from those moments, they found each other much as they had been before.

After a spate of incredibly busy days working with his ministers and law keepers, Jahin declared himself free from work for at least a little while, and their adventures began again. Bedelia noticed that their new adventures were a little quieter than they had been before, but they were still fascinating lessons in the country that would belong to her children and they to it.

One day, he took her out into the desert after making sure from the doctor that she was strong enough for it. Bedelia would have said that she was of course strong enough for a ride into the desert, but at this point, she found that it was best to simply listen to Jahin. He was far more nervous about her pregnancy than she was, and sometimes, unbidden, he would lay his hand over her belly, frowning with concern.

In the desert, they were met by a man with several birds hooded and in cages on his truck. At a word from Jahin, he showed her how each hunted, how they could strike down a rabbit from on high. She marveled at the fierceness of the golden eagle, the speed of the peregrine and aloof grace of the gray hawk.

"I cannot fly these birds," Jahin said with wistful reluctance. "They will only fly for the man who raised them, who rewards them. It has been many years since I have had the time to pursue falconry, but once upon a time, it was the birthright of all the sheikh's sons."

"Will you teach our children?" she asked, looking after the flight of the enormous golden eagle. It moved slowly, or at least that was the way that it looked from the ground, but when it struck, it was as if there was nothing in the world that could even dream of stopping it.

"What?"

"I would like very much to have you teach falconry to our children, whether they are boys or girls," she said, watching the golden eagle. "I wouldn't like it very much if the boys were favored and the girls left out."

When she turned towards him, he was looking at her thoughtfully, as if she had presented him with something that he hadn't considered before.

"I would," he said at last. "I am not sure it occurred to me that a girl might be interested in falconry--"

"I am," she pointed out.

"--and you are quite right. Very well. Our sons and daughters shall be falconers.”

She turned to him with a slight smile, and the answering smile on his face was slow but lovely.

"You have thought a great deal about what you want for our children," he said on the drive back to the city.

Bedelia rested against his side, drinking in the cool air of his powerful car.

She gave him a slightly amused look. "Of course I have. I think it comes from realizing that for at least a little while, you are completely and utterly responsible for three small lives, ones that eat as you eat, drink as you drink."

"I am the sheikh of Muneazil," he said slowly. "I think of its benefit all the time. I try to think about what is going to be best for it, and I think of how I could improve it. I...I do not know how to turn that into a concern for three children."

He looked so abashed that she couldn't resist. She scooted close and dropped a kiss on his cheek, startling him slightly, she could tell.

"You have to admit that I have a little bit of a head start," she pointed out. "I'm the one who has them inside me, and believe me when I say that that took a little bit of getting used to. You are sort of just feeling your way along this. You have never been a father before."

He laughed a little, a harsh sound that made her blink.

"I have had the responsibility for Muneazil placed on me since I was a young boy," he said, and she wondered at the slight bitterness in his tone. "Every day, I was made aware of the fact that someday the fates of all of the citizens in the country would rely on me as I led them into war or peace."

Bedelia shivered a little at that. She could imagine Jahin as a young boy, so serious with those bright eyes. Had he ever had a proper moment of childhood, where he could be as free and wild as children should be? Had he been allowed? Something about the picture of this man as a young boy weighed down with the issues of a nation broke her heart.

"Is that what you want for your children?" she asked softly.

She rested her hand on his thigh, feeling the way the muscle there tensed and relaxed. The miles of desert rolled out under the car's wheels as he considered her question.

"I do not know," he said at last. "It is true, the pressures of being the sheikh, they are not light, but...they were not as overwhelming as my father made them sound. He trained me well, as did the teachers he found for me. When he died, I was ready, and had been doing some of the duties for quite some time..."

Bedelia let him chew over the issue for a short while, turning it over and over in his head. She knew the conclusion that he would get to, but it was important that he come to it himself.

When he slowly shook his head, it felt like a victory of sorts, warmth deep within her that pulled him in, pulled them closer.

"I don't think so," he said finally. "I want my children to grow up responsible about the world and about their place within it. I would certainly not allow them to be ignorant of what privilege they had, and I would want them to do all the good that they could do...but no, I do not think I would want them to be...to be as weighed down as I was."

"Good," she said softly, and he glanced at her.

"You sound relieved."

"You turned out to be a great ruler and a good man," she said with a shrug. "Sometimes, though...I wonder if there was a way to be gentler with you and still have you turn out like this."

They were quiet for some time after that, but she could tell he was thinking of what she had said.

Sometimes, Bedelia wondered how close they were to other couples, how other couples might talk about how their children should be brought up. The issue, of course, was that they were so far from normal, so far off the beaten path that she had no idea what normal looked like.

All they could do, she decided, was their best, and in that way, they were probably much like the people all over the world.

While they were sorting out the fact that they were going to be parents, they were also relearning each other. Their touches were light and shy, almost tentative.

They weren't shy, or even scared, but Bedelia thought that they felt new to one another, wary of dark places that might suddenly leap up and trap them, catch them unawares.

It wasn't easy to be careful with the fire that was banked between them. The first few nights, they simply slept in each others’ arms, chaste except for a few gentle kisses and touches. When Jahin had only folded her into his embrace to sleep, she had been a little disappointed, but there was a certain relief there as well. There had been so many emotions running so very hard and hot that they felt strangely tender with one another.

On the night after they had seen the falcons flying, however, she could feel his gaze on her as she came out of the bathroom, her hair still damp from her shower.

He was stripped down to a light pair of linen trousers and a thin tunic. They were a bright white, offering a startling contrast between the crisp cloth and his bronzed skin. She wasn't sure she had ever seen him look so handsome, with his eyes fixed on her and his mouth slightly open.

"What is it?" she asked, blushing slightly. She clasped the edges of the silk robe around her a little more tightly. It was strange. Before, he had known every bit of her body, every moan and every sound she made, but somehow she was shy now.

"I suppose I am thinking of how beautiful you are," he said, never taking his eyes off of her. She thought that if he were really a dragon, he would have been licking his lips.

"You're joking," she said, shaking her head. "You know, I can feel how the pregnancy's changing me. I feel slow and tired, and I know I'm getting bigger. It feels like I am getting bigger every darned day..."

"Do you think that matters to me?" he retorted, taking a few steps towards her. "Do you think that alters your beauty or that it takes away from how important you are to me?"

His words were hypnotic. That had to be it, because she was so mesmerized by them that she didn't even sense him getting closer to her until he was almost touching her. Still, he maintained a distance between them, only reaching out a single finger to feather it down along her cheek. With a slight sigh, she leaned into him, craving his warmth.

"I have never understood why you do not understand your appeal," he said quietly. "You always seem so surprised when I tell you how much I want you, how much I desire you. Surely it is not because I am reticent about my desires. I have shown you over and over again how much I crave you. I have shown you in so many ways..."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I suppose the world doesn't tell me that pregnant women can be so beautiful, or that plain girls with brown hair can be so desirable."

He snorted, bringing his face down next to hers. She could feel the bare scrape of the slight stubble on his cheek next to hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe, and she wanted more than anything to loop her arms around his neck, bring him even closer. Even now, though, she held herself still. The anticipation made her nerves dance, something that was so close to pleasure that she could have moaned.

"The world is wrong, and in so many ways, I suppose it will continue to be wrong. What I see before me is a beautiful woman, one that I have wanted far more than I have ever wanted any other woman. Now, though, I cannot tell if she wants me."

Bedelia's eyes had drifted closed, but at his words, they flew open.

"What do you mean?" she gasped. "Can't you... I mean... I must want you! So very much!"

He raised an eyebrow at her, a slight quirk of humor on his lips. She knew he was teasing her, but there was something dead serious there, something that tugged at her like a dark tide.

"Do you?" he asked softly. "I do not know that, not when you do not touch me, you do not reach for me..."

She knew he was teasing her, but there was something so soft about his voice, so gentle and so oddly wistful, that she couldn't help but reach for him with a cry. She threw her arms around him just as she had been thinking of doing for god knew how long, and she dragged him down for a deep and drugging kiss. The moment his lips touched hers, she could feel something inside her go up in flames. She had wanted him for so long, and now nothing else seemed to matter.

“How could you think I don't want you?” she murmured softly. “I want you more than I want to breathe.”

She heard him let out a breath, and his arms went around her, gathering her up tight in an embrace that felt like what she had wanted for her entire life.

“I want you to understand,” he murmured, “that is exactly the way that I feel about you.”

She started to answer him, but then his mouth was sealed over hers, and his tongue was probing deep, making her feel as if her body was freefalling, tumbling through the sky without any fear because Jahin would always catch her.

"You don't know how much I have missed you," he whispered. "You have no idea how much I have wanted you, how I would wake up at night without understanding why you weren't here..."

She had to clear her throat twice before she could speak. "I'm here now. Do what you want with me."

Bedelia could feel the tremor go through him. It was as if she had waved a red flag in front of a bull, and for a moment, she thought he was simply going to throw her down to the ground and ravish her right then and there. They had done that before, made love so hard that it left them both breathless and bruised, but now he caught himself.

"Jahin?" Bedelia murmured. "Please, I am not fragile, I promise..."

He chuckled a little, and she could hear the stress and the strain in it. She thought that she would never doubt how much he wanted her again; he sounded as if he would die if he could not have her.

"I know you are not, beloved," he said. "Only...will you let me have my way tonight? I know it has not truly been so very long, but..."

"Yes," she said instantly. "I know that I want you, and that is all that matters."

As a reward for her words, he kissed her deeply again, this time lifting her up in his arms as he did so. He carried her to the bed as if she weighed nothing, and then he laid her tenderly on the mattress as if she were some kind of precious treasure that he did not want to break.

"I have not been able to see you for what feels like such a long time. I'm going to look at you now."

Bedelia whimpered with heat and embarrassment as he opened the folds of her robe. He worked delicately, barely doing more than grazing her soft skin. He pulled the edges of the silk aside to leave her exposed, her breasts, her belly, her legs all pale and soft on display.

Her first instinct was to cover herself, but when she saw the hunger in Jahin's eyes, she couldn't do it. She could see the pleasure that he took in looking at her, and she wouldn't take that away.

As he gazed upon her, something strange happened in Bedelia's mind. Her entire life, she had been troubled by whispers about her body, voices in the back of her head that told her she wasn't good enough, that she was too this or too that, far from beautiful, far too plain. However, as Jahin's hot gaze raked over her, she could start to see herself the way he did. She saw the lovely fairness of her skin, the delicious way her dark nipples crinkled under his gaze. She could see how her body was perfectly shaped for the children she carried and how cleverly and completely it could give herself to her lover.

"You are like a present for the unwrapping," Jahin said, as if he could read her thoughts. "Like a holy gift I have been given charge of."

"And what are you going to do with me?" Bedelia found herself whispering. Her throat felt as dry as the desert; every part of her quivered with excitement.

"I am going to take care of you," he said with a wicked grin, and he stripped out of his own clothes.

When he came to rest on the bed with her, his naked skin was a revelation. The moment it brushed against her own, she lost control. All she wanted to do was to push against him, to crowd him, to demand more and more. There was something perfect about the way her body fit against his, and she refused to pull away from how amazing it felt.

Gently, he pushed her to her back, laughing a little when she mewled with frustration.

"Softly, love," he said. "I want to truly see you after all this time."

Gulping a little, she subsided, and then, true to his word, he inspected her. He ran his fingers through her hair, spreading the gleaming strands around her shoulder, he kissed every inch of her sensitive throat and nibbled at her ears. He touched and kissed every part of her he could reach until she was squirming with desire.

However, no matter how much she squirmed, no matter how much she panted and whimpered, he avoided the very heart of her heat. She needed his touch there so badly, but whenever he ventured up close to the tops of her thighs, he backed away before he could give her what she needed.

The third time he did this, Bedelia nearly wailed with frustration, her hands flailing at his shoulders. Her eyes were wide and wild, and when he knelt over her, she looked at him beseechingly.

"What is it, darling?" he taunted. "What is it that you want?"

"I want... I want you," she said, staring up at him. She knew that she was panting, that her hips were moving without her direction. She was like a wild thing, and none of it mattered in the least as long as she could have what she needed.

"Do you? Tell me more about that."

"Please...you know what I need!"

"Maybe I do," he teased her. "Maybe, however, I need to be told. I would hate to get it wrong, after all, you know?"

"Curse you," she yowled, and he laughed.

"Now that is not a very kind thing to say. Why don't you tell me what it is you want, hmm, darling girl? What is it that would please my beautiful woman?"

Her face was on fire, and the only reason she could force the words past her lips was because her desire was stronger than her embarrassment.

"Oh goodness, please, Jahin, I want you to touch me," she gasped. "Please, your hands, your mouth, anything, but please touch me, it has been so long. I'm afraid I'll die if you don't touch me, please!"

She could feel the way she had sharpened his appetite with her words. His eyes turned smoky, and Bedelia saw him bring himself back from the brink. There was a moment, she thought, where she almost had him, where he might simply have thrown himself on her and given her the climax that she needed.

Then he reined himself back in with what looked like a superhuman will, and he grinned at her.

"Your wish is my command..."

He pulled her legs open with a single smooth motion, and then he was stretching out between them, his arms hooked under her knees and his mouth trailing hot kisses up her thighs. This time, however, instead of stopping short of her most sacred flesh, he continued, and she felt his clever tongue sliding up along her slit, opening her with just a few passes. She groaned at how sensitive she was, but he worked her flesh skillfully, never letting the sensations get to be too much. A few times, she could feel her body start to shake with pleasure, but every time it happened, he drew back, letting the pleasure die down until his mouth built it up again.

Bedelia couldn't stop herself from flailing; instead, she gripped giant handfuls of the sheets, trying to keep herself from flying apart. She knew she had asked for this, but now she was almost frightened by the intensity of the sensations.

Jahin's motions grew steadier and stronger, and his hands on her thighs tightened. He pressed his lips against her folds, as if he was drinking down the very essence of her, and in that moment, she couldn't resist him any longer.

Her eyes were open wide but they saw nothing, and her entire body tightened in a half-dozen powerful waves of desire. There was nothing she could do to stop herself from feeling the way her climax rolled through her, and so she simply surrendered herself to it. She cried out until she was hoarse, and it was still not enough.

It seemed to take an eternity before the powerful convulsions calmed and then stopped, and she was still shivering a little when Jahin came to lean over her again.

"Are you all right, darling?" he asked, and the only response she could muster up was a tired giggle.

"I feel like you made me burst into a thousand fireworks," she said dreamily, and he laughed.

"Good," Jahin said with feeling. "That's what I wanted."

Somehow, she found the presence of mind to look up at him slyly.

"That's not all you want," she murmured, and he looked down with a slight smile.

"No, it's not, but perhaps that is all we should do tonight. I know the doctor said you could act as you normally would, but perhaps you should rest after..."

"No," she said, and then marveling at her own boldness, she reached her hand down between them. Touching his cock, all hot silk over steel, was a pleasure that made her sigh, and she reveled in the soft, surprised sound he made.

"I want you," she said, her voice hoarse. "I don't want to do this if we don't do it together."

She thought he looked like he might want to resist, and she squeezed him gently, purring at his gasp and at the way his erect flesh jumped in her hand.

"You want me," she repeated. "Show me, please."

That broke his control, what little there was left of it. He growled like a demon let out of torture, and then she felt him fall on her, his mouth closing over hers as if there was a chance a kiss might have been enough, if it was only passionate enough, if it was only powerful enough.

It wasn't, however, and she could feel his erection press against her thigh. When he broke the kiss, she looked up at him.

"Do what you want to me," she said clearly. "That's what I want most."

She felt his strong hands turn her over on her stomach before he pulled her hips up. On her knees and elbows, she felt exquisitely vulnerable, brilliantly sexual. There was no mistaking this position. He wanted her immediately, and he would not wait.

Without pause, he plunged deep into her, drawing out slightly before plunging deep again. She cried out, but it was only at the pleasure of being filled by the man that she craved, the one that she had yearned for so long.

He was gasping and groaning, crying out in English and Arabic. Some of the things he said would make her blush later on, but now she could only feel the heat of them as he told her in no uncertain terms how much he needed her, how much he wanted her.

With one final, deep stroke, he pushed all the way inside her, filling her in a way that felt like heaven. He went still, groaning roughly as he found his own peak, and then she felt him reach forward to clasp her around her body.

She was astonished when he lifted her straight up and back to rest her back against his chest with his cock still inside her.

"Jahin...?"

"I didn't want to lose you so soon," he murmured gruffly. "I just wanted to keep you with me a little longer."

There was something about the sentiment that brought tears to her eyes, and they stayed like that for a while. Finally, he drew away, and she rolled down to snuggle under his arm instead.

"I...want you so much," Bedelia said solemnly, and he looked at her with a slight smile.

"I'm afraid you are going to have to give me just a little bit more time," he said.

She smiled at him, but it wasn't a real smile. She hadn't just meant that she wanted him physically. She meant that she loved him, and she couldn't hide that from herself any longer.

Chapter Nineteen

Life settled into a kind of rhythm, but Bedelia knew there was a darkness to it. No matter how good their days were, no matter how pleasant their nights were, there was a shadow hanging over them. It followed her as she did her exercises, as he escorted her to her doctor's appointments, even as she lay in his arms at night.

This isn't permanent, she told herself, and the echo that occurred in her head said, This isn't real.

What she and Jahin were doing was no different from two children playing house and pretending it could last forever. The truth was that the future was looming, and she didn't know how to prevent it from eating them alive, all of them, her, Jahin, and their triplets.

It was like a curse, she thought. If she spoke about it, she would break the fragile peace that had grown up between them. If she didn't speak of it, it would continue to spread, creating an insidious blight over the future that she could not see.

When she was with Jahin, it was possible to be happy, to enjoy her time with him, to feel the love that bubbled up out of her as naturally as water came up from an underground spring. When she was apart from him, Bedelia could feel her doubts circling viciously, waiting for the right moment to attack, to make her aware of how tenuous this life truly was.

They lived as if there was no tomorrow, and slowly it was wearing her away. She could feel herself growing tense and tired, and more than once, she worried about what it was doing to her children growing inside her.

Once, Jahin walked in on her crying softly in the morning. He held her in his arms until she stopped, and then as she washed her face with a cold cloth, he came up behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Whatever that was, it looked hard.”

“Just hormones, I guess,” she said with a slight smile, but her smiles were getting harder these days.

Still she hung on. Bedelia felt as if she was swinging from moment to moment with Jahin. When she was with him, she lit up like a Christmas tree. When she was without him, she felt as if she were in the dark. Something deep inside her was telling her that there was a long period of darkness coming, but she couldn't look at it.

In fact, Bedelia did such a good job of avoiding the darkness that she was completely blindsided when she found an article online about Jahin and the princess of Idira.

It had been a quiet afternoon, and after her exercise, she was reading the news. Jahin's name leaped out at her, and she read the headline almost casually before she realized what it was about. She could feel her heart beating faster and a light sweat breaking out on her forehead, and she read it again.

SHEIKH JAHIN ABDUL KATTAN ENGAGED TO PRINCESS ALLIYA AL-MUZZIN OF IDIRA!

Bedelia suddenly felt dizzy, the way she felt when she hadn't eaten much lately. She wondered half-frantically when she had eaten last, because it was better to think about that than to focus on what she was looking at. She couldn't take it in. The article’s words and letters swam in front of her as if they were fish, and she was trying to catch them, trying to make them stay still on the page so that she could read them properly, but they refused.

Abruptly, Bedelia felt as if she was feverish...her entire body was tingling, and her blood was rushing in her ears. Shaking a little, she took a sip from the glass of water next to her, but it spilled on the floor, making her cry out with frustration and shock.

Of course, it was just then that Jahin entered the penthouse, a newspaper tucked under his arm and whistling a tune under his breath. She spun around to face him just as he registered her distress, and then he was right next to her, one arm around her shoulders, the other trying to ease her down to the chair.

“Bedelia, what's the matter...?”

“You...you're getting engaged,” she said miserably. “The...the paper said...”

He barely glanced at the paper before turning his gaze back to her, a slight frown on his face.

“That piece of nonsense? Bedelia, I told you. You need to ignore this. It isn't true. I have been introduced to the princess exactly once, and that was some weeks ago. I am not getting engaged to her.”

The expected rush of relief from his statement didn't come, and suddenly, Bedelia couldn't stand to have his arms around her. She shook her head hard, and somehow, she managed to push him away. She left one hand on the chair for support, and she rounded on him angrily. The fury seemed to come from some deep and hidden part of her, one that had been closed off and left to fester. Now that it was coming out, there was no end to it, and distantly she knew she was no longer able to control it.

“You've told me? Yes, you've told me over and over again. I need to ignore this, I need to overlook it, and now you need to tell me, Jahin, what should I be looking at instead? You've told me that we should live in the now, and my goodness, I have tried. I live in the now, and I never look forward. Well, let me tell you something, sheikh of Muneazil. I have three children inside me, and I'll be honest, that's a lot of future! It's your future because they are your heirs, but it is my future too because I am their mother...”

She paused, and stunned, he reached for her. Bedelia knew she couldn't take that right now, however. She knew she couldn't let him touch her because if she did, she would simply crumple again, like she had before. His touch, his words, they would all conspire to weaken her and keep her looking only where she was rather than where she might be. Where she would be when these children were born.

“No, Jahin. I am not going to ignore this. Not when I feel about you the way that I do. Not when we are going to have three children and when the world feels this uncertain to me. I can't. Don't ask me to.”

She didn't understand the look he was giving her. He looked as if he had been struck by lightning, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. When Jahin found his voice, she did not expect what he said.

“What do you mean, the way that you feel about me?”

Bedelia couldn't stop herself from laughing incredulously.

“My goodness... That is what you focus on? All right then, Jahin. I love you. I have for a long time, and what we are doing, it hurts! It hurts every day, and I cannot do it any longer. I'm sorry I thought I could, but I can't and...”

At some point, her words had gone distant and tinny. There was a pit in her stomach, and for a moment, she thought she was going to be sick, but that was all very removed. She felt as if she was a hundred miles from her own body, and even Jahin was looking very far away, as if she was gazing at him through a long, dark tube.

There was a great rushing sound, a feeling as if she was being floated off a dark cliff, and then everything went mercifully silent.

***

THE WAITING ROOM was comfortable, even luxurious, but it didn't change the fact that it was, at the end of the day, a waiting room. They had rushed a newly conscious Bedelia between the swinging doors, and even as they had, he had heard her protesting, telling them that she was fine, telling them that she could get up, that there was nothing wrong with her in the slightest.

Jahin had tried to follow, of course, but he had been met by a woman with a stern look on her face.

“There is absolutely nothing that you can do right now besides get in the way,” she said, shaking her head. “If her condition changes, if she gets better, or if she gets worse...you will be told and decisions can be made then.”

For a moment, Jahin had stared at her, seeing not a nurse doing her job but someone who was between him and the woman he loved, and that could not be tolerated. Then sanity had gotten the better of him, and he had nodded curtly, turning to prowl the waiting room.

Love.

She had said the word, and then he could no longer ignore it. It was what he felt for her, it was what had been between them from the moment he had rescued her at the horse fair. It was only pride and fear that had kept him from seeing it, and now...now he might never get to say it to her.

Jahin tried to shrug off the cold clutch of terror that surrounded his heart. Surely they would have told him if there was something seriously wrong with her. Surely they would have told him immediately.

He remembered multiple births were always riskier for the mother. Had something gone wrong?

Would they all survive this? What would happen afterward?

He had thought that he knew what fear was before. Now he knew that what he had experienced before was nothing compared to this. This was sheer helplessness, and nothing in the world, not his money or his power, could stop something terrible from happening.

His gaze kept traveling to the doors where they had taken Bedelia. In that moment, he would have given anything and everything simply to see her smile again, simply to know that she was all right.

Almost as if summoned by his thoughts, a doctor came through the door, a serious look on his face.

“Sheikh Jahin? A word with you please.”

Jahin felt lightheaded as he approached the doctor, and his heart clung to the love that it had only now dared to speak.

***

WHEN BEDELIA WOKE up, she realized that she was in a hospital bed again with almost a casual sense of irritation. Then she realized she wasn't alone, and that someone was holding on to her hand tightly. She blinked at the dim lights in the room, and when she turned her head to one side, what she saw melted her heart.

Sitting slumped over in a chair next to her was Jahin, his head propped up on his free hand, his eyes closed in sleep. For a brief moment, she simply took the opportunity to watch him. He was so handsome, but it was more than that. There was something vital to him, something fiery that was there even when he slept.

She must have moved or made a noise, because he stirred, and then he was watching her with those copper eyes that seemed to see directly into her soul.

“You're awake,” he said. “Are you feeling all right? Do you need a doctor?”

She thought about it for a moment, her hand ghosting over her belly, but she shook her head. “No, I actually feel just fine. What happened?”

“Another blood pressure spike. They explained it to me. Common enough in multiple births, but they can be terrifying and harmful if they are not treated. In the morning, the doctor will come and speak to us about ways to prevent it from ever happening again.”

She blinked. “Morning? What time is it now?”

“Almost one in the morning. Bedelia, that doesn't matter right now. Will you listen to what I have to say?”

She blinked at the urgent note in his voice, and when she nodded, his hand tightened on hers.

“I have been a fool,” he said, his voice tight with regret. “I have acted out of fear and out of pride instead of following my instinct, which told me the truth within minutes of meeting you.”

“And what truth is that?” Bedelia asked, her heart beating like a bird in her chest.

“That I love you. That it doesn't matter who you are or where you come from, what my emirate thinks or what five hundred years of tradition say. What matters is what I feel, and what you make me feel.”

“Don't...” It was too much. She felt that if he were going to turn her down now, it would break her in a way that couldn't be repaired. “No, don't say this if you don't mean it, don't you dare.”

His free hand came up to gently touch her face. She leaned into his touch with a murmur of longing, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

“But I do mean it. Bedelia, the things that you make me feel, the love that you bring to me, this is a gift beyond measure, beyond words, and I was a fool to deny it as long as I have. I love you, and I want you as my wife.”

She stared at him, and she started to shake. This couldn't be true. It couldn't be. “Jahin...”

“Say yes,” he said softly. “Say yes, and I will marry you, and we will belong only to each other. We will love, and fight, because we are only human, and we will teach our children to do the same. Only say yes, Bedelia. Say you love me, and I will make the world yours.”

She felt as if the breath was caught in her throat, but her heart was shouting it so loudly that she was almost surprised he couldn't hear it.

“Yes,” she whispered, tears in her eyes, and then he was standing, crushing her in his arms. “I love you, and all I need is you. I don't want the world, I just want you...”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “Thank you, I love you, and you will be mine for as long as the sky lasts, as long as the mountains stand.”

She laughed a little. “That sounds like something out of a story. Like I've just woken out of a hundred years of sleep, and you're the one who has awakened me.”

He grinned, and she was shocked to the core by the tears in his eyes. She had traveled the world and seen many things, but this was possibly the most rare and wonderful thing.

“This is a fairytale,” he said tenderly. “Yours and mine.”

Epilogue

Bedelia paused as she entered the triplets' bedroom. There were three beds, but all three of the children were clustered around Jahin on one of them, listening with fierce intensity as he read to them from a book of traditional Muneazil stories.

In this rare moment of quiet, she stood in the shadows to watch them.

Anwar, the oldest, leaned in as if there were secrets in the story that might reveal the world to him. It was an old story, and she could see him mouthing the words along with his father, not reading yet, but Bedelia thought that wouldn't be far off.

Rahi sat back, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked more skeptical than her brother, and from the moment she had learned to talk, she was always asking why and how.

Hadya, youngest of the three, smaller and more delicate than either of her siblings, simply curled up against Jahin's hip, eyes half-closed and content. She was Bedelia's dreamer, the one who felt things more strongly, who was always ready to play pretend.

Jahin looked up when she came into the room.

“Hello, love,” he said, and suddenly there were four pairs of copper eyes watching her, and the love she felt for all of them was almost too much to bear.

“Hello,” she said with a soft smile, coming properly into the room. “How's story time going?”

“Baba is telling us the story of Meelia, the flower girl,” Anwar said. “She is crying so much that the valley is full of flowers, but we don't know how it is going to end.”

“Oh that's easy, my dears,” she said, coming to sit with her husband and children. “They all lived happily ever after.”

THE END

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