At the Sheikh's Bidding(24)
Zahir fired the engine and turned the four-by-four back towards the palace. ‘Just keep reminding yourself of that when you're writhing and begging beneath me, sweetheart,' he taunted her with a grin. And then he leaned across and dropped a stinging kiss on her lips, drowning her angry retort and leaving her silently seething for the journey back across the desert.
CHAPTER SIX
THEY were married five days later. None of Zahir's numerous relatives, whom Erin had met at three lavish banquets in the run-up to the wedding, seemed surprised by the speed of the arrangements, or by Zahir's decision to marry his brother's widow.
‘Everyone is so proud of Zahir for choosing to honour an old custom of Qubbah and take on the responsibility of Faisal's wife and child,' Princess Fatima, the oldest of King Kahlid's children had explained, when she sat with Erin during one of the dinners that lasted for many hours and courses. ‘Zahir has earned a reputation as a playboy prince these past few years, and he preferred to live at his bachelor apartments abroad rather than here at the palace. My father is pleased that he is now prepared to do his duty and marry you.'
Fatima did not mean the words unkindly. Like Zahir's other two sisters, she was friendly and welcoming and seemed genuinely eager to be Erin's friend. But she lived in a culture where arranged marriages and duty towards family were expected, and it was clear she believed Erin should feel grateful that Zahir had decided to ‘take her on'.
Even though she knew Zahir had only asked her to be his wife for Kazim's sake, the idea that he regarded marrying her as an unwelcome duty did nothing for Erin's self-confidence. And if he was anticipating fireworks in the bedroom as a consolation prize, he was going to be disappointed, she thought bleakly.
Since the night he had brought her back to the palace they had not been alone. Even when they had flown on his private jet to Dubai, for a shopping trip like no other Erin had ever experienced, they had been accompanied by Fatima, and a host of staff whose job had been to carry the dozens of bags of couture clothes, shoes and accessories that Zahir had insisted she must have for her new life as the wife of a prince.
Each night they had dined with the King or attended banquets held in their honour, and there had been no opportunity for Erin to reveal to her husband-to-be that, far from being the hot-between-the-sheets siren he was expecting, she was a virgin.
It was her own fault, she had brooded dismally on the morning of her wedding. She had lied to him, and he thought that she and Faisal had shared a ‘normal' marriage. Amazingly, he had not realised the level of her inexperience even when he'd kissed her. She must be a quick learner, she decided ruefully. Either that or she was as morally deficient as her mother, because when she was in Zahir's arms nothing seemed more important than assuaging the burning need for sexual fulfilment that he aroused in her.
To her relief, the wedding was a simple, low-key event compared to the extravagant banquets during which she had been conscious of the curious stares of the hundreds of guests who had been keen to see Prince Zahir's future bride. The ceremony took place in one of the palace state rooms-a breathtakingly opulent room with a pink marble-tiled floor and walls inlaid with gold, and magnificent crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, glistening like diamond tears.
Erin's heart was beating unnaturally fast when she entered the state room and walked on trembling legs to where Zahir was waiting for her beneath an ornate brocade canopy. She had assumed she would wear one of her new outfits-possibly the cream suit from one of the world's leading fashion houses that Zahir had insisted on buying without even glancing at the exorbitant price tag. But when she had emerged from her bathroom this morning-after drying her hair into a mass of red curls that rippled down her back-her maids had been waiting to dress her in a forget-me-not-blue silk caftan decorated with exquisite beading on the bodice and sleeves and fastened at the back with tiny hooks.
A rustle went through the assembled guests, and as heads turned to watch her her nerve almost gave way. For a few seconds she was tempted to turn tail and flee. But if she did not marry Zahir she would lose custody of Kazim-and marriage to the devil himself was preferable to that.
There was something incredibly sensual about the brush of the silk caftan against her thighs when she walked. It made her think of Zahir's hands stroking her skin, his lips pressing feather-light kisses down her throat to her breasts, and by the time she reached his side she was pink-cheeked and flustered. The sight of him in a bespoke charcoal-grey suit, white silk shirt and a burgundy and gold tie sent a tremor through her that she could not disguise from his eagle sharp eyes. He was awesome, and from the moment he clasped her hand she could not take her eyes from his-her voice little more than a whisper when she made the responses required of her.
The only reason she had married him was for Kazim, she reminded herself urgently. But when Zahir bent his head and captured her mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss that proclaimed her his wife, she parted her lips helplessly and welcomed the thrust of his tongue, her uninhibited response earning a low growl of satisfaction from him that warned her he would expect her total capitulation tonight.
‘What do you mean, we're spending our honeymoon at your camp in the desert?' she demanded hours later, when the formal wedding feast was finally over and Zahir had escorted her out of the banqueting room while the guests waved them on their way and showered them with rose petals.
‘Isn't it romantic? This is the beginning of your life together,' Fatima had whispered excitedly when she'd kissed Erin farewell, but although Erin forced a smile, inside she was quaking. Reality was intruding with a vengeance, and she was wondering just what she had got herself into.
‘I assumed we would be staying here at the palace,' she faltered when Zahir led her not to his private quarters in the west wing-which would now be her home too-but out of the main doors and down the steps to a four-by-four parked on the drive. ‘What about Kazim?' She glanced wildly around, as if expecting Bisma to appear with the toddler, even though she knew he was fast asleep in the nursery.
Zahir gave her an impatient look when he opened the car door and she did not immediately climb in. ‘He will remain here with his nanny. He is completely happy with Bisma, and I'm sure he'll be fine without you for a week or so,' he added tersely.
Erin's jaw dropped. ‘You're expecting me to camp out in the desert for a week-or maybe longer?' She stared at him in horror. ‘And without Kazim?' The thought of spending so long in Zahir's exclusive company was frankly terrifying. ‘What will we do all day?'
At that Zahir threw back his head and gave a shout of laughter. Erin had only ever heard him laughing with Kazim, and she loved the warm, rich sound, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. But his next words made her heart thump painfully in her chest.
‘Sleep, I imagine,' he drawled, the gleam in his eyes turning from humour to something altogether more nerve-racking. ‘We will be on our honeymoon, and we'll use the days to recuperate our strength from the night before and prepare ourselves for the night ahead. I may allow you out of bed long enough to swim in the pool,' he added lazily, ‘but you will spend most of your time beneath me, or on top of me.'
His voice lowered to a husky growl that sent a quiver of reaction along Erin's spine. ‘You can drop the act of maidenly virtue now,' he told her bluntly as he suddenly swept her into his arms and placed her in the four-by-four. ‘Qubbah may be rooted in tradition, but I'm a modern guy and I'm happy to accept that you may have had lovers before you married my brother.'