At the Sheikh's Bidding(35)

He gave a harsh laugh at the stunned  disbelief in her eyes, and   captured her chin between his fingers,  forcing her face up to his. ‘My   only consolation is that you burn with  the same fever, kalila. This is   just an attention-seeking exercise,  isn't it?' he accused her   contemptuously. ‘I warned you I would be busy  once we returned to the   palace, but you resent the fact that you are not  my most important   consideration. In case you've forgotten, my father is  lying in the   hospital wing recovering from a heart attack,' he bit out  furiously.   ‘And you have no comprehension of my responsibilities as  ruler of   Qubbah.'                       
       
           



       

He felt as though he had stepped back in time  and was a small boy   again, listening to his mother accusing his father  of selfishly   pursuing his own interests and not paying her enough  attention. His   parents had married after a whirlwind affair, and the  cracks in their   relationship had appeared early on-caused, he was sure,  by his mother's   unrealistic expectations of love. But love played no  part in his   marriage to Erin, and she needed to understand the ground  rules.

‘My life is bound by my duty to the kingdom of Qubbah and  my   responsibilities to my brother's son. And make no mistake,' he warned    her harshly, ‘they take equal precedence in my priorities. But if you    want more of my attention, kalila, you can have it.'

‘Zahir!'  Erin gave a cry of alarm as he swept her up and flung her over   his  shoulder, his hand clamped firmly on her bottom as he strode into   the  bedroom. Her temper exploded and she beat her fists on his   shoulders.  ‘How dare you? I demand that you put me down … '

Her feet briefly  touched the floor and he spun her round, tugged her   zip down her spine  and removed her dress before she had time to catch   her breath. Her bra  went the same way before he lifted her again and   threw her onto the bed  as if she was a rag doll, his eyes glittering   with a mixture of anger  and sexual hunger that made Erin's stomach dip.

‘At night I'm  happy to give you all the attention you could possibly   want,' he  growled, his shoes, trousers and shirt hitting the floor with   barely  controlled savagery until he stood in his silk boxers. ‘This  is  the only  bed you'll ever sleep in.' The boxers joined the rest of  his  clothes,  revealing his powerful, unashamedly aroused body in all  its  glory. ‘But I  wouldn't bank on sleeping for many hours yet.'


Erin stared  up at him, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she   struggled to  control the wild excitement that was pounding through her   veins. She was  conscious that she was wearing nothing but a pair of   tiny lace panties  and the priceless pearl necklace, but before she   could protest Zahir  dragged her knickers down her legs and pushed her   thighs apart, exposing  her to his heated gaze.

‘Pearls suit you,' he drawled lazily,  lowering himself onto her so that   Erin could feel the solid ridge of his  erection stab the soft flesh  of  her stomach. ‘Whenever you wear that  necklace to state functions in   future I will have a vision of you  wearing it as you are now-naked  and  ready for me.'

She wished she  could deny his taunt, but his fingers were probing   between her legs and  he laughed as he slid into her welcoming wetness.   Her weakness for him  was humiliating, but desire outstripped her pride   and she lifted her  hips while he explored her with a merciless skill   that set her on fire.  He took her to the edge, once, twice, creating a   whole new set of  sensations when he tormented her nipples with his   wicked tongue, and  only when she was writhing and sobbing his name did   he relent,  penetrating her with deep, hard thrusts.

Again and again he drove  into her, in a pagan rhythm that took her to a   place where nothing  mattered but Zahir and her desperate need for him   to never, ever stop  this wild dance. They climaxed simultaneously, a   violent explosion of  uncontrollable passion that drew a sharp cry from   her as he kept her  hovering on the brink and then thrust one final   time, pumping into her  while her muscles clenched around him and her   entire body shuddered with  sexual ecstasy.

And when Zahir's breathing finally became less  ragged and he rolled off   her, the slumberous heat in his eyes told her  that they had only just   begun. He had amazing stamina, and his high  sex-drive would demand   satisfaction several times before he would allow  her to sleep. But of   course that was why he had married her, Erin  acknowledged bleakly as   she rolled onto her side away from him, blinking  back tears of   self-loathing. Sex on tap with his dutiful wife. And in  return she'd   got Kazim and a life of unimaginable wealth and luxury.

He  had never offered her love and she hadn't expected it-so why did she    yearn for him to draw her back into his arms and kiss her with    tenderness rather than passion?

She could no longer deny that she  had fallen in love with him the   moment she'd seen him at Ingledean,  totally and irrevocably, and she   had been fooling herself that he meant  nothing to her. But it was   ridiculous to wish for the moon, she told  herself sternly, swallowing   hard so that he would not guess she was  crying.

She felt the mattress dip as he shifted closer, and held  her breath   when he traced his hand over her hip and then up to curve  around one   breast. She wished she could control her acute awareness of  him, and   despised herself for not being stronger. But she knew full well  that   she would not refuse him-and so did he.                       
       
           



       





CHAPTER NINE




ZAHIR  shifted fractionally in his chair and nodded encouragingly to the   group  of school children who were performing a dance on the palace   lawn. It  had been a busy week, with four state functions including   today's garden  party. But the past six weeks since he had taken his   father's place as  ruler of the kingdom had been the same-an endless   round of receptions  and dinners and meetings with government officials   and visiting  dignitaries.

It was little wonder that Erin had grown  increasingly quiet and   withdrawn, he brooded grimly. And although she  was smiling at the   children, he knew that once she was alone with him  she would revert to   looking bored and unhappy. It was a look he  remembered from his   boyhood. His mother's expression of utter tedium and  her undisguised   frustration with the constraints of palace life were  etched on his   memory-as were her frequent rows with his father.


Not  that Erin voiced her dissatisfaction, but her silent resentment   when he  made love to her every night evoked an irritating feeling of   guilt that  he had trapped her in a life she hated. Clearly his optimism   during the  first weeks of their marriage had been premature. His   duties meant that  he barely saw her each day, but at night she   responded to him with an  eagerness that left his body satiated with an   excess of pleasure. He  felt secretly pleased by her decision to learn   Arabic, and he  congratulated himself for choosing a bride who was  happy  to devote her  days to their adopted son and her nights to  pleasing  him.

So  where had it gone wrong? Why had Erin suddenly started to pretend   she  was asleep when he came to bed-which admittedly was often past   midnight,  by the time he'd finished his discussions with members of his   advisory  committee. These were exciting times for Qubbah-or would be   once he'd  finalised his plans for new roads, schools and hospitals,  and  managed to  convince his father and other key elders from the   government of the  benefits of foreign investment. Jahmela al Nasser's   advice was proving  invaluable-even if she did talk for hours and drag   each meeting on well  past the time he'd hoped to finish.