‘And his son can, and his son’s son. Isn’t that what’s important to you? What was important to your late stepfather?’
Polly nodded, tears threatening to choke her.
‘And I found that what really mattered to me, beyond everything else, was you.’
Polly brought a hand up to cover her mouth, hoping that would somehow stop her from crying.
‘I hurt you, and I’m sorry.’ She shook her head but he continued anyway. ‘I hurt you when all I want to do is make you happy. Keep you safe. Fill your life with adventure. Polly, I love you.’
It was like a dam bursting. Emotion flooded through her. It didn’t matter she was standing in a dusty, unused Victorian kitchen. That she was in old jeans and an even older baggy shirt.
Rashid stepped forward and his thumbs smoothed away the tears on her cheeks, before he bent to kiss each eyelid.
‘You need an Arab wife.’
‘I need you,’ he countered, his voice firm. ‘I choose you. I want you to be the mother of my children. The woman who lives her life by my side. My equal. My heart.’
It was hard to think clearly when his hands were stroking her face, his eyes caressing her. ‘My mother—’
‘May well want to spend time in England, but I’ve put in ramps, lowered work surfaces…’ He smiled. ‘I choose you.’
Me. He wants me. Loves me.
‘And once Hanif is secure we can even live in England if that’s what you want. Polly, I have discovered my life is empty without you in it. I ache for you.’
As she ached for him.
‘I can’t settle to anything. I can’t concentrate.’
Polly reached up and smoothed out the deep frown lines on his forehead. ‘I do love you.’
His arms closed about her, fiercely possessive. Incredibly he hadn’t been sure of her answer. She laughed up at him, letting all the love she felt for him show in her eyes. ‘And I can love you in Amrah. But what I can’t do is share you.’
Rashid placed a kiss beneath her ear and then another by her eye. ‘Or I you. I will love you, and only you, until the day I die.’
His beautiful, sexy blue eyes held hers for a long, long moment until he was absolutely certain she believed him. And then he kissed her.
Really kissed her.
Marrying the
Scarred Sheikh
Barbara McMahon
BARBARA McMAHON was born and raised in the southern United States, but settled in California after spending a year flying around the world for an international airline. After settling down to raise a family and work for a computer firm, she began writing when her children started school. Now, feeling fortunate in being able to realise the long-held dream of quitting her ‘day job’ and writing full-time, she and her husband have moved to the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California, where she finds her desire to write is stronger than ever. With the beauty of the mountains visible from her windows and the pace of life slower than that of the hectic San Francisco Bay Area where they previously resided, she finds more time than ever to think up stories and characters and share them with others through writing. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can reach her at PO Box 977, Pioneer, CA 95666-0977, USA. Readers can also contact Barbara at her website, www.barbaramcmahon.com.
To Kelly-Anne, Jeff, Justin, Dylan and Bridgette: Family is always best. Love from me.
CHAPTER ONE
ELLA PONTI walked along the shore. The night was dark. The only illumination came from the stars overhead. No moon tonight. The wavelets gurgled as they spent themselves on the sand. Alexander had loved walking in the dark and she felt a closer tie than any other time.
He’d been dead for over a year. The crushing pain of his death had eased, as others had told her it would. Only a lingering ache where her heart was reminded her constantly that she would never see him again.
Sighing, she looked to the sky. The stars sparkled and shimmered through the heat of the night. Turning slowly, she looked at the black expanse that was the Persian Gulf. Nothing was visible. Some nights she saw ships sailing silently through the night, their lights gliding slowly across the horizon. Nothing there tonight. Turning toward home, she began walking, splashing lightly through the warm water at land’s edge.
What a contrast this land was, she mused as she enjoyed the silence. Here at the seashore it was as beautiful as any Mediterranean resort; lush plants grew in abundance. She loved the leafy palms, the broad-leaf ferns and the flowers were nothing short of breathtaking. Each house around the estate she lived on seemed to flourish with a horticulturist’s delight.
She enjoyed sitting out in the afternoons in the shady nooks of the garden, smelling the blend of fragrances that perfumed the air. While only a short distance from the capital city of Alkaahdar, it felt like worlds away from the soaring skyscrapers of the modern city.
She would go to bed when she reached her place. It was already after midnight. She liked to work late, as she had tonight, then wind down by a walk on the deserted beach—alone with only the sand, sky and sea.
With few homes along this stretch of beach, only those who knew the place well knew where to turn away from the water to follow winding paths through lush foliage that led home. Ella knew exactly where to turn even in the dark.
From a distance, as she walked along, she saw a silhouette of another person. A man, standing at the edge of the water. He was almost in front of where her path opened to the beach. In all the months she’d lived here, she’d never seen another soul after dark.
Slowing her pace, she tried to figure out who he might be. Another person who had trouble sleeping through the night? A stranger exploring the beach? Or someone intent on nefarious activities?
Ella almost laughed at her imagination. The homes along this stretch of beach belonged to the fabulously wealthy of Quishari. There were guards and patrols and all sorts of deterrents to crime. Which was why she always felt safe enough to walk alone after dark. Had that changed? She had only nodding acquaintances with her neighbors. Ella kept to herself. Still, one of the servants at the main house would have told her if there were danger.
She could cut diagonally from where she was to where the path left the beach, avoid the stranger entirely. But her curiosity rose. She continued along splashing in the water. The flowing skirt she wore that hit her midcalf was already wet along the hem. The light material moved with the slight breeze, shifting and swaying as she walked.
“Is it safe for a woman to walk alone at night?” the man asked when she was close enough to hear his voice.
“Unless you mean me harm, it is,” she replied. Resolutely, she continued walking toward him.
“I mean no harm to you or anyone. Just curious. Live around here?” he asked.
As she walked closer, she estimated his height to be several inches over six feet. Taller than Alexander had been. The darkness made it impossible to see any features; even his eyes were hidden as he tilted his head down to look at her. No glimmer of light reflected from them. The traditional white robes he wore were highlighted by the starlight, but beyond that, he was a man of shadow.
“I live nearby,” she replied. “But you do not. I don’t know you.”
“No. I’m here on a visit. I think.” He looked back out to sea. “Quite a contrast from where I’ve been for the last few weeks.”
She turned to look at the sea, keeping a safe twelve feet or so of space between them.
“Rough waters?”
“Desert. I wanted to see the sea as soon as I got here. I’ve been traveling for almost twenty-four hours straight, am dead tired, but wanted to feel the cool breeze. I considered going for a swim.”
“Not the safest thing to do alone, especially after dark. If you got into trouble, who would see or hear?” Though Ella had gone swimming alone after dark. That had been back shortly after Alexander’s death when she hadn’t thought she cared if something happened or not. Now she knew life was so precious she would not wish harm on herself or anyone.
“You’re here,” he said whimsically.
“So I am. And if you run into trouble, do you think I could rescue you?”
“Or at least go for help.” With that, he shed the robe, kicked off the shoes he wore.
Startled, Ella watched. Was he stripping down to nothing to go for a swim?
It was too dark to know, but in a moment, he plunged into the cool waters of the Gulf and began swimming. She had trouble following him with her eyes; only the sounds of his powerful arms cleaving the water could be heard.
“So I’m the designated life guard,” she murmured, sitting down on the sand. It was still warm from the afternoon sun. Sugar-white and fine, at night it nurtured by its warmth, soft to touch. She picked up a fistful letting it run between her fingers. Idly she watched where she knew him to be. She hoped he would enjoy his swim and not need any help from anyone. She hadn’t a clue who he was. For tonight, it was enough he had not had to swim alone. Tomorrow, maybe she’d meet him or maybe not.
Ella lost track of time, staring out to sea. So he came from the desert. She had ventured into the vast expanse that made up more of Quishari than any other topography. Its beauty was haunting. A harsh land, unforgiving in many instances, but also hiding delights, like small flowers that bloomed for such a short time after a rare rainstorm. Or the undulating ground a mixture of dirt and sand that reminded her of water. The colors were muted, until lit by the spectacular sunsets that favored the land. Once she’d seen an oasis, lost and lonely in the vast expanse of the desert. But her fervent imagination found it magical. Water in the midst of such arid harshness.