Hidden in the Sheikh's Harem: Christmas at the Castello(19)

It wasn't the only thing going on here but perhaps he should have  stopped at one whisky because what she said made sense. Not that he  wouldn't put it past Hajjar to capitalise on a situation that had arisen  as a result of his own poor judgment in lifting her onto that horse in  the first place.

Zach crushed an ice block between his teeth. 'Unfortunately I don't  feel particularly logical right now. And your father gets to go free  with you as the sacrificial lamb.'

Her face paled. 'No, there has to be another way.'

'Why, so you can go off and marry your boyfriend, the knight, instead?' he asked silkily.

She frowned. 'Amir?' she finally said. 'No, I don't want to marry Amir  or anyone, and given your reputation I'd think you would feel the same  way.'

Zach stilled. 'My reputation?'

'We get magazines in the mountains,' she said loftily. 'And I think the  amount of different women you've been photographed with speaks for  itself.'

He gave a rough bark of laughter. 'You're making me out to be the bad guy here?'

'Are you saying you want to get married?'

'As a matter of fact, I was nearly married once.' Or at least he'd  contemplated asking Amy to marry him, which was close enough for the  purposes of putting this little heathen in her place. 'So, yes, I do  want to get married-just not to you, Miss Hajjar.'

Her face went even paler before flooding with colour and he felt like an ass.

'I suppose it doesn't matter to you because you can have a hundred wives if you choose.'                       
       
           



       

'I admit that I have great stamina in the bedroom,' he drawled. 'But  even I would struggle with a hundred women. But, regardless, that law is  about to be repealed.'

Farah's eyes climbed her forehead. 'It is?'

'Yes. It's time Bakaan entered the twenty-first century and my brother  and I intend to see that happen. By the look on your face, you don't  agree.'

'No. I mean, yes, of course I agree.' She hesitated. 'I just didn't expect...'

'That I would think that way?' he finished when her words tapered off.  'Possibly it's not just your father who is stuck in the past.' And why  her poor opinion of him rankled was beyond him.

'I am not stuck in the past.' She thrust her hands on her hips righteously.

Zach eyed her appreciatively as she stood before him in a full snit. 'Hit a chord did I?'

* * *

Yes, he had hit a chord, because she was a forward-thinking person, not  a backward-thinking one. But she was so confused right now. His  declaration that he'd been nearly married once before, and his adamant  statement that he would never want to marry her, had somehow rocked her  and she had no idea why. 'No, you have not hit a chord,' she denied  hotly, staring into his too-cocky, too-handsome face. 'But I want to hit  you and I'm a non-violent person!'

'So says the woman who attacked me with a sword.'

'Okay, fine-generally I'm a non-violent person. And I'm sure if you  could just reach into your heart and forgive my father and let this go-'

'Let bygones be bygones, you mean?'

'Yes, exact-'

'No.'

'Would you stop cutting me off?' She angled her chin at him. 'Can't you  see that showing forgiveness puts you in the powerful position? If my  father continues to act out against you unprovoked, then everyone is  likely to turn on him.'

'Remind me which fairy story you derived that bit of whimsy from.'

Having him mock her made Farah grit her teeth together. 'Just because  you don't believe in non-violent methods of communication doesn't mean  you have to belittle ideas that have worked before. Ever heard of Martin  Luther King? Ghandi? Mother Teresa?' She lobbed the names of some of  her heroes at him. 'Perhaps if you open your mind up a bit more you  might learn something.'

The look he gave her was ferocious. 'You have some nerve coming to me  about non-violent methods of communication. Someone in your village  started a publication five years ago that nearly incited a civil war. If  I hadn't come home and settled things-in a non-violent manner, I might  add-who knows how many people would have died?'

'I didn't mean to incite anything,' she countered.

'I didn't say you did, I said-' He stopped and stared at her. 'You started that provincial publication?'

Farah was instantly flooded with heat at his condescension. 'My  magazine was not provincial, thank you very much!' She bit her tongue to  stop herself from calling him every name she could think of, digging  her toes into the soft pile rug beneath her feet.

'That's not possible,' he said, the incredulity in his voice beyond  insulting. 'You would have only been a child when that was done.'

Farah's hands shot to her hips. 'I was seventeen!'

He shook his head, a frown on his face. 'There were a lot of sharp observations in that paper.'

'If you're expecting me to thank you for saying so, you'll be waiting a  long time.' Like, forever. 'And I hardly think it's important.'

'Not important,' he growled, seemingly as angry as she was. 'It's the reason I had to return to Bakaan!'

'Something you obviously didn't want to do, by your tone.'

'Not when I had to give up control of my company and end my racing career, no.'

'I'm so sorry,' she simpered. 'How thoughtless of us-your people-to need you.'

'Yes, it was.' His voice lowered an octave and the skin on the back of  her neck prickled with awareness. 'Although, I'm not completely unhappy  that you need me.'

Attempting to ignore the suddenly charged atmosphere he was  deliberately creating, she lifted her chin. 'I need you to install  medical centres in our villages and provide educational materials so we  don't have to sneak them from across the border or-' She stopped,  suddenly aware that yet again he'd got her so incensed she was about to  divulge sensitive information to him.                       
       
           



       

'Or what?' he asked softly. 'Get them from a secret source inside the palace?'

He knew about that! Farah tried to act nonchalant because she had no  doubt that whoever had sent those items to them over the past couple of  years would be punished. 'I don't know what you're talking about. But  what I want to know is how we get out of this marriage.'

'We're not.'

The conviction in his tone chafed her already raw nerves. 'But we have to.'

'I don't know why you're fighting this so much. Your life is about to improve out of sight.'

'Improve?' She laughed, because what else could she do? 'That's because  you're nothing but an arrogant, egotistical, high and mighty prince  whose shoe size is larger than his IQ.'

His slow smile told her that her insults had landed on fallow ground.  'Careful, habiba, or I might start to think that you like me.'

Oh, but he had a way of pushing her buttons. 'That will never happen,' she assured him loftily.

'No?'

'No.'

'But you like my touch.' He came towards her all long, lean and muscular. 'Don't you, Farah?'

She swallowed hard. 'No.'

He paused and cocked his head. 'Have you forgotten what I said would happen the next time you denied you wanted me?'

'You know you're redefining the term "egotistical," don't you?'

He laughed. 'And you're redefining denial. But I find myself wondering  why I'm denying myself something I've already been accused of taking.'

Farah's hands came up to ward him off, a thrilling sort of fear  coursing through her as he kept coming until she was forced up against a  wall, his towering body just inches from hers. He planted his hands by  both sides of her head, caging her in. 'Give me one good reason, habiba,  one good reason why I shouldn't unwrap you from that pretty dress and  give you exactly what we both want?'

Feeling as if she'd just run a marathon, Farah could barely breathe let  alone speak. All she wanted to do was smooth her hands up over his wide  chest and finish what he had started back in the garden. The urge was  almost overwhelming but she knew there would be no going back after that  and she definitely wasn't ready for that.

'Tell me,' he said softly, 'How far did you and the knight go?'

Not sure what he was asking, she frowned, and then she caught the  suggestive glint in his eyes and she knew. Struggling to get her  thoughts in order with him this close, she frowned again. 'We haven't...  I've never...'

A slow smile spread across his face. 'He didn't touch you.' He shook his head as if in wonder.

Knowing there was in insult buried in that look, she pushed at his  chest, relieved when he let her pass. 'I won't do it,' she muttered, 'I  refuse to marry you.'

'You have to.' His gaze turned implacable. 'Have you forgotten that my honour and your reputation are at stake?'

'No, but I don't care about my reputation!' she cried. Her vision of a  future in which she directed her own life was falling away from her  before her very eyes. If she couldn't do anything about it, she was  going to be married, and she couldn't think of anything worse. Well, her  father dying in a prison cell was worse, and perhaps never experiencing  the prince's hot kisses again... But, no, how could that be worse?