Lynn Raye Harris

The Sheikh Who Married Her


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      THE spell he cast was so profound, so intense, it was as if the rest of the world suddenly ceased to exist. There were no boundaries or walls any more—just Zahir and her, suspended in a weightless loving universe where who you were and the roles you assumed in life—whether antiquities expert or sheikh—ceased to matter. All there was were two souls recognising each other and silently rejoicing.

      Her eyelids drifted closed as every cell vibrated with anticipation, waiting for the kiss that was bound to come.

      It felt as though everything in his life had been teetering on the brink of disaster for a long time. Now, studying the entrancing beautiful features before him, Zahir thought that here was one thing that was right … that made him feel good … after talking to his sister even hopeful.

      From his head to his feet his body yearned for this woman. He could scarcely think of anything else but losing himself inside her. His longing overrode even the unholy biting sting of his gunshot wounds. And then he saw it … A slightly raised scarlet abrasion on the plump pink flesh of her lower lip. Her mouth was naked this morning—free from make-up—so it was plain to see. Instantly he recoiled—the memory of the savage kiss that had been his parting shot last night dousing the heat that enveloped him like ice-water.

      ‘I did this?’ He winced as he stroked the pad of his thumb over the lightly swollen wound.

      The incandescent long-lashed eyes appeared startled. Realising what he meant, she coiled her slender fingers gently round his wrist. ‘You didn’t mean to.’ Her tone was warm and whisper-soft. ‘It’s nothing to be concerned about.’

      ‘I meant to make you pay for my frustration, and that is not the action of a man who is honourable. A thousand apologies, Dr Collins … it will not happen again.’

      He made himself withdraw in every way—physically, psychologically, mentally. It was agony, but Zahir had to do it.

      Her face was a picture of confusion. ‘It’s nothing to feel guilty about. It happened in the heat of the moment.’

      ‘Even so …’ Inside, he was thinking, I do not deserve her forgiveness. I acted like an arrogant fool. ‘The reason I came to find you,’ he continued, ‘is to ask something of you that will mean a lot to me.’

      ‘Tell me.’

      ‘My sister Farida informs me that you have already bumped into each other. It appears she has taken a great liking to you. It’s the first time she has shown an interest in anyone or anything outside of the palace since she lost Azhar, so naturally I want to encourage it. She wants me to ask if she can help you with your inventory of some of the more important palace artefacts. I know I have not officially asked you to undertake such a project, but I am asking you now. Will you do it? Both conduct an inventory and allow Farida to assist you?’

      She stroked her palm down over her hip in the pearl-coloured silk harem pants she’d matched with a tunic in the same delicate hue. Her troubled glance told him she was mentally regrouping—trying to make sense of his request.

      ‘There must be countless important artefacts in a palace this size. Such a project could take months and months. What about my job at the auction house back home?’

      ‘I have no doubt your employers would see it as an honour for one of their staff to undertake this task. There is no doubt in my mind that they will jump at my offer. If you are in agreement with the plan, I will make sure the remuneration you receive is generous.’

      ‘It’s not a question of money. What about Jake—I mean Dr Rivers? Do you want to employ him, too?’

      A flash of annoyance assailed Zahir that she should mention her colleague. Mockingly he raised his eyebrow. ‘No. It is you who is the antiquities expert, is it not?’

      ‘I also told you that my father isn’t well. I can’t just disappear for months on end with no contact.’

      Biting back a jealous retort at yet another show of consideration for her father rather than him, Zahir breathed in deeply. Such a response was beneath him.

      ‘You can telephone him and talk to him all you want. I perfectly understand that you need to do that. If he needs a nurse, go ahead and hire one. The palace will foot the bill. As far as Farida is concerned, would you be willing to utilise her help?’

      Looking torn, Gina lightly shrugged her shoulders. ‘If I undertake to do the inventory, I’m sure her help would be invaluable. Her knowledge of your family treasures must be considerable, having lived with them all her life.’

      ‘Good. Then you agree to do this?’

      Zahir could hardly contain his impatience as he waited for her answer. His sister’s enthusiasm for Gina’s presence had unwittingly given him a legitimate reason to keep her there longer. Now that reason had entered his head he refused to entertain the possibility that his request might be denied.

      The big blue eyes still mirrored doubt, but at last she nodded slowly. ‘For someone in my profession it’s obviously a great opportunity to deepen my knowledge, as well as a privilege—so, yes … I will do it.’

      ‘Inshallah … I will make the necessary phone call to the auction house, letting them know what we have agreed.’

      ‘What about the Heart of Courage?’

      ‘Be assured, everything will take its course as it should in that regard. When I have had some time to recuperate we will discuss the rest of your findings concerning the jewel. Now I will send my sister to you here in the library. After that I must go and rest. My doctor will not be happy when he discovers I am not in my bed, where he left me!’

      He spun on his heel, grimacing as the sudden movement made him feel as though a sharp-bladed knife had sliced through his ribcage.

      It gave Gina a real lift to see less hopelessness and grief in Farida Khan’s engaging brown eyes. To be Gina’s assistant would give her a purpose, she’d confessed, and knowing that she was helping her beloved brother Zahir, too, would be doubly satisfying.

      After the two women had met again in the library, and discussed a plan on how to proceed, Farida had disappeared for a while to locate the necessary keys—keys that would open some of the cabinets that were kept locked. They moved from room to room and floor to floor. She was showing Gina some of the palace’s most prized treasures—possessions that were usually only seen by family and close friends. This was to be only a preliminary tour—the work of cataloguing everything would come later—but as she accompanied Farida on her mission to reveal the palace’s most revered objects Gina was all but stunned into silence by what she saw.

      She knew already how opulently decorated and sumptuous the interior of the palace was—nevertheless room after room seemed to outdo the one before with the riches it revealed, and everywhere she gazed the architecture was a dream. And that was without the abundance of extraordinary artefacts hidden away that she was privileged to be shown. Aladdin’s Cave had nothing on the palace of the Sheikh of Kabuyadir.

      Zahir was never far from Gina’s mind as she trailed after Farida. Whenever she thought about his gunshot wounds, she winced and bit her lip. It was torture to imagine him in pain. Earlier, she had wanted to weep when he didn’t kiss her as she’d believed he would. But she’d also been moved that the vivid evidence of his passion the night before had caused him to believe he’d both hurt and offended her. That he cared about that gave her hope. She didn’t want him to forget that they’d shared the most extraordinary connection three years ago that went far beyond mere desire …

      After learning that Jake had gone on a tour of the old part of the town for the evening, Gina ate dinner with Farida. Both women confessed to feeling tired afterwards, so retired to their quarters early.

      After reading over her notes, then taking her evening bath, Gina tucked her legs beneath her on the opulent bed and let down her hair. Then she rang her father in the UK. They were three hours ahead here time-wise, so he would still be up and about—in his