The Sheikh's Innocent Bride

‘No!’ Kirsten yelped in horror, when she raised her head to find him standing over her, and she backed away in panic, hauling up the polisher before the lean brown hand he had extended could get anywhere near it. ‘Sorry…’

Moving as fast as she could with the unwieldy machine, Kirsten hurried away and sped through the first set of fire doors. For a split second Shahir hesitated, a frown of annoyance and surprise at her behaviour pleating his brows, and then he strode after her.

‘Kirsten…’ he breathed, before she could reach the next set of fire doors.

Unnerved by the unfamiliar sound of her name on his lips, Kirsten whirled round. She was breathing heavily, her lovely face pink with the effort of carting the cleaner with her. ‘You’re not supposed to speak to me!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Shahir retorted crisply.

‘I’m not being ridiculous! What do you want from me? An apology? Right, you’ve got it. I’m sorry I told you off for riding that bike like a maniac. I’m sorry if I interrupted your important meeting…OK, Your—er—Highness?’ And, with that almost pleading completion, Kirsten continued to back away, until she hit the doors with her behind, then twisted round and quickly made her way through them.

Shahir followed her at speed, and long before she could draw near the next set of doors he spoke and arrested her in her tracks. ‘No—don’t move one further step,’ he murmured, with a quietness that was misleading; every syllable of that warning somehow contrived to bite into her like a whiplash. ‘When I’m speaking to you, you will stand still.’

Kirsten groaned. ‘But that’s against the rules!’

Shahir vented an unappreciative laugh. ‘What rules?’

‘The household rules. People like me are supposed to vanish when you appear—’

‘Not when I’m trying to speak to you,’ Shahir asserted in dry interruption.

‘But you’re going to get me into trouble… Nobody knows we’ve even met, and I don’t want to be seen talking to you.’

‘That’s not a problem.’ Shahir opened the nearest door and thrust it wide. ‘We’ll talk in here.’

Kirsten sucked in a steadying breath and walked into an empty meeting room furnished with a polished table and chairs. ‘Why do you want to speak to me?’

Shahir thought he had never heard a more insane question. Any man between fifteen and fifty would have wanted to speak to her. Her head was bent, her face half turned away from him, her spectacular hair tied back. But nothing could hide the silken shine of that pale hair, the stunning perfection of her profile or the flawless clarity of her complexion. Nor could a dreary overall conceal the fluid, willowy grace of her highly feminine figure.

But on another level her sheer lack of vanity and her naivety shook him. He had never had to pursue a woman before. Even without his encouragement women gave Shahir a great deal of attention. Many were so enthusiastic that he had to freeze them out with a façade of cold formality. Others were more subtle, but equally obvious in their eagerness to demonstrate their availability to him. If he showed even the smallest interest to the average young woman she would fall over herself to respond to him and roll out the welcome mat.

‘Why did you tell no one that we had met?’

Kirsten focused on his superb leather shoes. ‘I wasn’t supposed to be on the hill.’

‘Why not?’

Kirsten continued to study his feet with fixed attention. She did not know what to say. She did not want to admit that her father policed her every move, and the alternative of lying was anathema to her.

Her seeming defiance challenged Shahir. ‘I asked a question.’

A sudden rush of frustrated tears burned the back of Kirsten’s eyes, and she threw her head up, green eyes blazing at his persistence. ‘I wasn’t supposed to be there because my father doesn’t like me going out without his permission. I was also reading a magazine, and he won’t allow anything like that in the house!’

‘I apologise. I should not have pried,’ Shahir acknowledged in a tone of regret that he should have embarrassed her. ‘But I was curious.’

The thickness in her tight throat would not allow her to swallow. The slight rough edge to his rich, dark drawl feathered down her spine as if he had touched her. Obeying a prompting she wasn’t even aware of, she glanced up and was entrapped by brilliant dark golden eyes. ‘I was curious about you too…’

Shahir tensed, the honest admission challenging his self-discipline. But he knew that it was his fault—for he had crossed the line and brought down a barrier by getting too personal. He was her employer, he reminded himself fiercely. She had accompanied him into a room where they were alone because he was her employer and she trusted him. What sort of a man would take advantage of such a situation? It did not matter that the attraction between them was mutual. It did not matter that the awareness made the blood pound through his veins like a war drum beaten with intent. That was a cruel trick of fate and not to be acted on.

‘When we met, you mentioned damage to your father’s field,’ Shahir said with flat determination. ‘I have had the matter investigated.’

Kirsten simply nodded. That he should have approached her for such a reason made complete sense to her, although she was surprised that he had bothered. She could not take her eyes from his. Never had she been so tense. Her back hurt with the strain of her rigid stance. Her breath was coming in little fast, shallow bursts, her lips were slightly parted, and there was a knot low in her tummy that was tight enough to make her feel uncomfortable. And yet it was a kind of discomfort that was in the strangest way enjoyable.

‘It has been established that someone working here at Strathcraig has been biking over that land. He has now been made aware of his mistake and it won’t happen again. My estate manager will call on your father to tell him that the damage will be made good at our expense.’ His deep rich voice had been husky in intonation as Shahir surveyed her with shimmering intensity, for the more she looked at him the more aroused he became, and it took every atom of his will-power to remain businesslike and distant.

‘Oh…’ Kirsten framed abstractedly.

His bright gaze narrowed, for it was a challenge to believe that she had not been paying attention to what he had said. ‘What did I just say?’ he heard himself ask in the sizzling silence.

‘Something about the field…’ Her answer was uneven in tone and she was leaning almost infinitesimally closer. The soft peaks of her breasts had stirred into straining tightness beneath her clothing and she was hugely conscious of that tingling sensation.

‘You really aren’t listening.’ An instinctive charge of masculine satisfaction lanced through Shahir. He liked the fact that she couldn’t concentrate around him. He loved it that she was barely breathing. In fact all of a sudden he felt like a marauding pirate on the loose, for his desire for her was primal in its force. He wanted to lift her into his arms, spread her over the table and ravish her glorious body with the kind of exquisite pleasure that would enslave her for ever.

His slow-burning smile hooked Kirsten like a fish. A split second later she found herself wondering what it would feel like if he pressed that beautifully moulded mouth of his down on hers.

It was only then that she realised what was the matter with her, and she was shocked by her own ignorance. With difficulty she dredged her gaze from the burning hold of his and lowered her head. She was appalled that she had been standing there yearning for his touch like the brazen hussy Jeanie had teased her for being. How could she not have guessed immediately that she was attracted to him?

‘I’d better get back to work,’ she mumbled, half under her breath, but her legs refused to move her in the direction of the door.

‘That’s not what you were thinking,’ Shahir murmured thickly.

His insight shattered her. ‘No, it wasn’t…’

‘So what were you thinking about?’ Shahir persisted, his voice husky and low, so intent on her that he could see his own reflection in her dilated pupils.

Kirsten trembled, both frightened and wildly exhilarated by the charge in the atmosphere. Her body felt unbearably taut and sensitive. She could not take her eyes from him for a second.

‘Tell me…’ Shahir pressed thickly. ‘I trust you not to lie to me.’

The revelation of the desire that held her on the edge of painful anticipation had brought down her barriers. She was still in shock. ‘I was wondering what it would feel like if you kissed me…’

Shahir muttered something in fierce Arabic and then closed his lean strong hands over hers to ease her slowly closer. He was on automatic pilot, his blood rushing through his veins like a runaway juggernaut, and although at the back of his mind caution was shouting to be heard his sheer hunger slammed the door on that warning voice. ‘Let me show you…’

His beautifully shaped mouth came down on hers. His kiss was hard and hungry and demanding, but somehow not quite hard enough to satisfy the terrible yearning that was flaming up from the very depths of Kirsten’s being. A low moan sounded in her throat and she closed her arms round him, stretching up on tiptoe to intensify their contact. Her hand slid up from his shoulder to sink its fingers into the ebony luxuriance of his hair, and spread there to hold him to her.

She was in the centre of a storm, and it was whipping faster and faster around her. Excitement had dug feverish claws of need into her quivering length for the first time, and unleashed a wildness she had not known she possessed. Nothing mattered but the potent feel of his lean, powerful body against her softer curves, the crushing strength of his arms and the glorious taste of him.

When he parted her velvety soft lips with his tongue and delved deep into the moist tenderness within the sensual shock of that tender assault roared through her. She shivered violently, a muffled little cry escaping her. She was so caught up in what she was experiencing that the sound of a voice on the inter-office call system made her flinch and gasp in surprise.

That intervention in Arabic had the same effect on Shahir as a bucket of cold water, and he had faster reactions. He lifted his tousled dark head, spared one glance for the dazed expression on her exquisite face, and immediately released her from his hold. Caught unprepared, she stumbled and almost fell. Instantly he reached out to steady her again with careful hands.

Breathing shallowly, she backed away into the cold support of the wall behind her while she made a great effort to get her brain back into gear. The confusion created by the sound of the foreign language being spoken on the call system did not help.

‘What is he saying? What is it?’ she muttered feverishly.

‘My PA is informing me that someone has arrived to see me,’ Shahir breathed, not quite evenly.

The silence hung around them, suspended, heavy with uneasy undertones. Kirsten could not meet his eyes. Indeed, she could not bring herself to look at him at all. With a sudden moan of unconcealed distress, she sped past him to yank the door open, and she fled as though an avenging angel was in pursuit of her.