Promised to the Sheikh. Sharon Kendrick
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he questioned mockingly, but Jenna realised that there was a hard ring of truth to his imperious question.
I dare to defy you! she wanted to shout, but if she did that then it would be all-out war—and there would only be one winner. She forced herself to put the sound of pleasure into her voice. Once it would have been genuine—there would have been delight there, too—but no more. ‘At the time you put up few objections,’ she pointed out.
‘Because you twisted your father around your little finger!’ he retorted. ‘Convinced him that you should be allowed to travel. How persuasive you were, Jenna.’
‘What is done is done, and the past is past,’ she murmured in true Quador fashion. ‘Now, come on, Rashid—do tell me to what pleasure I owe this phone call. Such a surprise,’ she finished truthfully.
Rashid frowned. A surprise indeed, and several things had still not yet been explained. ‘And where is your sister?’ he questioned. ‘Does she approve of this friend of yours, with whom you are so intimate that he sees fit to answer your phone for you?’
‘Oh, don’t be so old-fashioned!’
‘But I am old-fashioned,’ he told her silkily. ‘Extremely old-fashioned. And you still haven’t answered my question. Does your sister approve of this friend of yours?’
‘Nadia approves of Brad,’ said Jenna woodenly, but her eyes widened with an expression of fear as she stared into Brad’s frowning face. If only Rashid knew that her sister was in love with Brad—that they were virtually living in the flat as man and wife. How his old-fashioned sensibilities would be outraged! ‘He’s a nice man,’ she finished, and hoped that the fear had not crept into her voice.
‘Was a nice man,’ Rashid corrected coldly.
Now the fear was out in the open and she made no attempt to hide it. ‘What do you mean by that?’ she whispered hoarsely.
He gave a short, almost cruel laugh. ‘Oh, I mean nothing more sinister than stating a fact, my sweet Jenna—simply that Brad and your life in New York will now become things of the past.’
‘I think it’s your turn to explain yourself,’ said Jenna steadily, even though her heart was bashing madly against her ribcage.
‘Can’t you guess?’ His voice had deepened into a beguiling caress. He remembered with a sudden deep ache the silken golden-brown of her hair and her deep amber eyes—so at variance with the other women of Quador. But she owed more than her looks to the inheritance of her American mother, he realised, a pulse beginning to beat at his temple. He wondered just how independent her life in New York actually was. And he wondered how many men ‘friends’ she had over there.
He should have put a stop to it long ago!
‘The time has come, Jenna,’ he said softly, and a sense of the inevitable began to heat his blood. He had embraced his destiny with a passion for all his life, and this particular destiny was no hardship.
Now she didn’t care—she would affect to misunderstand him. Surely he could not mean what she suspected he was about to say next. ‘Time for what?’
Rashid’s mouth tightened. There had been little contact between them over the past four years, other than the formal and highly chaperoned meetings when she’d flown home to see her family, but that had been necessary for all concerned. Sensibilities had had to be preserved. And when he had gazed on the gleaming gold of her hair, and the lush, almost sinful curves of her body which even the traditional flowing Quador clothes could not disguise, he had been almost glad of the company of the chaperon. Had understood completely the need for their presence.
She had sent him dutiful letters from New York in which she portrayed a life which sounded almost dull due to overwork. And because of this he had been prepared to tolerate her short burst of freedom. As his wife she would be expected to dedicate her life to charitable works; this was surely not a bad way to begin?
And she was a highly intelligent woman… Far better to allow her a little leeway than to clip her wings completely.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘I think you know very well what for, Jenna,’ he snapped. ‘It is time for you to return to Quador and become my wife!’
The hand that held the phone trembled. ‘That’s hardly the most romantic proposal I’ve heard!’ But her laughter bordered on the hysterical and she saw Brad, who was still listening in to the conversation, stiffen with disbelief and alarm.
‘If romance is what you seek from me, then better you should take the first plane home,’ he instructed silkily, and he felt the blood heat in his veins, for opposition was rare enough to excite him!
Romance? She doubted whether he would understand romance if it came up and kicked him in the teeth! Gritting her own teeth together, she forced herself to stay calm with a huge effort of will.
‘Rashid, you cannot still wish me to become your wife.’ A note of desperation had now crept into her voice.
The heat died as her opposition began to irritate him. A little offered resistance was a game he could play as well as the next man, but enough was enough! She should be breathing soft sighs of gratitude down the phone at him by now! Planning her trousseau in her head!
‘My wishes are not paramount,’ he emphasised coldly. ‘The agreement was made many moons ago, as well you know. But I will satisfy your every need as my wife, Jenna—of that you need have no doubts.’
She heard the raw, sexual boast which had deepened his voice and she shivered for all kinds of reasons—most of which she dared not even begin to analyse. Oh, yes, she knew exactly what he meant—and she didn’t have any doubts. His prowess in the bedroom was legendary.
But Jenna had learnt much during her time in America—not least that women expected equality in a relationship. And equality with Rashid would be nothing but a distant dream.
Women expected something more, too—and that something was called love. Hopeless. For not only did she doubt Rashid’s ability to give and receive love, she knew deep down that he would see such behaviour as a sign of weakness. Love made you vulnerable, and Rashid was the personification of invulnerability.
‘Rashid,’ she said, more weakly than she would have wished. ‘You cannot mean that.’
There was an icy silence. Then, ‘You may have the mistaken idea that sustained resistance is provocative, but let me tell you, Jenna, that you are wrong. You will be mine and you will return to Quador immediately. Is that understood?’
She forced herself to accept the inevitable, knowing that it was pure folly to deny him at least the second part of his command. She would return to Quador and she would be forced to play a cunning game herself. Soon Rashid would no longer want to marry her, but he must appear to have taken the decision himself. She must just make sure that he did.
The steely voice was speaking again. ‘Still you hesitate,’ he observed dangerously. ‘Perhaps you wish for me to send someone to collect you?’
She blanched. Imagine one of Rashid’s aides coming here and discovering the cosy domestic relationship between Nadia and Brad!
‘No!’ she protested. ‘I’ll book myself on the first available flight.’
‘I will make sure that the first flight is available,’ he said smoothly. ‘A car will be awaiting you when you touch down in Quador, to bring you to the palace.’
And the connection was ended with a click.
JENNA put the receiver down with a hand which continued to tremble and looked up to see that Brad was standing there, the narrowed look of question still in his eyes.
‘Jenna, what the hell is wrong?’
She stared at him.