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       The Sheikh’s Virgin Princess

       SARAH MORGAN

      About the Author

      USA TODAY bestselling author SARAH MORGAN writes lively, sexy stories for Modern™ and Medical™ Romance.

      As a child Sarah dreamed of being a writer and although she took a few interesting detours on the way, she is now living that dream. With her writing career she has successfully combined business with pleasure and she firmly believes that reading romance is one of the most satisfying and fat-free escapist pleasures available. Her stories are unashamedly optimistic and she is always pleased when she receives letters from readers saying that her books have helped them through hard times.

      RT Book Reviews has described her writing as “action packed and sexy” and her books have been nominated for their Reviewer’s Choice Awards and their ‘Top Pick’ slot.

      Sarah lives near London with her husband and two children who innocently provide an endless supply of authentic dialogue. When she isn’t writing or reading Sarah enjoys music, movies and any activity that takes her outdoors.

      Readers can find out more about Sarah and her books from her website www.sarahmorgan.com. She can also be found on Facebook and Twitter.

       Don’t miss Sarah Morgan’s exciting new novel, Doukakis’s Apprentice, available in July from Mills & Boon® Modern™.

      PROLOGUE

      ‘FIND me a way out of this. And find it fast! Simmering with rage and frustration, the Sultan paced across the thick Persian carpet, and then turned and glared at the group of men who sat in frozen silence around the polished, antique table. ‘Time is running out, and I tell you now that I will not marry that woman!

      His announcement was met by a collective gasp of dismay, and his team of advisors conferred hastily, their communication a series of babbled suggestions and nervous gestures unlikely to produce a satisfactory solution to any problem, let alone one of huge national importance.

      They are like stunned rabbits, the Sultan thought grimly as he viewed them with mounting exasperation.

      ‘Your Excellency.’ One of the lawyers rose to his feet, his hands shaking. ‘We have looked through all the past statutes. There is no way out of this marriage.’

      ‘Then look again.’ His voice deadly soft, the Sultan watched as the man paled. ‘Look again and find something we can use—something that allows us to break this ridiculous contract.’

      ‘That’s the problem, Your Excellency.’ The lawyer’s fingers gripped the edge of the table that provided the only barrier between him and the Sultan. ‘There isn’t anything. There is no precedent for this. Your father made this agreement with the late Crown Prince of Rovina sixteen years ago, a few months before his untimely death. They were at school together, and in the army—’

      ‘I don’t need a lecture on why I find myself in this situation,’ the Sultan growled. ‘Just advice on how to extricate myself. Fast.’

      ‘There is no way out, Your Excellency. You have to marry the Princess Alexandra of Rovina.’ As he delivered the final blow, the lawyer’s voice shook. ‘Perhaps she will be an asset …’ he ventured timidly, his words tailing off as he met the Sultan’s hard, cynical stare.

      ‘You think so? “The rebel princess”—isn’t that what they call my wife-to-be? Since she was old enough to attend school, this girl has left a trail of chaos behind her. She drives her cars too fast, parties until she is unconscious and treats sex as if it were an Olympic sport. And she’s not even twenty-four years old. Please enlighten me as to how such a woman could possibly be an asset to Zangrar.’

      A deathly silence followed his question, and the Sultan raised an eyebrow. ‘Nothing comes to mind?’ Their lack of response frustrated him to the point of explosion, and he turned and walked towards the window, struggling with his temper and hating himself for that loss of control. ‘Leave me. All of you. Leave!’

      There was an undignified scrambling, and the room emptied in a matter of moments in response to his abrupt order.

      As the door closed behind them, the Sultan rubbed his long fingers over his forehead, trying to ease the ache and access rational thought. He didn’t know which sickened him more: the thought of marriage generally, or the thought of marriage to a woman like the Princess Alexandra. By all accounts she was a woman who appeared to possess all those traits that had made him renounce the institution of marriage at a young age. She was shallow, brainless and a princess only by an unfortunate accident of birth. There was nothing royal about her behaviour, and there was no way she was going to become his wife.

      She was exactly the sort of woman who would have caught the attention of his father.

      A sound came from behind him, and he turned swiftly, his eyes narrowing as he saw his chief advisor standing behind him. ‘Omar?’

      ‘Your Excellency.’ The man stepped forward. ‘If I might be permitted to venture a suggestion …’

      ‘If this suggestion involves marriage, please save your breath.’

      ‘It is understandable that Your Excellency would have strong feelings on the subject, given your late father’s somewhat unfortunate history.’

      The Sultan felt every muscle in his body tense. ‘That is not a subject I wish to discuss.’

      ‘Indeed, Your Excellency, and yet it is germane to the current situation. You are right to be concerned. The people of Zangrar will not tolerate another woman like your stepmother.’

      The Sultan inhaled slowly. ‘You are unusually brave in your choice of conversation topic, Omar. You may have known me since I was two years old, but don’t presume too far. I’m experiencing some difficulties with anger management.’

      Omar gave a faint smile. ‘In the circumstances your anger is understandable. What you have achieved for Zangrar since your father’s death is nothing short of amazing. You have given hope to every citizen, and now you are afraid that you will lose what has been gained.’

      ‘And that is what will happen if I marry this woman.’

      ‘Possibly. But Your Excellency does need a wife, that fact is not in dispute,’ Omar murmured. ‘Your people