One

      Twenty-four hours away from the deadline to sign a marriage contract...

      The stark thought shoved Sheikh Kadin Gabriel ben Kadir out of a restless sleep. Tossing crisp linen sheets aside, Gabe flowed to his feet and pulled on a pair of narrow dark jeans. The cool light of a New Zealand dawn flooded his suite, a floor above the Zahiri consulate in Wellington, as he broodingly considered the concept of once more entering into the intimacy of marriage.

      Marrying a wealthy heiress would solve his country’s financial problems. The problem was, after the disaster of his last marriage, he had no desire to ever immerse himself in that particular hell again.

      The morning air cool against his torso, he padded barefoot to the French doors and dragged aside heavy linen curtains. Dark gaze somber, he surveyed the gray rain drenching his last day of bachelor freedom. At that moment, like a fiery omen, the sun pierced the thick veil of storm clouds that hung over Wellington Harbour, illuminating a large painting of his twelfth-century ancestors, which dominated one wall of his suite.

      Gabe studied the painting of the original Sheikh Kadin on whose birthday he’d had the bad luck to be born. A battle-hardened Templar Knight, Kadin’s main claim to fame was that he had taken someone else’s bride along with her diamond-encrusted dowry. The captured bride, Camille de Vallois, a slim redhead with dark exotic eyes, had then proceeded to entrance his ancestor to the