The Sheikh Who Married Her. Lynn Raye Harris
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smell your perfume and not be able to touch you the way I long to? It is a double agony for this to have happened to me today. Now not only am I sexually frustrated but I’m in physical pain from a blasted bullet wound, too! It will take more than a strong sleeping pill to make me sleep tonight.’
The strong bronzed brow crumpled a little in obvious pain, and Gina tenderly pushed back the hair from his smooth unlined forehead and frowned. ‘Why did you have to go and deal with this trouble yourself? I wish you’d sent someone else instead—the captain of your army perhaps? Someone used to dealing with these volatile situations?’
‘You think I am incapable of dealing with a physical threat from a few hot-headed rebels?’
‘I’m not questioning your ability for combat, Zahir. You certainly look intimidating and strong enough. But it seems like a reckless thing to have done when you didn’t have to.’
He tensed and gave her a fierce glare. ‘And how would you know what I do and don’t need to do? I am not just some useless figurehead or cardboard cut-out prince who sits in the palace issuing orders. I am a politician and diplomat, too, and after many months of this rebel faction employing their bullying tactics on peaceful villages it was time to step in and demonstrate once and for all that my kingdom is not going to simply sit back and accept it! Who better to bring that message home to them but the ruler himself?’
‘Please don’t get so worked up. I’m afraid you’ll re-open your wounds if you get too upset.’
‘You can go now.’
‘What?’ Taken aback by the curt dismissal, Gina froze.
‘You are both a painful distraction and an annoyance, and what I need right now is some peace and quiet to contemplate the situation and recover.’
‘All right, then. I understand.’
Just as she made to leave Zahir reached for her, curving his big hand round the back of her neck to pull her face down to his. His angry kiss was hot, hard and passionate, with no pretence at being anything other than punishing.
Gina stumbled, her tongue flicking to the stinging spot on her lower lip when he suddenly released her.
‘Now you can go.’
His glittering dark-eyed glance made her limbs feel heavy as lead. Reaching the door, she exited the sumptuous room hardly knowing how she managed it …
A wounded bear was said to be dangerous. The following morning, walking alone in his private garden, Zahir felt his wounds throbbing and painful, and reflected on the crazy rebel who had inflicted them on him and his bodyguard. He was hurt, angry, and liable to lash out verbally at anyone who dared to come near.
Thankfully his servant Jamal intuited his moods well. The man’s patience and understanding seemed to silently embrace even the most unpredictable and sombre shades of his employer’s personality. Earlier he had brought Zahir coffee. Thinking of Gina—and how he had treated her last night—he had irrationally flung the small brass tray across the courtyard. Everything had landed in the previously calm waters of the ornamental pond, but Jamal had immediately hurried to retrieve it all and clean up the mess without batting an eyelid.
In an hour’s time, after he had been examined again by his physician, Zahir was due to address a meeting of his council regarding the uprising by the rebels. But right now the topic that consumed him even more than that was definitely Gina. He had offered her a situation that most women would have grabbed at—but, no. Not her. Instead she preferred to put her job and her ailing father back at home before him … again!
While he privately had a grudging admiration for her loyalty to both her job and her family, it didn’t stop him from feeling intensely jealous and aggrieved that he still clearly featured so low on her list of priorities. But he could not let her leave so easily. He had to find a way of making her stay in Kabuyadir for longer than just a few short days. After seeing her again he knew he would not easily get her out of his blood a second time—no matter how angry he was.
‘Zahir!’
A slight, dark-robed figure was hurrying towards him along the paved pathway, arms extended. As his sister reached him, she all but stole the breath from his lungs when she threw herself into his arms. Zahir couldn’t stop the grunt of pain he emitted as her body collided with the inflamed bandaged wound at the side of his ribcage.
As she stepped back in alarm, he saw the damp smudges beneath Farida’s pretty eyes—evidence that she’d already been weeping.
‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard that you’d been shot. Why didn’t somebody tell me? Was it because you ordered them not to? I’m not some little child you have to constantly protect, you know. I was a married woman until recently, and I won’t fall apart if I hear bad news—even if it frightens me. What on earth possessed you to travel into the heart of the brigands’ stronghold with just a handful of soldiers and a bodyguard?’
Zahir could hardly believe his ears. Here was another woman chastising him for doing his utmost to resolve a situation that was bringing fear and suffering to his people! Had his father’s actions been questioned with such doubt and disbelief? He didn’t think so.
The scowl on his face was inevitable. ‘I had to try and talk to their leader. He’s a hot-headed egomaniac, seeking to gain power by getting a band of similar unthinking idiots to rob and intimidate the villagers. In the end—when I saw that reason simply did not compute with him—I gave him a warning that if there was any more trouble I would imprison the lot of them for life. We were just about to make our return home when he pulled out a pistol and started firing.’
‘You could have been killed!’
‘Yes, but I wasn’t.’ He rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. ‘Please do not fear for my safety so much, little sister. I would hate to think that you were fretting every time I set foot outside the palace walls!’
‘But somebody shot you, Zahir. Do your wounds hurt badly?’
Seeing the loving concern on her dear face, Zahir retrieved his sense of humour. ‘Not badly. They’re inconvenient, more than anything.’
‘What do you mean?’
A stirring image of Gina fleshed out nicely in his mind—one in which she was wearing only her bathrobe, her golden hair all mussed and sexy, her cheeks flushed from a steamy bath and the scent of exotic oils clinging to her exquisitely soft skin. Straight away the thought acted as a flaming torch, igniting his blood.
His ensuing smile was almost painful. ‘I only mean that I will probably not be as active as I would like for the next few days.’
‘What about the man who shot you? What happened to him?’
‘Right now he is languishing in a prison cell in the city. He was taken there last night by my guards.’
Farida patted down the silk hijab that covered her hair, neck and shoulders, and looked perturbed. ‘There is no chance that one of his men will try and seek revenge and hurt you again, Zahir?’
‘If they dare, my punishment will ensure they will never pick up a firearm or a weapon again. Not in this lifetime!’
But even as he contemplated such a repugnant reality, a wave of doubt and concern rolled through him. Had he made a huge error in judgement, thinking that he could reason with such a lawless band? Now wasn’t the time to consider such a disturbing notion—not when Farida was so clearly worried and upset.
He laid his arm reassuringly round his sister’s slender shoulders. ‘The palace is a steadfast fortress that has stood the test of time. No amateur trigger-happy fool is going to get at me here. They would be crazy to even try. Now, enough talk about that. Let us discuss more pleasant things, hmm? What are you planning on doing with yourself this day?’
They were walking back along the shaded pathway, and the balmy agarwood scented air seemed to ease Zahir’s troubled mind