The Sheik's Angry Bride (13 page)

“I’m saying that I love you, Layla.  And I know there are risks but even a normal couple could walk out the door and one of them could get hit by a bus.  But we don’t live by those fears.  We move on.  We live life and we,” he covered her stomach with his hand, “raise our children to be strong and help to mitigate these problems.”

Her hand moved to cover his where it lay on her stomach, her breath catching as she thought about the possibility of her carrying his child.  “You really think I’m pregnant?” she whispered, thinking the words were scary enough. 

But then it hit her.  A child!  Garon’s child!  Goodness, she couldn’t believe the hope that a potential pregnancy generated within her.  “Pregnant,” she whispered the word reverently. 

“Would you be upset?” he asked, watching her carefully.  Was she one of those women who didn’t want to have children?  He didn’t think so, but she didn’t appear to be jumping for joy right at the moment. 

But her next words reassured him.  “No.  It would be thrilling.  I would love to have your children,” she told him. 

He turned his hand over so that he was holding hers. 

“We’ll get through this,” he told her, reassuring her with a gentle hug.  “But you’re going to have to admit that you love me.”

She trembled at his words, not sure what she could say to that.  “I don’t…” he stopped her words with a kiss. 

“I don’t want to hear lies, Layla,” he told her.  His fingers tangled in her hair and he pulled her head around so that those strange, blue eyes were looking directly at him.  “Tell me,” he demanded.

“No,” she whispered.

He chuckled and kissed the side of her mouth.  “Tell me,” he coaxed again. 

“I can’t,” she told him, moving closer to him. 

“You can say the words because you know that you do.”  He nibbled on the side of her neck, smiling to himself when she shivered.  “Layla, the sun is going to be coming up very soon and we need at least a few hours of sleep before the day starts again.  I’m going to make love to you as soon as you tell me what I want to hear, so hurry up so we can get some sleep.”

She shivered but shook her head.  “If I say it…”

He pulled back.  “No.  You won’t be giving me any power over you, Layla.  I love you.  Totally, completely and unequivocally.  That isn’t going to change.  I love you and I’m going to spend my life making you happy.  And you feel the same way.  So just admit it and we can move on to more interesting things,” he nibbled on her lower lip.  “Like getting you out of this dress so you are as naked as I am.”

When he did those things to her, she couldn’t hold back.  It had been like this from the first time they’d met and she wasn’t sure how to fight it.  Furthermore, she wasn’t sure she wanted to any longer.  Fighting him was too hard.  And it would be such a relief to actually admit it and just deal with the consequences. 

“I love you,” she finally admitted. 

Garon stilled at her words.  And then his body went into overdrive!  “I love you too,” he told her with so much feeling.  He lifted her into his arms.  Standing her next to the bed, he quickly divested her of all clothing and then, with minimal effort, he gently laid her on the bed.  “I love you, Layla,” he told her again as he kissed her. 

Layla’s tears streamed down her cheeks once more.  Never in her life had she cried as much as she had in the past few weeks. 

“Why the tears?” he asked as he lifted one onto his thumb. 

Layla sniffed.  “Because you’re right.”

He chuckled as he slid his body over hers.  “What was I right about this time?” he asked, nuzzling her neck. 

She laughed despite her tears.  “I don’t think I can tell you.”

He laughed but his teeth gently nibbled at the end of her long finger.  “Fair enough.  Will you tell me that you love me again?”

“I love you.  And you’re right, that admitting it doesn’t make me feel weaker.”  She smiled when he nuzzled her breast, her hands catching his head.  “It makes me feel much stronger.”

He stilled with those words.  “You’re beautiful, Layla.  And I swear I’ll love you so much, you won’t know what hit you!”

She laughed at that.  But he began his lovemaking in earnest after that so there wasn’t much more laughter.  Only a great deal of sighing, begging and pleading until he took her so high, she swore she was catching the stars in her hands. 

Afterwards, he held her in his arms, not allowing her any space.  “I love you,” she whispered only moments before she fell asleep, content for the first time in a long, long time. 

“I love him,” Layla grumbled as she moved slowly down the long hallway of the ancient fortress.  “But if he doesn’t stop worrying about me, I’m going to kill him.”

Callie laughed as she waddled next to her new friend.  “I know what you mean.  Last night, I had to get up to go to the bathroom.  The moment I moved towards the edge of the bed, Zahir was awake and carrying me in his arms to the bathroom.”

Layla shook her head.  “I guess some women would think that’s pretty sweet,” she said.  She wasn’t one of them, she silently thought. 

Callie growled low.  “He wouldn’t leave me until I was finished.  He’s afraid I’ll slip on the bathroom floor!”

Layla’s hand came up to stifle her laughter. 

“Sit down!” Garon called out.

Layla and Callie spun around, both of them glaring at the man who had yelled the order.  Callie’s eyes shifted to her husband’s though.  He was the bigger threat at the moment since he was walking towards her with a determined stride.  She held out her hands to stop him but he kept on coming. “Don’t you dare pick me up, Zahir!” she ordered to him.

The man didn’t even pause with that threat.  He didn’t stop until he’d reached his wife, towering over her.  “Sit down or I will carry you over to one of the chairs, Callie!” he told her.

Callie turned to look at Layla.  “See?  This is what I have to deal with!”  She then turned back to her husband.  “I don’t want to sit down.  I want to move around and exercise.  I am not going to gain fifty pounds during this pregnancy like I did with Luca!”

Zahir bent lower.  “You’ll look beautiful if you gain fifty pounds.  You will not look so beautiful if I have to spank your adorable bottom because you fell or hurt yourself.”

She poked him in the chest.  “I’m pregnant!  Not an invalid!  I can walk around and I’m darn well going to do it.”

Layla moved away from the two of them as they fought.  Callie really did look huge.  She was about six months pregnant and glowing.  She was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen and Layla was impressed with the way she stood up to her enormous husband.  Of course, Garon was about the same height and might even have a bit more muscle on his massive shoulders, and he no longer intimidated her either. 

“You’re not sitting down.”

Layla spun around, having forgotten that he’d commanded her to sit.  She laughed softly at his glare.  “I thought you and the boys were going to show Luca how to play croquet. 

Garon’s eyes didn’t leave her face.  “We are.  We’re just setting up the wickets.”

Layla peered around Garon’s huge shoulders, her mouth falling open when she noticed where the adorable little boy was directing Terek and Dassar, two very powerful sheiks of the other countries, to put the wickets.  “How in the world are you going to hit the ball up the side of the fortress wall?” she asked with exasperation.  Her eyes followed the other wickets that had already been set up.  “And on the stone pathway?  Any balls hit over there will go on forever!”

Garon just shrugged his shoulders.  “We’ll be creative,” was all he would say. 

“You’ll go nuts,” she mumbled.  “I’m going to sit over there in the shade.  I’m only three months pregnant, Garon.  Don’t you dare try and treat me like a china doll.  I won’t stand for…”  She couldn’t finish her sentence because he’d simply lifted her into his arms and was striding across the field to where the two chairs had been set up in the shade, icy drinks already poured on the table in between.  He deposited her in the chair and Layla turned to find Callie being carted over to the other chair. 

“I guess we lost that argument,” Callie grumbled as her husband and Garon both walked away, having gotten their way. 

Layla sighed, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the broad shoulders and tight butt of her husband.  “I guess there are worse things in the world we could have to endure besides being coddled.”

Callie was having the same problem with her own eyes.  “I guess so.  But I can’t wait for the other two to bite the bullet and get married.  It will be more fun if there are more than just the two of us.  We might be able to gang up on them a bit more effectively.”

Layla picked up her glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and nodded her head in agreement.  “So which do you think is going to fall next?” she asked. 

Callie watched the four men and her son start to play croquet.  “I have no idea, but you’re going to witness the most amazing cheating in the next hour or so.  I’m just warning you now.”

Layla and Callie had a wonderful time, laughing so hard at the men that they were bent over, holding their stomachs as they watched the men get the croquet balls through the strangely placed wickets.  Luca, Callie’s adorable son, was declared honorary mallet holder on most of the plays.  But even Layla was impressed when Dassar picked Luca up and balanced him on his feet while Luca lifted the croquet ball on his knees and somehow got it through the wicket that had been set up on the wall. 

The others were just as insane, the rules ignored, balls had to be replaced because the men would smack one another’s’ balls so hard that they’d be lost in various, unknown caves within the fortress. 

But throughout the whole event, one thing rang clear.  Layla was sure that none of these men were the ones who had tried to assassinate her husband. 

So who had been the mastermind of the threat? 

She had no idea.  All she knew was that she loved these people, considered Callie almost a sister by the end of the long weekend, and Zahir, Dassar and Terek were wonderful leaders who would never resort to such underhanded tactics.  What’s more, the four men were genuine friends.  Discussions over dinners that secret weekend centered around the border fights that had started to break out as well as the attempt on Garon’s life. 

Unfortunately, no clear answer could be discerned. 

As Layla lay in Garon’s arms, both of them exhausted from their recent lovemaking, she sent a silent prayer of thanksgiving that her husband had survived.  And that he’d chosen her for his wife.  Out of all the women he could have chosen, she knew that she’d ended up the lucky one. 

Chapter 1

“Have you contacted Faris and put my proposal to her?” Sheik Dassar bin Sarook asked, his eyes snapping while he walked to his next meeting.  Faris was his current mistress, a beautiful woman who would be an adequate wife.  He wasn’t sure about mother, but he could always hire someone to act as nanny after children were born. 

Hasif, the sheik’s harried chief advisor, hustled to keep up with his employer’s longer stride.  Hasif was shorter by a foot and severely overweight, but he was a brilliant man when it came to details, allowing Dassar to focus on the bigger picture for Altair.  After the seemingly relentless ten-year war, there was so much to do in order to bring prosperity back to Altair, and Dassar was not going to make his people suffer any more than they had to.  Already, the economy was starting to come back to life and people were becoming more secure in their future. 

The peace treaty with his former adversaries was a good one and Dassar was determined to put the final requirements into place as quickly as possible.  Marry and secure succession with an heir.  That was the plan for all four of them and Dassar wanted to finalize that issue as quickly as possible so his people knew what to expect.  He knew that both Zahir and Garon had found women that were both beautiful and generous of spirit.  He didn’t think he would be that lucky and just wanted to find a wife that would fulfill the role.  Someone outside of Altair and the other three countries so that the possibility of war breaking out wouldn’t happen again.

“If I might be so bold,” Hasif put in, huffing a bit as they rounded the corner of the palace.  “Perhaps there might be a better answer to the need than the lovely Faris.” Hasif had to bite the side of his lip to keep himself from cringing as he said the next words about the most selfish woman he’d ever met in his life. “I know she would be eminently eligible for the role of your wife, but I’m just putting an idea out there that perhaps there might be a better solution.”

Dassar stopped and looked down at his advisor, causing the man to almost run into him with the unexpected stop.  “Better solution?  Faris is beautiful and composed, exactly what Altair needs.”  And he wouldn’t fall in love with her, he thought.  Exactly what
he
needed for a queen.

Hasif took pains to keep his expression blank.  Any sort of disagreement might push this hard and tough man to do the opposite.  “I agree, Your Highness,” he replied, treading carefully since they were speaking about the man’s current mistress.  But Dassar went through women like some men changed ties.  It wasn’t that he was promiscuous, although he certainly had a way with the ladies.  Charm and harsh good looks, not to mention extreme wealth and absolute power in his country were potent aphrodisiacs.  The women flocked to him.  Just by raising his finger, women almost ran to him, eager to warm his bed. 

Hasif would admit that the woman in question was indeed lovely, but Faris was also cold and self-centered.  She was spiteful to the palace staff and more intent on spending as much of her lover’s massive wealth as she possibly could.  When she wasn’t catering to Dassar’s every need in the bedroom, she was barking orders at the palace staff, interfering with Altair policy and being one of the most demanding, rude, inconsiderate women Hasif had ever had the misfortune to endure.  The only break from this treatment was when the woman flew in Dassar’s personal jet to one of the clothing capitals of the world to spend his money. 

Hasif had worked hard to come up with an alternative for Dassar’s marriage problem, and he hoped he’d found a good solution. 

“Although Faris is indeed lovely, I’m not sure that she would be accepted by your people with open arms.”  He said that carefully, not sure how close Dassar was to the woman.  If history had repeated itself, the lovely and evil Faris should have been on her way out the door a month ago.  Hasif suspected that the only reason Dassar hadn’t grown bored with her was because of the mutual agreement with the other three countries for each of their leaders to marry quickly and produce that heir.  Since two of those rulers were already happily married, the pressure was on to do the same in Altair.

Hasif suspected that Faris knew about the marriage requirement as well, which was why she was so confident about her current role.  And also why she’d become extra demanding lately. 

The woman was pure evil, Hasif thought.  It was imperative that Dassar find a woman with a heart inside of her chest and not just a cash register.  After all the years of war, all the sacrifices his ruler made in order to protect the interests of Altair, Dassar deserved someone who would love him with all of her heart.  Hasif was of the opinion that Faris, no matter how lovely she might be, could only love herself and the things she could earn from her time in Dassar’s bed.  And Hasif seriously doubted that Faris would trouble herself to bear Dassar an heir.  The woman would manipulate events so that her outstanding figure remained intact – not destroyed by the potential ravages of pregnancy and birth.

And so he’d come up with another option. 

“Why do you think she won’t be accepted?” Dassar demanded, irritated that the issue had not been resolved already.  He had too many things to do with his time; worrying about his marriage was not something he wanted to waste any time on. 

Again, Hasif chose his words carefully.  “She might be a bit harsh until one gets to know her softer side,” Hasif said carefully, not mentioning that there wasn’t a softer side to that horrible woman.  “But I have another option.  I have a woman who might be a better fit for this role.  Someone a bit more docile and who…”

“Who is she?” Dassar demanded.  If Hasif was doubtful that Faris could fulfill the role of his queen, then there was a legitimate reason for caution and looking at other possible candidates.

Hasif handed Dassar a file.  “Read through this information, Your Highness.  I think that this woman might be a perfect option.”

Dassar took the file but didn’t open it.  “Fine.  I’ll read through it later.  What’s going on with the refinery in the south?” he asked, moving again towards his next meeting.  And just that quickly, his marriage was pushed aside so that he could concentrate on more important issues. 

The next meeting was just as tedious as the previous one and Dassar grew impatient with the arguing over the oil revenue.  “Enough!” he called out.  He opened the file in front of him, thinking that it was the file that contained the list of options for the refinery.  But instead, his eyes were captured by a set of startling blue eyes surrounded by a cloud of platinum-blond hair.  The lighting caused the blond tresses to look almost white and sharpened the contrast to the blue eyes.  Her skin was pale with rosy cheeks, bringing to mind the image of a soft, English rose with blush colors and a pale center. 

His eyes skimmed through the information, quickly absorbing the details.  Hasif had done an excellent job of gathering intel on the woman and Dassar couldn’t deny that he was intrigued.  His initial reaction was to reject the idea.  This woman, Dassar looked at the top of the page for her name, this Luna Montgomery, was too soft, too tender.  She’d never make it in this world.  Altair was a beautiful country and in another ten years, he would ensure that it was peaceful and economically stable.  But the war had destroyed a great deal of the country’s infrastructure.  It was a difficult life here and there was a great deal to rebuild.  Palace politics and intrigue alone could do in the average woman with a sensitive heart. 

This Luna woman was only twenty-four years old.  Not old enough, he thought and flipped the page.  Reading through the letter she’d sent, he shook his head.  She was pleading with him for a six-month reprieve for her little town in Central Virginia.  Apparently, the recent recession had hurt the shopkeepers and most, if not all of them, were unable to make payments on their loans, loans which he owned since he owned the bank as well.  He had to give her credit though.  Not many people had figured out that he was the owner of that particular bank.  It wasn’t as if he kept it a secret, but it wasn’t advertised either. 

She herself owned the ten-room inn and, although she’d kept up with her loan payments, he read between the lines and knew that she was having a hard time as well.  He flipped to the next page and, sure enough, a report on her financials was right there.  Hasif was thorough.  Dassar once again had to give his chief advisor credit for knowing all of the details Dassar would require for his plan to work. 

He flipped through some other pages, reading about her volunteer work, the animals she kept as pets and even the herbs she grew in her garden which were used in the recipes she baked for her small bed and breakfast inn.  The woman was creative and had grown her business over the years.  Unfortunately, she’d extensively renovated and expanded her inn’s kitchen right before the recession hit.  Although the economy was coming back and guests were starting to patronize her business once again, they weren’t coming back fast enough for her to keep up with the hefty payment schedule. 

She was beautiful, he thought, his thumb rubbing along the picture as if it were actually her skin.

But not for him, he thought and snapped the file closed.  Looking up at the men waiting expectantly at the conference room table, he nodded, pretending that he hadn’t just completely lost the thread of the conversation while reading through a profile on a stunningly beautiful woman.  Clearing his head of the crazy idea of making such a soft, lovely and gentle woman his bride, he abruptly said, “Send me the list and we’ll break down the top five.”  With that, he walked out of the conference room, holding onto both the file as well as the list of priorities for the revenues discussed in that meeting. 

“Set up a meeting,” he told Hasif, tucking the file underneath his arm.  That statement in itself was surprising since he’d just rejected the idea because the woman seemed too soft and delicate.  But his next words shocked even himself.  “We’ll fly out this weekend to finalize the issue.  Ensure that extra guards are brought up to my training standards so that she has adequate protection after the wedding.”

With that, Dassar moved on to the next issue on his day’s agenda, once again pushing the issue of his impending nuptials out of his mind. 

He was oblivious to the glee that briefly shone on his chief advisor’s normally bland features with the dramatic decision. 

Hasif moved off in the opposite direction, eager to tell the palace staff to pack up Faris’ belongings.  He was going to tell her as soon as he could find her that the sheik no longer had need of her services. 

Chapter 2

“It isn’t going to work,” Barry said, handing her a bag of chicken feed. 

“Of course it’s going to work,” Luna replied, accepting the bag and lugging it over her shoulder out of the shed.  “The man isn’t going to shut down the entire town.”

“No, but he’s probably going to sell off the assets so he can recoup his money.”  Barry walked behind her, wishing the Lovely Luna, as he referred to her in his mind, would let him do the heavy lifting for her.  She was too slender, too slight of build to be lugging around those forty-pound bags of chicken feed. 

Barry watched, unaware of the devotion that was shining through his eyes as he watched Luna spread the chicken feed out across the yard.  She was sweet and wonderful and if she would only come out to dinner with him, he was sure he could prove to her that they could make it work. 

“The whole town is gathering tonight to discuss the issue.  It just doesn’t make sense that he would evict an entire town, Barry.”  Luna bit her lip, hoping that her thinking was on target.  She’d argued with everyone at last month’s town meeting, telling them to at least give her plan a chance.  Now she just had to prove that there was good in the world.  She had to prove that this sheik guy was more than just a leader of a war-torn country.  She knew that, deep down inside, everyone had a heart.  Sometimes, it was just buried too deeply for a person to recognize that heart.  This town had shown her that.  Every person around this small town had taken her in and given her shelter in one way or another when she’d arrived here nine years ago.  Ms. Prescott helped her catch up on all the math she’d missed, Barry’s father had helped her with her readings skills, which were severely lacking because…well, because she’d fallen far behind in school back in New York. 

Even her place here at the inn was because of the two ladies who had basically adopted her, watched over her, helped her heal.  She’d come to this town broken and every person around had helped her to heal.  So she wasn’t going to give in until she gave back to them a little of what they’d done for her.  She’d lost hope when she’d heard that her mother was gone.  They’d given her a home, food, clothing and, most of all, hope.  Hope in the goodness of the world. 

The bank manager had already rejected her request.  But she’d gone above him, only to be turned down by the odiously rude bank director.  Never one to give up, she’d discovered that some sheik guy from that crazy country that had been at war for the past ten years actually owned the bank.  So she’d tried one more time.  So far, she hadn’t received a rejection, so Luna was hopeful that there might be good news soon.  No news meant no rejection, so she wasn’t giving up hope.

“I don’t have time to worry about it today though.  Tonight is soon enough.  I have a full house over the next few days,” she told him.  Turning to smile at Barry, she poured the rest of the bag of feed into the container, which would keep the chickens out but make tomorrow’s feeding a bit easier.  “And I’ll make sure to encourage everyone to make their way to your art studio.  Okay?  See?” she said as she locked the bin and headed towards the kitchens again.  “Everything is going to work out.  A full house, lots of baked goods to sell, great art in your windows and even Mary Ann has doubled her chocolate goods for the weekend.  Even she’s optimistic that it will all work out.  So why are you worrying?”