Taken by the Sheikh Read online

  Then, as though a jumbled dream which had righted itself, everything came rushing back into sharp focus. She sucked in a breath. “You drugged me.”

  The man—Shahzad—nodded. “You left me little choice.”

  She lay still, though her eyes moved swiftly to and fro. There were rows of luxurious leather seats, small tinted windows and increasing engine noise.

  Her belly lurched and she thrust the damp cloth off her brow before jerking up from the recline position. Outside her window, a plane’s wing glowed beneath the backdrop of a stark orange sunset, offsetting the grey tarmac.

  Picture perfect and yet all so horribly wrong.

  They were seated and ready for takeoff. Panic suffused her from the inside out. She went to stand, but the safety belt snapped her back into her seat.

  “There’s nowhere to go so don’t even try.” Shahzad spoke softly, but there was inherent warning in his tone.

  Lexi sat still, mute, terrified and breathtakingly angry. She might be reckless, but she’d never willingly endangered her life. And Shahzad just might be the one man who’d snuff out her breath if she didn’t follow his command.

  A wave of dizziness hit even as she fought for calm. Her kidnapper was a man used to being obeyed. A man with power at his fingertips. He exuded an arrogant ruthlessness that was compelling and repulsive all at the same time.

  His charcoal tailored suit didn’t disguise his heritage. He could have swathed himself in the traditional Arabic robe and headdress but she’d recognize him now for what he was. A barbaric sheikh born with influence and entitlement.

  She turned away and stifled a sob, her vision blurring. She’d wanted excitement and action. Seemed the universe had listened.

  Shahzad caught her chin beneath one hand and brought her stare back to his. But he wasn’t fooling her with his gentle touch. The man was a monster, a kidnapper without a conscience.

  He nodded in the direction of a big, bald-headed man in a suit seated near the exit. “I have men stationed where they’re most needed, in case you decide to try anything foolish.”

  His tone suggested he expected nothing less from her. She bit her inner cheek, hating that she’d half-hoped for some kind of reassurance from him.

  She clenched her hands on her denim-clad thighs. If he thought for one minute that she was some timid little mouse willing to accept her fate then he’d better think again! Hell, she’d never lived by normal standards or by the strictures put out by political desk-dummies. To her mind, rules and conventions were nothing more than a cage.

  The plane—jet?—taxied forward slowly and her pulse tripped right along with it. A rush of fear held her in its grip and a hot tear trickled down her face. This was not the twenty-first birthday she’d envisioned. Not by a long shot.

  “Don’t cry.”

  She glared at him, hating his almost tender voice. Hating him so much it hurt. “I’ve told you I’m not who you think I am. Why don’t you listen? My mother will be worried sick. I’m all she has!”

  She squeezed her eyes closed, forcing back her scalding tears as well as the image of Shahzad’s enigmatic face. Her mother, Colleen, really was her only family and suddenly she wished she’d appreciated her more. Her mother had worked her fingers to the bone to give Lexi a nice life, forgoing beautiful clothes and wonderful holidays.

  “Don’t worry about Colleen. I’ve taken care of her.”

  She felt all the blood drain from her face even as her eyes flicked open and she pressed a shaky hand to her mouth. “What do you mean by that? What have you done to her?”

  His eyes flashed offense. “I made sure she never has to work again. Despite her treachery, she is still the mother of my future bride. She now has a very healthy bank balance.”

  “So she…she knows where I am?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  She’d take whatever small mercies she could get, although she had no doubts her mother would still be worried sick—perhaps more so now knowing her daughter’s fate.

  God, how long had this barbaric sheikh been planning her capture? And how in heaven’s name had he got her mixed up with someone else? He wouldn’t listen though, she’d already tried to explain. Hysteria built again. He’d be furious when he discovered she really was the wrong woman.

  She blinked, and then scrubbed at her eyes. It was as if she was watching everything unfold from a great distance, an out of body experience that was worse than any nightmare. “You don’t understand.” Her voice cracked. “She doesn’t want your filthy money. She wants me.”

  He arched an arrogant brow. “Then let’s hope her improved finances make your leaving her easier to accept.”

  The plane did a slow one-eighty, its engines screaming. She sat frozen and dazed by the ease of her kidnapping, and barely able to breathe when the jet abruptly powered forward and then lifted smoothly into the air.

  The city came into view in the distance, the purplish lights of the giant Ferris wheel, the London Eye, reflected in the river Thames. She squeezed her eyes closed, shutting out the visual.

  Shahzad must have gained access to a private airport somewhere just outside the city. Jesus, how far had he driven while she’d been unconscious? Is that why he’d been worried—because she’d slept so long? She must have been out to it for at least a couple of hours.

  She choked back a sob and forced open her eyes. God forbid he accidentally killed his so-called future queen!

  A myriad of other lights twinkled into life with the oncoming dusk, while cars the size of ants buzzed along highways far below. People going about their business, their life, with no idea of what was happening to her.

  The jet had no sooner climbed before it leveled off and she heard the snap of Shahzad’s safety belt. He unbuckled her harness next, before he pushed to his feet and bent to lift her into his arms.

  Dread fought against the lingering lethargy caused by the drug as he carried her to the back of the jet, his hard body somehow pronounced even under his suit. She bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood, and she was glad of the pain—anything to stop other unwanted emotions from creeping in.

  She refused to allow her body to succumb to the feverish needs that’d overtaken her of late. And yet she knew with bone-deep clarity this man would be a skilled lover.

  One way or another she would be losing her virginity tonight. The only difference was that the choice of who took her innocence would be stolen from her.

  She shivered, though insidious heat slid through her body.

  “You’re in shock,” he said darkly, all but kicking open a small door and entering a plush bedroom with a connecting bathroom.

  The overhead lights were already switched on, and she squeezed her eyes closed, refusing to look at him as he bent and lowered her onto a soft bed. She mightn’t have the strength to fight him off, but she wouldn’t give him any pleasure in his taking of her. She’d be a statue, lifeless, cold and unresponsive.

  Except instead of stripping her and forcing himself on her, his footfall retreated before she heard the gush of water from a faucet. When he returned, he once again pressed a wet cloth against her brow.

  She almost believed the big bad sheikh cared. She resisted a snort. He was trying to gain her trust. But the moment her identity was exposed she’d probably be tied, gagged and thrown into the cargo hold of the next flight home.

  She opened her eyes and caught his stare, flushing at the intensity of his look. “Do you always coddle your captives?” she asked.

  He drew back and straightened. “I don’t make it a habit, no.”

  She didn’t want to think of the possibility she wasn’t alone in being captured by him. Her lip curled. “I’m supposed to be delighted at being the exception?”

  “Many women would be.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “One thing you’ll learn about me, I’m not like many women.”

  “That’s true.”

  His wry voice set her teeth on edge. “If you don’t like it, please feel
free to send me back home.”

  Something too close to possessiveness flared in his eyes. “The only thing I didn’t like was seeing other men’s hands on you.” He sat on the bed, his big body sucking away her personal space. “You’re mine now Habibi and, believe me, I won’t share.”

  Bloody hell, he really meant it. So why did thinking about the woman who should have taken her rightful place as captive—a woman he’d do anything to keep—make her feel as though she’d been rubbed up the wrong way?

  She arched a brow, pushing aside all emotion and keeping her voice cool. She’d play his game until she saw a chance to escape. “And does it go both ways? Do you stay faithful to me too?”

  His stare held hers. “I’d imagined our marriage would be platonic at best with the occasional duty sex to give us sons and keep my kingdom happy.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Was that the way men in his country did things? She wasn’t big on the idea of being with one man for the rest of her life but, holy shit, marriage without love and intimacy would be equivalent to sharing the future with a resentful stranger.

  “I’d even contemplated other wives and mistresses, as is our custom.” Her breath hissed between tight lips before he added huskily, “And then I saw you and everything changed.”

  Her mouth dried. But she wouldn’t give in to the dizzying relief his words created. He was deliberately throwing her off balance, making her yearn for the same things he apparently did. He was a master manipulator without scruples, while she was an innocent with little worldly experience.

  “And if we have daughters?” she asked.

  “Then I can only hope they’re as beautiful and spirited as you.”

  She jumped as the back of his knuckles trailed across her lips, leaving behind burning nerve endings.

  He smiled. “You’ve laid my marital tactics to waste.”

  She bit back a wanton sigh and compressed her lips. She wouldn’t ask further about his despicable tactics, it wasn’t as it they’d affect her in the long term anyway.

  If he noticed her silence, he didn’t seem to care. His stare drank in her every reaction anyway, digging deep into her psyche as he spoke. “I’m at your mercy, Habibi. I want you in my bed, have burned to have you from the very first moment I saw you.”

  Her lashes fluttered as need bombarded her. “When…when did you first see me?”

  At the back of her mind she understood it was beyond crazy having this conversation with her kidnapper—as though they were nothing more than old friends discussing the weather. But then, she’d never claimed to be normal and, more than anything, she needed to know how he’d botched her identity.

  He smiled. The memory clearly pleased him. “I was bored beyond comprehension sitting in my hire car waiting to catch a glimpse of you.” He shrugged. “I’d seen photos, but I soon discovered they didn’t do you any justice.”

  Funny the shiver that raced down her spine, burning away any chill. God help her, she was attracted to this man despite everything. He was ruthless. He was power and danger personified. And it drew her to him like a buzzard to road kill.

  His eyes gleamed, as though aware of her response. “It was raining heavily when all the students came out of class, pushing open their black umbrellas. Not you though. You stepped outside with your hair in a beanie and a red jacket belted to your body.”

  She closed her eyes, recalling that day vividly. She’d felt different somehow, charged and alert. She had no doubt she’d sensed Shahzad even then.

  His chuckle was self-deprecating. “You walked into the downpour as though you owned it, with a smile on your face and at one with Mother Nature.”

  She nodded, then said huskily, “Why fight a force we have no control over?”

  God, she might as well have spoken about them. He knew it. She knew it. She was only grateful he didn’t act upon it. At least, not right then.

  Instead he continued softly, “When you got to the front door of your dorm and dragged off your wet beanie and shook out your glorious hair…I was well and truly lost. I knew right there and then we were destined to be together.”

  She blinked. “So why kidnap me? Why not introduce yourself and win me over? I’m sure I’m not the only woman to have fallen for your charms, such as they are.”

  His face darkened. “Because I never expected my parents to die so suddenly. I never expected their deaths to have such an impact on my people. And I never expected to have to marry fast, just to keep my kingdom from falling apart.”

  Of course there was also the matter of her friends being introduced to him if he had indeed tried to date her. They would have been able to give a pretty decent description of the foreigner she’d been seeing before she’d mysteriously disappeared.

  She had to make him listen. “What will you and your people do when it comes to light you have the wrong bride?”

  He dragged a hand over his face, as if wearying of the conversation. “Your mother really didn’t want you to know anything about your birthright,” he murmured, seemingly as much to himself as her, “and yet your father could have brought you back to your homeland at any time.”

  She sat up, itching to solve the puzzle. Because right then, as much as she hated to admit it, it sure felt as though they had some kind of connection going on. “Then why didn’t he? If it’s true what you say and my father really is some great sheikh, why didn’t he bring me…home?”

  “Because the moment your future as Sheikha of Omana was decided, he realized it was safer for you to be an unknown, away from the rebels.” He blew out a slow breath, his features tightening. “Turned out he was right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The rebels killed my parents, the Sheikh and Sheikha of Omana. Ironic given that your father died of natural causes.”

  An odd sense of loss pulled at her, as though she really was starting to believe him. Then she shook her head. “No, my father would have been in his prime.”

  “On the contrary, he was thirty-five years older than your mother when he claimed her as his concubine.”

  Her eyes widened. He expected her to believe her mother had been a sex slave? Good god, as far as she knew, her mom hadn’t even dated a man since she’d had Lexi.

  Even so, she couldn’t help but do a quick calculation in her head. Her mother had given birth to her when she was twenty-two, which meant her supposed biological father had been fifty-seven—a much older man.

  She shook her head, even as she tried to grasp the truth. It was beyond unsettling that doubts were settling in, despite the holes in his story about her mother. “How long ago did he die?”

  “Two years.” His voice softened. “He suffered from a massive heart attack at the age of seventy-six. He was greatly mourned by his people, despite his many transgressions.”

  So he’d died before she’d even gotten to know him and his infamy. Yet the ache she felt inside centered more on whether her mother really had lied to her from the start.

  “Did you never stop and ask yourself why your mother moved around so often?” Shahzad asked.

  She shook her head. “Stopping to consider things is something I’ve never been much good at. I live in the moment, always have and always will.” She shrugged. “I can’t say I’m sorry that I’m not the queen you’d hoped for.”

  His lips curled into an enigmatic smile. “On the contrary, my people will expect those traits. You’re just like Sheikh Hassan Nazari—your father.” Then he added, “And your older half-brother, Muhammad, who now rules Jahraine.”

  Her eyes rounded. She had a brother, too? Was he telling the truth? Good god, what else didn’t she know about?

  “Colleen thought she’d escaped from Hassan, but nothing could have stopped Hassan from getting you if that was what he wanted. You were too important to him, both politically and personally. He kept watch on you from afar.”

  She swallowed as nausea crept up to the base of her throat. So she hadn’t been paranoid about feeling watched all
that time? Oddly enough, it’d only been when Shahzad had started following her in the last week that the sensation had intensified.

  Everything was starting to make too much sense, the holes in his story closing up and becoming too damn believable for her peace of mind.

  She pressed her lips together. God she was a fool. Shahzad was her kidnapper. He’d be an expert in persuasion and manipulation. And he was doing a damn fine job of making her believe every single word he said.

  She wouldn’t be fooled again.

  Shahzad’s voice gentled. “You’ve had a rough day, with a lot to take in. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

  She threw him a look. “Are you sure you trust me not to do anything stupid?”

  He shrugged. “What could you possibly do over forty-thousand feet in the air?”

  A couple of James Bond movies flicked through her head. But she was no 007 and even he’d be hard pressed to get past this man.

  “I’ll leave you in peace,” Shahzad murmured.

  Relief mixed with an odd sense of regret as her kidnapper stood and then retreated from the room. She dragged off her boots and ankle stockings before she flopped back onto the softest of soft beds. She was going frigging insane! Either that or she was already getting a serious case of Stockholm syndrome.

  She could not be attracted to Shahzad. Her overheated body simply wanted the finest, alpha male she’d ever clapped eyes on. She rubbed the back of her neck. If only it really was that simple.

  She’d no longer look at Harley, or the other boys she’d considered dating, in the same light. None would even begin to measure up…

  She reeled back her thoughts, horrified at the direction they were going. Her hands fisted. Her life back in London was looking more wonderful by the minute and of course she couldn’t wait to get back!

  She gasped as a terrifying flash of fear shot through her. What if Shahzad had been telling the truth all along and she really was the right woman?

  She’d be a hostage to the sheikh.