Susan Mallery - The Sheik And The Christmas Bride

“Better than lipstick,” the other woman told her. “It won’t come off.”

Her hair was pulled back and up through a beaded headpiece. Dozens of bracelets fit on each wrist. The final touch was a pair of dangling earrings that nearly touched her shoulders.

When they were finished, Zarina led her to a mirror. Kayleen stared at the image, knowing it couldn’t possibly be her. She looked exotic. She’d never been exotic in her life. She also looked sexy and mysterious.

“I will leave you here for a few minutes to practice, then come for you,” Zarina told her. “Believe in yourself. With this dance, you can snare As’ad’s heart so that he can never be free again. What wife doesn’t want that?”

Good question, Kayleen thought when she was alone. Nerves writhed in her stomach, but she ignored them. Having As’ad respect her wasn’t enough. She wanted more-she wanted him to love her.

He had to see she was more than just someone to take care of the girls or an innocent he’d slept with. Their engagement might have begun due to circumstances other than love, but it didn’t have to stay that way.

She’d already given him her heart-now she had to claim his. Which meant being equal to a prince.

Could she? Kayleen had spent her whole life in the shadows, lurking in the background, not making waves, desperate for what she wanted, but afraid to step up and take it. It was time to be different. If she wanted to love a prince, she would have to claim him. She would have to show him she was so much more than he imagined. Her upbringing had given her an inner strength. She would use that power to achieve her heart’s desire.

With a last look at herself, she walked to the front of the tent to wait for Zarina. She wasn’t afraid. She was going to bring As’ad to his knees and make him beg. And that was just for starters.

While As’ad enjoyed the company of Sharif, he was disappointed in the evening. He’d brought Kayleen to the desert so they could share the experience. But she had been whisked away and a polite guest did not ask why.

As the strong coffee was served at the end of the meal, he glanced at his watch and calculated how long he would have to wait until they could politely take their leave. Perhaps he and Kayleen could go into town for a couple of hours. There were a few nightclubs that were intimate and had small, crowded dance floors. He liked the idea of holding her close.

Zarina approached and bowed. “Prince As’ad, would you please come with me?”

As’ad looked at his host. “Do I trust your daughter?”

Sharif laughed. “As if I know her plans. Zarina, what do you want with the prince?”

“Nothing that will displease him.”

As’ad excused himself and followed her. Night had fallen and the stars hung low in the sky. He thought briefly of his brother Kateb, and wondered when he would next return to the palace. If he came in time, he could attend the wedding. As’ad would like to have all his brothers there for the ceremony. And to point out that he would no longer have to listen to their father’s complaints that they had yet to all find brides.

Zarina wove her way through the tents, pausing at one in the back, almost on its own.

“In here, sir,” she said, holding open the flap. “I wish you a good evening.”

As’ad ducked inside. The tent was dim, with only a few lights. There was an open space covered with rugs, and a pile of cushions in front of him.

“If you will please be seated.”

The request came from a dark corner. He recognized Kayleen’s voice. A quiet tent, seclusion and the company of a beautiful woman, he thought as he lowered himself to the cushions. The evening had improved considerably.

Music began. The melody was more traditional than contemporary, as were the instruments. An interesting choice, he thought, as Kayleen stepped out of the shadows. It was his last rational thought for a very long time.

She wore veils. Dozens and dozens of sheer lengths of fabric covered her body. Yet there were flashes of skin-her waist, her legs, a bit of arm.

Her face looked the same, yet different, with her eyes suddenly dark and intriguing. Jewels glittered from her wrists and her ears; her skin shimmered in the dim light. She was the woman he knew yet a woman he had never known. Even before she began to move, he wanted her.

She moved her arms gracefully. He saw the henna on her skin and dropped his gaze to her bare feet. It was there, as well. The patterns were oddly erotic on her fair skin.

She moved her hips back and forth, turned and a single veil dropped to the rug.

It showed him nothing more. She was too well-wrapped. But when it hit, his chest tightened. Blood heated and raced through him, heading to his groin, where it settled impatiently. The desire was instant, powerful and pulsing.

He knew of the dance, had heard it described, but had never experienced it himself. He’d heard men talk of the power of being seduced in such a way by a woman and had privately thought them weak. But now, as Kayleen danced in time with the music, he knew he had been wrong. There was something primal in her movements, something that called only him.

She turned again and another veil fell.

It was all he could do to stay seated. He wanted to jump to his feet, pull her close and take her. He wanted to be inside of her, feeling her heat, pleasuring them both. Heat grew until he burned. And still she danced.

Her hips moved back and forth, her arms fluttered. This time when she turned, he knew the veil would fall, anticipated it, looked greedily to see more of her. A tug and it fluttered to the ground.

She turned back. He saw a hint of curve, the lace of her bra, and he was lost. He sprang to his feet and crossed to her. After he grabbed her around the waist, he pulled her against him and kissed her.

He told himself to hold back, that she wouldn’t appreciate his passion, but despite his forceful kiss, she met him with the same intensity. She plunged her tongue into his mouth, taking as much as she gave.

Kayleen was shaking, both from nerves and from need. Zarina had been right. Despite her uncertainty, she’d managed to bring a prince to his knees. Or at least his feet, which was just as good.

She’d seen the need in As’ad’s eyes, had watched him get aroused. He was already hard and straining. Even as they kissed, he pulled at the veils covering her, swearing with impatience when one tangled and would not budge.

“How many are there?” he asked, his voice thick with frustration and sexual arousal.

“A lot.”

She reached for his shirt and began to unbutton that.

“Too slow,” he told her and ripped the shirt open, then shrugged out of it. Seconds later he’d removed the rest of his clothes. Then he was naked and reaching for her.

His eagerness thrilled her. She was already damp and swollen, ready to be taken. To show him, she reached between them and stroked his arousal. He groaned as his maleness flexed in her hand.

“I want you,” he breathed in her ear. “I want you now.”

His words turned her to liquid. “Then take me.”

He stared into her eyes. “Kayleen.”

“I am to be your wife, As’ad. Take me.”

He lowered her to the cushions and pushed the veils aside. After pulling down her panties, he slid his fingers between her legs.

“You want me,” he told her as he rubbed against her swollen center.

“Always.”

He smiled, then continued to touch her. She pushed his hand away.

“Be in me,” she told him. “Claim me.”

His breath caught, then he did as she asked. He settled between her knees and pushed inside of her.

She always forgot how large he was, how he filled her and made her ache with need. Normally he was slow and gentle, but tonight he pushed inside as if driven. The passion excited her.