Michelle Reid - Hot-Blooded Husbands

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Michelle Reid - Hot-Blooded Husbands» — ознакомительный отрывок электронной книги совершенно бесплатно, а после прочтения отрывка купить полную версию. В некоторых случаях можно слушать аудио, скачать через торрент в формате fb2 и присутствует краткое содержание. Жанр: unrecognised, на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале библиотеки ЛибКат.

Hot-Blooded Husbands: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «Hot-Blooded Husbands»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

To HaveOne year ago Leona had left her arrogant, passionate husband Sheikh Hassan ben Khalifa AlQadim, but now he’s tricked her into returning to his side, and it seems he is prepared to go to any lengths to keep her there…back in his bed! And Ethan Hayes thinks Eve Herakleides is nothing but a spoilt tease. But, when a senseless attack makes him her rescuer, Ethan ends up posing as her fiancé! Suddenly twentyfour seven with Eve and even ironwilled Ethan is tempted…To HoldMelanie fell in love with Rafiq AlQadim years ago. But when lies about her surfaced, he blew her out of his life like a grain of desert sand in the wind… Yet now Melanie is determined Rafiq will accept his son!

Hot-Blooded Husbands — читать онлайн ознакомительный отрывок

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «Hot-Blooded Husbands», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать
About the Author MICHELLE REIDgrew up on the southern edges of Manchester - фото 1

About the Author

MICHELLE REIDgrew up on the southern edges of Manchester, the youngest in a family of five lively children. Now she lives in the beautiful county of Cheshire, with her busy executive husband and two grown-up daughters. She loves reading, the ballet and playing tennis when she gets the chance. She hates cooking, cleaning and despises ironing! Sleep she can do without and produces some of her best written work during the early hours of the morning.

Hot-Blooded Husbands

The Sheikh’s Chosen Wife

Ethan’s Temptress Bride

The Arabian Love-Child

Michelle Reid

HotBlooded Husbands - изображение 2

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

The Sheikh’s Chosen Wife

CHAPTER ONE

DRESSED to go riding, in knee-length black leather boots, buff pants, a white shirt and a white gutrah held to his dark head by a plain black agal , Sheikh Hassan ben Khalifa Al-Qadim stepped into his private office and closed the door behind him. In his hand he held a newly delivered letter from England. On his desk lay three more. Walking across the room, he tossed the new letter onto the top of the other three then went to stand by the grilled window, fixing his eyes on a spot beyond the Al-Qadim Oasis, where reclaimed dry scrubland had been turned into miles of lush green fig groves.

Beyond the figs rose the sand-dunes. Majestic and proud, they claimed the horizon with a warning statement. Come any closer with your irrigation and expect retaliation, they said. One serious sandstorm, and years of hard labour could be turned back into arid wasteland.

A sigh eased itself from his body. Hassan knew all about the laws of the desert. He respected its power and its driving passion, its right to be master of its own destiny. And what he would really have liked to do at this very moment was to saddle up his horse, Zandor, then take off for those sand-dunes and allow them to dictate his future for him.

But he knew the idea was pure fantasy. For behind him lay four letters, all of which demanded he make those decisions for himself. And beyond the relative sanctuary of the four walls surrounding him lay a palace in waiting; his father, his half-brother, plus a thousand and one other people, all of whom believed they owned a piece of his so-called destiny.

So Zandor would have to stay in his stable. His beloved sand-dunes would have to wait a while to swallow him up. Making a half-turn, he stared grimly at the letters. Only one had been opened: the first one, which he had tossed aside with the contempt it had deserved. Since then he had left the others sealed on his desk and had tried very hard to ignore them.

But the time for burying his head in the sand was over.

A knock on the door diverted his attention. It would be his most trusted aide, Faysal. Hassan recognised the lightness of the knock. Sure enough the door opened and a short, fineboned man wearing the traditional white and pale blue robes of their Arabian birthright appeared in its arched aperture, where he paused and bowed his head, waiting to be invited in or told to go.

‘Come in, Faysal,’ Hassan instructed a trifle impatiently. Sometimes Faysal’s rigid adherence to so-called protocol set his teeth on edge.

With another deferential bow, Faysal moved to his master’s bidding. Stepping into the room, he closed the door behind him then used some rarely utilised initiative by walking across the room to come to a halt several feet from the desk on the priceless carpet that covered, in part, the expanse of polished blue marble between the desk and the door.

Hassan found himself staring at the carpet. His wife had ordered it to be placed there, claiming the room’s spartan appearance invited no one to cross its austere threshold. The fact that this was supposed to be the whole point had made absolutely no difference to Leona. She had simply carried on regardless, bringing many items into the room besides the carpet. Such as the pictures now adorning the walls and the beautiful ceramics and sculptures scattered around, all of which had been produced by gifted artists native to the small Gulf state of Rahman. Hassan had soon found he could no longer lift his eyes without having them settle on an example of local enterprise.

Yet it was towards the only western pieces Leona had brought into the room that his eyes now drifted. The low table and two overstuffed easy chairs had been placed by the other window, where she would insist on making him sit with her several times a day to enjoy the view while they drank tea and talked and touched occasionally as lovers do…

Dragging the gutrah from his head with almost angry fingers, Hassan tossed it aside then went to sit down in the chair behind his desk. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘What have you to tell me?’

‘It is not good news, sir.’ Faysal began with a warning. ‘Sheikh Abdul is entertaining certain…factions at his summer palace. Our man on the inside confirms that the tone of their conversation warrants your most urgent attention.’

Hassan made no comment, but his expression hardened fractionally. ‘And my wife?’ he asked next.

‘The Sheikha still resides in Spain, sir,’ Faysal informed him, ‘working with her father at the new resort of San Estéban, overseeing the furnishing of several villas about to be released for sale.’

Doing what she did best, Hassan thought grimly—and did not need to glance back at the two stuffed chairs to conjure up a vision of long silken hair the colour of a desert sunset, framing a porcelain smooth face with laughing green eyes and a smile that dared him to complain about her invasion of his private space. ‘Trust me,’ he could hear her say. ‘It is my job to give great empty spaces a little soul and their own heartbeat.’

Well, the heartbeat had gone out of this room when she’d left it, and as for the soul…

Another sigh escaped him. ‘How long do you think we have before they make their move?’

The slight tensing in Faysal’s stance warned Hassan that he was not going to like what was coming. ‘If you will forgive me for saying so, sir,’ his aide apologised, ‘with Mr Ethan Hayes also residing at her father’s property, I would say that the matter has become most seriously urgent indeed.’

Since this was complete news to Hassan it took a moment for the full impact of this information to really sink in. Then he was suddenly on his feet and was swinging tensely away to glare at the sand-dunes again. Was she mad? he was thinking angrily. Did she have a death wish? Was she so indifferent to his feelings that she could behave like this?

Ethan Hayes. His teeth gritted together as an old familiar jealousy began mixing with his anger to form a much more volatile substance. He swung back to face Faysal. ‘How long has Mr Hayes been in residence in San Estéban?’

Faysal made a nervous clearing of his throat. ‘These seven days past,’ he replied.

Читать дальше
Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «Hot-Blooded Husbands»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «Hot-Blooded Husbands» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё непрочитанные произведения.


Отзывы о книге «Hot-Blooded Husbands»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Hot-Blooded Husbands» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.

x