Alexandra Sellers - Sleeping with the Sultan

“It would not be good enough for you merely to say you are with me. You would have to be actually with me here,” Ashraf insisted.

“You mean, to convince them that I’m in position and can be activated whenever they choose,” Dana said flatly.

Ashraf bent his head.

Dana was furious suddenly. “And what do I say when they give me a vial of poison to feed you, or ask me to take you to such and such a place so they can use you for target practice? What if they trick me? What if they’ve already tricked me? What if there’s a bomb in my suitcase or a…an inhalant poison in my perfume or something?”

He looked at her. Not poison, but intoxication, he thought. And just as dangerous.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Silhouette Desire, where you can indulge yourself every month with six passionate, powerful and provocative romances! And you can take romance one step further…. Look inside for details about our exciting new contest, “Silhouette Makes You a Star.”

Popular author Mary Lynn Baxter returns to Desire with our MAN OF THE MONTH when The Millionaire Comes Home to Texas to reunite with the woman he could never forget. Rising star Sheri WhiteFeather’s latest story features a Comanche Vow that leads to a marriage of convenience…until passionate love transforms it into the real thing.

It’s our pleasure to present you with a new miniseries entitled 20 AMBER COURT, featuring four twentysomething female friends who share an address…and their discoveries about life and love. Don’t miss the launch title, When Jayne Met Erik, by beloved author Elizabeth Bevarly. The scandalous Desire miniseries FORTUNES OF TEXAS: THE LOST HEIRS continues with Fortune’s Secret Daughter by Barbara McCauley. Alexandra Sellers offers you another sumptuous story in her miniseries SONS OF THE DESERT: THE SULTANS, Sleeping with the Sultan. And the talented Cindy Gerard brings you a touching love story about a man of honor pledged to marry an innocent young woman with a secret, in The Bridal Arrangement.

Treat yourself to all six of these tantalizing tales from Silhouette Desire.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

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For

Leslie Wainger and Isabel Swift,

who thought I should write about sheikhs.

is the author of over twenty-five novels and a feline language text published in 1997 and still selling.

Born and raised in Canada, Alexandra first came to London as a drama student. Now she lives near Hampstead Heath with her husband, Nick. They share housekeeping with Monsieur, who jumped through the window one day and announced, as cats do, that he was moving in.

What she would miss most on a desert island is shared laughter.

Readers can write to Alexandra at P.O. Box 9449, London NW3 2WH, England.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

“Look, it’s Reena!”

“She looks so different in real life!”

“What a dress!”

“Wow, she’s practically naked!”

Dana Morningstar paused at the top of the short flight of steps leading down into the bar as the whispers ran in a little ripple around the rapidly filling room.

“Isn’t she wearing anything under it?”

“She’s so beautiful!”

“My dear, you are a ravishingly wanton nun tonight,” said a gravelly, perfectly produced voice at her elbow, and she turned with a smile to greet one of the great theatrical “Sirs” of the old school who had entered just behind her.

“Hello, Sir Henry, how nice to see you.”

“And how lovely to see you, Dana. Who, if I may ask, designed that very dashing frock for you?”

The very dashing frock consisted of a double layer of shimmery, sheer white fabric with a high, straight neckline, wrist-length sleeves, and a long skirt. By a trick of the light playing on the two layers of fabric, it looked opaque, and very demure, but at moments, with certain movements, it became almost fully transparent. Her warm mocha skin glowed through the fabric, and underneath she was wearing only a skin-coloured thong.

Dana smiled and put her hand on the arm Sir Henry offered, stepping down into the bar at his side as people gazed entranced. “Kamila,” she told him in an undervoice. “A new designer launching here in the autumn. She says this dress is going to make her name.”

Dana’s black hair, long and thick, fell like a cloak around her shoulders and down her back. Her makeup was expertly applied to enhance her dark, heavy-lashed eyes and high, strong cheekbones. She wore delicate tan-coloured sandals and carried a tiny bag.

“On anyone but yourself it would be a dismal failure, but she is perfectly right. Every woman in this room will be knocking on her door tomorrow, foolishly hoping to be made to look like you.”

Dana was five foot eleven with a perfect figure, curved and long, with high breasts, athletic legs, and a firm musculature. Her smoky skin usually meant that as an actress she was cast in “ethnic” roles—whether First Nation rebel, exotic outworlder, or Arab princess. Or her current soap role—Reena, the bitchy, repressed, high-flying South Asian lawyer.

“Would you like some bubbly, Dana?” Sir Henry asked, neatly whisking a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray and offering it to her. “Not for me, dear boy, my heart, you know,” he added, waving one pale hand with studied elegance. “Do you think you could find me a scotch?—double, no water.”

“Oh, yes, Sir John! Of course!” said the waiter, enthusiastically if inaccurately, and headed for the long bar, behind which men and women in black and white bustled to provide for the guests of the charity function.

“They are so young these days,” Sir Henry complained mildly. “They don’t show my Lear in the schools anymore, of course.”

“I don’t think they teach King Lear at all,” Dana sympathized. “Not accessible enough, Shakespeare.”

A man was staring at her from across the room. The whole room was manoeuvring, overtly or covertly, to get a look at the dress; she had been prepared for that. But this man was different. He looked disapproving. Dana flicked a careless eyebrow at him and turned her attention back to “the best Lear the world has seen this century.”

“Ah, the new barbarians,” he was saying. “And why are you here tonight, my dear, giving a view of your body to the masses? A particular interest in Bagestani Drought Relief, or merely part of the general celebrity sweep? I understand they’ve pulled out all the stops for this one.” He glanced around the crowd with studied disdain. His mouth worked thoughtfully. “Too far, perhaps.”