Lucy Monroe: The Sheikh's Bartered Bride

Hakim stopped in front of Catherine’s desk, just as she bent to put something away in the lowest drawer.

“Catherine…”

Her body straightened and her intense blue gaze met with his, her mouth twisted in a rueful grimace. “Sorry, I just remembered I had to file these—” she waved a sheaf of papers in her hand “—when I saw you.”

“And it could not wait until you had greeted me?” he asked with some amusement.

“I might have forgotten easily.”

Did she realize what she was giving away with that admission? He already knew he had a definite impact on her ability to concentrate, but a more sophisticated woman would not have admitted it.

“Then I shall have to content myself conversing with the top of your head while you finish.”

“Sometimes, you sound so formal. Is that because the Arabic language is a more formal language, or is it because English is your second language and therefore you don’t slip into slang as easily?”

Not for the first time, her rapid change in topic left him slightly disorientated. “French is my second language,” he said in answer to her question, “I did not learn English until I had mastered it.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Oh. I’ve always thought French would be a lovely language to learn. I studied German and Spanish in school, but I have to admit I don’t have a facility for it.”

“I did not come to discuss my fluency in other languages.”

“Of course you didn’t.” She smiled. “Why did you come?”

“To see my friend.”

Something flickered in her eyes at the word “friend”, but was gone too quickly for him to interpret.

“Oh,” she said again. “How many are you?”

“How many what, little kitten?”

Her face heated to rose red as he knew it would at the small endearment. Such words were common in his culture between a man and the woman he intended to marry. They were nothing more than an admission of his intent, but they flustered Catherine a great deal.

“How many languages are you fluent in?” Her voice was breathless and he had the not so shocking urge to steal her breath completely with a kiss.

He could not do it of course. Not here and not yet, but soon. He smiled in anticipation, causing her eyes to widen.

“I’m fluent in French, English, Arabic and all the dialects of my people, little kitten.” He repeated the phrase on purpose just to watch the effect it had on her, which was perhaps unfair of him.

It was startling. She sucked in air, grimaced and then whispered, “Hardly little.”

While she was maybe an inch above average in height for a woman, she often made comments as if she saw herself as some kind of Amazon. He stepped toward her until he stood only a few inches from her and reached out to brush the smooth curve of her neck with one fingertip. “To me, very little.”

She trembled and he smiled.

Very soon she would be his.

Her head tilted back and she eyed his six-foot two-inch frame with unmistakable longing. “I suppose so.”

He wanted to kiss her. It took every bit of the self-discipline developed in his training with the elite guard to step back and drop his hand.

“I came to see if you would like to join me for dinner tonight.”

Her mouth opened and closed with no sound issuing forth. They had known each other for three weeks now and eaten numerous meals together, as well as attending several formal functions. Yet she acted shocked every time he asked her out.

“Come, this is not such a surprise. We had lunch together only yesterday.”

She smiled whimsically. “That’s why I’m surprised. I thought you’d want to spend time with…”

Her voice trailed off, but her eyes told him what she had been about to say. Other women. She had so little concept of her own value. While he should be relieved his duty would be so easy to see through, it made him angry she dismissed herself so easily.

“I want to spend time with no other woman.”

He had no difficulty reading her expression now. Her eyes were filled with both joy and hope. Yes. She was ready. He had courted her long enough.

“I would love to have dinner with you.”

“Then I shall see you this evening.” He turned to go.

“Hakim.”

He stopped.

“You could have called. It would have saved you an hour of driving here and back to Seattle.”

“Then I would have foregone the pleasure of seeing you.”

She looked ready to melt at that assurance and he smiled before walking away. His duty would be fulfilled very soon.

HAKIM took Catherine to his favorite restaurant on the waterfront for dinner. The ambiance was quiet and elegant. Perfect for proposing to his future wife.

He’d thought about taking her to the restaurant at the top of the Space Needle. He’d been told it was considered the height of romance, but sharing a noisy elevator with tourists on the way up held no appeal. At least not for tonight.

She smiled at him as he held her chair for her at the table. She’d worn a black dress with long sleeves, a peasant neckline and gathered waist. The full skirt swirled around her legs as she sat down. He let his fingers trail along the exposed skin of her shoulders above the wide neckline and she shivered. Satisfaction that his mission would soon be accomplished settled over him as he dropped his hand, moved around the table and took his own seat.

Even in the dim light of the restaurant, he could tell she was blushing again.

“Surely such a small touch is not cause for embarrassment?”

She smoothed her already perfectly coiffed hair. She’d worn it up again. Though he liked the view it gave him of her slender neck, one day soon, he would remove the clip and see what the dark honey strands looked like tumbling against her shoulders.

“I’m not embarrassed. Not exactly.” Her sigh lifted her breasts against the soft fabric of her bodice, revealing the source of her blush.

His little virgin was excited. Two unmistakable ridges under the black material gave her away. They also apprised Hakim of the fact she was not wearing a bra. The knowledge had a by now predictable effect on him.

“What are you exactly?” he asked, wondering if she would admit anywhere close to the truth.

“Stupid.”

He shook his head. Little did she know, but her desire for him would soon be fulfilled. “Jewel of my heart, you must not say such things.”

She dropped her focus to her lap, where she straightened her burgundy napkin against the black fabric of her skirt. “You shouldn’t call me things like that. I know you’re just saying it because it’s the way you talk, but…”

He reached across the table to tip her chin up with his finger. “It is not merely the way I speak. Do I use such terms with other women in your hearing?”

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and her eyes reflected confusion. “No.” It was a bare whisper.

He wanted to kiss those trembling lips. Her vulnerability called to primitive instincts inside him.

“They are words meant for you alone.”

It was as if she stopped breathing and she went utterly still, the look in her eyes a revelation of emotions so volatile he was shocked by them. Then her eyelashes lowered and she sucked in air too quickly, choking.

He offered her a glass of water as she sought to get the small coughing fit under control.

“Thank you.” She drank the water and he watched as her throat convulsed gracefully with each swallow.

“You have a beautiful neck.”

The water glass tumbled and only the quick action of a nearby waiter saved her dress from a drenching. Considering her reaction to his last statement, Hakim decided it would be best to wait until after dinner to propose.