Andie Brock - The Sheikh's Wedding Contract

‘Okay, okay.’ Nadia ran her tongue over her dry lips. ‘I came here...’ She could feel her heart hammering between them, hammering more violently with each decreasing second, feel the rough scratch of Zayed’s chest hair, the sheen of sweat that sealed them. ‘I came here quite alone, simply because I hoped... I hoped to be able to make you happy.’ The last words came out in a rush as the ridiculousness of her statement hit home. One thing was for sure: this sheikh looked anything but happy.

‘Time’s up.’

‘No, wait, really.’ Pure desperation clawed at her throat. This was all going horribly wrong.

Alone in her bed in the palace of Harith she had made herself picture this moment, prepare herself, using every bit of courage and fortitude she could muster to help her get through the ordeal that she knew she was going to have to face.

She had convinced herself it would all be worth it. If her virginity was the price that had to be paid to halt the threat of war between the kingdoms of Harith and Gazbiyaa, then she would do it, a hundred times over. Because she loved her country, even though it didn’t always feel as if her country loved her. And this crazy, dangerous, downright perilous scheme was the only way she could see that she could make a difference.

But the heartless sheikh that she had imagined sacrificing her honour for had turned out to be nothing like the real-life version. The darkly handsome man who stared down at her now, his eyes sharply focused on her face, his jaw set with fierce determination, was altogether a much more worrying proposition.

From what she had managed to glean from her father and brother, she had gathered that the newly crowned sheikh was nothing but a brutal, debauched hedonist, a man who spent his time in bars and nightclubs drinking alcohol and pursuing his only real interest: the pleasures of the female flesh. A man who had no regard for his people or his country. For all his multibillion-dollar business empire, he had none of the skills and knowledge needed to rule a kingdom such as Gazbiyaa. Which was why, like a hyena circling a vulnerable lion, Harith was poised, ready to pounce.

But Nadia already knew her father and brother were wrong about Zayed Al Afzal. Far from being the extravagant philanderer they had described, he was obviously a highly intelligent man, sharp and shrewd and perceptive. To underestimate him would prove cataclysmic for Harith. For everyone.

And he didn’t even appear to be interested in the pleasures of the flesh. Not hers anyway. She was the one whose body was experiencing an unfamiliar ache beneath the hard, warm, damp skin of her captor.

But who could blame her? The towel that was wrapped around his lower torso was rubbing against her bare midriff, his weight forcing the jewelled belt around her hips to dig into her skin. She could feel the shape of him, the bulge of this very male part of his anatomy, hot and intimate and completely impossible to ignore as it pushed against her groin. It was driving every bit of any rehearsed speech she might have had right out of her mind.

Sucking in a shallow breath, Nadia determinedly squirmed beneath him in a last attempt to free herself. And she did feel him lift himself off her, just an inch or so, and just for a second. Taking full advantage, she bucked her hips, her breasts rising with her, hopeful that she might be able to unbalance him somehow. But as Zayed’s weight closed the gap between them even more tightly than before, she realised her action had had a very different result. She gasped. His full-blown erection was pressing into her groin, straining between them like a rod of steel beneath its towel cover. As her eyes flew to his she caught the gleam of undiluted lust and her own eyes, reflected in his, mirroring his desire.

So she could do this to him. He wasn’t totally impervious to her.

She squirmed again, revelling in this minor power she had over him, in the clenching, craving waves of sexual awakening that the feel of his rock-hard member had triggered in her.

Maybe her plan could still work. Maybe she could still tempt him into making love to her and start the chain of events that would eventually, somehow, achieve what this dangerous charade was all about—a lasting peace between their two nations. Just maybe.

But one thing was for sure. She had to make this moment count.

‘Your Royal Highness—’ she fixed her sultry, dark lilac eyes on his ‘—if you wanted to take me now I would not object. Whatever you should ask of me I will willingly provide and I would do my very best not to disappoint you.’

Instantly, the desire in Zayed’s eyes vanished.

‘Enough!’ Finally freeing her wrists, he pushed his torso up, locking his elbows, so that he now looked down on her, scornful contempt burning in his eyes. ‘Stop this horrible seduction routine. I can assure you I have no intention of taking you . That is most definitely not my style.’

Nadia slowly brought her arms down from over her head, lowering them awkwardly so that they didn’t touch any part of his skin. She was fighting to stop his wounding words from showing on her face.

‘I’ll have you know I am not in the habit of having sex with someone just because they offer it to me. Especially duplicitous young women who sneak uninvited into my bed and then somehow think they can seduce me for their own gain. Whatever gain that might be.’

She stared at him in dismay. She had been sure that the way to beguile a powerful and ruthless ruler was to offer up the only thing that was truly hers to give—her virginity. The never-to-be-recovered gift of her virtue. Now, despite the obvious interest she had stirred in his body, it seemed a laughable idea.

To a man like Sheikh Zayed such a prize meant nothing. Quite the reverse, in fact. Why would he be interested in her when he could pick and choose from the most sophisticated women in the world, sexually experienced women, who would know exactly how to make him happy?

And more than that, here was a man with far too much integrity and morality to ever be tempted into having sex with someone just because he could; she knew that now. She had got it all wrong and now she was doomed, but to what fate she had no idea.

‘I apologise, Your Highness.’ She pushed the words past her choked throat. ‘I can see that my behaviour has displeased you.’

‘Can we dispense with the Your Highness bit?’ Zayed cut sharply through her apology. ‘I think it’s fair to say that the situation we are in has bypassed the need for formal protocol. How about you just explain what the hell you are up to and I decide what to do with you?’

Both of those things sounded equally terrifying to Nadia. Screwing her eyes tightly shut, she tried to think of a way out of this mess. But when she opened them again Zayed was still staring down at her, waiting for her reply, and when he leaned forward with his hand raised she instinctively flinched.

‘Good God, woman.’ He stopped, appalled, twisting the black strand of her hair in his fingers. He had simply meant to brush it away from her heated face. ‘What sort of brute do you think I am?’

Nadia shook her head. ‘No, I don’t...’

‘What desperation would bring you to the bed of someone you obviously think would strike you?’

If only he knew. If only she could tell him the truth. But if she revealed who she was now, admitted that she was from Harith, she was certain he would instantly carry out his threat and have her clapped in irons and left to rot in the palace dungeons. That was the strength of hatred between the two kingdoms.

‘I’m not letting you go until you tell me, Nadia.’ His voice was low and grating, and she knew he was fighting to keep his patience, her silence obviously antagonising him even more. Shifting his weight, he leaned forward again, one muscled arm on either side of her head, his chest hovering just an inch above her own. ‘I’m waiting.’