Sarah Morgan is a rising star in Harlequin Presents® and we hope that you’ll continue to enjoy her stories.…

Sarah’s intense, dramatic and passionate stories will take you on a roller coaster of emotions!

“Sarah Morgan [creates] a dynamic and intense read.”

—Romantic Times

SARAH MORGAN trained as a nurse and has since worked in a variety of health-related jobs. Married to a gorgeous businessman who still makes her knees knock, she spends most of her time trying to keep up with their two little boys, but manages to sneak off occasionally to indulge her passion for writing romance. Sarah loves outdoor life and is an enthusiastic skier and walker. Whatever she is doing, her head is always full of new characters and she is addicted to happy endings.

Proud, passionate, primal— Dare she surrender to the sheikh?

Find rapture in the sands in Harlequin Presents®

Look out for more stories of passion under the dry desert sun, coming soon!

Next month:

Favorite author Penny Jordan revisits the kingdom of Zuran for the final installment of her Arabian Nights saga:

Possessed by the Sheikh

#2457

Coming in June:

The Sheikh’s Virgin

by Jane Porter

#2473

In the Sheikh’s Marriage Bed
Sarah Morgan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

PROLOGUE

‘YOUR orders have been carried out, Your Highness—the debt to your people has been repaid in full.’

Staring out of the window of his office, Zak dragged his gaze away from his favourite Arab stallion who was causing havoc in the yard below.

Cold anger shimmered in his night-black eyes as he surveyed the man who had been his most trusted aide for almost two decades. ‘Not quite in full. The debt owed to me still stands. Was everything delivered to the Englishman?’

The man swallowed and bowed his head. ‘As instructed, Your Highness—’

Zak detected something in the other man’s tone and instantly his gaze sharpened. ‘He is attending the meeting, Sharif?’

Sharif paled slightly. ‘I have been informed that he is sending his sister in his place,’ he offered hesitantly, stepping backwards as he saw the flash of raw anger in the prince’s eyes.

So the Englishman had once again avoided his responsibilities, Zak mused grimly, flexing his broad shoulders in an attempt to release the mounting tension in his powerful frame. Sometimes he wished that Kazban were not such a progressive state. At times like this he would dearly love to return to his primitive, tribal roots and dispense the punishment that Peter Kingston so richly deserved.

Sharif cleared his throat. ‘Given the nature of the meeting, it is a somewhat surprising decision on his part. One wonders what sort of man sends a woman to fight his battles?’

‘A coward.’ Zak’s hard mouth tightened. By refusing to travel to Kazban, the Englishman had cleverly avoided being held accountable for his actions. ‘But then we already knew that Peter Kingston is a coward. So it hardly comes as that much of a surprise that he is prepared to sacrifice his own flesh and blood in an attempt to save his own skin. He is sending her into the lions’ den. I hope she is wearing armour.’

His chief adviser cleared his throat delicately. ‘He is doubtless hoping that you will show her leniency,’ he ventured and Zak gave a bitter laugh.

Had Peter Kingston known anything of his past then he wouldn’t have made such a serious error of judgment. His feelings towards the female sex were anything but gentle and forgiving. Life had taught him in the most brutal way possible that all women were manipulative and self-seeking and since learning that lesson he now treated them with the cynical contempt they deserved.

His dark eyes hardened. ‘The man is little more than a thief, although I admit a clever one. He has stolen the savings of innocent, hard working citizens. In his country that may be considered acceptable behaviour, but in Kazban fortunately we are not so foolish. In this instance I feel no inclination towards leniency.’

Sharif clasped his hands in front of him. ‘It is true that his actions would have caused untold hardship for many had it not been for your generous intervention, Your Highness. In my opinion your people should know that it is you who has—’

‘That is not important.’ Zak interrupted him, a frown touching his black brows as he paced the full length of his office, his tread muffled by the beautifully woven rug that covered the floor of the room. ‘What is important is that we send a clear message to others who might be tempted to follow the same dishonest course as Kingston. Clearly he anticipated reprisals and this is the reason that he has chosen not to attend the meeting himself. He is not only dishonest but he takes no responsibility for his own actions.’ His tone was contemptuous. ‘I intend to make an example of him.’

Sharif took a deep breath. ‘Sending his sister in his place is a clever move on his part. It is no secret that you enjoy the company of women, Your Highness,’ he offered tactfully and Zak’s eyes narrowed.

‘In my bed, Sharif,’ he said softly, his arrogant dark head lifting slightly as he surveyed his trusted adviser. ‘Outside my bed, women have no place in my life.’

He would never, ever trust a woman again.

Sharif shifted slightly, his sharp gaze suddenly sympathetic. ‘And yet your father is becoming more and more insistent that you marry, Your Highness.’

Zak gritted his teeth. ‘I am well aware of my father’s wishes,’ he said coldly and Sharif sighed.

‘You will doubtless say that I am exceeding my responsibilities,’ he ventured hesitantly, ‘but as one who has known and loved you from a boy, it saddens me to see you alone when you should be settled with a family.’

‘As you rightly say, you exceed your responsibilities.’ Zak’s tone remained icy but his dark gaze softened slightly as they rested on the older man. His adviser was one of the few people whom he would trust with his life. ‘Do not waste your emotions, Sharif. It is my choice to be alone but I’m well aware that my single status is becoming a thorn in my father’s side.’

And he was going to have to address the issue.

But not by marrying the woman that his father had in mind.

When the time came—and he was grimly aware that the time was upon him—he would select his own bride and his choice would be made totally without sentiment.

His hard mouth tightened. ‘Returning to the subject of Miss Kingston—’

Sharif shook his head regretfully. ‘I’m sure the Englishman believes that you would never hurt a woman.’

Zak gave a slow smile, but there was no trace of amusement in his handsome features and when he spoke, his voice was dangerously soft. ‘There is more than one type of pain, Sharif.’ There was the pain of love. And there was the white-hot agony of betrayal. ‘We both know that any woman connected to Peter Kingston is hardly likely to be coated in virtue. If he chooses to send a woman into battle, hoping that I won’t have the stomach for a fight, then he’s going to be disappointed.’

He turned his head and his gaze rested on the ceremonial sword that lay across his desk. Reaching out a hand, he lifted it, his long fingers closing over the ornate handle, the weight of the weapon both comforting and familiar in the palm of his hand.

His eyes traced the length of the deadly blade and a violent rush of emotions threatened to disturb his usually iron self-control.

Betrayal.

With a swift, athletic movement of his wrist he moved and the deadly blade sliced through the air with lethal accuracy.

Sharif took a hasty step backwards.

Like everyone else in the state of Kazban, he knew the extent of the prince’s skill with that particular weapon. His Highness was an expert swordsman.

The woman had better be strong, Sharif thought, feeling an inexplicable sympathy for her as he watched the prince carefully replace the weapon on the desk, his handsome face hard and unforgiving. If Peter Kingston had wanted to cross someone, then he had made a very poor choice with Crown Prince Sheikh Zakour al-Farisi.

A very poor choice indeed.

CHAPTER ONE

‘HIS HIGHNESS will see you now, Miss Kingston. You will remain standing at all times and speak only when you are spoken to.’ Stern-faced and unsmiling, the man in robes bowed his head slightly, his eyes suddenly wary. ‘I should warn you that His Highness is a busy man. There are many demands on him and he bears much responsibility. For your own sake I advise you not to waste his time.’

Emily swallowed hard, suddenly questioning the impulse that had made her volunteer to take her brother’s place.

She’d wanted to help.

To do something for him, for a change, instead of always being in the role of little sister.

Peter had done so much for her—

And she’d thought that a few days in Kazban would be exciting. An adventure in her otherwise boring, overprotected existence. But she was beginning to doubt her abilities to carry out the task in hand.

She was beginning to wonder whether her presence might make things worse for him.

Whichever way you looked at it, Crown Prince Zakour al-Farisi was not going to like what she had to say.

Her brother owed him money. That was why the prince had ordered this meeting.

And the way things stood at the moment, Peter wasn’t in a position to pay.

‘If I go, Em, I’ll be thrown into jail.’

At the time she’d thought that her brother was exaggerating. Surely the state of Kazban couldn’t be that brutal in its laws? Coming on behalf of her brother to beg for more time had seemed a perfectly reasonable and straightforward action when she’d been in England.

But now she was here, she wasn’t so sure—

And the severe expression on the face of the prince’s adviser wasn’t doing anything for her confidence.

Forcing herself to stay calm, she rose to her feet, trying to forget the little she’d heard about the next ruler of the state of Kazban. So what if the man had a brilliant mind, amused himself with scores of women and was reputed to have a block of ice where his heart was supposed to be? None of it was of any relevance to her. She really didn’t care that half the women in the world were supposedly in love with the man.

All she had to do was deliver her brother’s message and then leave.

But what if she said the wrong thing?

It was all very well dreaming about adventure but the truth was that she taught five year olds to read and write and play nicely in the playground. She had no idea how to talk to a man who negotiated billion dollar deals before breakfast. Her brother must have been mad to allow her to come.

Or desperate.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that Peter was in some sort of trouble. When she’d tried to question him about the debt, he’d assured her that he just had a slight cash-flow problem that would soon be sorted out and that there was nothing for her to worry about.

But hadn’t he always protected her?

Remembering just how tense her brother had seemed the last time they’d met, she suddenly wished she’d questioned him more.

Her heart thudding painfully in her chest, she followed the man down what seemed like miles of marble corridor, trying not to feel intimidated by the glittering, exotic interior of the Golden Palace of Kazban. At any other time her inquisitive teacher’s mind would have been buzzing with questions relating to the history of this ancient building but the sight of armed guards in almost every doorway squashed her natural curiosity.

Telling herself that the guards were there because this was the home of the royal family, she averted her eyes from the guns and swords. They were just part of the uniform. And she had no reason to feel uneasy. No reason at all.

She was simply the messenger.

So why did part of her suddenly want to turn and run?

Run back through the dusty streets of Kazban, back through the mysterious, sun-baked desert that she’d been driven through on the way from the airport, back home to the tiny English village where she lived.

Back to loneliness—

She pushed the thought away quickly. She had a job to do. For the first time in her life, her brother needed her and she wasn’t going to let him down. Not after everything he’d done for her since their parents had died.

Emily struggled to keep pace with the man who had collected her from the entrance to the palace. ‘Could you slow down a bit, please? I only brought one pair of shoes with me and they’re not suitable for sprinting on marble floors,’ she muttered, wondering where they were going. ‘I don’t want to see the prince with a broken ankle.’

In fact she’d just decided that she didn’t actually want to see the prince at all—

The man glanced at her with something that looked like pity in his eyes and Emily felt sicker and sicker.

All her instincts were telling her that this had been a bad, bad decision.

Why was everyone so afraid of Zak al-Farisi?

Was he really as heartless and ruthless as his reputation suggested?

Reminding herself firmly that there was good in everyone, she fought a battle with the panic that was threatening to swamp her.

The man stopped outside a door flanked by yet more guards and then entered, indicating that she should follow.

The panic suddenly won the battle.

‘You know, I’m not sure about this. It’s really my brother who should be here. If the prince is that busy then maybe I should just go home—’ she said hopefully and then broke off, hustled by the man into yet another enormous room.

She stopped dead and her mouth fell open as she gazed around her in stunned amazement.

The room was beautiful. And exotic.

Light shone in from the numerous curved windows, illuminating an exquisite tapestry that hung on the far wall of the room.

‘Oh—!’ Intrigued, Emily peered closer, her eyes taking in every tiny detail. It depicted a horse race and for a moment she stood still, enchanted by the wildness of the horses and the life that pulsed from the tapestry. It was so skilfully woven that Emily could almost hear the thud of hooves and the snort of animals caught up in the excitement of the race.

Her awed gaze slid from the tapestry to the low sofas that nestled in one corner of the room, upholstered in gold silk and piled with layers of cushions in rich colours.

In the other corner of the room was an enormous desk, elaborately carved and providing a home for a state-of-the-art computer.

The contrast between the exotic and the functional made Emily blink. Whoever occupied this room obviously used it as an office.

She glanced round her and suddenly wished that she’d worn something different. The blue linen dress she’d chosen was cool and practical but it certainly wasn’t the latest designer fashion. But then her teacher’s income didn’t exactly fund an elaborate wardrobe and because she worked with small children most of her clothes were chosen for practicality rather than style.

‘Excuse me.’ She tried one more time to communicate with the man. ‘Can you tell me when I’m going to meet the prince? You know, if he’s really that busy perhaps I should just go—’

Maybe there was still time to get out of this. She could phone Peter and tell him that she’d changed her mind.

Instead of answering the man dropped to his knees on the beautifully woven rug, leaving her to stare at him in astonishment.

‘You wish to leave, Miss Kingston?’ A dry voice came from directly behind her. ‘Is our hospitality really so lacking that the moment you arrive in our country, you suddenly wish to leave it? Or is something else fuelling this desire for flight? The knowledge that your sins are about to catch up with you, perhaps?’

‘Sins?’ She whirled round to face the speaker and felt her eyes lock with those of a stranger.

Her mouth dried and her heart started to bump heavily against her chest.

She was held prisoner by the force of that hard gaze, the lethal glitter in his dark eyes holding her captive. Intense sexual awareness ripped through her and she ceased to breathe. She felt light-headed and shaky, her whole body reacting with such shockingly powerful excitement that she couldn’t move or think. It was only when he finally strolled forward that she was able to free herself from his grip.

He must have been standing there when she’d entered, but she’d been so overwhelmed by her surroundings that she’d failed to notice him.

How? she wondered helplessly. How had she failed to notice him? He dominated the room with his powerful presence, strolling across the room with a cool authority that couldn’t be ignored.

If ever a man was designed to tempt a woman to stray from the straight and narrow, it was this one. He was dressed in a superbly tailored suit, his appearance conventional enough at first glance. But despite the outward display of Western sophistication, she would never have placed him in the traditional confines of a business institution. Had she been asked to choose a setting for him, she would have placed him on the ocean as a pirate.

Or in the desert.

His looks and his presence matched the wildness of the landscape that she’d passed on her way to Kazban.

Everything about him was blatantly, savagely masculine from the gleaming jet-black hair smoothed back from his tanned brow to the perfect symmetry of his staggeringly handsome face. His nose was strong and aristocratic and his shoulders broad and powerful.

He was shockingly, breathtakingly handsome and Emily felt her limbs weaken.

Dizzy from lack of air and shaken by her own uncharacteristic response, she sucked in several breaths and tried to pull herself together while the man who had brought her to the room scrambled to his feet and shot her a black look.

‘You should bow in the presence of the prince,’ he hissed and she looked at him in confusion.

‘The prince? Well, I will, of course, but—’ She broke off as understanding dawned and hot colour flooded her cheeks. ‘Oh, my goodness—’

She swallowed and bowed quickly, trying to rectify her mistake, painfully aware of that glittering dark gaze following her every move.

She should have guessed, of course. He was much younger than she’d expected and dressed in Western style, but power throbbed from every line of his impressive physique and everything about him shrieked of royalty. His carriage, his manner and the slightly cynical gleam in his midnight black eyes.

‘I—I’m sorry—’ She stammered her apology awkwardly and bowed her head again to be on the safe side. ‘But you are partly to blame. You don’t dress like a prince and you didn’t introduce yourself.’

There was a muffled sound of alarm and disbelief from the man who had led her to the room but the prince’s cool gaze didn’t flicker.

‘And how am I supposed to dress, Miss Kingston?’ he enquired smoothly and Emily shivered as his deep, masculine voice slid over her bones like melted chocolate. He had the blazing self-confidence of someone who’d been on the receiving end of female adoration for his entire life.

‘Well like—like—an Arabian prince,’ she finished lamely. ‘You know—robes and things…’ Her voice tailed off and she closed her eyes briefly and cringed slightly. She sounded so stupid.

The prince obviously thought so too if his sardonic expression was anything to go by. ‘Do you think this is some sort of pantomime,’ he observed silkily, one dark eyebrow lifting in mockery, ‘and that we should all be in costume?’

Without waiting for her reply he turned to the man who had been listening to the exchange with undisguised horror and snapped out a few words of a strange language.

The man made a hasty retreat, throwing pitying looks at Emily on the way out.

‘I—I’m sorry for the confusion, Your Highness,’ she mumbled, her cheeks burning with mortification.

How could she have made such a stupid mistake?

‘There was no confusion on my part, Miss Kingston.’

He strode over to the window and stared down into the courtyard, momentarily distracted by something that was happening below him.

Emily just stared.

He was spectacular. Her eyes fixed on those thick dark lashes, slid down the hard planes of his handsome face to rest on his darkened jaw, before sliding down still further to the bulk of his shoulders.

Why were only half the women in the world in love with him? she wondered dizzily. What was the matter with the other half? Were they blind?

Or were they wise?

Suddenly aware that she was staring danger in the face for the first time in her boring, sheltered life, she took an involuntary step backwards, trying to shake off the shockingly hot thoughts that crowded her brain.

Appalled and confused by her own feelings, she hoped fervently that the man couldn’t read minds.

‘You must be wondering why I’m here—’

The prince turned suddenly, the expression in his eyes so chilly that she literally shivered.

‘I have not invited you to speak.’

Emily’s blue eyes widened in consternation and hot colour flooded her cheeks. Then she gave a little frown, dragging her eyes away from that cold gaze and telling herself that whoever he was, it didn’t give him the right to be rude.

Her eyes fixed on his broad shoulders and she wondered helplessly why on earth he bothered with guards. He looked as though he could take on an entire army single-handed if the whim so took him. His suit was beautifully cut but there was no disguising the width of his shoulders or the muscles of his long, powerful thighs.

He was the very embodiment of masculine perfection and she felt her mouth dry as his arrogant gaze slid over her in a leisurely appraisal.

‘Come closer,’ he ordered harshly and she found herself obeying without question, almost hypnotized by the force of his presence.

At five feet ten she was used to staring most men directly in the eye and she just hated the fact that she was so tall, but standing face to face with this man she had to tip her head back to look at him. For the first time in her life she felt delicate and feminine and she found herself struggling to breathe, swamped by his overpowering masculinity.

‘So.’ He stood with his legs spread apart and his head thrown back, each sweep of that arrogant gaze draining her fragile confidence. ‘For your sake, Miss Kingston, I hope that you are here to repay your brother’s debt.’

There was something in his tone that made Emily wish fervently that she’d stayed in England.

‘I’m not exactly repaying it today,’ she began and his mouth tightened ominously.

‘And yet that was the purpose of this meeting. Your brother was to repay the money owed.’

She gazed into those hard black eyes, searching for a hint of softness or compromise. Finding none, she licked her lips, suddenly finding it hard to speak. ‘Well, it isn’t quite as simple as that.’

‘It is precisely as simple as that.’

How could a man’s voice be so quiet and yet be filled with such menace?

No wonder he had a reputation for being a staggeringly successful businessman, Emily thought weakly. He probably intimidated his opponent so effectively that no one ever dared say ‘no’ to him.

‘You’re obviously wondering why I’m here instead of my brother,’ she began hesitantly and his dark eyes gleamed with mockery.

‘I am not a fool, Miss Kingston,’ he said silkily, ‘and it is entirely clear to me why you are here instead of your brother.’

His gaze slid over her in a blatantly masculine appraisal and suddenly she felt hot all over. He didn’t actually need to speak to intimidate her. Just a look from those dangerous black eyes was enough to turn her legs wobbly.

‘He sent me because he couldn’t come himself,’ Emily muttered, feeling a sudden urge to clarify that fact just in case he thought—he thought—

Zak al-Farisi lifted a dark eyebrow. ‘My command of English is sufficiently advanced that I know the difference between “couldn’t” and “wouldn’t”,’ he drawled. ‘I am intrigued as to which one of your many and varied charms were supposed to soothe my anger at your brother’s absence. Which one of your skills is guaranteed to take my mind off the debt, I wonder?’

Moving away from the window, he paced towards her, walking around her as if she were an exhibit in a museum, a predatory smile on his handsome face. He paused and lifted a hand to her face, tilting it slightly so that he could study her more closely. ‘Your purpose here is to persuade me to cancel the debt.’

‘Not cancel exactly—’ Emily was finding it difficult to concentrate, frozen to the spot by a tension that she couldn’t identify and by the touch of his strong fingers against her hot cheek ‘—more postpone.’

His hard mouth tightened. ‘Before you dig yourself deep into a hole from which there is no escape, you should know that deception is not a quality I admire in a woman.’

‘I am not deceiving anyone,’ Emily said indignantly, ‘and I’m not asking you to cancel the debt. Just to give Peter more time. He wants two more months. Then he’ll pay back every penny. He’s given his word.’

‘Is this the same word he gave when he first arrived in Kazban to persuade us to let him handle certain investments?’

Her heart missed a beat and she shifted uncomfortably. The truth was that her brother always refused to discuss business with her and she certainly wasn’t in a position to answer in depth questions. She was only here to help her brother; he couldn’t make the trip and because she loved him—she was happy to represent him.

‘I don’t know anything about that,’ she admitted reluctantly, ‘but I do know that all he’s asking for is two months.’

Those pitch-black eyes lasered into hers. ‘And why should I give him two months?’

Emily looked at him in confusion. It hadn’t occurred to her that the prince would deny the request. True, Peter owed him money, but Zak al-Farisi was rich beyond fantasies so a two month extension on a tiny debt was hardly going to cause him a problem, was it?

She gave an uncertain smile. ‘Well, I’m sure you’re a nice guy—’

‘Then you are a poor judge of character, Miss Kingston, because I am not a nice guy,’ he delivered softly, his black eyes narrowing slightly as they raked her increasingly pale face. ‘I’m not a nice guy at all.’

The air thickened with tension and then with his free hand he reached out and removed the clip from her hair in a swift, purposeful gesture that she didn’t anticipate.

Her wayward blonde curls, so carefully tamed for this one meeting, tumbled down her back in glorious rebellion and shimmering black eyes fastened on her hair in blatant masculine appraisal.

‘Oh!’ She gave a gasp of dismay and clutched at her hair. ‘What did you do that for?’

A sardonic smile touched his hard mouth. ‘I told you that I don’t appreciate deception. Presenting yourself here dressed like a virgin in a dress buttoned to your neck and your hair pinned back doesn’t fool me in the slightest. Your brother sent you because of your feminine charms. The least you can do is to display them. That, at least, would be honest.’

Emily gaped at him.

He thought—

He was suggesting—

Aghast, she shook her head, one hand still on her tumbled curls that were now cascading freely over her shoulders. ‘You’ve got it all wrong—’

‘I don’t think so. In fact I am finding myself forced to admit that your brother is evidently not the fool I believed him to be.’ Having made that announcement, he dropped his hand and strolled around her, his gaze sweeping over her with embarrassing thoroughness. ‘You are very beautiful.’

Beautiful?

Momentarily distracted by his surprising declaration, Emily stared at him.

He thought she was beautiful? Not just beautiful, but very beautiful.

Indoctrinated from adolescence into thinking that she was too tall to be considered beautiful, she struggled to breathe, trapped by the novelty of being on the receiving end of raw male appreciation for the first time in her life.

And then she saw something flicker in his eyes and reminded herself that this man didn’t have a heart. He was refusing to give Peter more time and he seemed to think that she was offering herself as some sort of consolation prize.

From somewhere she found her voice, jerking away from him and smoothing her tumbled hair with shaking hands. ‘I don’t see how the way I dress has anything to do with this—’

‘Do you not?’ His hard mouth curved slightly. ‘And yet you agreed to come here, Miss Kingston.’

He was standing so close that she could feel the heat throb between them, feel the tension rise to such a pitch that she could hardly breathe.

‘I came to deliver my brother’s message.’

He smiled. ‘Consider it delivered. Now we can move on.’

Her cheeks flamed under his steady gaze. ‘I don’t know what you’re implying,’ she said frostily, ‘but—’

‘Miss Kingston—’ his tone was lethally soft and he took a step closer to her, his eyes locking on hers with magnetic force, his powerful body dominating hers even though they weren’t touching ‘—I ought to warn you that I never play games. Not in my business dealings or in my bedroom dealings.’

Emily flushed, wondering which category he thought she fell into. ‘I’m not playing games, but you’re tying me in knots and you’re being so inflexible about the money—’ She broke off, totally quelled by the contempt in those black eyes.

‘I am not known for my flexibility.’

Or for warmth or kindness, Emily reflected. She’d never met anyone so cold and unapproachable in her life. He was totally intimidating and he was standing so close that she could almost feel the heat of his body burning through the thin fabric of her dress.

‘My brother sends his apologies for not coming himself,’ she said formally, raking a mass of blonde curls away from her eyes and suddenly wishing that she’d dug a little deeper and found out exactly why her brother hadn’t been able to attend. Had he known the prince would be this angry? ‘He’s been working really hard and I agreed to come in his place, to explain.’

Night-black eyes settled on hers and Emily felt her heart beat faster. He might be heartless but he had truly amazing cheekbones. In fact he was gorgeous, she thought weakly, wondering how she was supposed to concentrate faced with all that rampant, pulsing masculinity.

Suddenly all she could think about was sex and she dragged her eyes away from his, just mortified by her own thoughts. What was the matter with her? She never thought about sex. She thought about love and marriage and babies, and of course sex was part of that, but she never thought about sex on its own.

Until now.

There was something about Zak al-Farisi that was so powerfully sexual that it took her breath away. She glanced around her again, half expecting to see desperate women pouring through every door of his palace and an unsettling thought occurred to her.

Did Arab princes still have harems?

She glanced at that cold, handsome face one more time and felt her knees weaken alarmingly.

If there was a vacancy in this man’s harem then she was definitely applying.

Or maybe not. She couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than being in this man’s bed.

Or more exciting—

‘So—’ his voice was soft and slightly accented ‘—I confess I am intrigued. I await your explanation with almost unbearable anticipation.’

Roused from her fantasies by the raw bite of his sarcasm, Emily decided that there was probably a waiting list for the harem. A very long one. And she wasn’t exactly qualified for the position. What she knew about sex could be written on a thong.

Realising that he was still waiting for an answer, she drew breath. ‘There’s nothing to justify,’ she said, puzzled and disconcerted by the flash of anger she saw in the prince’s eyes. ‘The investments aren’t doing well. He told me that much. But he anticipates that the markets will improve soon. In the meantime, he’s just asking you to give him more time.’

Those black eyes showed not a flicker of warmth. ‘We’ve already established that I’m not a nice guy, Miss Kingston. I won’t be giving him more time.’

She frowned, refusing to believe that anyone could be that unsympathetic. ‘But none of this is Peter’s fault,’ she said and Zak lifted one inky-black eyebrow, his expression sardonic.

‘He is no longer responsible for his own business?’

Emily nibbled her lip. ‘Well yes, of course he is, but—’

‘He was not responsible for investing the money?’

‘Yes, he was, but—’

‘So why is none of it his fault?’

His eyes were hard and Emily lifted a shaking hand to her head, just hating every minute of the conversation. He was setting a trap for her and she was galloping into it head first. She loathed confrontation and had absolutely no experience of business negotiation.

‘Investing money is always a risky business,’ she ventured and Zak tilted his head in silent question.

‘You are no doubt an expert?’ His voice was silky soft and loaded with mockery and Emily coloured.

‘N-no—of course not,’ she stammered awkwardly, trying really hard to ignore the pounding of her heart and the warmth that was spreading through her body. ‘Actually I teach small children—but Peter told me that the investments have under performed and that it just happens that way sometimes.’ She curled her fingers into her palms. ‘Please give him more time. Just two months. That’s all.’

She gave a helpless shrug that was supposed to indicate that she was asking for very little, but the expression in those ebony eyes was forbidding.

‘All?’ The prince continued to watch her, his sudden stillness unnerving. ‘In two months a family can starve, Miss Kingston.’

She stared at him, her mouth drying.

A family? What family? And why would they starve?

They were talking about a few investments, not a fortune.

Emily glanced around at her opulent surroundings wondering if she was missing something.

It was perfectly obvious that the prince was unlikely to starve any day soon.

The palace was amazing. From the first moment she’d set eyes on the golden domes and the honey-coloured stone she’d been enchanted. It was like something straight out of a fairy tale.

‘T-two months isn’t very long,’ she suggested hesitantly and his jaw hardened.

‘And yet to some it can seem like a lifetime.’

Feeling that she was definitely missing something, Emily clasped her hands in front of her and tried one more time. ‘I know it’s inconvenient, but Peter will deliver the money,’ she said firmly and saw the prince’s eyes narrow.

‘Such loyalty is most commendable, Miss Kingston, but I’m afraid I don’t share your confidence in your brother’s ability to pay back that which he has taken. Your presence here is proof of his intention to default on the debt.’

‘No!’ Emily was quick to defend her brother. ‘Peter will pay back the money.’

‘So why didn’t he come here to tell me that himself?’

Emily licked dry lips, shivering under that icy gaze. She’d asked herself that same question repeatedly. ‘He—is busy,’ she said lamely and Zak gave a wry smile.

‘Of course he is. Ripping people off is a full-time job.’

Emily gave a gasp of outrage, her shyness forgotten in the face of the insult to her brother. ‘My brother is not ripping people off—he just needs more time.’

‘And I am not prepared to give him time, Miss Kingston.’

‘But that’s totally unreasonable,’ she blurted out before she could stop herself. ‘What has Peter ever done to you?’

A dark eyebrow swooped upwards, his arrogant dark head lifted in challenge. ‘You are questioning my decision?’

Emily flushed scarlet, realizing too late that obviously no one ever questioned Zak al-Farisi’s decisions.

‘Well, yes, I mean, no,’ she amended hastily. ‘It’s just that Peter will pay you eventually, and I can’t see why the money matters to you so much.’

Evidence of his staggering wealth was all around her.

Nothing he could say would ever convince her that he needed the money in a hurry.

‘Can you not?’ His tone was as hard as his gaze. ‘Then your judgment merely confirms that you are as lacking in morals as your brother. You are prepared to see people suffer as a result of your actions.’

Emily dragged her eyes away from his handsome face, totally unable to see how he was likely to suffer.

How could a small sum of money matter so much to him?

How could anyone be so selfish?

The Crown Prince was obviously totally unreasonable when it came to matters of money.

‘All right.’ Deciding that there was no point in arguing with someone who clearly had superior skills in the art, she lifted her chin, anxious to get away from him before she stopped remembering that personality was more important than looks. ‘So you won’t give him more time. I’ll make sure I pass on that message to Peter when I return home.’

She made a move towards the door but lean, bronzed fingers closed around her wrist and she was held in an iron grip.

The prince gave a grim smile. ‘You won’t be returning home, Miss Kingston. You chose to come in your brother’s place and for the time being at least I intend to keep you. As insurance.’

There was a ghastly silence while she digested his words. ‘Keep me?’

‘Of course.’ His black eyes met hers, his gaze unflinching and totally devoid of sympathy. ‘I expected your brother, but you have offered yourself freely in his place. If your brother wants me to release you, then he must come here himself.’

Emily blinked. ‘You’re asking me to stay here?’

A ghost of a smile touched that hard mouth. ‘Not asking, Miss Kingston,’ he drawled softly, releasing her wrist and pacing around her slowly, like a predator sizing up a potential prey and deciding whether it was worth the kill. ‘It is my decision that you will stay here until such time as your brother comes in person.’

Emily gaped at him. ‘I’m your prisoner?’

‘I prefer the term “guest”,’ the prince replied, his voice silky smooth. ‘For as long as it pleases me, you will remain in the palace.’

For as long as it pleases me—

The air throbbed with tension and Emily felt an inexplicable heat spread throughout her body.

Just exactly what form was this pleasure going to take?

‘No! You can’t do that.’ Emily was so shocked that she forgot protocol for a moment and just glared at him. ‘I—I’ll contact the ambassador, or the consulate or the—the…’ Her voice tailed off as she realized that she actually didn’t have the first clue whom she should contact.

Zak al-Farisi surveyed her with maddening indifference, totally unmoved by her outburst. ‘You have broken our laws and will stay here until your brother decides to show up and face me in person,’ he responded, his tone dry and cynical as he stroked his fingers through the length of her tumbled blonde hair. ‘In the meantime I feel sure that we will find a mutually agreeable way of relieving the boredom. Welcome to Kazban, Miss Kingston.’

CHAPTER TWO

SUPERB actress, Zak thought to himself, watching as Emily’s cheeks paled and her deep blue eyes flew wide.

Suddenly she looked lost, scared and very, very young and had he not learned long ago to his cost just how convincingly women could act when they wanted something, he would have found himself taking her in his arms and reassuring her.

He gave a wry smile and reminded himself that she had travelled to Kazban in the place of her brother with the express intent of evading punishment for a serious crime. She was the sister of a criminal and he had no doubt that Emily Kingston wouldn’t know innocent if she fell over it.

Doubtless her mode of dress and innocent approach were all part of her plan to persuade him to release her but he had no intention of doing anything of the sort. He would keep her here as a bargaining tool and Miss Kingston could use the time to dwell on the consequences of greed and avarice.

Did she not care that thousands of innocent citizens of Kazban had lost their entire savings?

She pleaded for two more months and yet she must have been fully aware that even two more years would not have been enough to see the debt repaid. How could it, when his investigations had shown clearly that her brother was on the verge of bankruptcy and involved in some extremely shady dealings?

And how could one so beautiful be so greedy and morally corrupt?

He stared at her face in fascination, captivated by her wide eyes and lush mouth and by the gentle flush that touched her cheeks. He felt muscles tighten throughout his body, felt the powerful flame of arousal kindle and burn, and gritted his teeth in irritation, forced to concede that the mixture of sexy and innocent was having a shockingly powerful effect on his libido. Even knowing what she was, it seemed he was unable to control his body’s primitive response to her exceptional beauty and suddenly he found himself fighting a powerful impulse to strip her naked and spread her over his desk to await his pleasure.

For a brief moment black eyes clashed with blue and then he muttered something in Arabic and exercised the will-power for which he was renowned, stepping away from her and pacing once more towards the window. But that brief glance into her eyes had told him what he wanted to know.

That she was as aware of him as he was of her. The heavy throb of sexual awareness had hung in the air from the moment she’d stepped into the room and he recognized the same white-hot sexual excitement in her that he was experiencing himself.

But it made not an iota of difference to his plans.

Once before.

Once before he’d allowed his desire for a woman to overrule his common sense and he’d learned a painful lesson. He did not need to be taught that lesson twice.

Despite her pretence at innocence, he had no intention of releasing Emily Kingston until her brother arrived in person, no matter how much her lower lip trembled or how powerful his own arousal.

‘You can’t just keep me here against my will.’ Her voice was strangled. ‘What do you intend to do? Lock me in your tower?’

Despite the defiant lift of her chin her voice shook and Zak gave an amused smile. ‘You have been reading too many fairy stories, Miss Kingston. This particular prince has a much more contemporary approach to incarceration.’ His eyes swept her face. ‘You’ll find my bed much more hospitable than any tower and I promise that any form of bondage will only be with mutual consent.’

She gave a soft gasp of shock and Zak watched with interest as her breathing quickened and bright spots of colour appeared on her cheeks. She was obviously determined to keep up the innocent act to the last. He wondered idly whether she’d still be protesting innocence when she was stretched naked beneath him and decided to play her game for a little bit longer.

‘Y-you can’t be serious.’ She stammered the words out, the confusion on her pretty face interesting to watch. ‘I— you can’t possibly want me to—I mean—’

‘I can do anything I wish, Miss Kingston. You are in my country,’ he pointed out calmly, ‘and will remain so until your brother chooses to repay the debt.’

She shook her head and strands of that delicious blonde hair wafted around her heart-shaped face.

‘This is ridiculous. You have to let me go—’ There was a catch in her voice and Zak surveyed her with a mixture of admiration and amusement. He’d had endless experience of the application of feminine tears, but, even so, she was impressive. Her display was all the more effective for the fact that she didn’t actually let the tears fall, he reflected. Instead she lifted her chin and struggled for control so that she managed to make herself look brave.

‘Doubtless you were banking on that when you foolishly agreed to take your brother’s place. When he arrives, you are free to leave,’ he said shortly, turning away from her and striding over to the window, inexplicably irritated by the definite sparkle of tears in her eyes.

Women, he thought to himself, sucking in a breath as he fought to control the powerful and thoroughly unexpected reaction of his body to her award-winning performance.

‘But all he asks is for two months more to sort things out,’ she persisted. ‘Is it really too much to ask? Does the money really matter that much?’

He whirled round, deeply offended by her implication that he was the one at fault and by her repeated dismissal of the debt. His temper rising steadily, he paced around her like a caged tiger, searching for some evidence of remorse on her part.

She was so close that he could count every one of those thick lashes that fringed her eyes, see the tiny pulse beating in her creamy throat, and he gave an exclamation of distaste as lust, basic and powerful, gnawed greedily at his body once more.

Beautiful on the outside maybe, but not on the inside.

‘Your brother has committed a crime which is punishable by imprisonment here in Kazban.’ His tone was harsh and he stopped pacing and took a step towards her. ‘If he truly believed that by sending you in his place he could evade our justice system, then he made a serious error of judgment. I shall keep you here until he comes in person to face the charges against him.’

‘C-crime?’ Slim fingers pushed her blonde hair out of her startled eyes. ‘The value of investments has fallen for everyone. That’s just a risk you take, surely. It certainly isn’t a crime.’

Zak watched her in incredulous disbelief, appalled by the fact that she was still pretending to know nothing about the fact that her brother had embezzled the money. How long could she keep that up? he wondered cynically. Peter Kingston had lost every last penny. He’d mortgaged the family home and was virtually bankrupt. How long could his sister continue to pursue the defence that the loss was attributable to the vagaries of the markets?

‘My brother will pay you what he owes you,’ she said firmly, her chin lifting as she looked at him. ‘You can’t keep me here.’

Her chest rose and fell as she breathed and a man less experienced with women than Zak might have missed the sudden parting of her soft lips or the press of her hardened nipples against the thin fabric of her dress as she stared at him in terrified fascination.

But with the razor-sharp intuition that had guaranteed him staggering success in both the boardroom and the bedroom, Zak didn’t miss a single signal and he gave a grim smile of masculine satisfaction.

Having failed to secure her release, she was already thinking about being in his bed—

His eyes dropped to her mouth and sexual awareness throbbed between them. She might be corrupt but she was astonishingly beautiful. Zak gritted his teeth, battling against the powerful reaction of his body. Suddenly the bed option held considerable appeal.

‘I will keep you as long as you are of use to me,’ he returned smoothly, watching as her lovely face drained of colour.

‘No! That wasn’t what Peter intended.’ Her tone was frantic. ‘He’ll be expecting me home—’

‘And when you don’t arrive, then presumably he’ll follow you here.’ Zak surveyed her through lowered lids, finding her passionate defence of her brother entirely distasteful. Clearly she supported her brother’s dishonest dealings and was determined to pretend that nothing was wrong. ‘Unless he is too much of a coward to face me in person.’

‘My brother is not a coward.’ Her blue eyes sparked with anger and spots of colour appeared on her pale cheeks.

Zak watched with interest, intrigued by the change in her and wrestling with a basic desire to increase the colour in her cheeks still further with physical activity. ‘Tell me, Miss Kingston…’ he kept his tone conversational ‘…why did you agree to come here?’

‘Because Peter was too busy to come himself,’ she said immediately and then blushed slightly. ‘And because I thought it might be an adventure. But it didn’t occur to either of us that you’d make me stay instead,’ she said stiffly. ‘After all, I’m no use to you whatsoever.’

Her pretence at indifference was laughable.

Zak gritted his teeth, irritated that he could still want her even knowing what she was. ‘Prepare yourself for adventure, Miss Kingston,’ he advised softly. ‘Your brother has committed a crime and unless he arrives in person to stand trial, then you will face that trial in his place.’

‘Trial?’ Her face blanched. ‘But I haven’t done anything.’

‘You have come as your brother’s representative,’ Zak pointed out smoothly, ‘which makes you liable for his crimes. That is justice.’

‘Justice?’ She shook her head and then brushed aside the blonde hair that wafted over her face. ‘It doesn’t sound like justice to me! You keep calling it a crime but none of this is his fault. And you can’t make me face trial. You—’

‘I can do anything I please,’ Zak interrupted her, suddenly fighting an impulse to power her back against his desk and seek immediate payment in kind. Irritated by the extraordinarily powerful attraction that he suddenly felt, he hardened his tone. ‘This is Kazban, not England, and our laws are somewhat stricter than yours when it comes to theft.’

She lifted a hand to her throat as if she was suddenly finding it hard to breathe. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. My brother hasn’t stolen anything. Investments are always a risk. They can go down as well as up.’

Zak blinked, unaccustomed to being lectured by anyone on the subject of finance. He had a degree in economics and an MBA from a top American university, and since he’d been forced to take over responsibility for running the country as a result of his father’s ill health the economy of Kazban had gone from strength to strength. There was very little anyone could teach him about investments. And very little anyone could teach him about risk.

He thrived on risk.

Did the Kingstons really expect him to believe that the loss was a result of changes in the stock market when he knew full well that the money had never been invested?

Deciding to play her game for a little longer, he kept his features impassive. ‘Then you’d better pray they go up, Miss Kingston.’ He surveyed her thoughtfully, wondering for how long she could maintain this pretence. ‘And you’d better pray that your brother arrives here soon. Otherwise I advise you to prepare yourself for an extended stay.’

‘But—’

‘This audience is now at an end,’ he said coldly. ‘There are others waiting to see me. You will stay at the palace until your brother arrives. That is my decision.’

She had to get away.

She’d come here to help Peter, but her presence had made things worse.

The prince obviously intended to use her as leverage against her brother.

‘You’ll find my bed much more hospitable than any tower—’

Suddenly finding it hard to breathe, Emily grabbed her few possessions and stuffed them frantically into the one, small overnight bag that she’d brought with her. It was perfectly obvious that Crown Prince Zak al-Farisi wasn’t going to listen to reason and release her, which meant that she needed to take matters into her own hands.

The man might look gorgeous, but he was ruthless and cold and not at all a nice person.

Why was he pressing her brother for the money when he was obviously rolling in it?

Just how much money did one man need?

Never having been in the slightest bit interested in material possessions, Emily struggled to understand why someone would strive for unlimited wealth.

Having lost both her parents when she was twelve, her own idea of riches was to have her own family. A man who loved her. Children.

She swallowed hard as she stuffed the rest of her clothes into the bag.

One day she would have that, she told herself firmly.

And it would be with a man who was kind and loving and—and safe.

Not a man like Zakour al-Farisi who was hard and unforgiving and obviously only thought about money.

Her hands stilled and suddenly her breathing quickened as she remembered the betraying throb of her body and the heat that she’d felt when he’d stood close to her. No one had ever made her feel like that before. In fact before today she hadn’t known that such powerful emotions existed except in books.

The blatantly sexual intent in his cold, hard gaze had made her shivery and dizzy and—and—shocked.

No man had ever looked at her the way he did.

No man had ever made her feel so—so… She closed her eyes and slid a hand slowly up her body. No man had ever made her feel so much like a woman.

She lifted a hand and touched her face, remembering the cool brush of his fingers against her cheek and then her hair. Remembering the race of her pulse and the melting of her limbs.

He’d barely touched her and yet the burning heat in his dark eyes had been enough to have her swaying towards him in an instinctive feminine response to his powerful masculinity. But then Zak al-Farisi was a man so skilled in the seduction of women that someone as inexperienced as her would be child’s play to him.

Emily gripped the bag tightly with slender fingers and tried to pull herself together.

That she could respond that way to someone that she didn’t even like filled her with dismay and confusion.

She’d always thought that for her sex was something that would happen within the confines of a loving relationship. Unlike some of her peers, she’d never seen the attraction of casual sexual encounters. Until now.

You want him, she mocked herself gently. Go on, admit it. Zak al-Farisi might not be a nice person but you want him. And the thought of being taken to his bed—

She closed her eyes and gave a moan of self-loathing.

No!

She had no intention of being anyone’s virgin sacrifice!

That wasn’t the sort of relationship she wanted. That was just sex, and she wasn’t interested in anything so fragile, however exciting it might seem. She’d long ago decided that when she finally fell for a man their relationship would be based on mutual respect and friendship.

So why did her dream for the future suddenly seem so solid and boring?

She gave a little shiver. Zak al-Farisi might be astonishingly good-looking but his charms definitely ended there. He was totally unreasonable, accusing Peter of some sort of crime when she knew that her brother would never do anything illegal and the whole situation was just the result of a misunderstanding. It had to be.

And there was no way she was going to allow the prince to keep her here.

She pushed the last of her things into her bag and bit her lip.

No one was going to hold her against her will!

Pushing aside the uncomfortable thought that what she was actually escaping from was a part of herself that she hadn’t known existed before today, she gritted her teeth, jerked the zip closed and tossed the bag on the floor.

The airport hadn’t been that far away, she reasoned as she slipped her passport into the pocket of her dress. All she had to do was to persuade someone to give her a lift.

And leave the palace without getting caught—

She walked over to the windows of her room and stared thoughtfully down into the courtyard three floors below. Not far. Her eyes drifted to the elaborate curtains and then to the rope that held them back. Just like the ropes in the gym at school, she mused, fingering the rope thoughtfully.

Strong enough to take a person’s weight.

It was fortunate that she was athletic.

‘Miss Kingston has left the palace, Your Highness.’

Zak lifted his head. He was fresh from studying the expenses of his sister-in-law, and his patience was already severely challenged.

‘How?’

Sharif cleared his throat. ‘She—er—abseiled down the side of the building.’

Zak dropped the pen he was holding, his mind temporarily leaving the ever-absorbing question of how one woman could spend so much on so little. ‘She what?’

Sharif licked his lips. ‘She abseiled down the side of the palace, Your Highness. One of the guards saw her throw a rope out of the window but she moved so fast that he was unable to apprehend her.’

‘A rope?’ Zak thought back to their discussion about princes and being locked in his tower. ‘Don’t tell me,’ he drawled. ‘She spun the rope from her hair?’

Not party to the earlier conversation about fairy tales, Sharif looked confused. ‘I understand that she used the cords from the curtains, Your Highness.’

‘Of course she did.’ Zak digested this information and then sat back in his chair and gave a reluctant laugh, stunned by the realization that he’d underestimated a woman for the first time in years. For sheer nerve and inventiveness you had to admire her, he conceded, rising to his feet and pacing across to the nearest window.

And if he’d needed further proof of her guilt, then he had it now.

Emily Kingston obviously didn’t believe that there was any way her brother was going to turn up and rescue her.

But what had she hoped to achieve by escaping from the palace in such a way? Surely she knew that it was impossible for her to leave the country without his permission?

Did she really think that she could just shimmy down the palace wall and jump on a plane?

He gave Sharif a weary look, wondering why women had to be so complicated. ‘You are having her followed?’

‘Of course, Your Highness.’

‘Good.’ Zak gave a grim smile. ‘Let her walk where she wishes and see where her escape bid takes her.’

Sharif looked startled. ‘But, Your Highness, it isn’t safe for her to be wandering the streets of Kazban. She—’

‘Is in for a shock,’ Zak finished for him, his dark eyes glittering with anticipation. ‘I predict that a few hours alone in Kazban should make her desperate for my protection.’

The prospect afforded him a considerable degree of satisfaction.

Sharif looked troubled. ‘But, Your Highness, for a woman as beautiful as Miss Kingston—’ He licked his lips and broke off without finishing his sentence, suddenly remembering his place.

‘This woman sanctions theft and corruption,’ Zak reminded him curtly, rising to his feet in a lithe movement, his mouth set in a hard line. ‘Let her see a little of the rougher side of Kazban.’

Perhaps it would teach her a lesson.

Sharif hesitated. ‘But she was walking towards the souk, Your Highness, and the hour grows late. It will be dark shortly. It isn’t safe for a western woman—’

‘I agree with you entirely—’ Zak’s eyes glittered black ‘—but Emily Kingston is hardly an innocent virgin. She is obviously a woman well able to take care of herself. Let her see what can happen when she strays from the palace. In future she may not be quite so keen to leave it.’

Still looking troubled, Sharif bowed his head. ‘There is one further problem that requires your urgent attention, Your Highness.’ His tone was apologetic. ‘The nanny is finding it hard to cope with Jamal’s tantrums.’

Zak closed his eyes briefly. ‘Remind me.’ His tone was weary. ‘How long has she lasted, Sharif?’

Sharif cleared his throat. ‘Four weeks, Your Highness. Longer than the last four. I’m sorry to burden you with the problem when you have so many other matters to attend to, but while your sister-in-law is still travelling—’

Gallivanting around Europe, leaving her child in the hands of someone who was clearly not up to the job, Zak reflected grimly. The knowledge that her presence in Kazban created more tension than any reasonable man could be expected to tolerate had made him reluctant to intervene and order her return home.

Concerns for his little nephew warred with his natural desire to minimize his own exposure to his sister-in-law’s tricks.

Contemplating the facts with his customary cool, Zak decided that perhaps it really was time that he married. At least he could then put an end to Danielle’s scheming in that direction.

‘Surely there must be someone who can handle the child.’ Zak sighed and leaned back in his chair. ‘All right. I’ll speak to Jamal.’ He looked at Sharif expectantly and his eyes narrowed. ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’

Sharif looked uncomfortable. ‘It is now almost five years since your brother’s tragic death, Your Highness. His widow is—’ He broke off and licked dry lips. ‘There have been pictures—your father is asking questions. He is afraid that there will be another scandal.’ Sharif cleared his throat delicately. ‘It is no secret that your father hopes that you will wed your brother’s widow—’

Zak sat totally still, not a muscle flickered in his handsome face.

It was definitely time he married. And it wouldn’t be to his sister-in-law.

Any woman would be preferable to her.

To think that he’d once—

His jaw tightened as he contemplated the foolishness of youth. Although he was now firmly of the belief that love did not exist, he was convinced that he could do better in his choice of bride than a woman who put her own needs ahead of those of her child.

He would not be marrying Danielle.

Zak gave a sigh, the prospect of marriage leaving him profoundly depressed. There were many occasions when the duty and responsibility accorded to his role felt like an un-yielding block of concrete around his neck.

When he finally had his emotions back under control, he spoke. ‘I will deal with my late brother’s wife.’

With a wave of his hand he dismissed Sharif and lounged back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowed as he considered his next move.

Suddenly all he could think of was Emily Kingston.

He stared down at the pages of figures on his desk, but his mind was filled with disturbing images of honey-blonde hair and a soft, tempting mouth.

Doubtless she had done nothing to disguise that amazing blonde hair or those lush curves before making her bid for freedom. The knowledge that those charms were now on the streets of Kazban, visible to all, did nothing for his concentration.

With a rough exclamation he rose to his feet and stared at the sky, noting the deepening blue, acknowledging that Sharif was right. It would be dark in an hour. And Emily Kingston was alone.

Making an instant decision, he cursed softly and hit a series of buttons on his phone.

He’d sort out the problem with his nephew and his sister-in-law later. First he had to deal with Emily Kingston.

Unable to believe that she’d managed to leave the palace without being apprehended, Emily sneaked a glance over her shoulder, but there was no sign of anyone following her. Her heart was thudding and her palms were damp and she’d never felt such panic in her life before. She’d barely been able to breathe, choked with anticipation, expecting to feel a hand on her shoulder at any moment.

But there had been no hand. She’d done it.

Now all she had to do was find a car to take her to the airport.

Where on earth did one find a taxi in Kazban?

The initial panic fading, she was suddenly aware of just how hot it was away from the cool interior of the palace. Even though it was early evening, the sun hammered down on the dusty streets and the air was stifling.

Wishing that she had a hat and feeling more than a little vulnerable, she clutched her one small bag and walked as fast as she could in her one pair of ridiculous heels, trying to ignore the fact that she was boiling to death in her jacket. There was no way she was removing it. She had no wish to draw attention to herself and she knew that, although her dress fell to her ankles, it revealed far too much of her arms and shoulders to be considered decent in a country such as Kazban. So she gritted her teeth and kept the jacket on, promising herself that as soon as she was safely on the airplane she’d take it off and cool herself down.

She walked through the souk, wondering which direction to take, distracted by the colourful stalls and the wonderful smells.

Spices.

Intrigued, Emily paused by a stall heaped high with dune-like mountains of turmeric and many other spices that she didn’t recognize. Next to the spice stall someone was cooking, the clatter of pans and the sizzle of hot fat cutting through the dry, still air, the smells delicious and tempting.

She wandered on, past stalls where men dressed in traditional robes sold brightly coloured silks, past boxes and boxes of exotic nuts and sweets, fruits and vegetables.

Once she tried asking about a taxi and the man waved his arms vaguely. She tried to follow his directions but there were just more and more stalls and no sign of anything that even remotely resembled a taxi.

The light was fading fast and she realized that she was lost in the middle of Kazban, with absolutely no idea where she was.

Feeling decidedly uneasy, she turned back the way she’d come and looked at the maze of dusty streets, trying to remember her route.

When exactly had the bustle and activity ceased? The streets were eerily quiet, as if she were the only person inhabiting this corner of the planet.

Wishing that someone else would appear, she started to walk down the nearest street and then stopped dead as three men dressed in robes suddenly blocked her path.

Her heart gave a jolt of panic.

One of them spoke to her in a language that she didn’t understand and when she didn’t answer they circled around her, blocking her escape.

Instinctively Emily clutched at her bag even though there was virtually nothing in it and her passport was safely tucked into a pocket in her dress.

The tallest of them spoke again and this time he smiled, but it was such an unpleasant, threatening smile that Emily felt a shiver of fear.

Determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d frightened her, she lifted her chin boldly and tried to sidestep past the men, but they closed in more tightly, throwing remarks to each other that she didn’t understand.

One of them reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair, twisting it around his fingers as though he were considering a purchase.

‘Leave me alone!’ Heart galloping like a horse’s hooves, Emily jerked her head away from his touch and took a step backwards, but one of his friends was directly behind her, blocking her escape.

She had nowhere to go.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE was in huge trouble.

Emily glanced frantically around her, searching for an alternative escape route. But there was none. And already the men were closing in. Before she could move, one of them made a grab for her bag and another dragged her jacket from her shoulders.

Suddenly she was standing in the dusty streets wearing nothing but her thin cotton dress and a pair of ridiculous shoes.

For a moment she stood still, breathing rapidly, frozen with fear. And then some of the fear melted away to be replaced by anger. She was a visitor to a foreign country. She should be treated with respect and courtesy.

‘I’m English.’ She spoke slowly and clearly. ‘Give me my things back.’

They leered at her and, acting on a sudden impulse, she flew at the man who’d taken her bag, kicking him so hard with one of her shoes that he gave a yelp and doubled up in pain and surprise.

‘Finally I understand the origin of the term “killer heels”,’ Emily muttered, snatching at her bag and making a run for it.

Her triumph was short-lived. Temporarily stunned by her surprise attack, the man’s two comrades suddenly came to life and grabbed her bodily. Her dress tore, she lost the bag and crashed awkwardly to the ground, wincing as something cut into her ankle.

‘Ouch—!’ Gritting her teeth against the pain, she lifted her head, furious and ready to fight—and then she saw a fourth man striding towards them, his robes flowing back from his powerful frame.

He was taller and broader than the men who surrounded her and walked with a grim sense of purpose that made Emily shiver. His head was covered by the traditional gutra and she caught a glimpse of fierce black eyes before he strode forward and snapped something in a strange language, one bronzed hand resting ominously on the folds of his robes as he scanned the scene.

Friend or foe?

Emily held her breath, her eyes fixed on his hand. She knew instinctively that the folds of his robes concealed a weapon. Would there be a fight? But those long, strong fingers stayed still as his eyes flickered slowly over her attackers.

One by one they fell back, at first resentful and then visibly intimidated by the menace in that dark gaze and the physical power and authority that pulsed from his masculine frame.

And then they turned and ran, taking Emily’s bag and jacket with them.

Emily clutched the torn neck of her dress and started to shake, her eyes fixed on the man who had caused their flight.

Without uttering a word, her rescuer bent down and scooped her into his arms.

‘What are you doing?’ Taken by surprise, Emily thumped his shoulder with her fist and made contact with rock solid muscle. ‘Put me down!’

‘Be still!’ He tightened his grip on her, carrying her as if she weighed nothing, striding purposefully through a network of narrow, dusty streets until he finally came to a halt in a secluded doorway.

‘Are you hurt?’ He snapped the question in perfect English and to her horror Emily felt the mortifying burn of tears.

It was just the shock, she told herself, struggling to restrain the impulse to sob against his broad shoulder. Now that she was safe she suddenly realized just how close she’d been to real danger. If he hadn’t arrived when he had—

‘I’m fine,’ she lied, glancing around her dubiously. ‘You can put me down. Why have you brought me here? It looks more dangerous than the main street—’

‘You were drawing too much attention to yourself,’ the man said harshly, but he lowered her to the ground with surprising gentleness, muttering something under his breath as he glanced down.

‘You are bleeding.’

Emily followed his frowning gaze and suddenly realized why her leg was hurting so badly. Blood was pouring from a deep cut on her ankle.

‘Oh—I must have cut it on something when I was attacked.’

‘Which would not have happened had you not been walking in an unsafe area.’ He gave a sigh that spoke volumes and then squatted down so that he could take a closer look. In an impatient gesture he moved her skirt and slid strong fingers over her ankle. ‘No wonder you are injured,’ he growled. ‘These shoes are ridiculous.’

‘I totally agree, but they’re the only pair I brought with me,’ Emily protested, wincing as he slid the shoe off and examined her bruised ankle. ‘I wasn’t exactly planning on having to run for my life when I packed. Ouch, you’re hurting me!’

‘You should be thankful that it is only your ankle that is hurt,’ he said, his tone blisteringly unsympathetic as he finished his examination. ‘I don’t think it will need stitches. Next time you try to escape I suggest you select your foot-wear more carefully.’

Emily’s eyes widened and she looked at him closely for the first time. ‘How did you know that I was escaping—?’

With a jerk of his hand he removed something from his neck and bandaged her foot deftly, stemming the flow of blood. Then he lifted his gaze to hers and she fell into those fierce dark eyes. The breath jammed in her throat as she recognized him.

‘Oh—no—it’s you!’

He inclined his proud head, his mouth set in a hard line as he surveyed her. ‘Indeed. I trust my mode of dress meets with your satisfaction on this occasion, Miss Kingston.’

Staring up at him, Emily lost her ability to breathe normally. She’d thought he looked good in a suit, but it was nothing compared to his appearance in the traditional robes of his countrymen. How could she have failed to recognize him?

Even in the dusky light he was extravagantly handsome and he held himself with an arrogance that spoke of centuries of breeding.

No wonder the other men had run—

‘Clearly I should have locked you in my tower after all,’ he observed in a chilly tone, rising to his feet in a fluid movement and glancing left and right down the narrow street. ‘It would have been safer for everyone. You could do with forgetting your fairy stories while you are in Kazban, Miss Kingston. This particular prince is not about to play his part according to the book. If you’re expecting Prince Charming, then you are doomed to disappointment.’

‘I never went a bundle on Prince Charming,’ Emily confessed shakily, her eyes still stuck to his face, watching hopefully to see if there was some softening of his attitude towards her now that he knew that she was serious about escaping. There didn’t seem to be. He was grim-faced and furiously angry.

‘Then let’s take a look at reality. A large number of people have been put to a great deal of trouble on your behalf,’ he bit out, his dark eyes glittering with impatience as he stared down at her. ‘My presence was required in the palace this evening but because of your foolhardy activities I have been forced to risk giving offence to those whose good relations are essential for maintaining peace in this area.’

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