In The Sheikh's Marriage Bed

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.