Beauty and the Sheikh

chapter 16



Rafiq’s mouth sought hers in a gentle, reassuring kiss. And just like the storm outside, it seemed to gain momentum. He deepened it, demanding a response and summoning her desire.

His hand slid beneath her loose shirt to cup her breast and she cried out with pleasure. He never lifted his mouth from hers while his hands traveled her body.

The linen trousers were no barrier to him, and his seeking fingers explored the ache between her thighs. Holly’s head fell back against the mass of soft pillows; her hips rose and fell as he brought her quickly to the edge.

Outside the tent, the storm had reached them. The walls shook, the sand assaulted, the wind howled, but they were all secondary to the sensations taking over her heart and body. And then he pushed her over the edge, stroking her into abandon until she sobbed with pleasure and gripped the fabric of his robe.

With her mind quieted and her body still trembling, Holly found herself in Rafiq’s arms. His lips pressed against her forehead as his hand stroked down her back.

“I want you,” he murmured thickly. “But I have no protection.”

Though her body was sated, there was still an ache, only this time it was in her heart. He hadn’t taken her completely because he didn’t want to risk getting her pregnant.

Would it really be so awful? She wanted to ask the question, but why bother when she already knew the answer?

Her fear of the storm diminished as a trickle of sadness made its way into her heart.

“You’ve gone quiet, habiba.”

“I’m trying not to think about the storm,” she lied. “And I’m a little tired.”

“Rest then.” He adjusted her in the cradle of his arms and brushed another kiss over her forehead. “We will return home soon.”

Home. Funny how she’d come to think of it as such. Her thoughts slid to Portland and her small apartment there. She didn’t miss it. Not really. Perhaps she missed her friends, but she didn’t miss the cold or gray skies. And Portland lacked the one thing she would miss most. Rafiq.

And he was the one man she could never have.



The next few days, Rafiq kept his distance from Holly. He returned late at night to the palace and tried not to wake her. But today, with the dinner, he knew he must stop avoiding her.

Since the day of the sandstorm, he hadn’t been able to shake the sense of unease riding him. Hadn’t been able to dismiss how much he’d allowed his feelings for her to addle his brain.

What had he been thinking, the morning he’d taken her out riding? Were he thinking straight, he’d have realized the weather conditions were perfect for such a storm.

But he hadn’t bothered to seek them out ahead of time. Had only wanted to spend time with her alone, outside the palace, and anticipated her excitement at riding a camel for the first time.

And he’d placed them directly in harm’s way. Not only with the storm, but by sending his guards back to the palace and going on without them.

Never, since the assassination attempt, had he been so alone and exposed. It was unheard of for him, the Sheikh of Raljahar, to enter an isolated desert tent without it being cleared by a guard first.

Not that Rafiq doubted he could’ve defended himself in an attack. His bigger fear was having Holly with him—her safety had become his priority. Which made him entirely too close to the man his father had been. A chill raced down his spine.

Picking up his phone, Rafiq dialed the palace to inform them he would be returning earlier and requested to speak with Holly.

“Miss Winchester is not within the palace, Your Majesty,” he was told. “She is out at the market this afternoon.”

At the market? Rafiq disconnected the call and dialed the cell he’d given her. When she didn’t answer, a knot formed in his gut. He called out instructions for the driver to take him to the market instead.

They pulled up out front of the crowded marketplace a moment later. His personal bodyguard slid from the front of the limo and followed Rafiq through the market.

“Who is guarding Miss Winchester?” Rafiq asked him tersely. “Can you find him?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Rafiq continued to search the market as the guard placed a call. He listened to the one-sided conversation and learned his guard was being given Holly’s location.

“This way,” the guard said a moment later, urging Rafiq through the crowds and toward a smaller building.

Rafiq’s bodyguard insisted on traveling first through the narrow hall of the building, and a deep sense of unease gathered in Rafiq’s gut.

This was not the market—there were no shops back here. What was Holly’s purpose, being in such a place?

They stopped outside a closed door, where Rafiq noted Holly’s guard standing.

“Where is she?” Rafiq demanded, his gaze sliding to the closed door.

“Your Majesty, she is inside. But if you would wait a moment, I can retrieve her.”

Retrieve her? What was it that Holly’s guard did not want Rafiq to see? Was she meeting someone? Images of her and another man danced in his mind. His vision went red.

“Open this door now.” His voice resonated through the narrowed hallways and had the two guards cringing.

Before anyone could move to obey him though, the door swung open and Holly appeared in the entryway. Her hair was disheveled and falling free around her shoulders, her expression stricken. “Rafiq? What on earth are you doing here?”

What was he doing here? She dared ask? Rafiq’s jaw clenched as he glanced beyond her into what appeared to be someone’s house.

He struggled to control his temper as the tic in his jaw quickened, but the images of her and another man didn’t stop. He saw the unease in her eyes as she twisted her fingers and could no longer deny the truth.

Later, he would deal with her, but for now, someone else would pay. He turned on the guard he’d assigned to her.

“How often did you bring her here?” he accused, thrusting the man against the stone wall. “Did you take her to meet her lover? You would dare to go against your Sheikh this way!”

The guard’s eyes widened. “Your Majesty, please.”

“Stop!” Holly’s fingers curled around Rafiq’s arms as she struggled to pull him off her guard. “Rafiq, you must stop. It’s not how it seems.”

He growled low in his throat and brushed her free as if she were an annoying bug. “What is not, habiba?” he ground out. “That he did not protect you while you met another man daily? What a fool I am to not suspect your daily trips to the market were to—”

“I wasn’t meeting a lover,” she cried. “I was studying Arabic.”

Rafiq nearly laughed at her ridiculous excuse but then froze. It sank in then that every word they’d exchanged since she ran into the hallway had been in his language. Not perfect, but close enough that it hadn’t registered.

He released the guard and turned to face Holly once more. Her eyes were wide and her lips trembled with fury.

A movement in the doorway revealed a woman and her child, staring at him with obvious trepidation.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” the guard behind him apologized. “Miss Winchester wanted to surprise you and begged me not to say anything. I assumed since I ensured her safety there was no harm. I am sorry if I made the wrong choice.”

Rafiq lifted his hand to silence him, not turning his focus from Holly. “Enough,” he muttered distractedly. “Please, if you could have the limo brought around to the front of the building. We will return to the palace at once.”

He gave quick instructions to his guard, and the man strode forward and handed the woman in the doorway a handful of currency.

The ride back to the palace was strained at best. Holly glowered at him, and he found himself shifting in his seat under her furious stare.

“You still don’t trust me.”

Finally she’d spoken, but he flinched inwardly at her toneless words.

“I told you once I don’t trust easily. Assuming the worst is habit.”

Frustration flickered in her eyes. “Do you think that excuses it?”

“No, perhaps not.” He paused, considering his words. “I had no idea you wanted to learn Arabic. If you had but asked I could have hired you the best tutor in Raljahar.”

“I didn’t want you to know, Rafiq. That was the whole idea. I wanted to be able to interact with your guests tonight in their own language.” The anger seemed to leave her in a rush. Her shoulders crumpled as she turned her attention out the window. “It was to be a surprise for you. A silly one, I suppose.”

“Not silly at all.” Actually, probably one of the most touching things someone had ever done for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. “Though possibly dangerous. There will, of course, be repercussions for your bodyguard.”

Holly stiffened and turned to look at him again. “Rafiq, he didn’t tell you because I instructed him not to.”

He gave a soft laugh of genuine amusement. “I am the Sheikh, habiba. All things are to be reported to me.”

“You swore I wasn’t a prisoner.”

“And you have never been treated as one, but your safety is my concern and I must be kept apprised of your whereabouts.”

“This is ridiculous.” Her hands balled into fists, as if she were trying to restrain herself. “I was never in any danger.”

“That has yet to be established.”

“You can’t punish him for what I’ve done.”

Rafiq sighed. He really didn’t want to have this conversation with her. There were lines his employees didn’t cross, and the man guarding Holly had crossed a big one. “He broke my trust, Holly. He must be dealt with.”

“Dealt with? Do you even know his name, Rafiq?”

His brows drew together as he stared at her growing agitation. “I can’t remember it at the moment, but does it matter?”

“Yes! His name is Mahdi. He has a wife and children. If you fire him—”

“Do not begin to tell me how to run my country.” Finished with this conversation, his tone held enough icy warning to make her draw back against the seat.

But it didn’t keep her silent. “Somehow, these past few weeks I’d thought you’d changed, Rafiq.”

“You should be careful with your presumptions.” He flashed her a hard smile. “I demand a certain level of accountability from my employees, Holly. Even more so from my lovers.”

She shook her head slowly as her lips compressed.

The limo arrived back at the palace and she was out the door before he could move. He followed her into the palace, but her brisk pace clearly indicated she wanted nothing more to do with him or this conversation.

What did she expect, though? She’d put her safety at risk. Surely she could understand why he would be upset now?

Rafiq strode through the palace after her, ignoring the startled glances of his staff as they retreated back into the shadows. His hands curled into fists as he bit back a growl of frustration.

Once in the room, he slammed the door behind him. “Don’t walk away from me.”

She ignored him and quickened her stride toward the bathroom, but he beat her there, catching her arm and swinging her back around.

“Holly—”

“I thought you would be happy I was learning your language.” There were tears in her eyes as she thumped his chest with her fist. “I thought you’d changed. I have no idea who you are right now.”

His heart twisted and all his anger fled. “You know who I am, habiba.”

“You’re not the man I fell in love with,” she choked out.

The silence that fell over the room was so sudden and thick—only broken by the furious pounding of Rafiq’s heart.

Holly’s words seemed to resound in the room. Spreading joy and a sharp, poignant fear.

She loved him.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she whispered, lifting her hands to her mouth. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Rafiq pulled her to him, his hands not quite steady, and lowered his mouth just above hers. “Please, habiba, don’t regret those words.”

He claimed her mouth before she could reply, and Holly let out a soft moan as she clung to him.

Needing her more than ever before, Rafiq led her to the bed. “I should have trusted you, Holly.”

Her lashes fluttered down, once again hiding the pain there. “Yes, you should have.”

“I’m so sorry. I think I wanted a reason to believe you weren’t so damn perfect, a reason to push you away.” His voice grew hoarse. “But I can’t. I need you. I need you so much.”

She didn’t reply but reached for him, pulling him down to her again. He took his time undressing her, lingering on every inch of flesh he exposed.

Rafiq couldn’t be rushed in making love to her. He teased her breasts, molding them in his hands before taking the pink tips in his mouth. Holly writhed beneath him, her pleas for more encouraging him to seek the slick folds of her sex with his fingers.

Rafiq brought her to the edge, not rushing his slow, deliberate strokes that ultimately brought her pleasure.

Finally he eased into her, taking her. Joining her. And even then there was an urgency, almost desperation to their lovemaking.

Only afterward, when she lay curled in his arms so vulnerable and sweet, did all the fears her declaration brought out rise once more. And this time, there would be no distracting him from their unsettling grip.



The dinner party was a blur of introductions and conversation. Holly knew she had a silly smile on her face, and she really couldn’t bring herself to care. She was still floating from Rafiq’s confession that he needed her and then the tender way he’d made love to her after.

With her spirits raised and her constant smile, she felt more beautiful in the gown she wore tonight than any exclusive dress she’d ever modeled. Not that this gown wasn’t expensive, but its quality and simplicity made her feel like a princess.

It was a cross between western and eastern attire. Layers of aqua chiffon did not hide her figure but revealed very little skin. It was the perfect fit for tonight’s dinner.

Her attempts at speaking Arabic had been greeted with enthusiasm and respect. If anything, it had made Rafiq’s friends and associates warm to her even more.

Throughout the dinner Rafiq would glance her way, and the smoldering intensity in his eyes would send a flush from her ears to her toes.

She’d told him she loved him tonight, and he hadn’t running screaming from the room. No, instead he’d made love to her so painstakingly slow and thoroughly she couldn’t quite convince herself this time that he didn’t care.

Rafiq did care. It showed in everything he did. The way he watched her, made love to her, held her at night. And it also made sense why he’d come down so harshly on Mahdi—who he’d ultimately promised her would not lose his position.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Holly stood from the table and strode from the exquisite dining hall to retrieve a shawl from Rafiq’s room. The air conditioning had kicked in, sending a chill through her.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

The accented voice, spoken in English, and snide words brought Holly to a halt.

She turned to find a petite woman approaching with a look dripping with disdain.

Wariness slid through her. This likely would not be a pleasant conversation. She recognized the other woman as one of the wives who’d been placed near the end of the table and struggled to remember her name.

Ah, yes. “Thank you, Mrs. Albujar, I am. And are you enjoying the dinner?”

“It would be better if certain people were not in attendance.” The other woman slid a disapproving glance over her. “So, I finally have the opportunity to meet the Sheikh’s newest mistress.”

Holly flinched at the word, but kept a smile on her face. “I find the word ‘mistress’ entirely outdated.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you’re right. Maybe you would find the term ‘whore’ more suited?”

The breath ripped from her throat at the blatant, vicious verbal assault, but the other woman wasn’t finished.

“You know, in my culture it is custom for a woman to remain pure. So that her husband will enjoy a virgin on their wedding night.”

Holly felt the heat stealing into her cheeks. The guards in the hallway must have been able to hear the conversation, though they showed no indication they listened. It would’ve been so easy to inform the woman she’d been a virgin until Rafiq, but that would only bring humiliation upon herself.

And the woman was right, in a manner. She’d been Rafiq’s virgin mistress, but would never be his virgin wife.

“You do realize Rafiq can never marry a westerner such as yourself,” Mrs. Albujar mocked. “Quite soon, I imagine, he will settle with my daughter, Nuha. Perhaps you saw her in Monaco, speaking with the Sheikh?”

The memory of Rafiq speaking to the young Arabic woman in Monaco flitted through her head, making her stomach clench.

“Did he buy you that diamond necklace?” the woman continued. “It will be a nice souvenir when you leave.”

It took everything within her not to reach up and touch the large diamond Rafiq had placed around her neck before the dinner.

Oh God, she was going to be sick. “I must go,” she whispered, and tried to step around Mrs. Albujar.

When the woman made to block her, one of the guards stepped in.

“Allow Miss Winchester to pass.”

Grateful for the intervention, Holly darted down the hall to Rafiq’s room and then closed the door behind her. Tears burned her eyes as she drew in a ragged breath, crossing to the lush settee in the middle of the room to sink down onto it.

Before that horrid woman had come along, tonight had been almost magical. Now she felt like a cheap imposter playing dress up.

Mistress. Rafiq’s mistress.

She wanted to believe the other woman was wrong—that her words had been nothing but a jealous mother who hoped her daughter would catch herself a Sheikh husband. But what if she wasn’t?