In the Sheikh's Marriage Bed
Author
Sarah Morgan
Reads
19,6K
Chapters
11
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.’
