The Sheikh’s Blackmailed Bride (Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid Book 2) Read online

  Rami matched his tone. “She’s legally my wife now, and not only on the gossip websites.”

  Zafir laughed, a low rumble that Rami could feel even over the phone. “I wondered which path you’d take.”

  “It made good business sense.” Rami rubbed a thumb over his forehead. “She’ll be an excellent connection for the deal with Morris International.”

  “Surely it’s not all business, though? You do like this woman?”

  Rami paused. He didn’t want to get into his emotions, but—it was his father. “I liked her the moment I saw her.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Zafir went on before Rami could let him in on the truth—that the marriage was a business arrangement. “There’s always an adjustment period in any relationship when it grows into a marriage, but as long as you care for each other, you’ll be happy.” His father laughed. “Honestly, I thought you might marry only for advantages in business, knowing you. I’m thrilled to pieces that you’ve found yourself a partner in love as well.”

  Rami’s throat tightened. He certainly wasn’t going to tell his father now. Maybe not ever.

  But Zafir wasn’t done yet.

  “My sons, it seems, don’t do things in the conventional way. But they always find their way to a true love. What more could a father ask for?” He laughed again. “Except for all my children to continue my legacy, of course.”

  Children. He meant children.

  Rami swallowed hard. “Kyril has that handled pretty well, I’d say.”

  “There’s always room for more on the palace grounds,” Zafir hinted. “And Inan is growing up so fast. Oh—and your mother is demanding that you bring your wife home immediately. She wants to meet her.”

  That didn’t surprise Rami in the least.

  “It won’t be long,” he promised his father. “And you can all get to know her.” And maybe come to love her…just in time for us to get divorced. He pushed the thought out of his head.

  “Travel safely, Son. I’m proud of you. All my love.”

  “All my love.” Rami ended the call and let out a deep breath.

  His family wanted his marriage to be utterly real, and beneath all his posturing, so did Rami.

  Catelyn, on the other hand, did not.

  He was glad she’d already settled the sleeping arrangements. He would keep things businesslike—true to their agreement—and sleep in the second, smaller bedroom.

  Alone.

  8

  “What else did you pack?”

  Catelyn looked at Rami from the plush leather of her seat on the family’s private jet, and her blue eyes narrowed. “Hold on. Did you just ‘is that what you’re wearing’ me?”

  Rami pressed his lips together, drinking her in. The very fact of her on the plane with him made it hard to resist pulling her into his arms and locking her there for the duration of the flight. “I thought we could go over your wardrobe a bit. While we have the time.”

  She gave him a slow smile. “You didn’t answer the question.”

  “I still want to know.” It shut her down, he could see—making demands. Why not soften it a little? “Will you show me?”

  Catelyn laughed. “I’m not doing a fashion show. What if we hit turbulence?”

  “We’ll look together, then.”

  He called the flight attendant to bring Catelyn’s enormous rolling suitcase from where it was stored in the bedroom of the plane, and Catelyn set about unzipping it. They’d taken off from Newark Liberty International Airport that morning, much to the distress of Catelyn’s friends. Laura and Daisy had come to see her off, and before she could board the plane, Laura took her aside. The two women had talked in hushed tones, Laura casting a worried glance in the general direction of the plane, and Catelyn had been frowning when she boarded.

  The frown hadn’t lasted for long. Rami had taken commercial flights a few times in his travels, but Catelyn had never flown in a private jet. He’d relished the delight on her face when she saw the spacious cabin, the pairs of leather seats, the dining table…

  He let her settle in over breakfast—freshly ground coffee and a bagel with honey—while she flipped through a glossy fashion magazine from the Middle East. It would be optimal if she asked about the traditional fashions then, but Catelyn busied herself reading the articles, her eyes lingering on the pictures without seeming to register that anything was out of the ordinary.

  And then it had been time to hint about the dress.

  Catelyn had dressed that morning in a garment that nearly skimmed the ground. The tight bodice hugged her breasts, and the loud pattern was somehow both charming and utterly obnoxious. Honestly, she looked ridiculous. For one thing, she was hiding most of her curves beneath swaths of fabric, and second, the skimpy top would never do for a sheikh’s wife. The people in Al-Dashalid, as much as they might put up with an elopement, they would not be so forgiving of her collarbone and shoulders paraded around the capital city.

  “This,” Catelyn said, holding up a remarkably similar dress, only this one was in blue. She tossed it onto the lid of her suitcase. “And this.” Another long dress with a tight bodice. “And these.” She held up not one, not two, but three bikinis. On and on it went, and not a single formal gown or even a more modest dress or top appeared.

  “And that’s about it.”

  Catelyn stood with a final sundress in her hands.

  “I’ll get you a whole new wardrobe when we land.”

  * * *

  Catelyn felt like an idiot, but she wasn’t sure why she should. Rami’s eyes were hot on hers, and he couldn’t stop looking away from her face to her bustline. Still, she’d thought the dresses would be appropriate. They were what she’d planned to wear on the cruise she’d had to cancel, paired with a couple of thin shawls. On top of that, this was her time to relax a bit.

  That’s what she’d thought, anyway.

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” She glanced down over herself. The maxi dress she’d worn was one of her favorites. It was printed with huge red flowers, offset with pink splashes of color. “I love this dress.”

  Rami grinned at her, though she could tell he was trying to keep his expression neutral. “Do you know where we’re headed?”

  That was a little much. “Of course I know where we’re headed.” She tried her best to keep the edge in her voice to a minimum. “I also know it’s going to be hot in Al-Dashalid. So what’s wrong with my dress?”

  “It’s a country where tradition is still beloved.” Rami rose from his seat and stood next to her, looking down at the pile of clothes in the suitcase. He picked one of the bikini tops up and let it dangle from his fingers. “You can’t walk down the street in one of these.”

  Catelyn felt herself blushing. “Of course not.” She dropped the sundress into the suitcase as if it had burned her. “That’s why I’m wearing this dress.”

  “This dress…” Rami dropped the bikini top and stepped closer to her, and the hairs on the back of her arms rose at the scent of him. So elegant. So…royal. So hot. “It’s simply not appropriate for accompanying me in the streets of Al-Dashalid.”

  There was something in his voice that made desire coil low in her belly. “What about it?” She’d meant it to be a defensive remark, something to push him to accept her dress, but it came out breathy, soft.

  “These straps, for one.” Rami reached out and ran two fingers under one of the thin spaghetti straps, pulling the fabric away from her skin. She sucked in a breath, feeling herself lean into his touch. It was not businesslike—not in any way—but the connection between them took her breath away.

  “And the zipper…” He trailed those same fingers down the curve of her spine to the zipper at the back of the dress, and Catelyn arched her back into that caress. “Begging to be pulled like this? How could you go out in public in clothes like these?”

  He took his hand away, and Catelyn turned to him. “How dare you,” she whispered.

  Rami was so close.
<
br />   “How dare I what?” His expression smoldered. “I’ll do anything I please.”

  “How dare you stop touching me.” She forced the words out and watched as understanding moved into Rami’s mind like raindrops.

  The next instant, he’d closed the gap between them, kissing her as fiercely as he had at their wedding ceremony. Only this time, she was free to part her lips, free to let his tongue explore her mouth, and free to give herself over to his power. She found herself lifted, wrapped her legs around his waist, and locked her arms around his neck. There was hardly enough air on the plane, but she didn’t want to surface from these kisses—she wanted to stay submerged in this forever. Forever.

  Rami moved, as if she were weightless, toward the back of the plane, where the bedroom waited for them. He kicked the door shut behind them with a swift movement of his foot. The next thing she knew, she was on her back on the bed.

  Rami undid his belt with a click of metal, and Catelyn found herself saying, though they had plenty of time, "Hurry, hurry, hurry."

  He bent over her, eyes black with need, and shoved her dress up around her waist. He yanked her panties down to her ankles and off, tossing them into a corner. And then he leaned down and pressed his lips to her hipbone, a hot, lingering kiss.

  That was the only refuge from the storm of their want for each other. Rami climbed on the bed, nudging her knees apart while he reached for a condom in the bedside table, and Catelyn clawed at his shirt. She wanted him closer, and now. The moment his mouth was on hers again, she arched toward him. He was hard, already searching between her legs, and it took only a few movements of her hips to guide him in.

  He filled her completely in one stroke, a low groan escaping from his lips. She was so aware of every air pocket the plane flew over, the bumps forcing him against every inch of her, and Rami was unrelenting. His hips rocked against her just so, a grinding rhythm against her clit, and it hauled her up and up and up toward release. She was swept under, resurfacing only to think—they can hear us, everyone on this plane can hear us—and then another rush of desire would flood her and she did not care. Let them listen if they wanted to.

  Rami pulsed inside of her, driving in deep, and it shook her to the very top of her climax and shoved her over the edge into a passionate, almost violent, release. She’d tripped some wire in him, too, because he covered her mouth with his and shuddered with his own orgasm.

  They lay there, frozen together, for many long heartbeats until Rami rolled off her, panting. He lay on his back on the bed. Catelyn struggled to slow her breathing.

  “Wow,” said Catelyn.

  He rolled over onto one elbow, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Again?”

  As it was, they barely had time to freshen up before the plane descended into Al-Dashalid, and they returned to their seats in the main cabin. Catelyn watched the country rise up beneath her, and a nervousness she hadn’t felt before gripped her chest.

  “I can’t get off the plane like this.” She put her fingers to her lips. “My hair—my dress—”

  “Don’t let it worry you.” Rami still sounded sex-drunk and pleased. “I’ve got a shawl you can wear over the dress. And your hair looks lovely.”

  The plane touched down, and there was no one to hold them up—it was a simple walk to the stairs and then down. Catelyn held the shawl close around her shoulders, Rami’s hand on her back guiding her toward—

  A man.

  And behind him, a clutch of photographers, clicking away.

  She turned her head to speak to Rami. “Who—”

  But there wasn’t enough time. “Catelyn,” he said in a voice meant to be heard by all of them. “This is my brother, Issam. Issam, this is my wife, Catelyn.”

  Issam, who was as handsome as Rami but broader, more defined, took Caitlin’s hand in his and kissed her knuckles, his eyes dancing. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, and she knew it had some kind of double meaning.

  “Well, I am.” Catelyn raised her chin, still smiling at him. “You’d better get used to it.”

  9

  Issam wouldn’t shut up about the conspiracy.

  “Now that you’re here,” he said from the opposite seat in the high-end SUV that whisked them through the streets toward the palace, “I have to know. Was it a conspiracy?”

  She looked at him carefully and reached for Rami’s hand, twining her fingers through his. “I think a conspiracy would have had to involve a lot of people,” she offered.

  “So you had a team,” insisted Issam. His eyes glinted with some combination of amusement and suspicion.

  “I have a team at my business. But as for the blog post—”

  “The blog post is most interesting,” Issam cut in. He’d started talking about it the moment they’d climbed into the SUV, and it seemed as if he’d never stopped. “There are so many rumors.”

  “Issam—” Rami warned.

  “It’s only speculation.” Issam spread his hands in front of him. “There are some in the royal household who think that maybe the post was written for a purpose.”

  “It was.” Caitlin fought to keep irritation out of her voice. Issam was pushy, and she was beginning to think he wasn’t a particularly nice man, but first impressions counted. She needed to make this year as easy for them as possible. That had been a simple decision to make after they’d emerged from the bedroom of the plane, neither of them speaking about what had happened there. The sex was strictly against the arrangement they’d made, but it was too good to pass up. A real conundrum. Catelyn wanted to think about it in peace, only Issam—

  “What purpose?”

  She glanced at Rami. “The purpose of getting my wedding-planning business some attention.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard,” replied Issam. “I’ve heard that it was a—” He made a show of considering the best word to use. “A lure. To get Rami to find you and marry you.”

  She scoffed. “That’s not what I thought would happen. Trust me.”

  Issam leaned back in his seat. “We’ll see about that.”

  “Are you quite finished?” Rami’s voice was sharp, and Issam cut a glance at his brother.

  “What? It’s important to the security of our family to—”

  “To harass my new wife with ridiculous questions? What a warm welcome, Issam. Our mother would be so proud to hear about this.”

  They were both grown men, but Issam frowned at the mention of their mother. “It’s professional curiosity.”

  “It’s asinine curiosity, and you’re making a fool of yourself.”

  Catelyn’s heart beat harder. This was not the awkward Rami she’d met at Lydia’s party. He was utterly calm and holding his own. Issam glanced back at her. “My apologies,” he said smoothly, “if I went too far.”

  “You did.” Rami squeezed Catelyn’s hand, and she turned to look into his eyes. “I won’t fault you if you don’t forgive him.”

  She let a smile curve one side of her lip. “Hold a grudge against your family? I would never.” Then, in full view of Issam, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss dangerously close to the corner of Rami’s lip.

  His brother cleared his throat, looking out the window.

  Rami shifted, wrapping his arm around Catelyn and pulling her close. With a little sigh, she curled into him and watched the scenery of the ancient city go by.

  It was dazzling—but not as much as their time in the bedroom. She wondered how long it would be until that happened again.

  * * *

  “We chartered a jet,” said Zafir, the former ruler of Al-Dashalid and Rami’s father, entering the room with so much enthusiasm it was a little like being caught in a windstorm. “We were vacationing in Avignon, but we could not miss the arrival of Rami’s new wife.” He crossed the room, Rami’s mother Daya following him with a warm smile lighting up her face. He embraced Rami in a tight hug, then turned to Catelyn.

  Rami didn’t miss a beat. “Catelyn, my father Zafir, and my mother Da
ya.” He beamed for the next words out of his mouth. “This is my wife, Catelyn.”

  “We’re so pleased to meet you.” Daya embraced her, and Catelyn felt herself melt. Her own family had been volatile—her parents were off and on with each other until after Catelyn left for college, and only now did they seem to be settled into comfort. There was no such tension with Daya.

  “It’s lovely to meet you, too.” Catelyn swallowed a lump in her throat.

  The door to the sitting room opened again, and Rami’s older brother, Kyril, swept in, laughing. A little boy was running at his feet. She recognized them both from the royal website, as well as Hannah, Kyril’s American wife.

  “I’m sorry we’re late,” said Kyril. He was handsome, too—the three brothers were eye-catchers, all of them. But where Rami had finer features, Kyril’s were more…solid somehow. “Inan had other ideas.”

  The little boy ran straight for Zafir and leaped into his arms as Kyril and Hannah approached. Hannah hugged her. “It’s so nice to see you,” she whispered into her ear. “We’re going to be friends, I just know it.”

  Catelyn had a thousand questions for her but opted for basking in the warmth of this family. Sure, Issam hadn’t been the most welcoming, but the rest of them were already drawing her into their circle. What would it be like to leave all of them behind, a year from now? Her stomach turned at the thought, and it had been all of three minutes. Yet they couldn’t build a marriage based on a lie. She shoved the thoughts out of her mind.

  Last to breeze in was Adira, Rami’s sister and the youngest of the four children. She pushed to the center of the circle, looked Catelyn up and down, and declared, “I like her.” Everyone laughed, and so did Catelyn. Adira stepped forward and kissed her cheek. “Welcome to Al-Dashalid.”

  Rami—he was a different person. He’d handled Issam so well, and now, in the sitting room, his shoulders were relaxed. Her heart fluttered. This was a side of him she could easily come to love.