The Sheikh's Stubborn Lover (The Adjalane Sheikhs Series Book 2) Read online

  She bit back a moan and stuttered, “I’m supposed…to be…dealing with your injuries.”

  He grabbed her hand and put her fingers on his cock. “This would make me feel better.”

  Michelle hid a smiled, but tightened her fingers. “I think that part of your anatomy might need a more thorough examination.” Leaning down, she pressed a light kiss to his hip, then to his flat stomach. She smiled at him. “There’s still one area of your body I haven’t examined yet for injury.” She trailed her finger tips over his ribs.

  He gave a small wince. “Touch any part but there.”

  “Adilan,” she said and shook her head. She stretched out beside him, wrapping her hands around his cock. Leaning over, she took him in her mouth.

  He arched and gave a groan. She liked the salty taste of him, the feel of soft skin over his hard length. Closing her eyes, she let herself feast on him. The sun drifted down between the palm fronds, warming her back, her buttocks, and her legs. The birds sang, and the smell of the desert—and of Adilan’s arousal—washed over her.

  Sitting up, she straddled his hips, brushing the wetness gathering between her legs over him. She closed her eyes and let the small spikes of pleasure slip over her skin. Adilan moaned again. Opening her eyes, she impaled herself on his hard length and pushed down.

  Once she was fully seated on him, Adilan put his hands on her hips and gave another groan. “You are finding new bruises.”

  She put her hands on his shoulders. “Lie back and relax.”

  “Not yet.” He gripped her hips with his hands. She lifted up and sank down again, loving the feel of him inside her, filling her. She felt his body tighten and twisted her hips. He shivered, whispered her name and thrusts hard up into her. Pleasure swept over her—warm and relaxed this time, shivers racing down her spin. She pressed herself against Adilan’s warm, solid chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

  Slowly easing off him, she lay on her side, one hand on his chest. The sky overhead seemed impossibly blue. She let out a breath. “I’m not sure how I can ever let this place go. Your oasis, the Zia—don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely. But this place, Al-Hilah…it really is special.”

  He took her hand and kissed her palm. “Then let us make it the paradise you wish it to be—I only ask you not spoil the natural beauty.”

  She glanced at him and lifted up on one elbow. “Are you serious? You’d help me?”

  “Tell me of your problems—is it like with Mr. Bishara?”

  She twisted her mouth into an almost smile. “That times two. Not only do I not have an architect, meaning no plans and no approvals or permits, I also can’t find a construction company willing to do the work.”

  He trailed a finger down her back, making her shiver. “Will you allow me to help you?”

  She turned to look at him. “What happened to wanting to get the land back to your father?”

  He thought for a moment. “Will you trust me?”

  She didn’t know what to answer. She wanted to say yes, but she barely knew this man. She sat up and headed to the picnic basket. “I’m starving. Are you?” He’d tossed his pants over the basket, so she picked them up.

  Photos fell out of his pocket. Bending over, she picked them up and saw herself naked at the Zia oasis. She turned to Adilan. “Okay—what the hell is this?”

  Chapter 15

  Adilan sat up. “I am hungry.”

  Michelle came over and stood in front of him. She looked like some angry, female jinn with those blue eyes of hers almost shooting sparks, and her skin pale and gleaming in the sun. She smelled of sex and of the desert and he wanted her again.

  One hand on her hip, the other holding out the photos, she said, “Let me guess—Malid. Is this what the fight was about? You two were fighting over me?”

  “No, we fought over the photos. I won them back.” He waved a hand at his pants. “There is a flash drive, too. You may keep them all.”

  She gave him a sideways look. “And what were you going to do with them? I can bet Malid planned some blackmail, but you? What were your plans?”

  “Does it matter? Would you believe me?”

  She knelt in the sand next to him. “Adilan, you don’t get it. I want to believe you. And you were the guy who turned his back. Besides, if you had someone taking photos, you could have gotten a lot juicer stuff inside the tent.” Her cheeks pinked as she spoke. “This is why you wanted to come here today instead, isn’t it?”

  He put a hand over hers, covering the photos. “I ask again—will you trust me, Michelle?”

  She looked at the photos and then at Adilan. A smile curved her lips. “I think it’s about time we put our families’ feud to rest, don’t you?”

  ***

  The next three weeks passed with a whirlwind of activity for Michelle. She spent her days with Adilan at Al-Hilah, making plans. She still wasn’t certain there wasn’t some catch, but Adilan helped her find a new architect—one that specialized in low impact, green construction. His plans were brilliant for realizing building at the site that would be all with local artisans and traditional construction that would not only realize a sanctuary but preserve the natural beauty. They were shifting to mud construction with lime glazes that would blend into the mountains, keeping the oasis utterly pristine. The architect promised help getting permits cleared, and he would work with hiring local craftsmen to do the work.

  She spent her nights with Adilan—with him showing her around Al-Sarid, going dancing or to dinner, or up in her hotel room with room service and heavenly nights in his arm.

  It was starting to seem too good to be true—and it was.

  The police arrived at Michelle’s hotel on the next Monday morning. She’d spend the night alone—the first since she and Adilan had been seeing each other. He had said he had to attend a family dinner at the palace. She’d been both relieved not to have to go, but also a little upset he hadn’t asked her to attend. She’d tried to tell herself that he just wanted to spare her the ordeal of a huge family dinner—but she had started to wonder if he was just a little ashamed of her.

  He had no problems taking her places—to the beach, to the desert, or to nightclubs. They’d gone riding again on camels, and had visited several museums. But he had not bothered to introduce her to any of his friends—or his family. She told herself she was not his girlfriend—this was a fling for both of them. A romance. But she dreaded facing the idea that someday she would go home and Adilan would stay.

  She was thinking of that as she stepped into the lobby and saw the police officers.

  Her face went cold and she stopped just outside of the elevators. Two men in uniforms and one in an ill-fitting suit headed straight for her and panic settled into her chest. Had something happened to Adilan?

  “Michelle Reynolds, you are under arrest for bribery of a government official.”

  She blinked. Her face chilled and her voice cracked. “What are you talking about?”

  The man in the suit lifted a dark eyebrow. “You deny giving eight thousand dollars to a Mr. Massad?”

  “That was…was for back taxes and maintenance fines on a property my mother owns.”

  The man in the bad suit frowned as if he had heard better lies. “You’ll will come with us and surrender your passport.”

  The uniformed officer took her arm. She held back against his pull. “What about a phone call? A lawyer? Will you at least let Adilan Adjalane know about this?”

  The man shrugged. “He no doubt knows. After all, Sheikh Malid Adjalane brought this bribery to our attention. Now, do you come peacefully?”

  ***

  Right after breakfast, Adilan’s cell phone rang. He saw Thomas Jenkins’ number on the caller ID and answered, saying, “I thought you were still on vacation?”

  Jenkins did not sound amused by the joke. “That doesn’t mean dead or disconnected. I take it you haven’t heard about Michelle Reynolds’ arrest yet?”

  Adilan stilled, his hand tightening
around his phone. “I will handle this from here.” He hung up and headed for the garage and the fastest sports car at the palace.

  In the drive, he found Malid just starting to get into his chauffeur-driven limo. Adilan lunged for him, catching him from behind, swinging him around and pushing him up against the side of the limo. He wrapped one hand around his brother’s silk tie. “What have you done?”

  Malid stiffened and his eyes darkened. “You should thank me. I stopped you from being an idiot—much as our father was. I know how you have been spending your days and nights. Be easy, brother, Michelle Reynolds will be tried and fined, and it will be sad she must sell her mother’s land to regain her freedom. She will go home wiser about trusting the wrong person.”

  “I will have your hide,” Adilan said, grinding out the words.

  Malid smiled. “Will you? And what will you tell Father then? Think better, brother. You would have Father know how you spend your days and nights with this American woman? How hard you work, not to return his land, but to do her bidding? What do you think that will do to a weak, old man when he hears of your love for the daughter of the woman who betrayed him?”

  Mouth hanging open, Adilan stared at Malid. Love? He wanted to deny the emotion, to say this was…was passion only. He couldn’t. His face flushed hot, and still the lie—the denial—would not come to his lips. He shoved Malid aside. “You bastard.”

  Malid straightened his tie. “No, I am my father’s son. You may be the one who repeats Father’s mistakes, but I am the one who avenges the wrong done our family. I will have back what is ours. Now go say good-bye to your little American.”

  Drawing back his fist, Adilan grabbed Malid again by his coat lapels. But Nassir came out of the palace and stepped between them. “Why are you two brawling again, this time like street thugs?”

  Adilan lowered his fist and let go. Smoothing his suit, Malid stepped back. Adilan glanced at Nassir, then stabbed a finger at Malid. “Keep him away from me.”

  Turning, Adilan strode toward the garage. Malid called out after him, “We don’t need to be swayed by emotions right now. We need to be a strong family.”

  Adilan slammed into the garage and headed to the red Tesla. He got in and forced himself to take a breath. But Malid’s words haunted him.

  He had to face the fact that he had been hiding Michelle from his father—and now he had to choose. Michelle or his father.

  Malid was right. His father wouldn’t be happy to hear how Adilan had been spending his time—had been helping Michelle. Father would see Adilan as weak. He might even fly into a rage that would lead to a fatal apoplexy.

  But how could Adilan leave Michelle to an unfair fate?

  He saw now that he had been putting off this moment, hoping it never would come. Now he not only had to make a choice, he had to do something to save Michelle. Even if it meant she would never speak to him again.

  Chapter 16

  Adilan called in a few favors—big ones. Then he drove to the prison where Michelle was being held, a squat building on the edge of the city with tall fences and gates. He gave his name at the gate and was waved through. Inside, the guards met him and made themselves scarce. One escorted him through the halls, glanced around, shut off the security cameras and showed Adilan through the gates and into the back cells.

  The place was stuffy, sterile, and not as bad as Adilan had feared it would be. But it stank of misery. Michelle sat on a cot in a bare cell with only a hole for a toilet. She had her back against the wall and her knees to her chest. She looked up at Adilan, her face expressionless.

  He gestured to the door and the guard opened it. “Michelle, I am taking you out.”

  She looked at him and at the guard. “I’m released? They’re dropping the charges?”

  “Come, we must go,” Adilan said.

  She glanced at the guard again and her eyes narrowed. “He looks nervous. This isn’t a legal release, is it?”

  Holding out a hand, he told her, “We may have to run. Stick close.”

  She sat where she was, her hands fisted on her knees, and shook her head. “I am not adding a valid charge of breaking jail to the invalid one of bribery.”

  Frowning, he crossed his arms. “Do you wish me to carry you?”

  The corner of her mouth quirked. “Off on a camel into the desert? Thanks, but I’ll pass on that.”

  Dragging a hand into his hair he cursed and asked, “What do you wish me to do woman? Let you sit here and rot? You will lose your land. You may be deported.”

  Michelle said nothing. That worried him more than if she’d been hysterical. She pulled in a breath and let it out. “I wish I’d done more research on your country’s laws. I didn’t, but you’ve got to have something about your dad hearing cases and dispensing justice. We need to get this whole thing out in front of your father.”

  He frowned. “I am not certain that is wise.”

  She opened a hand. “I understand—you worry for him. But this…” She waved her hand. “This thing between you and your brother is officially out of hand. You have to admit that.”

  He nodded. “Let me make some calls.” Moving away, he pulled out his cell phone to call in more favors. He reached the family lawyers for advice, and put a rocket under them to act now. He came back to Michelle. “We will have action within the hour. I will wait with you.”

  She gave him a trembling smile. Adilan asked the guard to take them to a better place to wait. They headed to a visiting area. Less than an hour later, a lawyer showed up, the security cameras were back on and the lawyer sniffed and handed over paperwork to the guards. Everyone muttered, someone said something about irregular, and someone else about how this law has not been quoted in decades, but Michelle was given escort to meet with Sheik Nimr Adjalane.

  Handcuffs were brought out. When Adilan frowned, they were put away. She was given leave to change back into the clothes she had worn when she had been arrested. Adilan lead her out, one hand on her elbow. She kept her chin up and her eyes straight ahead, but he could feel her shaking. Adilan put her into his red Tesla. The guards followed in another car.

  At the palace, it seemed to Adilan that every light in the palace must be on. Hassan waited at the door. Adilan asked in rapid Arabic if someone had called his father about Michelle Reynolds and this unofficial—or perhaps it was official--hearing. Hassan bowed and gestured inside. “The sheikh awaits you in his office.”

  Adilan took Michelle’s elbows and led her inside. Her heels clicked on the hard floor, then softened on the carpets. Leaning close to her he asked, “Can you do this—face my father?”

  She offered him a weak smile. “I’m just so glad to be out of that prison.”

  “Me too.”

  Stepping into the large, imposing room, Adilan paused. As a boy, he had hated this room. Portraits of ancestors hung from the wall—they had always seemed to be glaring at him. Books lined the walls between the large portraits in their heavy frames. An oak desk dominated the room, but his father sat beside a low brass table that held fragrant hibiscus tea in a silver service.

  His father did not wave for anyone to be seated. He looked grave, his skin a touch sallow. He wore suit trousers, a starched white shirt, open at the neck and no tie. The top button of his shirt was open, and he had put off his keffiyeh as if he had started to settle and relax, but then had been called to this duty.

  “Adilan.” He glanced at Michelle, examined her face and nodded. “You have your mother’s eyes. Every time I see you, I think of her.”

  Adilan wet his lips. “Father, I have failed you, but I think this can yet be made right.” Adilan poured out the story in a rapid flow of Arabic. It left Michelle staring at him, looking from him to his father, but that could not be helped. He told of Malid’s taking pictures of Michelle, and of the false bribery charges against her. “But there is more father. I am helping Michelle build her mother a sanctuary at Al-Hilah. But I can still bring the land back to you.” He pulled in a breath,
then said in English. “I wish to marry this woman.”

  Michelle’s eyes widened. Adilan glanced at her, then looked back at his father. Nimr shook his head. “Ah, if I were a younger man—I might fall in love with her too.”

  Michelle pulled her hand away from Adilan. “This isn’t about love. It’s about that damn property, isn’t it?”

  Nimr straightened. “May I remind you, serious charges hang over you. You will behave.”

  She blushed and stammered out an apology, but her blue eyes flashed fire. Adilan turned to his father, but the older man held up a hand. “Hassan,” he called out. The man came into the room and bowed and Nimr said, “You will take a message to Malid. You will tell that clever plans are one thing, but hurtful ones are another. False charges are a poor reflection on the honor of our family. I do not wish to see his face for some time. Find Nassir and see to it that he finds a reason for Malid to be elsewhere.” He turned to face Michelle, “I’m sorry you have seen the worst of both my family. As to Adilan, he is like me. I hope you will not hold that against him—and that you have more love in your heart than your mother had. Ours was a different world—but I would not say no to a daughter who brings with her the dowry of Al-Hilah.” He smiled.

  Adilan glanced at Michelle. She was not smiling. He looked at his father. “Does this mean the charges—?”

  Nimr waved a hand. “The paperwork can wait until morning. She must stay the night in the palace—house arrest. All else will be cleared up tomorrow.”

  With a bow, Adilan swept Michelle from his father’s office and upstairs to his rooms. Her arm seemed stiff under his touch, and he did not know what would happen next.

  In his rooms, Adilan shut the door and leaned against it. Michelle began to pace. She glanced once at Adilan and then asked, “Is it wrong of me to hope I will never have to see Malid again? I’m not sorry you punched him out.”

  Adilan waved at the bathroom. “Do you wish to bathe? I can arrange to have a have a tray brought up—food or tea?”