Free The Sheikh's Jewel by Melissa James Page A

her. Wouldn’t give her the one thing she craved, a child of her own. Someone all her own to love.
    A beautiful, almost poetic revenge for my stupid words—isn’t it, Harun?—always leaving me alone? When will you stop torturing me for the past?
    Taking refuge in imperiousness, she demanded, ‘Who dressed me this way? Who undressed me? Where are we?’
    His gaze lifted to hers. For a moment she saw a flash of reluctance and regret; then it vanished, leaving that unreadable look she’d come to hate. ‘I’m afraid I can’t answer any of those questions. I can only tell you that I didn’t undress you.’ He lifted his hands, tied together in front of him, with silky white bonds that would only hurt if he struggled to free himself.
    Her hands were tied with the same material—and she hated that some small part of her had been hoping that he’d been the one to undress her, see her naked, touch her skin. Foolish, pathetic woman, would she never stop these ridiculous hopes and dreams? She’d always be alone. The lesson had been hammered into her skull years ago, and still she kept aiming her darts at the moon.
    Feeling her blush grow hotter, she retorted, ‘Well, I think I can take it for granted that you wouldn’t undress me after all these years.’
    His gaze roamed her body, so slow she almost felt him touch her—tender, invisible fingers exploring her skin as she’d hoped only moments before, and she had to hold in the soft sound of imagined delight. It felt so real.
    In a deep growling voice that heated her blood, he murmured, ‘I don’t think you should take that for granted at all.’ After another slow perusal, her body felt gripped by fever. ‘We don’t have the luxury of taking anything for granted in our situation.’
    Even spoken with a gentle huskiness, the final words doused the edge of her anger and her desire, leaving her soul flooding with questions. ‘What’s going on here, Harun? Why would anyone—anyone…just leave us here, dressed like this?’
    Say it, you coward. You’ve been abducted! But just thinking the word left her sick and shaking with impotent terror. So much for being like Great-grandmother…
    ‘I don’t pretend to know.’ His gaze met hers, direct. ‘We just paid one hundred million dollars for Alim’s safe return. How much do you think Alim and your father between them can afford to pay for our ransom now?’
    ‘I don’t know about Abbas al-Din’s treasury, but the recent troubles in the Gulf have drained Father’s resources, paying the security forces.’ Amber bit her lip. ‘Do you think the el-Shabbats are behind this?’
    ‘I certainly wouldn’t rule them out, but this could be any of a dozen high-ranking families, not just the el-Shabbats. There are many families eager to take over rulership of our countries if they only had the funds,’ he said quietly. ‘Your father and Alim would have to take that into consideration before making any decision.’
    ‘Do you even think either of them knows we’re gone?’ she asked, hating the piteous note in her voice, pleading for reassurance.
    Harun sighed. ‘I don’t know. Alim’s got so much on his mind at the moment. We walked out saying we weren’t staying. I think he’ll assume we left, possibly to talk out our troubles, patch up our marriage.’
    I wish we had. Why didn’t you want that? she almost blurted, but there were far greater necessities to talk about right now. She looked down again, frowning. ‘Why are our hands tied, but not our feet? Why aren’t we gagged?’
    He moved his hands, and she felt a finger caress the back of hers. ‘Maybe someone wants us to talk?’ he suggested, his eyes glimmering.
    Her mouth opened and closed. The surprise of his making a joke was too complete for her to quite believe in it. ‘Oh, I wish,’ she retorted at last, rolling her eyes. ‘Perhaps they could make you talk to me if they repeatedly used an electric prod—you know, those things that shock