Page 22 of Her Arabian King

Looking at her now, with her brows furrowed and her gaze darting to him once in a while, he knew she was thinking things through, considering and dismissing possibilities that did not fit his profile.

Was he insane? Was he joking? Why would he want to marry me?

Some questions she could answer herself, other questions –

He only had to wait until she asked them of him.

Meanwhile, he would simply enjoy looking his fill of her. She would be dynamite in a bikini, the sheikh thought with a frown. That was a good thing, but only if she wore the bikini in his presence alone. Everywhere else would be forbidden.

The thought had him shifting in his seat, the sheikh grimacing when he realized that imagining a bikini-clad Harper was enough to have his penis growing hard under his trousers.

“Sheikh?” It took a moment before the sheikh turned to face her, and she frowned, thinking he looked a little flushed. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Now was not the time to tell her he was thinking of fucking her. “You have made up your mind?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” She would really thump him if he were serious about that.

His smile was faintly apologetic. “I am rushing you then.”

“No kidding.”

Her tone was extremely sarcastic, but her eyes showed faint panic. He was sorry for this, but not enough that it would dissuade him from his objective. She was what he wanted, and he would have her. It was only a matter of when. Studying her face, he asked slowly, “May I at least think you are not rejecting my proposal outright?”

“I should,” she muttered, “if I were smarter.”

The sheikh frowned. “Why do you say this? Would it be so bad to be married to me?”

“Will I be the only woman you’re marrying?”

Ah. So she was worried about that. “I respect the dictates of Islam, but I was also baptized Catholic.”

Oh! She had not known about that.

“Also, to have more than one wife is not actually a requirement of Islam.”

“But it’s allowed,” she said darkly.

“In a nutshell, yes. But you need not worry about that. When I take you as my wife—-”

“If you take me as your wife,” she corrected.

He ignored this. “It will only be you.”

Oh. He sounded so serious, so matter-of-fact, and her heart swayed just a little. Could she really believe that this was happening?

“Do you have other concerns?”

“Just one.” And she asked baldly, “Why me?”

“Because you are what my country and I need.”

Oh.

Okay.

Not.

Harper crossed her arms over her chest. “Sorry, sheikh.” Her tone was flat. “But I’m not buying it. How can I be what you and your country need?”

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