Page 5 of Her Arabian King

The sheikh laughed, the lovely, deep sound causing everyone to turn towards them, and Harper almost swore out loud. For the love of God! This man was the worst. He was often described as aloof but gentlemanly, but in her presence the damn sheikh would always make it a point to smile, laugh, do whatever that would make it seem like they were such good friends –

And all just so she could blow her top, Harper thought furiously, which the damn sheikh found so enjoyable to watch for some reason.

“I am glad you have not changed all this time.” The sheikh reached out to ruffle her hair, just like the ‘qalifa’ he thought her to be, and Harper was tempted to sink her teeth into it like a rabid dog. Oh, to hurt him just once, she thought wistfully.

“Why are you looking at me like you want to kill me?’

“Because I am.”

The sheikh laughed again.

She grimaced. She had wanted him to feel insulted, not amused.

“One day, some people may tell you to refrain from speaking your mind to me.”

Harper only stared. Where did that come from?

“When that happens – do not listen to them.”

“Umm. Okay.” The sheikh was sounding crazier and crazier by the second, but oh well. Maybe sheikhs simply applied a different kind of logic to life. Whatever.

The sheikh suddenly leaned forward, catching her by surprise, and when he lifted his hand to touch her cheek, Harper’s first instinct was to turn away from his touch—-

But again, her gaze once again collided with her father’s, his ferocious scowl perfectly summing up his one-word command. Behave!

And so she gnashed her teeth and forced herself to bear the sheikh’s touch.

I can do this, I can do this.

But with every millimeter of skin that his fingers brushed against blazing to life, flushed hot and tingling, it was so damn hard—-

His fingers finally fell away, and Harper almost expired in relief.

Oh, thank God.

“Enjoy the rest of the night, Harper.” His gaze dipped just as her fists clenched against her sides, and amusement once again gleamed in the sheikh’s dark gaze. “You are itching to wipe my touch away, nem?”

She smiled ever so sweetly up at him, saying, “Nem.” Yes. It was a lie – but she would rather cut her tongue off than let him know that. “How did you guess?” Harper was hoping the words would at least win a frown from the sheikh, but instead the damn man remained unflappable as ever.

“I will see you at dinner, qalifa.” And just before turning away, he said huskily, “It was lovely flirting with you.”

The sheikh left her gaping.

Flirting? FLIRTING? How dare he imply—-

CLICK!

Harper snapped her mouth shut, but it was too late. The official photographer had already taken her photo, and again the sheikh had managed to bait her into showing a God-awful face.

DAMN SHEIKH!

Chapter Two

Harper had been fifteen when she first met the sheikh. He had been twenty-four then, was still known as Jeremy, the bastard prince – and “more or less” engaged to Sapphire March, the only daughter of Senator Samuel March. It was in one of the dinner parties hosted by the palace for her father, the kingdom’s newly minted hero, when Jeremy had caught sight of her seated quietly in the corner, engrossed in learning about the rich history of the kingdom of Ramil. It was pretty much like 1001 Arabian Nights, only it was real, which made the accounts all the more fascinating.

“Marhava, qalifa.”

The words had her automatically looking up, and she had found herself gaping. Black hair, dark eyes, olive skin, dressed in the traditional costume of his kingdom: a white thobe made of the highest quality of cotton, with a semi-loose fit that nonetheless emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the impressive length of his form.

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