Page 25 of The Sheikh's Runaway Bride

He deserved nothing less.

She retrieved her wine glass and raised it in the air. “To many more blessings.”

He smiled, his eyes assessing. “Perhaps, unlike my mother, we’ll be blessed by many children.”

He was insufferable! Yet she couldn’t help but grin a little as she tipped the wine down her throat.

A middle-aged woman stood and walked to where the guitar player continued strumming. When she picked up a microphone and began to sing in a husky, crooning voice, Mahindar turned to Arabelle and said, “Let’s dance.”

One of the villagers shouted encouragement, and others joined in. With so many faces watching expectantly and her husband standing and proffering her a hand, she didn’t have much choice.

She accepted his hand and stood gracefully, though it took more effort than it should with the wine leaving her warm and giddy inside. Mahindar led her close to the end of the pier and pulled her into his arms, the nearby singer and guitarist serenading them with a sweet love song.

With a shaky sigh of surrender, she leaned her head against her husband’s chest, the strength of his heart beating like a rhythmic drum under her ear. How could she fight him…fight this? She might hate him but he made her feel…safe. It was seriously dumb to fall for his charms and his sexual expertise, but logic and intelligence had little to do with the way she felt in his arms.

With the melody flooding over them and his amber scent filling her nostrils along with the fresh, salty sea air, she might as well be in heaven. His big hands moved to clasp her lower back, his touch on her so right she couldn’t help but look up at him with a smile.

He smiled in return, then bent his head to kiss her upturned mouth, his lips gentle but possessive. She heard someoohsbehind them, as though the villagers were touched by the romance of their newly married sheikh and sheikha. But she was too caught up in the moment to worry about protocol and the fact she’d never wanted this marriage let alone be basking in her husband’s attentions.

The guitarist slowed his strumming, the singer’s voice becoming even more sultry and sexy, the evening as surreal and magical as Arabelle’s chemistry with Mahindar.

He pulled back, his eyes glowing. “You were right in wanting to come here tonight.”

“And you were right in agreeing to bring me here.” She smiled. “Your people are lovely.”

“And you are even lovelier,” he murmured.

It should have been corny, but coming from her husband every word was sincere, heartfelt. Her face heated a little, but the cool, briny breeze that tickled her nape also helped to offset her flush.

He looked up. “A storm’s brewing.”

She blinked and tore her gaze away from him to look out to sea. The stars had disappeared on the horizon, the gentle waves that lapped at the shore already a little restless and choppy.

She sighed. “I don’t want this night to end.”

He lifted a hand and cupped the side of her face. “It doesn’t have to end yet. We can watch the storm approach from the safety of our balcony.”

A thrill shot up her spine at the thought of seeing the fury of Mother Nature while wrapped in the safety of Mahindar’s arms. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” he murmured, “because I intend to make love to you while we watch the storm.”

Her pulse beat a frantic tattoo at the side of her neck. “The lightning—“

“Will add to the intensity.”

Oh, god.Her nipples pebbled beneath her flimsy excuse for a dress, its inbuilt bodice fabric doing little to disguise her yearning. That she was wet with lust was a secondary concern.

“Everyone is packing up,” he mused with a smile. “The villagers know not to take any chances with Mother Nature.”

She turned around. He was right. While she’d been lost in the moment between them, half the food had been cleared away, many hands making light work. She took a step toward them. “We should help.”

His hand that clasped hers didn’t release her. “No.” she turned around with a frown, and he added, “They would be offended even if we offered.” His eyes gleamed. “I’ve got a much better idea.”

She didn’t argue when he led her off the pier while the villagers scurried back and forth. They didn’t appear to notice Mahindar leading her onto the beach and in the shadows beneath the pier, where waves chopped and thrashed halfway up the shore.

She turned to him with a frown. “Why—“

He pressed the palm of his hand to her mouth and bent to whisper in her ear, “I thought you might enjoy the show.”

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