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‘No, but I thought you were proposing out of guilt.’
He closed his arms round her and crushed her to him in a fierce embrace. ‘There was some guilt, I admit,’ he told her huskily. ‘But much more love and desire was involved. Regrettably, I didn’t understand my own heart that day—and the accusation of theft against you shocked me and divided us. Had that not occurred I would have realised within days that you were the woman I wanted to share the rest of my life with. Instead I let you down—’
‘No…no…no. No more of that,’ Kirsten scolded, resting an admonitory forefinger to his beautifully shaped mouth.
He pressed his lips to the centre of her palm and then lowered his head to savour her lush mouth with reverent appreciation. ‘I love you so much it hurts,’ he admitted gruffly. ‘Never again do I want to
relive those months of searching and fearing that I would never see you again.’
Her hands slid below his jacket and across his lean, muscular chest. With a ragged groan of response he devoured her mouth again. Kisses interspersed with passionate declarations of devotion followed, until matters became so heated that Shahir swept Kirsten off to the privacy of their bedroom…
Eighteen months later, Kirsten bustled round the spacious nursery at Strathcraig Castle until Tazeem finally and reluctantly dropped off to sleep. Her toddler’s boundless reserves of energy never failed to amaze her, and he had enjoyed a very sociable day. Now, with his black lashes resting on his cheeks like silk fans, he looked like an angel. That idea made her grin, for he could be as naughty as any other child and she had to learn to be firm with him.
Earlier that day Shahir and Kirsten had thrown a huge Christmas party for the tenants, the staff and their neighbours, and a very good time had been had by all. King Hafiz, who had become a regular visitor at his son and daughter-in-law’s Scottish castle, had laughed uproariously at the antics of the clowns hired to entertain the children. And even the latest additions to Shahir and Kirsten’s family circle had managed to stay awake later than usual.
But now their infant son, Amir, and their daughter, Bisma, were slumbering in perfect peace in their adjoining cots. These twins had been a surprise package, for their arrival had not been planned.
In fact Kirsten had not even got round to tackling Shahir about his fear of her undergoing childbirth again before she had realised that she was already pregnant again. She had discovered that spontaneous passion in the steam room could have consequences—quite delightful consequences, she reflected, regarding her eight-week-old twins with fond maternal pride.
Amir and Bisma had been born without surgical intervention. Shahir had still looked rather faint once or twice during the proceedings, but had held up valiantly to the challenge.
Indeed, the past year and a half of married life had been blissfully happy for Kirsten. Secure in her husband’s love and admiration, she made occasional appearances in support of various charitable enterprises in Dhemen, and she was now much too busy and much too content to worry about trying to be the perfect wife all the time.
Her brother Daniel had achieved his doctorate, and was currently employed on a conservation project in the Arabian Gulf. He was able to visit his sister in Dhemen as often as he liked.
There had, however, been a less happy conclusion to Kirsten’s attempt to mend fences with her father. Her letters had been returned unopened, and six months earlier Angus Ross had passed away suddenly after suffering a heart attack. Daniel and Kirsten had attended the funeral and paid their last respects with sadness, but also with acceptance that they had done what they could to re-establish contact with the older man. Perhaps it was for that reason that Kirsten had increasingly come to rely on and appreciate the love, kindness and support she had found within Shahir’s family.
‘We have two nannies and a host of other helpful staff,’ Shahir remarked from the threshold of the room, Squeak trotting at his heels. ‘But where do I still find you?’
‘The same place I often find you at the end of the day. Has the King retired for the night?’ Kirsten asked as she accompanied her tall, handsome husband along the passage to their bedroom.
‘Yes, and I’ve booked the clowns for his birthday this summer. I haven’t seen my father enjoy himself that much in years. I know who to thank for that too.’ Shahir gave her a warmly appreciative smile. ‘My royal parent has never liked traveling, but you have organised his suite here exactly as his rooms are at home and he seems very relaxed.’
‘I’m glad.’
Curving a possessive arm round her slender back, Shahir slowly welded her soft, yielding curves to his lean, muscular frame and murmured huskily, ‘I really love being married to you.’
‘Do you?’ A highly provocative and feminine smile tilted her mouth.
The answering glitter of his stunning dark golden eyes made her mouth run dry. ‘I’m crazy about you.’
As Shahir splayed his fingers to the swell of her hip, to ease her into even closer contact, Kirsten stretched up her arms to link them round his neck. ‘I love you too…so much.’
He bent his proud dark head and circled her lush pink lips with his own. She quivered in wild response. He kissed her breathless. He told her how happy she made him. He told her that without her and the children his life would have no meaning.
Kirsten listened starry-eyed while Squeak yawned, and yawned again. He had seen it all before, and he headed off to his cosy basket in the room next door and snuggled down to sleep.
Stolen by the Sheikh
by Trish Morey
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
