The Sheikh Takes A Bride. Caroline CrossЧитать онлайн книгу.
to you, Daniel.”
“Right.” With an apologetic smile for the other man, he said, “If you’ll excuse us, then?”
Just as Catherine had hoped, Kaj had no choice but to take his leave. With impeccable manners, he tendered the pair of them a bow. “Of course, Your Highness.” He shifted his gaze to Catherine. “Princess, thank you for the dance. I look forward to seeing you again.”
Not if she could help it, Catherine vowed. With a flick of her head, she turned her back, dismissing him. Sheikh Kaj al bin Russard might not know it yet, but as of this moment she had every intention of excluding him from her life like the unwelcome intruder he was.
Two
“What are you doing here?” Catherine demanded from the doorway of the palace’s family dining room.
For all its elegant spaciousness, the room suddenly seemed far smaller than normal, due to the presence of Kaj al bin Russard. The sheikh sat at the far side of the gleaming satinwood table, his suit coat discarded, the sleeves of his white dress shirt folded back, a newspaper in his powerful hands. At the sound of her voice, he looked up. “Princess. How nice to see you.”
Catherine stared at him, clenching her teeth against a sudden urge to scream. Taken aback by her reaction, she struggled to rein in her emotions, assuring herself her extreme response to him was merely the result of surprise, frustration and a poor night’s sleep. Add to that her worry about her favorite gelding who’d turned up lame this morning, a meeting with her secretary that had run long so that she needed to hurry to avoid being late for an engagement in town, and it was no wonder the unexpected sight of the sheikh made her feel a little crazy.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” she retorted, watching warily as he pushed back his chair and rose politely to his feet.
“I suppose it is,” he said calmly.
She refused to acknowledge the way her pulse stuttered as he stood gilded by the sunlight that filled the room or how she once again felt the force of his masculinity. She’d made her decision about him, and the long hours she’d spent in bed last night tossing and turning, bedeviled by an unfamiliar restlessness, had only strengthened her conviction that he was best avoided.
“I believe I asked you a question,” Catherine said. “What are you doing here?” Last night circumstances had compelled her to be on her best behavior, but she saw no reason for false pleasantry today.
His gaze swept over her and a faint frown marred his handsome features. “Are you always this tense?”
Oh! She struggled for self-control. “Sheikh al bin Russard, this area of the palace is off-limits to everyone but family. I would suggest that you leave. Now. Before I’m forced to call security.”
A faint, chiding smile curved his sensual mouth but otherwise he didn’t move so much as an inch. “You really must work on your temper, chaton. And not be so quick to jump to conclusions. As it happens, I had a meeting with the king this morning. When it concluded, he was kind enough to invite me to lunch. Regretfully, something came up and he had to leave, but not before he assured me there was no reason for me to rush through my meal.”
An embarrassed flush rose in her cheeks. Stubbornly she ignored it. Daniel wasn’t here now and she was. As for the sheikh, he might be fooling everyone else with his designer suits and civilized manner, but she hadn’t forgotten the way he’d looked at her last night. Beneath that polished exterior she sensed something intense and formidable, and she wasn’t about to lower her guard.
She glanced pointedly at the table, which was bare except for the paper and an empty cup and saucer. “I see. Well, it appears you’ve finished, so don’t let me keep you.”
“Actually, I was about to have some more coffee.” He moseyed over to the sideboard and lifted the heavy silver coffeepot off the warming plate, then turned to her, his expression the picture of politeness. “May I get you a cup?”
For half a second, she considered simply turning on her heel and walking away. Except that she was hungry, since she’d skipped last night’s midnight buffet in order to avoid a certain interloper and she’d long since burned off the tea and croissant she’d had in her room at dawn.
She was also certain that if she left now, the sheikh would no doubt conclude it was because of him—and her pride wouldn’t allow that. He was already too arrogant by half.
Squaring her shoulders, she strode around the table to the opposite end of the sideboard. “No. Thank you.”
“As you wish.” He poured a stream of steaming brew into his cup and set down the pot. He turned, but instead of returning to the table, he stayed where he was.
She felt his gaze touch her like a warm breeze. And for a moment everything around her—the ivory silk brocade wallpaper, the richly patterned rug beneath her feet, the soothing gurgle of the garden fountain beyond the open windows—seemed to fade as her skin prickled and an unfamiliar warmth blossomed low in her stomach. Appalled, she gave herself a mental shake and tried to convince herself that her response was merely the result of extreme dislike.
It was a delusion that lasted no longer than it took her to snatch up a plate, fill it with cold cuts, fresh fruit and cheese from the buffet, carry her food to the table and set it down.
Because suddenly he was right behind her. “Allow me,” he murmured, his bare forearm brushing her shoulder as he reached to pull out her chair before she could seat herself.
The heat from his body penetrated her every nerve ending; she might as well have been naked for all the protection provided by her cream linen slacks and sleeveless yellow silk sweater. Nor could she control the sudden weakness of her knees as his fingers closed around her upper arm and he guided her onto the chair. Or the way the warmth in her middle spread when his palm lingered far longer than was necessary.
Not until he stepped back and released her could she breathe again.
Shaken, she sat motionless on the chair, asking herself what on earth was the matter with her. She’d dealt with a variety of men’s advances from the time she’d become a teenager, yet she’d never experienced this sort of acute, paralyzing awareness. It was unnerving.
Worse, it made her feel uncertain and out of control, and that made her angry. “Don’t you have an oil deal or a camel auction or something that needs your attention?” she demanded as he picked up his cup, moved around the table and slid into the seat across from her.
“No.” He cocked an eyebrow at her and took a sip of his coffee. “All of Walburaq’s oil comes from offshore reserves, and its distribution is controlled by the royal family. As for camels, we don’t have any since, like Altaria, we’re an island nation.”
Her annoyance shifted from his presence to his presumption that she was actually that ignorant. “Yes, I know. Just as I know Walburaq is located in the Arabian Sea, was a British protectorate until 1963, declined to join the United Arab Emirates and is currently ruled by your cousin, King Khalid.” Doing her best to look bored, she picked up a small, perfect strawberry from the royal hothouse and popped it into her mouth.
“My, my princess, that’s very good. I’m gratified that you’ve taken time to study my country.”
She touched her heavy linen napkin to her mouth. “Don’t be. It’s nothing to do with you.” Which was nothing but the truth. Not that she’d ever reveal that her knowledge sprang from a futile attempt when she was younger to impress her father by learning about Altaria’s various trading partners. “I’ve always been good at history.”
“Apparently.” He took another swallow of coffee. “It makes me wonder what other hidden talents you possess.”
In the process of reaching for another berry, Catherine stilled, her gaze locking with his. She had an uneasy feeling that they’d just moved onto dangerous ground.
It was a sensation that increased as he added softly, “I look forward