The Sheikh's Arranged Marriage: The only thing worse than falling in love with the man she'd married was knowing he would never feel the same... Read Online Free PDF Page B

a pair of cotton boxer shorts. The dessert nights were often cool, but Tariq had always slept naked. He liked the feeling of the crisp sheets against his skin, and a breeze across his face as he slept.
    He strode through the ancient corridor that joined these two bedrooms and paused outside her door. It was silent within. Gently, he pushed Rebecca’s concealed doorway so that it opened silently.
    Lying in the centre of her bed, bathed in pale cream moonlight, was the Queen of Assan. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he crept closer. Burying the doubts over what he was doing, he tiptoed right to the edge of the bed. In sleep, she was even more beautiful. Her face, so at ease, her hair, a skein across the navy blue pillows.
    She sighed and rolled over, exposing a perfect breast beneath her silk night gown. He felt his arousal stir and stepped back hastily. He was no peeping Tom. He turned to leave, but a book on her bedside table caught his attention. It was an Arabic language book. It was dog-eared and the pages had been marked.
    For some reason, it made him feel a sweet affection for her that came completely out of nowhere.
    * * *
    Tariq led the procession of business men through the palace corridor, his dark head bent as he concentrated on the objectives of this meeting. It was vitally important to secure the trade route from north to south of Assan. A small band of criminals had taken to mugging road trains, and now many companies had closed down the supply routes. An overt military response was not possible. Although Assan had long been at peace, people had very long memories when it came to governmental force. He did not want to inspire the kind of fear that some of his older kinsman had endured on a daily basis.
    Tucker Smith, the America n CEO of the largest transport company in the region, was putting forward some of his own proposals, such as installing a guard on every truck, and making mandatory check points at two hourly intervals.
    Tariq lifted his head to ask for more details of the plan, but a wisp of yellow caught the periphery of his vision. He scanned the large, barren courtyard to his left and found what had grabbed his attention.
    Rebecca.
    Wearing a yellow outfit almost the colour of her hair, with a pale white blouse underneath.
    But she wasn’t alone. A servant woman was standing before her, pushing at the Queen’s hands. Rebecca’s face was pink. He had never seen her visibly unsettled before. He stood stock still and watched, his mouth just a line in his face as he gritted his teeth.
    Rebecca was saying something, and shaking her head, pointing towards a gnarled tree behind them.
    Tariq followed her gesture and saw a sad little band of urchin children, their faces dirty, their expressions worried. The oldest child was leaping from foot to foot, obviously itching to interrupt.
    The group of men had stopped walking when Tariq did, and he turned to them now. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I require a short recess.” He gestured to a servant to take his meeting for morning tea.
    “What is going on here?” He demanded forcefully, as he stalked across the courtyard. The servant woman froze and turned to face the Emir. She was shaking with fear. As she should. How dared she berate and bully the Queen?
    He looked questioningly at Rebecca, but her eyes were downcast.
    He repeated his question in Arabic, addressing the servant this time.
    She held up a children’s book and said in his native language, “ The Queen has given the children books from the Royal Library, sir. I am trying to make her understand that we cannot accept them.”
    He looked at Rebecca. “Have you given these children books from the palace library?”
    “I’ve loaned them books, yes. The children know to take care of them.” She snapped moodily.
    He bit back the smile that was on his lips. So, his ice princess had a temper after all. “Why?”
    “Why? Why what?” She frowned.
    “Why did you give them the books?”
    “Loan