The Sheik's Command Read Online Free PDF

two months ago,” he said softly.
    She turned to face him and their eyes met. Electricity zinged, palpable, as if there was a crackling force around her. “Killed? How?”
    “Assassinated in his bed on his private yacht off Barcelona. A band of men came in the night, sliced his throat down with a ceremonial Al Na’Jar jambiya.”
    “How do you know it was a local ceremonial knife?”
    He crooked his brow up. “It was the opinion of the coroner that the murder weapon was a ceremonial dagger. It has a very specific curve. This opinion was confirmed by a private medical practitioner, of course.”
    “You mean his killers were making some kind of political statement?”
    “By using that knife? Yes, along with the fact that Da’ud was slain on the very same night that my father and my mother were killed right here in this palace, as they slept.” Zakir watched carefully for her reaction. He wanted to get a read on her. If she was involved with his enemies, she might betray herself.
    She stared at him, scrutinizing in return. “So that’s how you became king? Someone wanted you to lead, as opposed to Da’ud?”
    “My enemies don’t want me as king, Nikki. They tried to kill me, too.”
    “You mean…the suicide bomb the other day?”
    “No. Even before the bomb there was a break-in at my home in Paris, on the very same night that Da’ud and my parents were assassinated. A ceremonial dagger was left on my pillow. I suspect that if I’d been home that night, I’d be dead, too.”
    “But you weren’t home?”
    “I was…in the bed of a female companion.” He smiled bleakly. “It appears that in this case sleeping around was good for my health.”
    Nikki felt her cheeks flush as she tamped down a suddenmental picture of Zakir naked in bed. But it was too late—the image was lodged firm, and she felt her blood heat.
    She could see in Zakir’s face that he knew it, too. He was toying with her sexually, finding her reaction amusing. But the glint in his eyes faded slowly along with his smile. “I never expected to lead this country, Nikki.”
    And in those words Nikki sensed real reluctance, sorrow even. Empathy touched her. Compassion was not an emotion she could fight. Nikki lived to heal. It was part of her nature, part of what had steered her into medicine.
    “What were you doing before this?” she asked quietly. “Apart from sleeping around, I mean.”
    His lips curved again, slowly. “You have a sense of humor.”
    “What I have, your highness, is a really desperate need to get out of here.”
    There was no smile this time. He walked over to an ornate credenza, touched a bottle of wine lightly with his fingertips and tilted his head in question. “White wine or red? Or something stronger, perhaps?”
    “I don’t drink.” She said it too quickly, and she felt her cheeks heat.
    A frown twitched over his brow as he poured himself a glass of red. “It’s a pity. This is a fine merlot from my estate in the south of Spain. Can I perhaps get you something else?”
    “You could get me my passport, medicines and safe passage to Tenerife,” she said, swiftly changing the subject.
    He snorted softly, swirling his glass. “In time, Nikki. If your papers and story check out, you will be free to go by morning.” He sipped his wine, watching her over the rim.
    “My children don’t have the luxury of time, Zakir.”
    “Nor does my country. And that is where my duty lies.” He came up to her, the bulb of his wineglass resting easily in the crook of his fingers, and she noted his hands werebeautiful—long, strong, tapered fingers. Dusky skin. She swallowed, again trying to erase the disturbing image of Zakir’s naked body against crisp white sheets.
    “I might have lived in Europe, Nikki, but I was raised here in Al Na’Jar.” He turned his gaze toward his family portrait. “From a young age I was taught by my father to accept that this land, this desert, was my heritage and that it would be my