Defying the Sheikh (6 page)

She wanted to believe he was offering her a respite, but there was so much anger in his gaze that she feared him. It was readily apparent that he could do with her as he wished after the way things had progressed this evening. Never in her life had she felt so completely unsure of herself. Not wishing to anger him further, she turned over to her side and faced the wall. The tension filled her body as she worried at any moment he would demand more.

Armon stood and extinguished the candles in the room. He considered walking on deck but rethought his decision. He was not a man to walk away from his mistakes, and he felt tonight he had committed a grave wrong. He knew that a female required a gentle initiation into the sensual world, his own deceased father had taught him the lesson early in his manhood. While a woman was made for his pleasure, he also believed that when trained correctly they would be more willing to give freely of their bodies.

Sliding back into bed he forced his mind away from the temptation that lay only scant inches away. The girl was headstrong and willful, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she surrendered to him. Had she been raised in his country, she would have known what was expected from her he thought, and for that reason alone he would grant her a little more leeway. There was much she needed to learn about his customs, and her training would begin in the morning.

Michaela remained huddled up miserably on her side of the bed, her thoughts ravaged with the strange conflicts of his behavior tonight. She had felt things with him this eve that shocked her before fear had consumed her. Had anyone told her it was possible to feel such things, she would have called them out as a liar. His lips pressed against hers had made her want things she could not comprehend, as did the touch of his fingers grazing her breast. She knew defying him would be much harder than she previously had thought. Her rest was troubled with strange dreams of being wrapped in his arms as she finally succumbed.

5 Storms

The sweet aroma of food woke Michaela and she lifted up on her elbows to see her husband studying a book while enjoying his coffee. The sight tugged at her heart for reasons unbeknown to her. She quietly observed the expressions on his handsome face as he lost himself in the text, and could only wonder what had captured his attention.

Feeling eyes upon him, he turned his gaze to his bride and attempted a smile. "The coffee is becoming cool," his words were pleasant. He had much of the morning to consider how he would move forward and from her love of books, he hoped to gain some mutual understanding. "There is much I would share with you." He lifted the book he was holding in temptation.

Sliding from the bed, she arranged the long robe before joining him at the table. It was hard to resist his lure, as her mind was curious already. She watched his strong hand pour her coffee and remembered the feelings of those long digits on her flesh last night. A blush found her cheeks at the thought and as she took the cup from his hand, her own trembled.

It pleased him to know she was not as unaffected by his presence as she would have him think. He moved his chair close to hers and prepared to translate the book as it was written in Arabic. He was startled when she read the first line, albeit clumsily. "How are you able to read this," he lifted a brow.

"My father was a diplomat, much like my great uncle," she shrugged as if it were perfectly normal, "I enjoy different languages."

He marveled at the woman before him and felt a sense of pride that she belonged to him. "Please continue," he handed the book over, knowing well how the text read, since he had recited the passages many times as a younger man.

She stumbled over a few of the words, but managed to right herself. She had read a book previously about the religions of his country but still found it fascinating, if not barbaric. Stopping as she reached a point that visibly upset her she looked up into his eyes, shocked at the warmth that rested in his gaze. Finding it hard to speak as he stared at her so intently, she stuttered somewhat in her speech. "W-why do you allow your women s-so few choices?"

He knew instinctively that this was a subject she took very seriously and fought to explain it in a way that her nationality could understand. "Our women are honored and protected, Michaela, I understand that this must be hard for you to comprehend, but that which we do, we do out of respect for them."

"How can you say that, when they are forced to cover themselves from head to toe?" She was dumb-founded by his explanation.

"History has shown us that women were traditionally mistreated and we do not allow the male race to gaze upon them openly. It is for their own protection as men have been known to be unable to control their own desires when faced with a beautiful woman." In truth his marriage was absolutely proof of the fact he was speaking.

She thought carefully on his words, and while she disagreed with the dress code, she found it hard to argue that men were incapable of containing their desires as well as a woman. The thought brought a smile to her face.

"I have amused you?" He returned the smile not knowing her thoughts.

"Truly it is nothing," she bit her lip to stop the laugh that threatened to escape. "Is it true that you are allowed many wives?" For reasons she cared not to dwell on the thought of him having another wife made her angry. "Do you have a wife?" What if he already possessed another, she lifted her eyes to his, the joy leaving her immediately.

"We are allowed more than one wife," he could see the anger filling her eyes at his words, and was once again pleased. "I do not have another wife," he paused to allow his words to sink in, "yet."

"You will take another though?" Why should she care, she thought to herself, their own men visited the houses of ill repute to save their wives from suffering the constant pressures of the marriage bed. She told herself it was better than he had all the women he could handle, so her own bed would remain untouched.

"It is expected that I have many sons," he rationalized with a shrug of his wide shoulders.

She turned her attention back to the book not willing to allow the anger that seeped into her thoughts to gain footing over that thought. He could have all the women he chose, but she would not be one of his whores.

He was learning her moods well, he thought watching as her beautiful lips tightened when she was displeased. "Does it anger you that you will not be my only wife?" He smiled knowing full well it did, but was curious to see if she would deny it.

She considered lying to him, but that was a coward's way out in her opinion. "I will not bed a man who cannot give me his full affection." This argument would work well she thought, it gave him an out and her the escape she so desperately needed.

"So you would be willing to pleasure me if I chose not to take another into my bed?" He had no intention of making such a declaration but again his curiosity was piqued.

"That is not what I meant," her face flushed in heat. This was definitely not a conversation she was willing to continue and she could only hope he would end it.

"Perhaps you should show me what I would be missing," he teased lightly, "so I may decide if you are worthy of my fidelity." The look on her beautiful face was priceless as her eyes widened in shock and he had to force himself not to smile.

"By all means take all the wives you want," she spoke quickly not wanting to encourage his line of thinking.

Taking the book from her hands he sat it on the table before turning to her. Their faces were only inches apart and his hand raised to grip her chin gently. "I would test your merit," he smiled before lowering his lips to hers and kissing her tenderly.

She raised her hands to push against his chest, but instead her hands gathered in the fabric as his kiss nearly took her breath away. He tasted of coffee and spice and her eyes closed of their own violation, enjoying the sensation. His tongue traced over the softness of her lips and she gasped giving him the opening he needed to delve deeper.

As their tongues danced together intimately she felt an unfamiliar ache move through her body and moaned softly. Her hands lifted to his thick hair and tangled within, holding him closer to her. As he pulled away she wanted to cry out in disappointment.

His hand caressed her cheek softly as he glanced deeply into her eyes. With purpose he dropped his hand. "I have some work to do." He stood quickly before he could give in to the temptation that her eyes were offering. Armon had lost control with his beautiful wife last night, he would not allow it again. He would overwhelm her senses little by little, he decided, until she gave over to him completely he vowed. In haste, he hurried out of their cabin.

Michaela could only stare after him as he left her, her emotions completely confused. She told herself that she was glad he was gone, even as her body craved more than the kiss he had shared. She busied herself with making their bed and straightening the cabin, willing to do anything other than think about his kiss. It took little time and she forced herself to reach for the book discarded on the table. She had to restart the same page many times, as her thoughts were distracted.

Armon walked down to the cargo area of the ship and found the crate that belonged to his sister. His hands roamed over the silken fabrics, and he could imagine them caressing the silkiness of Michaela's skin. Reminding himself that he was acting like an untrained boy, instead of the man he fought to control his thoughts. Lifting the heavy crate, instead of calling forth one of the many servants, he walked it above deck enjoying the physical activity.

"Your Highness, have I earned your scorn," a masculine voice entreated as he made it topside.

Glancing down at his most trusted servant his eyes grew puzzled. "Why would you ask such, Jahad," sitting the crate down, his arm raised to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Lowering his eyes in respect, he spoke humbly. "You have not called on me to assist you." He enjoyed serving his Grace and was distraught at the thought that he had angered him in some way.

Armon fought back a smile, knowing Jahad would not understand his humor. "Rest assured your service is impeccable, Jahad, I only wished to release some of the tediousness of being aboard ship."

Jahad breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Shall I attempt to find some entertainment for you, your Highness?" He could not recall his Grace ever finding the voyages boring in the past. He wondered if his new bride was not to his satisfaction.

"Please do not trouble yourself, I just long for our homeland." In truth he longed for the beautiful woman that waited in his cabin, and needed to distract himself. His servant was not to be privy to such information, his personal affairs were his own.

Giving a nod of understanding he smiled. "I to have missed the Palace," to walk in those halls again and see his sons, filled his own soul with longing.

"Walk with me, we shall speak with the Captain concerning our course," Armon commanded and walked ahead, knowing he would follow.

The Captain glanced up as Armon arrived and waved him up to the stern. "I fear a storm is brewing," his hand pointed off to the east and his brows were lifted in concern.

Armon had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had paid little heed to the weather pattern. His eyes glanced over the horizon feeling a sense of unease. The sky was beginning to darken, and streaks of lightning ripped through the clouds several miles away. "Should we change our course," Armon questioned his eyes riveted on the scenery.

"We would never outrun the winds, but there is an island a few knots to the South, it might serve well to consider that option." The ship was sturdy, but these storms could prove to be violent and he would prefer being docked until the severity could be established.

"This decision I will leave in your hands Captain, just choose your course." Armon knew that Delbert knew these waters much better than him, and trusted his opinion.

"I would be more content to find ourselves shelter until we know just how powerful she will blow in." He was not one to take risks, especially not with the Sheikh on board.

"How may I assist you?" Armon questioned, he had been trained to lead and would not be rendered helpless here.

"I would like to chart our course quickly, it would be of great service if you could rally the men." Normally he would not dare request such from his Grace, but he knew of his skill and would need all hands to assure their quick arrival on the Isle.

With a quick nod of his head Armon moved toward the crew, demanding their attention. "We are preparing to land and need all hands on deck," his voice was stern as he fell into his normal position of power. The ship became a bustle of movement as the trained seamen prepared to fight Mother Nature.

The waves were already beginning to increase and the gentle roll was replaced with a choppy treading upon the waters. Armon knew instinctively that this was not going to be a small storm, and assisted where he could to anchor down anything that might prove hazardous when the winds increased.

Michaela lost her balance as she walked across the floor and was forced to grab on to the table for support. She had not been above deck since arriving on the ship, and felt a tremor of fear move through her at the thought of a storm. She had survived a horrible storm with her father on his ship before his passing and it still filled her nights with terror. Forcing her way to the cabin door, she managed to open it and walk outside. The wind nearly blew her down and she struggled to find her footing. Fear filled her emerald gaze as she was forced to grab hold of rope dangling above her head for balance. "Armon," her voice cried out in fear, needing the comfort of his presence.

Armon glanced down from his post and his heart lurched at the site of his wife and the situation she had placed herself in. "Return to your cabin at once Michaela!" He shouted to be heard above the wind as it continued to escalate in force. The storm had come upon them quickly and it seemed to only grow in intensity.