The Sheikh's Hesitant Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 7) (16 page)

No.

Rachel knew something Irina didn't. She and Zarif had something that went beyond anything Irina could understand.

"Thank you, Irina," Rachel said dismissively. "That'll be all."

Irina peered at Rachel and didn't move an inch.
 

Rachel waved a hand toward the door. "If I need you, I'll call. For now, I have nothing more to say to you."

Rachel could see the barely disguised fury in Irina's eyes. It was as if Rachel had no right to dismiss Irina, no rights whatsoever while she was a mere guest in the palace.
 

But, things had changed, and Rachel had made a decision. She wasn't prepared to be made to feel like an unwelcome intruder. Zarif had made it clear to her that she had every right to consider herself entitled to be here.

Irina gave Rachel one last acid look and then turned and strode out of the bedroom.

After the door had closed behind Irina, Rachel sighed and drew in a deep breath. She was glad the woman was gone. Maybe in time, Irina would come to understand just why Zarif had brought Rachel here. Perhaps the disapproving servant would eventually realize that Rachel probably wasn't going anywhere soon.

Rachel went into the bedroom and took off her dress which was clinging to her. The day had been hot, and she needed a change. She entered the huge walk-in wardrobe which was almost as big as her bedroom back in her tiny London apartment. On one side of the space were hanging Rachel's modest selection of outfits. She picked one of the few loose-fitting cotton dresses she had hurriedly thrown into her suitcase before leaving London.
 

Zarif had promised a shopping trip to buy more clothes, but they hadn't had time to do that since arriving. Rachel smiled at herself in the mirror while testing how the outfit would look on her. It would be such a pleasure to go shopping with Zarif. He'd promised that there would be no spending limit. She'd protested, but he'd insisted it would give him pleasure to buy her as much as she needed for her time in Qazhar.

How long would she be in Qazhar? Right now, she had no idea, but she had begun to harbor small hopes that it might be longer than she'd anticipated. She realized she wanted to make Zarif happy, wanted him to understand that she appreciated everything he was trying to do for her. She'd felt strangely out of place in Qazhar today. Meeting the people Zarif had lined up for her had made Rachel realize just how out of place she might seem to others. Even the way she dressed made her feel like a duck out of water. What was she going to do that could help her fit in better?

As she asked herself that question the outfit in the mirror seemed suddenly and completely wrong. She needed something different, an outfit that would catch attention.

Rachel glanced at the wardrobe on the other side. She hadn't looked inside it since arriving. Turning the tiny lock, she slid open the door and gasped. Inside the wardrobe hung a small selection of traditional Qazhar female robes. Rachel touched one of the robes. The delicate white cotton swirls of fabric felt soft to the touch. She ran her fingers down the length of the robe and tugged it off its hanger.

Placing the robe in front of her body, Rachel gazed at herself in the mirror. The white robe reached down to her feet. Rachel knew instantly that if she wore this outfit it would make her look so different, so unlike herself. Maybe Zarif would be pleased if he saw her dressed like this, she told herself. Perhaps it would answer some of the objections that Irina had hinted at in their conversation.

There was only one was to find out.

Rachel put the robe back on the hanger and headed to the bathroom. She felt hot, and the prospect of standing under a cold shower seemed suddenly very appealing.
 

Then it would be time to take on a whole new identity.
 

One that she was sure Zarif would love.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Zarif stepped out of the limo and gazed up at the entrance to his palace. The sun was sinking below the distant desert horizon, and the air was cool. He drew in a deep breath, savoring the sense of calm he always felt at this time of the day. He felt as if he was returning from a hard day's work to be welcomed by the woman who meant so much to him. He thought about how good this would feel if this became a regular part of his life.

Rachel would be in the palace awaiting his return. Zarif wondered what she had been doing since she'd returned in the late afternoon. He'd known she had been tired and thought it best for her to return to the palace and rest.
 

There had been plenty for Zarif to do back in Qazhar city. He was pleased with the work he'd done. Rachel would have lots of meetings in the coming days. Zarif had done as much as he could, had called in many favors, to ensure that the beautiful woman waiting for him inside the palace would have no need to return to London anytime soon.

And that was exactly what he wanted. Exactly what he was determined to have. Rachel in his palace.
 

In his bed.

Zarif strode into the palace and started to make his way up the stairs. He loosened his jacket and realized just how tense he felt. It had been an exhausting day, but he wouldn't have had it any other way, he realized. He'd missed Rachel this afternoon. It had been the first time since arriving in Qazhar that they'd been parted, and he hadn't liked it one bit.

Zarif reached the top of the stairs and started to make his way down the corridor, toward Rachel's room. He had mixed feelings about her staying in that room. It had been the room he had shared with Alana, and that thought had troubled him, made him determined to replace the memories of his time in that room with fresh ones, one that made his soul sing in a way it had never done with Alana.

Rachel was so unlike Alana, so very different. And that was why he had fallen in love with Rachel. He knew that now, felt the truth of it burn inside him.

He reached the door and paused. He knocked the door and called out. 'Rachel, are you in there?"

Zarif heard her voice. "Come in, Zarif."

His heart was pounding, and he felt an eagerness to be with Rachel that he hadn't felt with any other woman. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.
 

At first, he couldn't find her. He scanned the sitting room, half expecting to see her rush toward him, her arms open, desperate for a welcoming embrace.

He felt a momentary stab of disappointment at not seeing her in the sitting room.
 

Then he heard her voice from the bedroom. "In here, Zarif," he heard her say. Her voice sounded excited. For a moment he wondered why she hadn't come to him at the door. But the prospect of seeing her in the bedroom made something stir inside him, caused firmness which prompted a familiar agony, one he'd felt too often in the past few days.

Zarif strode over to the bedroom door and paused at the entrance. Then he heard her voice. "Here, Zarif." It had come from the direction of the doors that opened out onto the balcony.
 

Zarif stepped into the room and turned his head toward the balcony doors.

And froze.

His heart almost stopped at the sight he saw there.

Rachel.

But not the Rachel he knew. It was the figure of a woman he barely recognized.

Rachel smiled at Zarif. "Well? What do you think?"

Zarif felt a chill spread throughout his body at what he was witnessing.

Rachel was dressed head to toe in a traditional white Qazhar gown.
 

A complete, full desert outfit. She would have looked at home astride a stallion racing across the golden sands of Qazhar.

The flowing robes swept down the length of Rachel's petite figure, masking her curves, burying her inside a mass of fabric. Her head was partially covered by the loose hood of the outfit.

Something stirred within Zarif, something elemental, a primal response that surprised him and also appalled him at the same time.

What had she done! What did she think she was doing? He could hardly believe his eyes.
 

Rachel's gaze was wide and expectant, awaiting Zarif's response. She grasped a handful of loose fabric and twitched it playfully. "How do I look?" she asked utterly unaware of his instant, visceral reaction.

Zarif tried to say something, but the words halted in his throat. He forced himself to draw in a deep, calming breath.
 

Then he opened his mouth and forced himself to say something. "It's...amazing, Rachel. I don't know what to say," he muttered.

Still unaware of his shock, Rachel smiled and took a few steps toward Zarif. "I thought you might like it. Doesn't it make me look different."

It certainly made her look different. Zarif had to agree with that assessment. But, it made her look nothing like the woman he had persuaded to come to Qazhar; nothing like the woman he'd become so infatuated with in London; nothing like the woman who embodied everything he thought fresh and decent and different. Everything in which he had placed all his hopes for the future.

He realized he had been frozen on the spot for moments. Rachel moved closer to him, still smiling with all the innocence he so adored. She still hadn't sensed his unease, still hadn't noticed his utter shock.

What was he going to do? What could he possibly say? This wasn't the woman he longed for. This Rachel looked like someone else, someone he had hoped was left in his past.

Rachel looked like Alana.

He felt a surge of emotion and recognized it for what it was.
 

Defiance.

He felt his brows furrow as he looked sharply at Rachel. Suddenly she noticed the change in him and her own expression darkened. She halted a few steps away from him. "What's the matter? Don't you like it?"

Zarif ran a hand through his hair and turned away from Rachel.

He felt her hand touch his arm, and he turned back to her, seeing the concern on her face. Up close, she looked every bit the Qazhar woman, even if her features were still those of an English rose, exquisite, even and delicate.

Her eyes were wide, searching him for an answer, for any sign of approval, but he was determined not to provide it.

"Is there something wrong, Zarif?" she asked softly.

Zarif shook his head. "No, Rachel. It's fine. I was just surprised to see you dressed like that."

Her eyes glanced down at the robe and then back up to him.
 

Why did she have to look at him like that? Didn't she realize what she was doing to him? Couldn't she see the torment she was putting him through? He realized a war had broken out inside him. As much as he regretted that she had dressed herself like that, there was an equally strong part of him that found it compelling, even enticing. He felt desire curl inside himself with her being so close to him, looking like something out of one of his childhood tales of warriors and their princesses.
 

Rachel lowered her voice and reached up a hand to his face. "I thought you might like it."

He felt himself stiffen, and he looked down at her pretty face, her wide eyes. A vague, delicate scent caught in his nostril. Her scent, immediately alluring, completely intoxicating.

"I do like it," he said stiffly.
 

She frowned. "Really? It doesn't look like you do." Rachel turned away from him. "Maybe I should change. I knew it was a mistake."

He heard the beginnings of anguish in her voice. Zarif reached out and took her arm, turning her back to him. "Rachel. It's not like that."

She looked at him, wide-eyed and uncertain. "Then, what is it, Zarif? Have I done something wrong?"

Zarif shook his head firmly and moved closer to Rachel. He lifted a hand to the fabric covering her head. He slid the covering gently off her head letting the loose cotton settle on Rachel's shoulders. Her eyes widened, and her lips opened as if she was about to say something, but she paused, a sudden consternation in her gaze.

Zarif snaked his fingers into her soft, blonde hair, savoring the feel of the delicate strands against his rough skin. He felt his throat tighten, and he knew he should say something, but he couldn't find the words to express how he was feeling.

Her mouth opened, lips parting, irresistibly moist and tempting. Zarif knew what he had to do, understood suddenly what they both wanted. He gazed into Rachel's clear blue eyes and saw her gaze flicker with need.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Rachel gazed up at Zarif and tried to control the feelings which had suddenly seized control of her. She'd known it had been a gamble to dress like this; hadn't really thought it all through like she should have. She should have known he would be shocked, even taken aback at seeing her transformed.

And he had been shocked. She'd seen that. At first, he'd looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe Alana. Here in this of all rooms with the bed over there in the corner.

Rachel felt his fingers in her hair, saw the look in his eyes. She could see the sudden need in his gaze, the undeniable desire hovering behind his dark features. She opened her mouth intending to say something, anything to calm the situation, to get things back to some kind of normality. But, she knew it was too late for that. Something primal, an untameable force had been unleashed, and she knew deep in her heart, in her soul that they had gone beyond the point of no return.

Zarif's gaze flickered down to her lips, and she knew instantly what he was about to do, the need that had taken control of him.

His mouth crashed down upon hers, and her body ignited as his lips claimed her flesh. Sensation quivered throughout every nerve in her body, and for a moment she almost lost her balance. She fell against Zarif and his arms enveloped her in a fierce, demanding embrace. Rachel sank into him feeling the intense heat of his body, even through the fabric of the robe she was wearing. The robe which had triggered his primal desire.

Rachel grasped his shoulders feeling the elemental power in the strongly muscled width of them. He leaned closer into her, drawing her firmly against him. She felt as if he had taken possession of her as if he owned her completely.