Captive of Kadar
Enslaved By Their Desires…Kadar Soheil Amirmoez can’t keep his eyes off the blonde-haired beauty strolling through Istanbul’s ancient marketplace. So when he sees her in trouble he is only too willing to act…Amber Jones has never met such an intensely commanding man as Kadar. Her reactions to him both scare and excite her – maybe that’s because he is at first her hero and then her captor!This isn’t the journey of exploration Amber came to Istanbul for, but as the exotic atmosphere seduces her she soon becomes his willing captive… and he her very attentive keeper!Discover more at www.millsandboon.co.uk/trishmorey
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Amber could hardly tell him the reason why her lungs had squeezed so tightly in her chest. âI â¦â she started, searching for some kind of excuse. âI donât even know your name.â
He inclined his head. âI apologise. We seem to have skipped the usual formalities. My name is Kadar Soheil Amirmoezâat your service.â
She blinked, still shaken. âIâm hopeless with names. Iâm never going to remember that.â
He smiled a littleâthe first time she had witnessed him smileâand shadowed planes shifted, angles found curves and his dark eyes found a spark. And where before heâd been merely striking, with his strong dark looks, now he tipped over into truly dangerous.
Her heart gave a tiny lurch. She had reason to feel fear. And yet still she was glad heâd found her again.
âA simple Kadar will suffice. And you are?â
âAmber. Plain old Amber Jones.â
âNever plain,â he said, in that rich, deep voice.
She remembered the way heâd looked at her across the market, with eyes as dark as midnight, lit with red-hot coals, and she remembered too the warm weight of his hand on her shoulder and the promise his touch conveyed.
And maybe the new, brave Amber wasnât so far away from her as sheâd feared.
Bound by duty, undone by passion!
These sheikhs may not be brothers by blood, but they are united by the code of the desert.
Their power and determination is legendary and unchallengedâuntil unexpected encounters with women strong enough to equal them threaten their self-control â¦
Read the two concluding stories in Trish Moreyâs exciting quartet of searing passion and sizzling drama!
This month meet: Kadar and Amber in Captive of Kadar
Look out for:Shackled to the Sheikh the final instalment of Trish Moreyâs Desert Brothers series coming soon!
TRISH MOREY always fancied herself a writerâso why she became a chartered accountant is anyoneâs guess! But once sheâd found her true calling there was no turning back. Mother of four budding heroines and wife to one true-life hero, Trish lives in an idyllic region of South Australia. Is it any wonder she believes in happy-ever-afters?
Find her at www.trishmorey.com or www.facebook.com/trish.morey
To all the wonderful readers who have written and e-mailed asking when they might see Kadarâs story.
Thank you so much and here it is.
I love this storyâI hope you do too.
Rashidâs story, the finale of the Desert Brothers series, will be coming soon!
And to Carol, just because.
Trish xxx
Contents
HE SAW HER in the Spice Market, just another tourist strolling through Istanbulâs ancient marketplace, famed for selling spices and dried fruits and a thousand different kinds of tea. Just another wide-eyed tourist, even if she did come complete with blond hair and blue eyes and red jeans that hugged her curves like a second skin.
Not that he was interested.
It was mere curiosity that slowed his footsteps as she lifted her camera to take a photograph of a shop hung with glass lanterns of every imaginable design and colour; nothing more than curiosity that kept him watching as the stallholder took advantage of her stillness, holding out a plate of his best Turkish delight for her to sample. She took a faltering step backwards when she realised she hadnât gone unnoticed, murmuring apologies and shaking her head, setting the messy knot of blond hair at the back of her head and its loose tendrils dancing, but the plate followed her retreat, the eyes of the seller joining in his entreaties for her to just have one tiny taste.
Kadarâs feet faltered at the stall oppositeâit wasnât his usual but he was curious, he told himself, and this shop would doâand ordered the dates he had come to buy for Mehmet, before looking over his shoulder to see whose will was stronger, the stallholderâs or the touristâs. The vendor had her attention now, all the time smiling, a toothy smile in a crinkled face as warm as it was persuasive while he continued to engage her, plucking countries from the air as they did here, guessing where she was fromâAmerica? England?
As if knowing when she was beaten, the woman gave in, and said something he couldnât make out, but the owner grinned and assured her exuberantly that the Turkish people loved Australians, as she plucked a piece from the plate before her and raised it to her lips.
A long way from home, he registered vaguely, his attention diverted as he handed over a large note in exchange for his dates and was asked to wait a few moments while someone fetched his change. He didnât mind. It was no hardship waiting. The tourist had a mouth worth watching. Her lips were lush and wide and still wearing the shadow of a smile as she popped the sweet into her mouth. A moment later her smile was back in full force, her blue eyes wide with delight and, even surrounded by bright displays of every dried fruit imaginable, every sweetly scented tea and vat of brightly coloured fragrant spice, still she lit up the vaulted marketplace like a lantern.
