Captured by the Sheikh

‘Too bad, then, that I do.’ She stood on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his mouth. ‘That's only the second kiss I've ever had,’ she whispered against his lips. ‘The first was two nights ago, when you held me in your arms.’

He closed his eyes. He was the only man who had ever kissed her? Didn't she realise how much she was giving him, offering him freely? Didn't she know how hurt she might be afterwards? No matter what she said or promised now. She was young. Inexperienced. Innocent.

He forced his eyes open, wrapped his hands around hers and attempted to draw them away for her. ‘I don't want to hurt you, Elena.’

‘You won't.’

‘You don't know that. You can't know that. Because you've never done this before.’

‘And when am I going to get a chance to do it, Khalil?’ she asked, her honest gaze clashing with his. ‘I was going to give myself to a man I barely knew for the sake of my country. That possibility has been taken away from me now. You've taken it away from me, and I think it's only fair you offer me something in return. You owe me a wedding night.’

Ruthless in battle, ruthless in love…

Two powerful men locked in a struggle to rule the country of their birth …

One a desert prince, once banished and shamed, the other a royal playboy, cutting a swathe through the beautiful women of Europe.

Tortured by their memories of the past, these bitter enemies will use any means necessary to win … But neither expects the women who will change the course of their revenge!

KATE HEWITT discovered her first Mills & Boon^>® romance on a trip to England when she was thirteen, and she's continued to read them ever since. She wrote her first story at the age of five, simply because her older brother had written one and she thought she could do it too. That story was one sentence long—fortunately they've become a bit more detailed as she's grown older. She has written plays, short stories and magazine serials for many years, but writing romance remains her first love. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, travelling and learning to knit.

After marrying the man of her dreams—her older brother's childhood friend—she lived in England for six years, and now resides in Connecticut with her husband, her three young children, and the possibility of one day getting a dog.

Kate loves to hear from readers—you can contact her through her website: www.kate-hewitt.com

Contents

Cover

Introduction

RIVALS TO THE CROWN OF KADAR

Title Page

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘SOMETHING’S WRONG—’

Elena Karras, Queen of Thallia, had barely registered the voice of the royal steward behind her when a man in a dark suit, his face harsh-looking and his expression inscrutable, met her at the bottom of the steps that led from the royal jet to this bleak stretch of desert.

‘Queen Elena. Welcome to Kadar.’

‘Thank you.’

He bowed and then indicated one of three armoured SUVs waiting by the airstrip. ‘Please accompany us to our destination,’ he said, his voice clipped yet courteous. He stepped aside so she could move forward, and Elena threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin as she walked towards the waiting cars.

She hadn’t expected fanfare upon her arrival to marry Sheikh Aziz al Bakir, but she supposed she’d thought she’d have a little more than a few security guards and blacked-out cars.

Then she reminded herself that Sheikh Aziz wanted to keep her arrival quiet, because of the instability within Kadar. Ever since he’d taken the throne just over a month ago there had been, according to Aziz, some minor insurgent activity. At their last meeting, he’d assured her it was taken care of, but she supposed a few security measures were a necessary precaution.

Just like the Sheikh, she needed this marriage to succeed. She barely knew the man, had only met him a few times, but she needed a husband just as he needed a wife.

Desperately.

‘This way, Your Highness.’

The man who’d first greeted her had been walking beside her from the airstrip to the SUV, the desert endlessly dark all around them, the night-time air possessing a decided chill. He opened the door of the vehicle and Elena tipped her head up to the inky sky, gazing at the countless stars glittering so coldly above them.

‘Queen Elena.’

She stiffened at the sound of the panicked voice, recognising it as that of the steward from the Kadaran royal jet. The man’s earlier words belatedly registered: something’s wrong.

She started to turn and felt a hand press into the small of her back, staying her.

‘Get in the car, Your Highness.’

An icy sweat broke out between her shoulder blades. The man’s voice was low and grim with purpose—not the way he’d sounded earlier, with his clipped yet courteous welcome. And she knew, with a sickening certainty, that she did not want to get in that car.