“I now belong to you.”
He will finally claim his inheritance!
Four years after inheriting—and liberating—a concubine, powerful ruler Sayid is shocked to see the transformation of Lina. No longer shy and naive, Lina is a feisty, irresistible woman. And Sayid has never wanted anyone more! But he’s duty bound to his country, and Sayid can only commit to a brief affair. Will Lina accept his outrageous proposal of a week in the royal bed?
Growing up near the beach, ANNIE WEST spent lots of time observing tall, burnished lifeguards—early research! Now she spends her days fantasising about gorgeous men and their love lives. Annie has been a reader all her life. She also loves travel, long walks, good company and great food. You can contact her at [email protected], or via PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.
Also by Annie West
The Sinner’s Marriage Redemption
Seducing His Enemy’s Daughter A Vow to Secure His Legacy The Flaw in Raffaele’s Revenge The Desert King’s Secret Heir The Desert King’s Captive Bride Contracted for the Petrakis Heir
The Princess Seductions miniseries
His Majesty’s Temporary Bride
The Greek’s Forbidden Princess
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
ISBN: 978-1-474-07228-1
INHERITED FOR THE ROYAL BED
© 2018 Annie West
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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This one is for you, Grace Thiele: your very own sheikh story.
I love your unbounded enthusiasm for my sheikhs, which makes me want to write more.
And a huge thank-you to Ana Neves for your language assistance.
You’re a gem!
CHAPTER ONE
THREE MEN STRODE through the gleaming marble corridors of the Emir’s palace.
Past the great council room where the walls were hung with decorative displays of lances, swords and ancient muskets. Where brightly coloured martial standards hung as if waiting for the next call to arms.
Past sumptuous banqueting halls and audience chambers. Past colonnaded courtyards filled with pleasure gardens, the tinkle of fountains loud in this still hour after midnight. The only other noise was the march of boots.
Past the studded medieval door to the empty harem and another that led to the passage carved down, through the very rock of the citadel, to the vast treasure chambers and dungeons.
Finally they reached the corridor to the Emir’s private suite.
Sayid paused. ‘That will be all for now.’
‘But, sire, our orders are—’
Sayid swung round. ‘Your orders change tonight. Halarq is no longer on the brink of war.’
Saying it aloud still sounded unreal. Halarq had been on the verge of war most of his life, principally, but not solely, with the neighbouring kingdom of Jeirut. It was why every male was armed and trained to defend his country to the death.
Sayid thought of all those years primed for conflict. Of unending border skirmishes and casualties. Of missed opportunities to invest in better lives for the people, as opposed to diverting energy and funds into armaments.
His mouth firmed. If he achieved nothing else, he, Sayid Badawi, the new Emir of Halarq, had done that—brought peace. Later, when it sank in, he’d rejoice. Tonight all he wanted was to lay his head on a pillow for the first time in three days and find oblivion.