Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride
Shipwrecked with the Sheikh!Sailing to India to marry a stranger, Constance Montgomery is shipwrecked off the Arabian coast of Murimon. The world believes her lost at sea, and only the kingdom’s ruler, Kadar, knows the truth. She’s honour-bound to leave, but the brooding Prince tempts Constance to stay…Kadar knows that no matter how beautiful Constance is she is forbidden. But every moment with her seduces him, until temptation becomes torment! Kadar thinks he has no heart left to offer any woman…can Constance prove him wrong?
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Hot Arabian Nights
Be seduced and swept away by these desert princes!
You wonât want to miss this new,
thrillingly exotic quartet from Marguerite Kaye!
First, exiled Prince Azhar must decide whether to
claim his kingdom and beautiful unconventional widow Julia Trevelyan!
Read
The Widow and the Sheikh Already available!
When Sheikh Kadar rescues shipwrecked mail-order
bride Constance Montgomery, can a convenient marriage help him maintain peace in his kingdom?
Find out in
Sheikhâs Mail-Order Bride Available now!
And watch out for two more tantalising novels, coming soon â¦
To secure his kingdomâs safety, Sheikh Rafiq must win
Arabiaâs most dangerous horse race. His secret weapon is an English horse-whisperer ⦠whom he does not expect to be an irresistibly attractive woman!
Daredevil Christopher Fordyce has always craved
adventure. When his travels lead him to the kingdom of Nessarah he makes his most exciting discovery yetâ a desert princess!
The notion of having an astronomer heroine first occurred to me when I was researching Julia, the botanist heroine of the first book in this series, and stumbled across Caroline Herschel, sister of Williamâwho discovered Uranusâin Richard Holmesâs brilliant book The Age of Wonder. I share my heroineâs sense of awe when looking up at the sky on a clear nightâalthough, unlike Constance, when I first started on this book I had no idea what I was actually looking at.
It struck me, as I read up on the history of astronomy, that although today we know exponentially moreânot only about our own galaxy but about the billions of others in the far-flung reaches of the universeâthat the feeling of our humbling insignificance in the grand scheme of things, and the excitement of knowing there must be as yet undiscovered wonders out there, would be very similar to what she would have felt two hundred years before. In this sense I felt a true affinity with my stargazing heroine.
Sadly, living in Argyll on the west coast of Scotland, I find clear nights are a rarity, but writing this book has ignited a new passion which finds me huddled up under blankets in the darkest spot of the garden with my guide to the night sky. I should say at this point that my enthusiasm still far exceeds my knowledge, so any errors Iâve made in Constanceâs celestial observations are entirely my own.
I hope you enjoy escaping to this romantic fantasy kingdom as much as I did when writing about it.
MARGUERITE KAYE writes hot historical romances from her home in cold and usually rainy Scotland, featuring Regency rakes, Highlanders and sheikhs. She has published almost thirty books and novellas. When sheâs not writing she enjoys walking, cycling (but only on the level), gardening (but only what she can eat) and cooking. She also likes to knit and occasionally drink martinis (though not at the same time). Find out more on her website: margueritekaye.com.
For my nana, Mary Macfarlane Binnie,
who bestowed her love of historical romance on my mum, who in turn imparted it to me. I hope you approve of my own modest efforts.
Contents
Kingdom of Murimon, ArabiaâMay 1815
Daylight was just starting to fade as he neared his journeyâs end. He guided his deliberately modest caravan, consisting of the camel on which he sat and two pack mules, through the broad sweep of the valley floor where the largest of Murimonâs oases fed the fields and orchards, sheltered from the fierce heat of the desert sun by the serried ranks of date palms laden with their ripening fruit. Towering above, the crags of the Murimon Mountains he had just traversed provided further shelter, the silver-grey rock streaked with ochre, gold and umber glinting in the sunâs rays.
The small town which served the oasis was built into the foothills of the mountains, consisting of a steep jumble of houses and rooftops which clung precariously to the hillside, leaving every precious scrap of level land free for cultivation. The delicious aroma of roasted goat meat wafted on the faint breeze, along with the soft murmur of voices. There was precious little chance of him being recognised for who he was. His recently ended seven years of self-imposed exile and the kingdomâs state of hibernation due to the current period of deep mourning saw to that. But he kept his gaze turned away all the same, leading his camel and his little train of pack mules past the town towards the final mountain pass he must negotiate, keffiyeh pulled over his face leaving only his eyes uncovered.
His brother would not have countenanced travelling in such a low-key manner. Butrus would have ridden in regal splendour at the head of a caravan of magnificent proportions designed to proclaim his majesty, to encourage his people to pay homage to their ruler, to marvel at and to revere him, to bask in the opulent glare of his princely person. But Butrus was dead. He, Kadar, was Prince of Murimon now. Ostentation sat uneasily with him, though he was beginning to realise that his personal views quite often differed from those of his subjects, and their expectations of him.
