Page 6 of The Sheikh's Runaway Bride

He smirked. “For the moment. But don’t go getting any ideas. There is no escape for you this time. I have my security team stationed around the palace at every access point. And I believe you’re too smart to try a second time.” He leaned close, his lips claiming hers for a handful of heated seconds. Long enough for her heart to race and tingles to cascade down her spine to her toes. He pulled back and added softly, “We both know the consequences of such an action would be…dire.”

Chapter Four

Arabelle ran a hand down the soft fabric of the fluttery aqua, knee length dress that was clearly haute couture. Her husband had a good eye for women’s measurements. Not just for the dress but her silky thong and bra, too. Even her heeled shoes were a perfect fit.

That he’d also sent a hairdresser and nail technician to their bedroom after she’d showered was enough for her to digest. Luckily they’d been quick and efficient. While one woman had upswept her hair into a fancy knot with pearl side-combs, the other one had moisturized her hands and feet, filed her nails and painted them a cherry red.

The moment Mahindar had returned, his staff had quietly withdrew. If his eyes weren’t already dark enough, they’d darkened further on seeing her. But he’d simply taken her hand and led her through the palace before they took some stairs onto the roof.

The cool, velvet night air brushing her skin, he’d bundled her into his helicopter, checked her headset before he took the pilot’s seat. She noted some pieces of luggage in the back but was soon distracted by the dizzying liftoff.

It took perhaps a minute to leave the lights of the palace behind, but she was amazed at how quickly lights again twinkled into existence as they flew close to the outskirts of Ninuk, his nation’s biggest city.

Landing on a helipad at his private airstrip, he escorted her out of the helicopter to a luxury Gulfstream jet which awaited them on the tarmac. Everything happened so fast her head was spinning even before the jet idled down the runway then surged into a take-off that soon had them gliding up into the sky.

It was surreal sitting next to her husband in one of the jet’s soft, cream leather seats, with air hostesses taking care of their every need and offering a vast menu along with refreshments.

Though she declined any suggestions, Mahindar ordered the baklava and champagne.

“It’s a bit early in the morning for alcohol, isn’t it?” she asked after one of the stunning air hostesses sashayed through the front door to fetch his request.

He smiled. “We’ve yet to sleep. It’s been a long day and an even longer night, and you look like you could use a drink to help you relax.”

He also appeared to delight in feeding her the honey-sweet, many-layered filo pastry filled with chopped nuts. But though her stomach at first cramped in rejection at the thought of food, after she nibbled at one corner, she could no longer say no to her favorite treat of all time.Had he known that?

With his blunt-ended fingertips touching her lips and sending warm sparks through her body, along with the bubbly drink she swallowed automatically, she was soon not just relaxing; she was becoming warm and fuzzy inside.

Even the dawn light, which at first had been nothing more than a suggestion outside the windows, began to brighten the sky and finally glisten on the blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea below them in invitation.

Mahindar’s dark gaze settled on her. “We’ll be landing in ten minutes.”

His comment evaporated her feel-good vibes, reminding her of why she was really here. She sent him a strained smile, all the while wishing she was home in the UK. Because thatwasher home now, no matter how much her husband made her heart race when he was near. That being married to Mahindar made her a sheikha to a region she knew so little about only made her more homesick.

She nodded, but didn’t ask about his choice of honeymoon. It wasn’t like he’d given her any preference. He’d no doubt take her to some exotic, over-the-top resort where people flaunted their wealth and tried to outdo one another.

Instead they landed on a tiny island’s airstrip, where a chauffeur waited on the tarmac in an open-topped Jeep. It was kind of fun to sit in the back next to Mahindar, his big hand engulfing hers while the sea air whipped at her fancy hairdo and the rising sun showcased breathtaking views of the Mediterranean ocean, seagulls wheeling above their jeep and the glittering, white capped waves.

They passed a village where children kicked around a ball while others practiced throwing their fishing nets, dogs running around madly barking. Some of the children ran beside the Jeep, calling out and waving, and Mahindar waved back, his smile wide and his eyes flashing amusement.

A pang filled her chest. What would he be like with his own children,theirchildren? Would he be a loving father or a strict tyrant like her dad had been? That her mother still loved him, despite his flaws, made Arabelle more determined than ever not to fall for a man who didn’t show his love in return.

A house came into view, then, and her introspection faded as she sat forward to better see what appeared to be their honeymoon destination. The red-cedar home sat high on stilts next to the edge of a sandy embankment. And though the home appeared quaint, in other ways it was modern, too, with its many tinted windows taking advantage of the ocean views.

She blinked. She’d expected some huge mansion with servants scurrying around. Instead he’d chosen something intimate and inviting. Something personal and tasteful.

“Not what you were expecting?” he asked shrewdly.

“It’s not,” she conceded softly. Then added, “It’s perfect.”

He smiled. “I thought you might enjoy some alone time, away from everyone including the paparazzi.”

She nodded. “I’m not up to dealing with any of that yet.”

“You had much freedom in the UK, didn’t you?”

“I did. I was anonymous. Not even my closest friends knew I was a sheikha.” At least, not until she was taken away from her life in the UK. She sighed. “It was wonderful.”

He frowned a little, as though caught unawares by her comment. “Most women I know adore the limelight.”

---