Captured By A Sheikh

“Then what happens to Ben?” Tears threatened again, because she knew the answer.

“You must admit that he will be better off with me than with your sister,” said the sheikh. “Also, in compensation for spoiling your wedding, I will pay for a private detective to search for her.”

For a crazy moment, Holly contemplated offering to go to Alqedar and take care of Ben. Just to keep him close, this child of her heart. To give him a mother, after all.

But what place could she have in a land so unfamiliar she doubted she could find it on a map?

Doubts tore at her. What if Sharif was tricking her in some way? The contract might have been altered. Maybe nothing was as it seemed to be.

She’d never had to deal with such a situation before. If Trevor were here…but, of course, he wasn’t.

She needed this man’s trust. And her deepest instincts told her that he would never, under any circumstances, harm Ben.

“All right,” she said slowly, still not certain she was making the right decision. “If everything is as you present it, I agree not to fight for custody.”

Outside, the rain settled into a steady, lulling pattern. The long day, the full meal and the lingering effects of medication must be taking their toll, because Holly found herself fighting a yawn.

“You need sleep.” Taking her hand, the sheikh pulled her gently to her feet.

At the bed, Holly curled beside Ben. She was only vaguely aware of Sharif tucking the covers around them.

SHE AWOKE to semidarkness and the scents of wood-smoke and baby powder. Rain pattered on the roof while, across the room, the TV glimmered, its sound turned low.

A flash of lightning showed Sharif dozing at the dining table, his head cradled on his arms. Sleep appeared to have caught him unexpectedly.

Beside Holly, the baby murmured and nestled closer. Slowly she began sinking back into slumber.

A quickening in the TV announcer’s tone barely penetrated her consciousness until she picked out the words “body” and “woman.” The fears of the past few months returned in a flash.

Sliding from the bed, Holly hurried to the set. Cool air nipped her shoulders above the crumpled wedding gown, and the wooden floor chilled her stockinged feet.

“The victim, believed to be in her mid-twenties, was found by off-road bikers in the desert,” said the announcer. “Police haven’t released her identity.”

On the screen, paramedics loaded a blanket-covered body into an ambulance. When they tilted the stretcher, the blanket fell back to reveal a bare arm.

The camera zoomed in on a small tattoo, a botanical cluster of four-petaled blooms.

Holly recognized them at once. They were jasmine flowers.

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