Sheik Read Free Page A

skin, blond hair and finely chiseled features. Still unable to believe that a woman of such rare beauty rode with the fierce Berbers, Jamal needed to convince himself that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Reaching beneath her robes, he clasped a hand around a soft, unfettered breast, his fingers exploring its size and shape. He smiled and squeezed gently, noting that the firm mound was exactly the right size to fill his hand. He ventured further and found the hard, jutting nipple, sweetly erect and very much to his liking. He closed his eyes, imagining how perfectly it would fill his mouth. How delicious it would taste.
    Heat. Zara awoke to a burning sensation thathad nothing to do with her aching head. It took a few seconds to realize she was being groped. Her eyes flew open, and she gasped when she saw a white-robed devil bending over her, his dark, sultry eyes smoldering with blatant sensuality.
    The breath hissed through her teeth. “Take your hands off me, murderer!”
    Jamal’s searching hand stilled. “Ah, beauty awakens.” His hand withdrew reluctantly as he stared into a pair of angry green eyes. “Who are you? How is it that a woman is riding with the Blue Men?”
    Zara touched her head and groaned. She was surprised to find herself alive. She tried to rise and with difficulty managed to push herself to her elbows. Her gaze fell upon her fallen betrothed, sprawled beside her in the dirt, his life’s blood draining upon the arid brown earth. She tried to crawl to him but Jamal held her back.
    “He’s dead.”
    “Fiend! Son of an ass! Camel dung! Sayed was too good a man to die like this.”
    Jamal frowned. He had no idea why this woman’s friendship with the dead man should bother him. “What was he to you?”
    “My betrothed. You’ve killed him!” She tried to grasp her blade, which lay just beyond her reach, but Jamal’s booted foot clamped her wrist to the ground.
    “I’ve killed many men, but not this one. Your betrothed knew the consequences when he attacked the sultan’s caravan. Who are you? Your man was remiss in his duty toward you. Women don’t ride with warriors.”
    Zara bristled with indignation. “Perhaps Arab women don’t, but I am a Berber. Sayed couldn’t stop me. Only the
cadi
has that kind of power, and my father was tolerant of my wish to accompany him.”
    Jamal went still, digesting Zara’s words. Then he smiled. It wasn’t a pretty smile. “Praise Allah for my good fortune. It appears I have captured Youssef’s daughter.”
    Zara realized her mistake too late. By revealing her identity she had placed both herself and her father in grave danger. Her capture would likely bring Youssef running to her defense, and that could prove fatal. Her captor seemed too intelligent to accept a lie, so she didn’t insult him by denying her identity.
    “I am Princess Zara, daughter of the
cadi
, Youssef. Who are you?”
    Stunned by her boldness, Jamal stared at her. Arab women never went out in public unveiled, or spoke to a man with such daring. But then, Berber women followed none of the rules that Arab men demanded that their wives, daughters and concubines obey. Finding his tongue, he said, “I am Sheik Jamal, loyal subject of Allah and the sultan. And you, Princess, are my captive.”
    Grasping her hand, he hauled her to her feet, surprised to find her so tall and lissome. Though he was much taller, she reached his chin. By contrast, Arab women were small and inclined to plumpness. Arab men liked their women round, curvaceous and submissive. This feisty barb-tongued Berber princess possessed none of those qualities; she probably didn’t know how to besubmissive. Nevertheless, there was no mistaking her femininity. His questing hand had discovered a soft woman beneath her concealing blue robes.
    Once on her feet, Zara swayed dizzily. Her head felt like a large melon about to explode. Recognizing her distress, Jamal swung her up into his arms.
    Despite her injury, Zara resisted