The sheikh's chosen wife Read Free Page B

shadows.
    'Conscientious chap,'
Ethan said dryly.
    Leona didn't answer. She
was too busy having to fight a sudden attack of nerves that set butterflies
fluttering inside her stomach. Okay, she tried to reason, so she hadn't put
herself in the social arena much recently, therefore it was natural that she
should suffer an attack of nerves tonight.
    Yet some other part of
her brain was trying to insist that her attack of nerves had nothing to do with
the party. It was so dark and so quiet here that even their footsteps seemed to
echo with a sinister ring.
    Sinister? Picking up on
the word, she questioned it impatiently. What was the matter with her? Why was
everything sinister all of a sudden? It was a hot night—a beautiful night—she
was twenty-nine years old, and about to do what most twenty-nine-year-olds did:
party when they got the chance!
    'Quite something, hmm?'
Ethan remarked as they walked into the shadow of the larger yacht.
    But Leona didn't want to
look. Despite the tough talking-to she had just given herself, the yacht
bothered her. The whole situation was beginning to worry her. She could feel
her heart pumping unevenly against her breast, and just about every nerve-end
she possessed was suddenly on full alert for no other reason than—
    It was then that she heard
it—nothing more than a whispering sound in the shadows, but it was enough to
make her go perfectly still. So did Ethan. Almost at the same moment the
darkness itself seemed to take on a life of its own by shifting and swaying
before her eyes.
    The tingling sensation on
the back of her neck returned with a vengeance. 'Ethan,' she said jerkily. 'I
don't think I like this."
    'No,' he answered tersely.
'Neither do I.'
    That was the moment when
they saw them, first one dark shape, then another, and another, emerging from
the shadows until they turned themselves into Arabs wearing dark robes, with
darkly sober expressions.
    'Oh, dear God,' she
breathed. 'What's happening?'
    But she already knew the
answer. It was a fear she'd had to live with from the day she'd married Hassan.
She was British. She had married an Arab who was a very powerful man. The dual
publicity her disappearance could generate was in itself worth its weight in
gold to political fanatics wanting to make a point.
    Something she should have
remembered earlier, then the word 'sinister' would have made a lot more sense,
she realised, as Ethan's arm pressed her hard up against him.
    Further down the harbour
wall the lights from the Petronades boat were swinging gently. Here, beneath
the shadow of the other, the ring of men was steadily closing in. Her heart
began to pound like a hammer drill. Ethan couldn't hold her any closer if he
tried, and she could almost taste his tension. He, too, knew exactly what was
going to happen.
    'Keep calm,' he gritted
down at her. 'When I give the word, lose your shoes and run.'
    He was going to make a
lunge for them and try to break the ring so she could have a small chance to
escape. 'No,' she protested, and clutched tightly at his jacket sleeve. 'Don't
do it. They might hurt you if you do!'
    'Just go, Leona!' he
ground back at her, then, with no more warning than that, he was pulling away,
and almost in the same movement he threw himself at the two men closest
    It was then that all hell
broke loose. While Leona stood there frozen in horror watching all three men
topple to the ground in a huddle, the rest of the ring leapt into action. Fear
for her life sent a surge of adrenaline rushing through her blood. Dry-mouthed,
stark-eyed, she was just about to do as Ethan had told her and run, when she
heard a hard voice rasp out a command in Arabic. In a state of raw panic she
swung round in its direction, expecting someone to be almost upon her, only to
find to her confusion that the ring of men had completely bypassed her, leaving
her standing here alone with only one other man.
    It was at that point that
she truly stopped functioning— heart, lungs, her ability