The Sheikh's Bought Wife Read online

  The desert king’s outrageous proposal!

  Marry a sheikh in return for a hefty financial reward? Shy researcher Jane Smith would normally have laughed in Zayed Al Zawba’s handsome face. Except it’s only for six months and the money will rescue her sister who’s mired in debt...

  Sheikh Zayed will do anything to inherit Kafalah’s neighboring oil-rich lands, even wed plain Jane: he’ll never long to consummate a marriage with her! But Zayed hasn’t bargained on Jane’s frumpy clothes hiding delicious curves...or her quick mind and untouched beauty teasing and tempting him beyond his wildest imaginings!

  “Unfortunately, the bequest comes with a condition—which is that I must be married in order to inherit. And although the very idea is abhorrent to me, I want that piece of land for my people,” Zayed said, his voice growing deep with fervor. “So much so, that I’m prepared to marry in order to get it.”

  “Then why not ask one of your many girlfriends?” Jane questioned archly.

  “Because I don’t want love and I don’t wish to be tied to one woman—at least not until it is time for me to produce an heir. The union I propose with you will be nothing other than a means to an end. A brief union, which I intend to dissolve after six months.”

  She looked at him curiously. “On what grounds?”

  “Non-consummation, of course.” He shrugged his powerful shoulders.

  Jane nodded, her heart pounding painfully against her rib cage, her mind working over the facts as she pieced together the intention behind his bizarre request. “So you decided to pick a woman to whom you were not in the least bit attracted?”

  “Exactly.” He sat back in his chair, his black eyes lasering into her.

  “And I am that woman.”

  “You most certainly are. I cannot think of a more ideal candidate.”

  Wedlocked!

  Conveniently wedded, passionately bedded!

  Whether there’s a debt to be paid, a will to be obeyed or a business to be saved...she’s got no choice but to say “I do!”

  But these billionaire bridegrooms have got another think coming if they imagine marriage will be that easy...

  Soon their convenient brides become the objects of an inconvenient desire!

  Find out what happens after the vows in

  The Billionaire’s Defiant Acquisition by Sharon Kendrick

  One Night to Wedding Vows by Kim Lawrence

  Wedded, Bedded, Betrayed by Michelle Smart

  Expecting a Royal Scandal by Caitlin Crews

  Trapped by Vialli’s Vows by Chantelle Shaw

  Baby of His Revenge by Jennie Lucas

  A Diamond for Del Rio’s Housekeeper by Susan Stephens

  Bound by His Desert Diamond by Andie Brock

  Bride by Royal Decree by Caitlin Crews

  Claimed for the De Carrillo Twins by Abby Green

  The Desert King’s Captive Bride by Annie West

  Look out for more Wedlocked! stories coming soon!

  SHARON KENDRICK

  The Sheikh’s Bought Wife

  Sharon Kendrick once won a national writing competition by describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realize that she’d just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Harlequin, featuring often stubborn but always to-die-for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like life...

  Books by Sharon Kendrick

  Harlequin Presents

  A Royal Vow of Convenience

  The Ruthless Greek’s Return

  Christmas in Da Conti’s Bed

  The Sheikh’s Undoing

  One Night With Consequences

  Secrets of a Billionaire’s Mistress

  Crowned for the Prince’s Heir

  Carrying the Greek’s Heir

  The Billionaire’s Legacy

  Di Sione’s Virgin Mistress

  Wedlocked!

  The Billionaire’s Defiant Acquisition

  The Bond of Billionaires

  Claimed for Makarov’s Baby

  The Sheikh’s Christmas Conquest

  At His Service

  The Housekeeper’s Awakening

  Desert Men of Qurhah

  Defiant in the Desert

  Shamed in the Sands

  Seduced by the Sultan

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  To the fabulous Janie Heard—supersharp judge, sublime interpreter of Ottolenghi recipes, musician, most prolific reader in the book club and possessor of an earthy sense of humor.

  Thanks for all your advice on the legal aspects of marital consummation—which provided an interesting and hilarious correspondence.

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM THE MAGNATE’S TEMPESTUOUS MARRIAGE BY MIRANDA LEE

  PROLOGUE

  ‘SO WHAT’S THE CATCH?’

  Zayed detected the faint ripple of unease which ran through his advisors as he shot out his silky question. They were nervous, he could tell. More nervous than was usual in the presence of a sheikh of his power and influence. Not that he cared about their nerves. On the contrary, he found them useful. Deference and fear kept people at a distance and that was exactly where he liked them.

  Turning away from the window which overlooked his magnificent palace gardens, he studied the men who stood in front of him—the guileless expression on the face of his closest aide, Hassan, not fooling him for a moment.

  ‘Catch, Your Most Supreme Highness?’ questioned Hassan.

  ‘Yes, catch,’ Zayed echoed, his voice growing impatient now. ‘My maternal grandfather has died and I discover he has gifted me one of the most valuable pieces of land in the entire desert region. Inheriting Dahabi Makaan was something which never even entered my mind.’ He frowned. ‘Which leaves me wondering what has prompted this gesture of unexpected generosity.’

  Hassan gave a slight bow. ‘Because you are one of his few remaining blood relatives, sire, and thus surely such a bequest is perfectly natural.’

  ‘That much may be true,’ Zayed conceded. ‘But until recently he had not spoken to me since I was a boy of seven summers.’

  ‘Your grandfather was undoubtedly touched by your visit as he lay on his deathbed—a visit he must surely not have been anticipating,’ said Hassan diplomatically. ‘Perhaps that is the reason.’

  Zayed’s jaw tightened. Perhaps it was. But the visit had not been inspired by love, since love had long departed from his heart. He had gone because duty had demanded it and Zayed never shirked from duty. He had gone despite the fierce pain it had caused him to do so. And yes, it had been a strange sensation to look upon the ravaged face of the old king, who had cut off his only daughter after her marriage to Zayed’s father. But death was the great equaliser, he remembered thinking bitterly as the
gnarled old fingers had clutched at his. The stealthy foe from which no man or woman could ever escape. He had made his peace with his dying grandfather because he suspected it would have pleased his mother for him to do so, not because he’d been seeking some kind of financial reward.

  ‘Nobody gives something for nothing in this world, but perhaps this is an exception.’ Zayed’s eyes bored questioningly into those of his aide. ‘Are you telling me that the land is to be mine, without condition?’

  Hassan hesitated and the pause which followed sounded heavy. Ominous. ‘Not quite.’

  Zayed nodded. So his unerring instinct had not failed him after all! ‘You mean there is a catch,’ he said triumphantly.

  Hassan nodded. ‘I suspect that you will see it as one, sire—for in order to inherit Dahabi Makaan, you need to be...’ nervously, he licked his lips ‘...married.’

  ‘Married?’ echoed Zayed, his voice deepening with a dangerous note, which made the aides shoot glances of increasing anxiety at each other.

  ‘Yes, sire.’

  ‘You know my feelings about marriage.’

  ‘Indeed, sire.’

  ‘But just so there can be no misunderstanding, I will reiterate them for you. I have no desire to marry—at least, not for many years. Why tie yourself to one woman when you can enjoy twenty?’ Zayed gave a fleeting smile as he remembered visiting his mistress in New York last week and the sight of her lying on rumpled satin sheets clad in nothing but a tight black basque, her milky thighs open and welcoming. He cleared his throat and willed the hardening in his groin to subside. ‘I accept that one day I will need to provide my kingdom with an heir and that is the moment when I shall take a bride—a pure young virgin from my own kingdom. A moment which will not come for many decades, for a man can procreate until he is sixty, seventy—in some cases, even eighty. And since I believe it is the modern way for young women to enjoy all the expertise of an older lover, it will be a highly satisfactory arrangement for both participants.’

  Hassan nodded. ‘I understand your reasoning entirely, sire, and usually I would completely concur with your judgment. But this land is priceless. It is oil rich and of huge strategic significance. Think how much it could benefit your people if it were to be yours.’

  Zayed felt indignation heat his blood. Didn’t he spend almost all his waking hours thinking about his people and how to do his best by them? Was he not the most successful of all the desert Sheikhs because of his dedication to his land and his determination to be a peacekeeper? And yet Hassan’s words were true. Dahabi Makaan would undoubtedly be a glittering jewel in the crown of his kingdom. Could he really turn his back on such a proposition? His mouth flattened. He remembered his dying grandfather croaking out a plea for him not to leave it too long to produce an heir, so that their bloodline could continue. And when Zayed had coolly remarked that he had no intention of marrying for many years, the old man’s face had crumpled. Had the wily old king decided that the only way to achieve his heart’s desire was to force the issue, by making marriage a condition of the inheritance?

  Yet the thought of marriage made Zayed want to recoil. To turn away from its insidious tentacles, which could bind a man in so many ways. He loathed marriage for more reasons than a high libido which demanded variety. He loathed the institution of marriage with all its flaws and baseless promises and the very idea of finding a bride in order to inherit was something which repulsed every fibre of his being.

  Unless...

  His mind began to pick over the possibilities—because wouldn’t only a fool turn down the chance to be master of a region renowned for the black gold known as oil, as well as its prized position straddling four desert countries?

  ‘Perhaps there is a way in which the conditions of the will could be met,’ he said slowly, ‘and yet not tie me into all the tedium and inconvenience of a long-term marriage.’

  ‘You know of such a way, sire?’ questioned Hassan. ‘Pray, enlighten us, oh, knowledgeable one.’

  ‘If the marriage were not to be consummated,’ Zayed continued thoughtfully, ‘then it would not be legal and, as such, could quickly be dissolved. Is that not so?’

  ‘But, sire—’

  ‘No buts,’ said Zayed impatiently. ‘For the idea grows on me with every second which passes.’ Yet he could see the look of doubt on his aide’s face and knew very well what had caused it. Because Zayed was a man known for his virility. A man who needed the regular release of sex in order to sustain him—in the same way that a horse needed oats and exercise in order to live. He doubted there was a woman alive who could resist him in her bed and the idea that he could tolerate a sexless marriage was almost laughable. Yes, there were undeniably obstacles to such a chaste union but Zayed was a man who thrived on overcoming obstacles, and as he stared into Hassan’s perplexed face a brilliant idea began to form in his mind.

  ‘What if I were to choose a woman who does not tempt me in any way?’ he said slowly. ‘A drab woman who makes a mockery of all that is feminine. A woman who would turn a blind eye if I happened to stray. Surely that would provide the perfect solution?’

  ‘You know of such a woman, sire?’

  Zayed’s mouth flattened into a hard line. Oh, yes. He knew of such a woman. An image swam into his mind as he thought about Jane Smith who, with her mousy hair and the colourless clothes which swamped her figure, fitted the bill perfectly. What was it that the English said about a woman on whom the gods had not gifted much in the way of looks? Plain Jane. Yes, indeed. Never had such a description been truer than of the uptight academic who was in charge of the archives of his embassy in London. For not only was she plain, she was also immune to his charms, some might even say disapproving—a fact he had registered a while back with something approaching incredulity. At first he’d thought she must be playing games with him. That she was using that well-known feminine ploy of affecting indifference towards a powerful man, in the hope that it would stir some interest in his groin and in his heart. As if any part of him could ever be stirred by Jane Smith! He had discovered her attitude to be real and not feigned when he’d overheard someone mentioning his name and, as he had silently rounded the corner of his London embassy, had seen her rolling her eyes. Insolent, foolish woman!

  Yet Jane loved his country with a passion which was rare for a foreigner and she knew it better than many of its natives, which was why he hadn’t instantly dismissed her for gross insubordination. She adored every contour of its deserts, its palaces and its rich, sometimes bloody history. Zayed’s heart gave a savage wrench of pain. A pain which had never quite healed no matter how hard he had tried to turn his back on it. Might not it help that healing process if he accepted his grandfather’s bequest and acquired Dahabi Makaan? To close a door on the past and to look beyond, to the future?

  ‘Prepare my jet, Hassan,’ he said harshly. ‘And I will fly to England to take the wretched Jane Smith as my bride.’

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE DAY HAD started out badly for Jane and now it seemed it was going to get a whole lot worse. First there had been the phone call—one of the ominous and highly disturbing phone calls which had started arriving daily, leaving her feeling frustrated and scared. Then her train had broken down on her way into work, where she was greeted by complete panic by the time she arrived at the Kafalah Embassy. And the news which awaited her made her heart sink. Sheikh Zayed Al Zawba had decided to pay an unexpected flying visit—quite literally, since he was currently on board his private jet and expected within the next couple of hours. He was a proud and demanding man and the ambassador had been nervously barking out instructions left, right and centre while every female secretary had been grinning as they eagerly awaited the arrival of the desert king, because Zayed was also known for an arrogant charm and sex appeal which made women flock to him like moths to the light bulb. But Jane grimaced when she heard of his impending arrival.
She banged her office door shut more loudly than was necessary because she didn’t think he was charming or sexy. She didn’t care that he was a wizard when it came to negotiating trade settlements, or building schools and hospitals in his homeland.

  She hated him.

  She hated the way his black eyes glittered whenever he talked to you as if he were in possession of some secret he wasn’t going to let you in on. She hated the way women reacted whenever he was around—fawning all over him as if he were some kind of god. A sex god, she’d once overheard someone whisper. She swallowed. Because wasn’t that what she hated most of all—the fact that she wasn’t immune to the undeniable allure of the desert Sheikh, even though he represented everything she most despised—with his legions of lovers and his callous disregard for the feelings of the opposite sex? And yes, she knew he’d had a pretty awful upbringing—but did that give him carte blanche to behave exactly as he liked? How long were you supposed to make allowances for the past?

  Hanging up her jacket, she tucked the back of her blouse into her skirt and sat down at her desk. At least her office was hidden away in the shadowed basement of the Central London embassy, far away from the excitement of the gilded upstairs and all the preparations which were being made for Zayed’s arrival. With a bit of luck she could hide herself away down here and not even see him.

  Automatically she switched on her computer and the screen immediately lit up with a beautiful screensaver of the famous palace of Kafalah but unusually, Jane saw nothing. For once the blue dome and gilded arches failed to register because all she could think about was the phone call she’d received first thing this morning and the now-familiar voice of the man making it. The message he gave was simple and didn’t vary but the tone of his voice was becoming increasingly hostile. She didn’t know how he’d got hold of her number—all she could think about was the growing note of threat each time she spoke to him. This morning he had got straight to the point.