The Sheikh's Marriage Bargain - Leslie North Page 0,2

a marriage contract, which was apparently enforceable.

She got out of the car.

The breeze still held a bit of warmth from the day, and it ran its fingers through her hair. Laila took a deep breath. Far to the east, the city of Raihanabad glowed. She had no idea how far she’d driven.

She patted her pocket for her cell phone and reached back into the car to grab her purse. And then Laila started to walk.

2

The night turned inky black with bright, diamondlike stars, and Laila kept walking. The hills turned lush under her feet. The city didn’t get closer. Judging from the time on her phone, she had walked for an hour before it died. Then what choice did she have? She kept walking until she saw the light, which couldn’t possibly be the city. Could it? No.

It was like the some of the gates that led into the city, only more ornate and more subdued at the same time. The ironwork perched between two wings of sandstone walls and looked ancient, as did the building inside—a palace of some sort. But more importantly, the gate was slightly ajar. Music floated on the air from somewhere on the other side of the building, and every so often the echo of a laugh came down through the night.

Laila shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The worn-out sneakers she wore had not held up very well to all that walking. Whether it was a good idea to enter some unknown gate on the off chance that whatever happened inside would be okay, she couldn’t say. But she had nowhere else to go, and there were people here—somewhere. The music got louder as the breeze shifted. Where was it coming from? Not directly inside the gate, so how bad could it be to just step inside?

The gate opened farther under her hand with a creak, revealing...a garden.

A lush garden, in shades of deep green and black in the moonlight. And lamplight. Lamps bordered the path leading in. If that wasn’t an invitation, she didn’t know what was. This kind of garden didn’t happen in the back of a junkyard or an abandoned warehouse. Someone would be inside who could at least give her a ride back to the city. A hotel or the airport, maybe. She hadn’t decided yet.

Laila pushed the gate closed behind her, and a weight lifted off her shoulders. There. Harb wouldn’t be following her that way, at least.

The paths turned and wound, and inside five minutes Laila didn’t know which direction she was heading. Adrenaline fizzled and popped in her veins. Her shoulders loosened. Her mother would be having a fit if she knew what was happening, but this felt less like running from creepy Harb and more like diving headfirst into an adventure. Laila guessed it could be both things at once.

She’d made it halfway between two of the lamps, which cast a lovely yellow light on the cobblestone path beneath her feet, when two light taps landed on her shoulder. Her entire body leaped with the startle, and she whirled around with a choking gasp, swinging her hand as hard as she could.

The man stopped her strike in midair, catching her wrist as easily as she might flick away an insect.

“You startled me,” she bit out. “You—”

You—he—whoever he was, he was breathtaking. Tall. Muscled, beneath a shirt that looked expensive even in the dark. Her fingers itched to trace one of the buttons. Or maybe slip her fingers beneath the placket. He held her hand lightly, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that if she so much as tried to pull away, she’d discover an iron grip.

“You scared me,” she said, lifting her chin. “The least you could do is apologize.”

A smirk spread across his face, revealing flawless teeth, and heat erupted in the base of her belly. “I should apologize?”

Oh, his voice was smooth and deep and took the strength from her knees. She tested his grip and there it was—the strength singing in every muscle—but then he dropped her hand. Regret crashed into Laila. Better to have him touching her than not. The power in his words hit her in the next wave. This guy had something to do with this lush garden. And he wasn’t the gardener.

“I’m sorry,” she heard herself say. “I was only looking for...” A ride home. Maybe a bodyguard. A bench to sit on. “...some food. I’m so hungry.”

He watched her as she spoke,