Captive For The Sheikh's Pleasure

His sinful desert seduction...

Sheikh Ilyas al-Razim was born to be king. He won’t let anything stand in his way, especially not the waitress daring to think she can blackmail him! It’s his duty to protect his family’s honor—even if it means taking impossibly stunning Maggie Delaney as his hostage...

Beneath the starlit skies of Zayrinia’s desert, defiant Maggie convinces Ilyas she is innocent of his accusations. No longer his prisoner, Maggie is free to return home...yet now she’s held captive by their smoldering raw desire! Dare she surrender to the pleasure this desert prince promises?

Ilyas’s mouth moved with hers and the scent of him was enticing.

Maggie found that her hands had moved to his chest and then upwards, so that her arms linked around his neck as she accepted the sensual bliss of his tongue.

This was a kiss, Maggie thought. The caress of his tongue was welcomed by hers and the taste of them together was divine.

Maggie found herself aching to be held more fiercely, to know completely his embrace, and yet he kissed her as if they had all the time in the world.

They had all the time he required, Maggie thought suddenly, for she was, after all, his prisoner. And at that crude dawning realisation she pulled back.

Ilyas had anticipated that she would—the attraction between them was undeniable, and yet he had known she would fight it.

Her breath was ragged and her eyes blinked rapidly as he continued to hold her face. Their lips were moist and their chests were close to touching.

Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it, for she didn’t know what to say.

‘Please.’ She looked at him. ‘That was a mistake.’

‘It didn’t feel like one,’ Ilyas answered. ‘It still doesn’t.’

Ruthless Royal Sheikhs

Two royal brothers—

bound by duty, but driven by desire!

A born leader and a playboy prince…

But nothing is more important to Ilyas and

Hazin al-Razim than honouring their royal birthright!

Until their searing passion for two beautiful and fiery

women challenges everything they’ve ever known and these Sheikhs won’t rest until they’ve claimed them!

Discover Ilyas and Maggie’s story

Captive for the Sheikh’s Pleasure

Available now from Mills & Boon Modern Romance!

And read Hazin and Flo’s story in

Christmas Bride for the Sheikh

Available now from Mills & Boon Medical Romance!

You won’t want to miss this scorching duet

from Carol Marinelli!

Captive for the Sheikh’s Pleasure

Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form asking for her job title. Thrilled to be able to put down her answer, she put ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation and she put down the truth—‘writing’. The third question asked for her hobbies. Well, not wanting to look obsessed, she crossed her fingers and answered ‘swimming’—but, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

Books by Carol Marinelli

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

Billionaires & One-Night Heirs

The Innocent’s Secret Baby

Bound by the Sultan’s Baby Sicilian’s Baby of Shame

One Night With Consequences

The Sheikh’s Baby Scandal

The Billionaire’s Legacy

Di Sione’s Innocent Conquest

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

Their Secret Royal Baby

Paddington Children’s Hospital

Their One Night Baby

The London Primary Hospital

Playboy on Her Christmas List

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Ruthless Royal Sheikhs

Title Page

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘I WOULD NEVER have gone if you’d told me!’

Maggie Delaney was less than impressed as she made her way back to the hostel in Zayrinia with her roommate Suzanne.

Red-haired and with fair skin, Maggie had caught far too much of the Arabian sun but it wasn’t that which was concerning her now—the innocent boat trip Maggie had been expecting had been far from that! ‘It was practically an orgy.’

‘I didn’t know how it was going to turn out,’ Suzanne said. ‘I honestly thought that we’d be snorkelling. Oh, come on, Maggie, loosen up!’

Maggie had been told that rather too many times in her lifetime and especially over the past year.

She wasn’t particularly close to Suzanne. They had met a few months ago when they had been working at the same bar and had caught up by chance here in Zayrinia.

For Maggie it was the end of a year-long working holiday and it had been the most amazing year of her life. She had travelled across Europe and Asia and had saved just enough money to go a little off the beaten path on her return journey home. She had squeezed in a stopover in Zayrinia on the last leg of her journey but, even prior to landing, Maggie had promptly fallen in love with the place.

Looking out of the window as the plane had turned in its path she had watched the desert give way to a stunning city—glittering high-rise buildings contrasted with an ancient walled citadel. And then on the final approach they had flown over the glistening ocean and the harbour lined with luxurious yachts. At her first glimpse of Zayrinia, Maggie had found herself entranced.

Today was the anniversary of her mother’s death and so she had awoken feeling somewhat low. Then Suzanne had told her that she had a plus-one ticket on a boating trip out to the coral reef.

Maggie’s trepidation had started even before boarding.

Instead of a snorkelling boat, they had approached a seriously luxurious yacht but Suzanne had waved away her concerns when Maggie had voiced them.

‘My treat—’ Suzanne had smiled ‘—before you head back to London. Are you looking forward to going home?’

Maggie had thought for a moment and had been just about to answer when Suzanne had cut in, ‘Sorry, that was insensitive, given that you don’t have anyone waiting there for you.’

Suzanne’s insensitive apology had hurt more than the original comment, but Maggie simply hadn’t known how to respond. She had told Suzanne ages ago that she had been in and out of foster and care homes since she was seven and didn’t have any family.

‘Or do you have people waiting?’ Suzanne persisted. ‘Do you still see any of your foster families?’

‘No!’

Maggie’s response was swift and a touch harsh. She was well aware that she came across as rather brusque at times. It was something she had been trying to work on during her year away. But opening up to others didn’t come easily at all and Suzanne had touched on a very raw nerve. At the age of twelve, Maggie had been promised the world; for a few short months she had believed she was a part of a family. It had happened once before.

A year after her mother had died a young couple had taken her in, but their marriage had broken up and she had gone back to care. For a while she had received birthday and Christmas cards but they had petered out. It had hurt, of course, though nothing compared to what had happened a few years later when another family had taken her in. Maggie had expected nothing by then, but Diane, her foster mother, had insisted on giving Maggie the world before coldly taking it back.

It was something Maggie did her level best not to think about; she hadn’t even told her best friend, Flo, what had happened that awful day.

‘I have friends,’ Maggie said, trying not to sound too defensive and trying not to let Suzanne hear her hurt.

‘Of course you do,’ Suzanne said. ‘It’s not the same, though, is it?’

Maggie didn’t answer.

Suzanne often left her feeling rather sideswiped. Maggie was trying to be more trusting and open with people, but it didn’t come easily. She was very aware that she was a touch cynical and always kept her guard up. She’d had to in some of the places she had lived.

Still, she tried.

And so, rather than explain the hurt the remark had caused, and rather than question just where Suzanne had got the invitation from, Maggie boarded.

As the yacht set off, it became increasingly clear to Maggie that they weren’t on a trip out to the coral reef. Instead, it was a very exclusive party and it would seem that they were there to pretty up the numbers!

But, other than jumping overboard, there was little she could do.

And so, wearing nothing more than a bikini and sarong, Maggie felt underdressed and over-exposed. She tried to grin and bear it at first but was all too aware of the roaming eyes drifting over her body. It made her feel supremely uncomfortable, as well as irritated, as Suzanne constantly told her to relax.

Maggie declined the free-flowing champagne that was floating around but, sick of water and needing something sweet in the fierce sun, she asked for a mocktail.

It was spicy and laced with cinnamon and tasted utterly delectable, until it was halfway down and Maggie suddenly felt dizzy and ill.

Perhaps they had got her order wrong—though Maggie doubted it—but was grateful when Suzanne steered her away from the blazing sun and led her to a cabin to lie down.

* * *

‘You were gone for ages,’ Suzanne said as the hostel came into sight. ‘Come on, spill, what did you and the sexy prince get up to?’

Maggie halted mid-stride. ‘Nothing,’ she responded. ‘How was I supposed to know it was the royal cabin?’

‘And how was I?’ Suzanne calmly answered. ‘Maggie, it was an honest mistake.’

Maggie shrugged and did her best to let it go. She seemed to have to do that an awful lot around Suzanne, though. But again she said nothing, telling herself that it really had been a simple mix-up and thankfully no harm had been done. In fact, it had been nice to hide for a couple of hours in the cool of the cabin, though it had been a touch awkward at first when the prince had come in to find her lying on his bed!

Suzanne assumed more had happened.

It hadn’t.

Nothing like that ever did!

Maggie sometimes wondered if she had been born missing a fuse, for not even the sight of a sexy prince with just a towel around his hips could ignite her.

It had been a touch awkward at first; she’d apologised, of course, and they’d ended up talking.

There had been nothing more to it than that.

As they walked into the hostel, all Maggie wanted was to have a shower, some supper and answer a few emails. Paul, her boss at the café where she had worked before heading off on her trip, was short staffed and had asked her to let him know when she would be home and whether she wanted her old job back.

She also wanted to send a long email to her friend Flo who would, no doubt, laugh her head off at the thought of Maggie alone in a bedroom with a sexy prince and nothing other than conversation taking place!

After that she just wanted to read in peace.

Perhaps peace was a slightly tall order given that she was in a four-bed dorm at the hostel, but Suzanne was doing the star-gazing tour tonight and the two other women had checked out this morning.

Hopefully nobody else had checked in!

‘Maggie!’

She heard her name being called from Reception and Maggie headed over to the desk as Suzanne made her way to the dorm.

Tazia, the receptionist, gave Maggie an apologetic smile as she approached. ‘We have just heard that tomorrow’s star-gazing trip has had to be cancelled as there is a simoom predicted.’

‘Simoom?’

‘A large sandstorm. I’ve got a refund here for you.’

‘Oh, no.’ Maggie sighed because she had been really looking forward to it.

‘I am sorry,’ Tazia said as she handed over the cash. ‘The earliest I can book is Monday but even that would depend on the storm clearing in time.’

Maggie shook her head. Her flight was on Monday morning, so that was no good. ‘How about tonight?’ Maggie asked, even though she was incredibly tired.

‘It’s fully booked. I tried a couple of other operators but given the unpredictability of the weather most aren’t taking any tourists out tonight.’

It was such a disappointment and Maggie could have kicked herself for not booking the trip for tonight when she’d had a chance. Though she knew the real reason why she’d avoided this evening’s excursion—Suzanne had booked a ticket and, in truth, Maggie had wanted to take this trip alone.

‘Thanks anyway,’ Maggie said. ‘If there are any cancellations, can you let me know?’

‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ Tazia shook her head. ‘You are tenth on the list.’

It simply wasn’t meant to be.

Maggie went into the dorm to collect her toiletry bag before heading for the shower.

‘What did Tazia want?’ Suzanne asked.

‘The trip to the desert tomorrow has been cancelled.’ Maggie sighed. ‘I’m going to take a shower.’

‘While you do, is it okay if I borrow your phone? I just want to send a text to Glen.’

Suzanne’s phone had got wet and so for the last few days she had been using Maggie’s.

‘Sure,’ Maggie agreed.

The shower was far from luxurious but after a year spent in hostels Maggie was more than used to it.

The water was cool and refreshing and so Maggie stayed under for a while, rinsing off the copious amounts of sun lotion she had applied to her pale skin. Then she massaged conditioner into her long red curls while trying to let go of the hurt that Suzanne’s thoughtless words had caused.

‘It’s not the same, though, is it?’

It had been a throwaway comment, yet it still buzzed around in her head and so, rather than think of old hurts, Maggie turned her mind to all that had happened today.

Or rather all that hadn’t!

She was terribly aware that she was light years behind her peers in the sexual department.

It wasn’t through lack of opportunity. In the café where she worked at home there were endless clients who tried to flirt or outright asked her out. Occasionally Maggie went along, but it was always the same outcome—a few awkward kisses were the sum total of her dating repertoire.

Still, even if there hadn’t been so much as a flicker of attraction, Hazin had been interesting to talk to. For all his good looks and privilege, he had seemed refreshingly down to earth. Usually when she told anyone that she had no family they would offer awkward sympathy. Hazin had grinned and told her she was the lucky one, then had proceeded to tell her about his parents and the cold way in which he and his older brother, Ilyas, had been raised.

‘Are you close to your brother?’ Maggie had asked.

‘Who? Ilyas?’ Hazin grinned. ‘No one could get close to him.’

Yes, it had been interesting indeed, and now Maggie could not wait to email Flo and bring her up to date. She turned off the taps and reached around the curtain for her towel and change of clothes.

For Maggie there was no question of drying off in the open dressing area. She had lived in too many places and with too many strangers to trust others and so always emerged from the shower fully dressed.

Thankfully, the copious amounts of sun lotion she had applied through the day seemed to have done the trick because as she dried off it would seem only her shoulders were a touch pink. The rest of her was as white and freckled as ever.

Maggie was incapable of getting a tan and had long since given up trying. In fact, she looked as if she’d come from an English winter rather than a sun-soaked Middle Eastern summer.

She pulled on some pale yoga pants and a long-sleeved top; though the days were hot, the desert nights were cold. Maggie was just thinking about what to have for supper when she returned to the dorm and saw that Suzanne was packing.

‘Getting ready for tonight?’ Maggie asked.

‘No,’ Suzanne said. ‘There’s been a bit of a change of plan. I’m checking out and meeting up with Glen in Dubai.’

‘Oh,’ Maggie said. ‘Tonight?’

‘I’m to collect the ticket at the airport.’

‘Wow! Well, I guess this is goodbye, then.’

Suzanne nodded and smiled. ‘It’s been nice spending time with you.’

‘It has,’ Maggie said politely. There was no offer to keep in touch, from either of them.

Maggie didn’t find goodbyes hard in the least—her childhood had guaranteed that she was very used to them.

To this day, she could still recall coming home from her new school and racing through the door of her new home to see her new puppy, only to be greeted by her social worker and told it was time to return to ways of old.

Maggie could never forget Diane’s cold blue eyes flick away when Maggie had asked to see the puppy.

‘Can I say goodbye to Patch?’ she had asked.

‘Patch isn’t here,’ the social worker had said.

He must have been too much trouble too.

Maggie hadn’t cried as her bags had been loaded into the social worker’s car and she certainly hadn’t cried when she’d walked out of that house.

Even back in a new care home she had not cried that night in bed.

Tears didn’t help. If they did, her mother would still be alive.

Yes, she was very used to goodbyes and, in truth, this particular one with Suzanne came as a bit of a relief. Maggie was happy with her own company and she found Suzanne a bit pushy.

‘Hey,’ Suzanne suddenly said, and opened up her travel wallet. ‘You could use this.’

Maggie looked down at the coveted ticket for the star-gazing trip tonight and a smile lit her face. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, I shan’t be using it. I was going to hand it back in at the desk and get a refund...’

‘Don’t!’ Maggie yelped, and handed over the cash that Tazia had just given her. ‘I’m way down the cancellation list.’

‘You’ll have to use my name, then. I booked the Star Package, with a camel ride included.’ She gave Maggie a smile. ‘You’d better get a move on, the bus leaves at eight.’

There was just time for Maggie to tie back her hair and pack a small overnight bag as Suzanne pulled on her backpack.

‘Well, I’m off,’ Suzanne said.

‘Safe travels.’

‘You too! And don’t forget,’ Suzanne said as she headed out of the door, ‘for tonight you’re Suzanne.’

CHAPTER TWO

CROWN PRINCE SHEIKH ILYAS OF ZAYRINIA had been born to be king.

And that was all.

His parents had had no real desire to be parents, neither had they taken delight in their baby.

They’d delivered for their country the necessary heir and then moved on to produce the spare.

Ilyas had barely seen them, unless for official duties, and had been raised in a distant area of the stunning, sprawling palace. He’d been fed and groomed by royal nannies and immersed in the teachings by elders.

It had been a busy little life and one utterly devoid of affection.

When Ilyas was four, Prince Hazin of Zayrinia had been born, thus pushing the uncle his father loathed down to third in the line of succession. Only when, two months later, Ilyas had stood on the royal balcony beside his parents had he come to realise that the tiny infant his mother held in her arms was, in fact, his brother. He’d kept craning his head to have a peek but had been sternly told to look ahead.

‘Can I see him?’ Ilyas had asked his mother, the queen, as they’d moved from the balcony and back into the palace.

But his mother had shaken her head. ‘Hazin has to go to the nursery,’ she’d informed Ilyas as she’d handed over her baby to the wet nurse for feeding. ‘And you have your afternoon lessons to attend, although King Ahmed wishes to speak with you first.’

Ilyas had known, from the use of his father’s title, that it would not be a fatherly chat.

It never was.

He’d been led to his father, who had been speaking with Mahmoud, his vizier.

‘Well done, Your Highness,’ Mahmoud had said, for it had been a very large crowd that had gathered outside the palace to greet the new prince. The king, though, had been less than impressed with Ilyas’s behaviour out on the balcony.

‘Don’t fidget so much in future,’ his father had told him.

‘I just wanted to see what my brother looks like.’

‘He’s just a baby.’ The king had shrugged. ‘Now, remember, in future always look ahead no matter what else goes on around you.’

For the most part, the brothers had been segregated. Ilyas had been considered too far ahead in his studies to be held back. Hazin, who was nothing more than a substitute, had eventually been schooled overseas in England.

It was Ilyas who had been born to be king.

For his first two decades he had absorbed the teachings and wisdom from his elders and everyone had assumed that Ilyas agreed with them, for he performed all his duties well.

His parents believed that the strict discipline of his upbringing had worked well, but this was not filial obedience. What they failed to understand was that it was Ilyas himself who was disciplined—he had chosen to abide by their rules.

For now.

When Ilyas had turned twenty-two, tragedy had struck the palace. His father and adviser had decided that a royal wedding would raise the spirits of the country and that it was time for Ilyas to marry. They had called a meeting to inform him of their decision.

But Ilyas had shaken his head.

‘It is not necessary for me to marry yet.’

King Ahmed had frowned at his son’s response, assuming that Ilyas had misunderstood him, for the king had been used to his demands being met.

But Ilyas had held firm on the subject of marriage.

Ilyas had indeed taken his father’s advice to look ahead. He’d had plans for the future, many of them, in fact, but there was no one he could risk sharing those plans with.

No one.

Marriage was not something he’d wanted to consider, at least for a couple of decades, and so again he’d declined his father’s suggestion. The king had grown more insistent.

‘A wedding, followed by an heir, would be pleasing for our people,’ he’d told his elder son, assuming that was that and they could move on to the next matter, but Ilyas would not be swayed.