Read Online The Fierce and Tender Sheikh by Alexandra Sellers - Free Book Online

hampering her hardly at all, she was over the balcony and down. As her muscles took her weight she was suffused with a sense of relief: she was not completely lost in this new environment. Her life skills could still be put to good use.
    The tile paving of the courtyard was cool and smooth under her bare feet as she crept among the shadows across to the opposite wing. Then, after a moment to get her bearings, she clambered up again, monkey agile, and slipped silently into the moonless gloom of Sharif’s balcony.
    His door was open on the night. Inside he sat at a large black desk, bent over some papers. Shakira paused for a moment, a smile pulling at her lips as she watched him. He signed apaper and moved it to one side, read another. Then he frowned as he searched for something in a stack of documents.
    He was different now—his face was stern and distant in the lamplight—and Shakira shifted nervously. Perhaps she didn’t know him after all. Perhaps he would not be glad to see her, as she was to see him.
    Sharif tossed down his pen to reach for the gold cigar case lying in the lamp glow. It flicked open, and he drew out one of his small cigars and closed it again. The sound of the click was sharp on the night air.
    Suddenly, as if he had sensed her presence, one dark eyebrow went up and his head turned towards the dark balcony. For a moment he frowned into the darkness just beyond the circle of lamp glow, then, as if he had recognized her, his face relaxed. He dropped the thin cigar and the case and held out an imperious hand.
    â€œCome,” said Sharif.
    She slipped into the light as stealthily as any cat burglar, her eyes huge in the thin little face.
    â€œCan’t sleep, little one?”
    The tenderness in his voice made her heart leap, and the approval in his eyes was dangerous for the way it melted her defences. But she had been through too much today to be able to resist the melting. She could not be defended now—she could only smile nervously as she moved to his side.
    â€œMy bed is too soft,” she confided, moving closer to stand against his arm.
    â€œIt’s been a very exciting day.” His dark eyes seemed to see into her. How dangerous to be so known, some Hani part of her cried, but she could not turn away from that tenderly piercing gaze.
    â€œI wish you were my brother,” she said, because, for all her linguistic virtuosity with insult, she was awkward expressing any gentler emotion. “He was there, and then they took me away and I never saw him again.”
    She looked at him with aching yearning, as if he might suddenly discover a lost history of his own that would make this possible.
    â€œWe will look for your brother one day soon,” he promised.
    She smiled against the tears that suddenly burnt her eyes. For so many years she hadn’t cried at all, and now, suddenly, when tears were no longer necessary, she couldn’t hold them back.
    â€œThe only thing that’s the same is the moon!” she cried suddenly. “How can all this be real, when it’s so different—I used to dream it, you know. I dreamed of people calling me Princess, and loving me. I’m afraid…I’m afraid…”
    She could not go on, because of the sobs that came tumbling out of her throat. “I’m afraid,” she said again, who had learned never to admit to fear. It was her safety with him that made her weep.
    He pushed back his chair and stood. Then he wrapped his arm around her and led her through a doorway to his own bedroom. A thick mat lay on the floor, with cushions and pillows spread around. The sheet had been folded back ready for him, and he bent to lift it for her.
    â€œThis is not a dream,” he said, with firm reassurance. “When you wake up you will still be here, in the palace, among your family.”
    Something tight inside her unwound suddenly, for he had understood something about her that she had not