The Sheikh's Captive Mistress by Jessica Brooke, Ella Brooke Page A

it. He dropped the damn thing when she easily hoisted herself up onto the horse and started walking him around the ring with only the bridal and no saddle at all.
    “I’m from North Carolina, please. I rode for years on a local farm before we moved to D.C. Let’s see what you’ve really got.” She was grinning again, that same mischievous smirk that made her blue eyes light up like fireworks, that made his shaft even harder and his body ache with need.
    He had pegged her right after all. His habbibi was a woman of many surprises.
    ***
     
    She took to cantering easily over the sands of the arena. Munir was riding in an easy rhythm beside her on another horse. The feeling of freedom was amazing, that fierce wind rippling through the hair hanging out from under her helmet, the flip-flopping of her stomach as Jarib’s speed picked up. Hell, especially the way her heart hammered at every turn. She hadn’t ridden since high school, but had been good at it, even had the ribbons to show for it. Dressage had been her specialty, all that fancy English style precision, but on the weekends, the farm she’d ridden on in Louisburg had gone country.
    She was a mean barrel racer, too.
    The entire time as they rode, Munir just grinned back at her, amazed as if he’d never seen her before. Finally, the scrutiny was too much for her. She slowed Jarib to a walk and leaned back just a bit on his back.
    “Okay what gives?”
    “Gives?”
    “Oh, I mean why are you staring at me all Stepford?”
    “I am afraid that I don’t understand that question.”
    Right, he probably hadn’t seen every American television show or movie. Her pop culture references might sometimes be lost in translation. Bummer.
    “I mean,” she said, pushing some errant golden hair from her eyes. “You don’t have to look so amazed. I know I’m bigger, but-”
    He shook his head. “No, never. You’re everything I could have wanted in a queen. Believe me when I say that you’re beautiful, beyond exquisite, Emma.”
    She blinked back at him and probably would have kissed him if they weren’t on horseback and too far apart to maneuver it. He rarely called her by her actual name. He’d done it on purpose, to make a point about his sincerity. This god of a man found her sexy, and it made her heart melt.
    “Still, why are you so confused?”
    “I confess, I did not think you could ride.”
    “I guess your files don’t have everything about me.”
    “They’re based on you since entering Harvard, only. Your posture on the horse is impeccable, the control you have. I suppose I assumed you were, how do they say it, ‘an indoor girl.’”
    “I was a 'stuck in the library girl,'” she replied, patting Jabir on the neck. “Burden of trying to study your ass off to get into law school. But I love horses, always have. Besides, I bet I’m a better damn rider than you.”
    He snorted. “Now, let us not get ahead of ourselves.”
    “No, I think so. I tell you what. Let’s race.”
    Munir stopped his horse dead then. “Maybe that is not the best idea.”
    “Oh, so now it’s an old Middle Eastern thing. A lowly woman couldn’t possibly beat the mighty king?”
    Munir laughed, a rumble that was more a purr and made her thighs clench in the most delicious of ways. “It’s more that I’m very good; I raced as a teenager in competition. It’s best if we do not. I don’t wish to humiliate my sheikha.”
    “Weird definition of that when you abducted me and dragged me away drugged on a plane. It’s definitely too late for me not to feel humiliated.”
    Munir looked away for a long time before answering. She almost felt bad for him, but reminded herself that, as much as she was falling for him, as much pleasure as he gave her, how they’d come to be together was completely unacceptable.
    Finally, he looked back at her, those penetrating hazel and gold eyes regarding her with mirth. “I still could not live with myself if you were thrown.”
    “Or you