sheikh nodded. His palms itched and sheer energy pumped through his arteries. To strike at last, after so much delay, would be a pleasure.
INSIDE HER dressing room, Holly found the baby watching wide-eyed as Alice mopped a white milky stain from the shoulder of her blue dress. “The receiving blanket slipped while I was burping him. What a mess!”
“I’ll take him.” After pushing up her veil, Holly reached for the warm bundle. “You go put some soap and water on it.”
“How could I be so clumsy?” fussed her friend as she hurried away.
In Holly’s arms, Ben yawned, ready for a nap. She decided to go in search of Marta Vasquez, the salon’s other manicurist, who had volunteered to hold the baby during the ceremony.
When she stepped through the outer door, a sharp breeze tugged at her veil. With her bouquet tucked in the crook of her arm and Ben in the other, she didn’t have a hand free to steady the veil.
She forgot about the wind, however, when the baby gurgled happily. Holly beamed down at his small pink face.
A scuffing noise, very close, startled her into looking up. It was the dark-haired man. Right there, towering over her, so close she could see the hard purpose in his face.
“Wh-what do you want?” The words came out in a whisper.
She hadn’t realized anyone else was present until, from the other side, a pair of hands seized Ben. The second attacker frightened her even more. His marked face and cold expression were terrifying.
Things were happening too fast. It took forever to reach out for little Ben, and when she did, he had already been snatched out of reach. She tried to scream for help, but her throat clamped down.
Where was everybody? Why didn’t Trevor come? What did these men want with her baby?
They turned to flee. With a sob, Holly leaped after them.
Chapter Two
The sheikh had thought himself prepared for any development. But he had not anticipated that this woman would throw herself into the car through its half-open rear door when it was already beginning to move.
“Push her out!” cried Zahad, who had thrust the baby into a basket on the floor, and was stepping on the gas. “Close the door!”
The veil and attached circlet of flowers fell to the pavement as the woman clutched at Sharif. “Give me my baby! Give him back!”
“We will not harm him!” Didn’t she realize who they must be? “Zahad, stop and let me remove her.”
“No!” The woman held fast to Sharif’s arm. “I won’t leave him!”
“You must close the door!” said his aide. “We are attracting attention, and I cannot drive properly.”
As a veteran of many battles, the sheikh would not hesitate to attack a foe. He saw no justification, however, for shoving Holly Rivers from a moving car.
Instead, he yanked her onto the seat beside him, reached past her and slammed the door. Immediately, his cousin whipped onto a street to their right. He swerved again, setting a complicated course in case of pursuit.
As the woman beside him straightened herself, Sharif got a better look at her face. The amber eyes were wide with alarm, and the dishevelled red hair tumbled around her shoulders as if she had newly arisen from bed.
A stunning woman. In spite of himself, he could not help wishing she were his.
Perhaps he had been unfair. In his anger, Sharif realized, he had not considered how strong the surrogate’s attachment to the infant might be. Under other circumstances, such mother love would be admirable.
“We do not intend to harm you,” he said. “We can release you here if you like.”
The woman ignored the offer. “What do you want, a ransom?” Her voice trembled. “I don’t have any money but my fiancé does.”
“You think we are kidnappers?” She had no sense at all. “You insult us!”
“In a sense, you must admit, we are kidnappers,” Zahad said with his usual maddening exactitude.
“You exaggerate!” Sharif returned.
“It is a point of fact,” his cousin replied, and snapped the sedan around another corner so abruptly that the surrogate fell onto the sheikh’s lap.
It had been a long time since Sharif held a woman in his arms. Perhaps this long abstinence explained why he found himself so keenly aware of every soft curve pressed against his body. Of the pulse of Holly’s throat, and the sound of her breathing, and the light sweet scent of her.
He reminded himself that this woman had cheated him and still posed a threat to his people’s future. And to his right to share his son’s life.
“Let me go!” she gasped.
“I am not restraining you,” Sharif replied.
Scrambling onto the seat, she said, “Of course you’re restraining me! You’re holding my child hostage!”
“Hostage?” He raised an eyebrow. “You should not be surprised that I expect you to make good on your bargain.”
“What bargain?” She scooted as far from him as the space allowed. “No bargain gives you the right to assault me at my wedding and snatch Ben! Where have you put him?”
“The baby is in a basket on the floor beside me,” Zahad said. “He is smiling. I think he will like to drive fast when he grows up.”
“He should be in a car seat!” Holly said. “It’s the law!”
Her outrage startled a chuckle from Sharif. The woman certainly had spirit! “And you have observed that we are great devotees of the law?”
From her tightened fists, he got the impression she would like to teach him respect, for the law and for a few other things as well. What a splendid bride she would make for a desert warrior! But not for him.
As Zahad slowed, the sheikh saw that they had reached a broad thoroughfare. Without stopping for the red light, he turned right and accelerated ahead of a bus.
Holly flinched. “You’re going to get us killed! There’s a reason why you’re supposed to stop for red lights, even if you don’t care about the law!”
“As a point of fact, we do care about the law,” said Sharif. “And about civil contracts. It is unfortunate your concern does not extend to those.”
“Contracts?” She blinked at him. “What are you talking about?” Some of the fight evaporated from her bunched muscles. “Does Jazz owe you money?”
“Who is Jazz?” he asked.
“My sister.”
He remembered the stocky woman at the church.
