HIS CHRISTMAS CAPTIVE
Caitlin Crews
Chapter
One
"I'm
leaving you." Lucy Qaderi forced the words out before she could convince
herself not to say them. Even if she had not yet dared to turn around and say
them to his face.
She'd sensed
the moment he'd stepped into this opulent bedroom suite they had once shared,
high up in the mountains over the tiny Eurasian country of Alakkul. His country.
She would
know him anywhere, this brooding, ruthless man. Rafi Qaderi. The leader of his
ancient family, responsible for maintaining the Qaderis' many international
interests and vast wealth while his celebrated cousin prepared to take over the
throne of Alakkul from the ailing King Azat.
Rafi was a
financial wizard, a shrewd businessman. Noble and proud. Her husband.
"Thank
you, Lucy." His tone was dark, sardonic, with that undercurrent of
patience sorely tried. "I was able to gather as much from your packed
luggage in the front hall."
She should
hate him. At times, she did. And yet that voice moved over her like a wave of
heat, making her feel itchy, her chest tight.
Lucy stared
out the window. Fiercely. The great Alakkulian Valley was like something out of
a fairy tale for a girl who'd grown up with nearly nothing in a small village
near Manchester. The crystal-blue mountain lakes shimmered with ice, the bright
fields were piled high with the latest December snowfall and far, far below was
the rush and clatter of the ancient capital city, bristling with white-capped
heights as it stretched out from the foot of the royal palace.
The Qaderis,
Lucy thought, preferred to look down on the country they'd helped guide and
rule for so many centuries from the remove of this house that was very near a
fortress, so high above it all.
Just as Rafi
looked down on her, and always had. She was a fool.
"Am I to
discern secret messages from the way you present your back to me?" His
tone was like a lash, rich and bitter, and she stiffened against it. "Or
is it your silence that I should pay attention to this time?"
Hateful man.
Hateful, beloved man. Lucy gathered her shaky courage as best she
could, and turned to face him.
And wished
she hadn't. Seeing him was a blow. Hard, hot. Straight to her midsection.
Rafi lounged
in the doorway, his mocking gray eyes trained on her, the expression on his
implacable face grim. She was shocked anew by the power that emanated from him,
like an electrical current. It made him seem much bigger—broader and taller
than he already was—and he was dressed impeccably in a dark suit that clung to
his lean, strong body. He was like some lethal angel, she thought wildly, all
that ink-black hair and harsh black brows drawn low over his stormy eyes. She
shivered in helpless reaction and her traitorous heart stuttered in her chest.
She bit at her lower lip.
"Where
exactly will you go?" His voice seemed to caress her even as it taunted
her, moving over her like silk. She shifted on her feet, and wished he did not
have the power to do this to her—to make her fidget as if she were an errant
child.
"Do you
care?" She threw the words back at him. But, sadly, she already knew the
answer.
"I am an
extraordinarily busy man," he said, his voice harder. Darker. His gray
eyes connected with hers. She caught her breath. "I do not have time to
dance attendance on you simply because you are having another one of your
little attention-seeking fits. My aide told me this was an emergency."
"Your
aide tells you whatever he thinks you want to hear," Lucy said, unable to
keep the bitterness from her voice. She thought of all the calls she'd made to
Rafi that had been blocked by his aide, Safir, of the man's snide and smug
tone, of all her messages that she suspected had never been delivered at all.
But Rafi would hear no word against Safir, and certainly not from her. "He
is an excellent gatekeeper, and no doubt keeps you adequately protected from
anything you might not like. You chose him well."
"I
appreciate the vote of
Caitlin Crews
Chapter
One
"I'm
leaving you." Lucy Qaderi forced the words out before she could convince
herself not to say them. Even if she had not yet dared to turn around and say
them to his face.
She'd sensed
the moment he'd stepped into this opulent bedroom suite they had once shared,
high up in the mountains over the tiny Eurasian country of Alakkul. His country.
She would
know him anywhere, this brooding, ruthless man. Rafi Qaderi. The leader of his
ancient family, responsible for maintaining the Qaderis' many international
interests and vast wealth while his celebrated cousin prepared to take over the
throne of Alakkul from the ailing King Azat.
Rafi was a
financial wizard, a shrewd businessman. Noble and proud. Her husband.
"Thank
you, Lucy." His tone was dark, sardonic, with that undercurrent of
patience sorely tried. "I was able to gather as much from your packed
luggage in the front hall."
She should
hate him. At times, she did. And yet that voice moved over her like a wave of
heat, making her feel itchy, her chest tight.
Lucy stared
out the window. Fiercely. The great Alakkulian Valley was like something out of
a fairy tale for a girl who'd grown up with nearly nothing in a small village
near Manchester. The crystal-blue mountain lakes shimmered with ice, the bright
fields were piled high with the latest December snowfall and far, far below was
the rush and clatter of the ancient capital city, bristling with white-capped
heights as it stretched out from the foot of the royal palace.
The Qaderis,
Lucy thought, preferred to look down on the country they'd helped guide and
rule for so many centuries from the remove of this house that was very near a
fortress, so high above it all.
Just as Rafi
looked down on her, and always had. She was a fool.
"Am I to
discern secret messages from the way you present your back to me?" His
tone was like a lash, rich and bitter, and she stiffened against it. "Or
is it your silence that I should pay attention to this time?"
Hateful man.
Hateful, beloved man. Lucy gathered her shaky courage as best she
could, and turned to face him.
And wished
she hadn't. Seeing him was a blow. Hard, hot. Straight to her midsection.
Rafi lounged
in the doorway, his mocking gray eyes trained on her, the expression on his
implacable face grim. She was shocked anew by the power that emanated from him,
like an electrical current. It made him seem much bigger—broader and taller
than he already was—and he was dressed impeccably in a dark suit that clung to
his lean, strong body. He was like some lethal angel, she thought wildly, all
that ink-black hair and harsh black brows drawn low over his stormy eyes. She
shivered in helpless reaction and her traitorous heart stuttered in her chest.
She bit at her lower lip.
"Where
exactly will you go?" His voice seemed to caress her even as it taunted
her, moving over her like silk. She shifted on her feet, and wished he did not
have the power to do this to her—to make her fidget as if she were an errant
child.
"Do you
care?" She threw the words back at him. But, sadly, she already knew the
answer.
"I am an
extraordinarily busy man," he said, his voice harder. Darker. His gray
eyes connected with hers. She caught her breath. "I do not have time to
dance attendance on you simply because you are having another one of your
little attention-seeking fits. My aide told me this was an emergency."
"Your
aide tells you whatever he thinks you want to hear," Lucy said, unable to
keep the bitterness from her voice. She thought of all the calls she'd made to
Rafi that had been blocked by his aide, Safir, of the man's snide and smug
tone, of all her messages that she suspected had never been delivered at all.
But Rafi would hear no word against Safir, and certainly not from her. "He
is an excellent gatekeeper, and no doubt keeps you adequately protected from
anything you might not like. You chose him well."
"I
appreciate the vote of
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