The Sheikh's Little Wife.

CHAPTER SEVEN

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"I can pray," Mona suggested quietly.

Evangeline snapped her head at the young woman, and from the corner of her eye, so did the sheikh himself.

"Wouldn't it be best for me to pray for the visitor and to thank God for her safe arrival?"

To say Evangeline was relieved would have been an understatement. She would be forever in debt to Mona.

Evangeline risked a glance at Tobias Farouk and found him glaring at his wife, jaw clenched and eyes hard.

"I suppose so," he rasped begrudgingly. "You may begin."

Everyone on the table took hold of a hand on either side of them, and it dawned on her that she might have to hold the murderer's hand as well. And when she reluctantly held hands with Mona, she saw a large calloused hand rest next to her on the table, palm up.

There was no way she would be touching a hand that had the blood of innocent lives on it. Surely it wasn't a crucial act to hold hands for a prayer, was it?

She looked around the table and found not a single free hand, except hers and the man at the head of the table. To her mortification, most eyes were on her, as though to urge her to finally connect a link to complete the prayer.

The women across her hardly gave her a glance, only sporting their permanent snobby scowls.

Like a kitten trying out its first toy, Evangeline slowly reached out her slender hand. Expecting to see and feel her fingers burn from a single touch, she instead only felt a burning sensation. One that was far from her fear for him. The feeling of his rough and warm fingers closing around her dainty hand sent shivers erupting all across her body.

What was this? It wasn't enough that the man was undoubtedly the most feared in the world.

But it was also a fact that he was married. To three beautiful women. She should have been ashamed, but her body resisted her moral compass.

As heads bowed and eyes shut, Evangeline did the same. Only to look right back up when Mona hadn't said a single word. But it was soon clear that it was meant to be a silent prayer. Was that all she'd needed to do? Her heart had raced against time for nothing?

The murderer must have enjoyed watching her sweat.

Suddenly angry, she zeroed in on their joined hands and swiftly lifted her gaze to his face.

His eyes were closed and that allowed thick dark eyelashes to rest above his sharp edged cheekbones. A mouth that distracted Evangeline and made her forget the indignation he'd provoked sat perfectly on his face, full, seemingly soft and unfairly sexy.

She dropped her gaze to the strong column of his throat and then to his clad powerful shoulders.

The collar of his thobe exposed only the base of his throat. Something dark and ink-like on his skin peeked out under the fabric and Evangeline craned her neck to try and figure out what kind of tattoo a murderer like him would get.

"Amen," Mona suddenly said.

Startled that the prayer had come to an end, her gaze jumped from his throat to his face. Hazel eyes intent on making the joints of her knees useless stared back at her.