DISCLAIMER: I do not own, the WWF, the WCW, the ECW or any of their performers.
DISTRIBUTION: The usual…
RATING: PG-13
CONTENT: Violence, sexual situations.
SPOILERS: None that I could imagine.
SUMMARY: Shane falls for an unruly hellcat. This story is set in the Europe and North Africa in the early 1800s. I hope all enjoy it!

Part 1:

The young earl of Titan, Shane Brandon McMahon eased into the carefully arrangement of plush pillows and allowed himself to sigh. This was luxury at its best and he reveled in it. He'd been in the palace for little over an hour and he'd already been washed, massaged and dressed in the very loose and comfortable clothing affected by the richest men of Casablanca. This was a lifestyle he could easily get used to. But he'd come here for a very important reason.
He'd been sent here by England's foreign affairs minister in order to investigate the disappearance of his niece, the lady Sheridan Blanchard. According to early reports, the young woman had been kidnapped from the dormitory of her Italian finishing school by a ruthless sheik who'd become enamored of her beauty.
Shane had been hand-picked for the mission because of his numerous business dealings with the sheik, not to mention their long friendship. Shane and the sheik had been instructed during their early years by a pair of tutors who happened to be twin brothers. The brothers had encouraged a correspondence between the two boys, giving them both a chance to get to know another culture through the eyes of a boy their age. As the friendship grew and the boys became men, they became partners in several business ventures, deepening their friendship.
Yet, Shane remained quite the Englishman and never quite approved of his friend's attitude toward women but he knew there was no point in trying to change a lifetime's worth of beliefs. But he knew that his involvement in the retrieval of the girl was the only thing stopping the minister from going in, guns ablaze. Shane looked over to the small tray nestled in a cushion by his side, covered with mounds of nuts and fruits. Then he heard the loud arrival of the sheik and his retinue of followers.
He looked up and smothered a grin when he saw the bodyguards, the ministers, the counselors and the girls with their fans, keeping the sheik as cool as one could be in the dry heat of Casablanca. And amidst all of these people stood the sheik, a man revered and admired by all who knew him. He turned to his friend, a wide grin splitting his handsome face.
"Shane," said the sheik, "good of you to respond to my invitation."
"My lord," said the younger man, not budging from his extremely comfortable seat.
In London, this would have been an incredible slight, but here, in this palace, in this situation, by not getting up to greet his host, Shane was asserting himself and his power as being equal to the sheik's. The other man broke into an even toothier grin and nodded his followers away.
"Arrogance suits you my friend," said the sheik as he stood over Shane.
"Yet, I grow tired of it on you."
The sheik laughed and sat down next to Shane, plucking a plump date off the fruit tray and popping it into his mouth.
"How is your life, my lord Titan?"
"Well, it used to be a good life. But now I find that my continued good humor depends on you."
"On me? And how, pray tell, was this responsibility bestowed upon my frail shoulders?"
"Your frail shoulders? You came out of your mother's womb with the widest shoulders known to man."
"True. But do tell me exactly what I can do to restore your good humor."
"Return the girl you stole from the Venice finishing school."
From the look on the sheik's face, Shane knew his friend had known about the reason for his visit.
"I did not really steal the girl from the school."
"She was asleep when you got her. And she had been drugged."
"She was unharmed."
"You kidnapped her."
"I encouraged her to visit my palace."
At the sheik's careless shrug, Shane grinned. Khalid El Bettoun, known as Rock to the friends who'd seen his body develop into a mass of muscles so hard they looked like rocks, was supremely confident in the belief that it was his destiny to have his every wish fulfilled. And breaking foreign laws was not a problem for him.
"Is the girl well?" Shane asked, plucking a juicy berry from the silver platter.
"Well enough."
"I see. I saw your new Arabians in the stables, beauties both of them."
As the conversation turned to the sheik's new horses, Rock's brow furrowed. He'd expected Shane to press him for the girl's return but he seemed more interested in talking about horses and blood lines.
"Would you like to see her?" asked Rock, suddenly, interrupting Shane's monologue on the stable he'd just purchased near his York home.
"Her? I already saw both horses in the stable today. That's what started the conversation, remember?"
"No, I mean the girl."
"Why? You said she was well. I believe you."
"Indulge me," said Rock, his voice becoming slightly threatening.
Shane followed Rock to the harem and into a maze of tight corridors equipped with small windows looking into each one of the concubines' rooms. Finally, Rock stopped in front of a window, blocking the inside of the room from view.
"She is asleep," he told Shane.
"You drugged her?"
"She is tired. She has boundless energy, this little filly, and I had to find a way to exhaust her so she wouldn't try escaping on a daily basis."
"She tried escaping?"
"Many times. She has a severe aversion to being kept indoors."
"You probably would too. Imagine not being able to do whatever pleased you."
"I am different; I am Sheik Khalid El Bettoun. I refuse to imagine such things."
Shane let out a deep sigh and looked up at his friend. "So why is she so tired?"
"I found a way of exhausting her."
"How?" Shane bit out, his thoughts going to the worse possibilities.
"My women have been teaching her the art of the belly dance."
"Belly dancing? Why?"
"To please me."
Shane scoffed and peered into the window Rock had just moved away from. He saw the girl lying there on her side and he felt his loins tighten. She was stunning and the small painting the minister had shown him of her had not done her justice. Her long curls were the color of a raven's wing and were draped all over a body that had undoubtedly been molded by the gods. Shane spied the shape of her long legs under the thin sheet covered her body and felt the urge to curl his fingers around her slim ankle. Her face, or what he could see of it from behind the riot of her curls, was that of an angel and in sleep, he felt her innocence.
Beside him, Rock was all too aware of Shane's extremely physical reaction to the girl. His eyes were wide, his nostrils flared, his mouth open and his fingers curled around the steel bars that kept her from escaping. Not to mention the erection that was straining against the front of his loose pantaloons.
Suddenly, the girl's eyes opened and Shane staggered back as if he'd been struck. He'd never seen a green so beautiful, so full of life, of fire. She jerked up in her bed and stared toward the window. And if Shane hadn't known for sure that she'd been asleep a few seconds before, he would have sworn that she'd seen right through his soul.
"Come," said Rock, covering his friend's shoulder with his hand. "We must talk."
Shane and Rock walked back to the small garden where Shane had been waiting for his friend to join him.
"I know who the girl is," said Rock.
"Mmmmm," muttered Shane, trying to appear uninterested.
"Shane, we both know that it was her uncle that sent you here to fetch her from my evil heathen clutches."
"He might have mentioned something to that effect."
"My friend," chuckled Rock, "how can you be such an effective businessman and such a terrible liar."
"That bad am I?"
"I almost want to give you the girl to have you stop your playacting."
"Give me the girl and I will stop."
"I said almost, Shane, almost."
Shane signed and threw his hands up in the air. "What will it cost me?"
"You, nothing. But her uncle is another matter."
"You want a ransom?"
"In a way. Well, since aligning myself with England in this conflict, I have lost quite a lot of money."
"Money? This is about money?"
"It's always about money, Shane. You know that as well as I do."
"So what do you want, exactly?"
"I want England to look the other way when it comes to some of my business dealings. Remove some of the garrisons from Casablanca."
"You ask for much."
"I wonder how long it will take the girl to acclimate herself to my touch. She'll fight me at first, but…"
"I'll see what I can do. But it'll take some time."
"Good. I'll have one of my men go to England with your message to the minister."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh yes Shane. Until I get a satisfactory answer from the minister, you are cordially invited to take advantage of my hospitality. I do hope you won't mind."
"You can't do this to me Rock!" Shane exploded. "I am not a weak female you can simply bend to your will!"
"Oh Shane, I would never doubt that, but do remember where you are." At the snap of Rock's fingers, twenty soldiers appeared from the garden's recesses. Shane looked around and shook his head.
"From the moment I stepped in here, I was like a mouse to your cat, wasn't I?"
"Of course."
Shane sank back in the cushions and poured himself a glass of fresh white wine. Since he knew there was no way of escaping the palace, he might as well enjoy himself.

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