The Desert Prince's Bride (The Sheiks of Altair Book 2)

by Elizabeth Lennox

  The Desert Prince’s Bride

  The Sheiks of Altair

  By Elizabeth Lennox

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  Copyright 2018

  ISBN13: 9781944078843

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any duplication of this material, either electronic or any other format, either currently in use or a future invention, is strictly prohibited unless you have the direct consent of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Excerpt from The Desert Prince’s Proposal

  Chapter 1

  There was someone… dancing in the palace hallway.

  Prince Jaffri watched, amused by the woman’s enthusiasm as she swayed. Unfortunately, there was no grace or elegance, and absolutely no coordination, to the way she was dancing.

  Perhaps “dancing” would be too strong of a word for what she was doing. She was moving and…well, she was wiggling and doing odd things with her adorable butt, although it was probably a stretch to call it dancing.

  It was so outside the scope of normal palace protocol that Prince Jaffri paused to watch. He ignored the utter lack of decorum and focused on the butt displayed by the dancing staff member. Short, curly black hair bounced right along with the long legs and an enticing back end covered in elegant slacks. Jaffri was entranced. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stood in the middle of the hallway, taking a moment to appreciate the simplicity of a gorgeous woman who was joyously “dancing” down the hallway.

  The normal hushed urgency at this end of the administrative offices was silenced since a majority of the staff were off for the holiday weekend. It was one of those rare moments when he wasn’t constantly ambushed by aides, questions, phone calls, or international crises. There was just the silence of the palace broken only by the dissonant humming that accompanied the woman’s bouncing, gyrating movements.

  It was startling to find the offices so empty and the raven-haired dancer was definitely enjoying the break from the controlled chaos that usually encompassed this area. She was in her own world, eyes closed, earbuds in her ears, and a serenely happy expression lighting her delicate features. It felt like a rare moment–a moment when he could stop and simply revel in the woman’s beauty with no one to interrupt, no one to call attention to the simple enjoyment of pleasure and beauty and nothing else.

  He continued to watch as she boogied left and right. When she slid across the marble floor, Jaffri realized that she had taken off her shoes so that her socks would slide across the polished floor more easily. He barely swallowed a chuckle when she shuffled to the left and lost her balance slightly. Good recovery though. She was clearly an experienced hallway-dancer. Her moves were a bit…odd, but her jubilation was evident. And amusing.

  At that particular moment, she spun around and…they locked eyes. There was perhaps half a second as their gazes clashed, hers startled and his amused. After that fraction of a moment, he heard a yelp and the papers she’d been holding flew into the air, arms splayed and…if he hadn’t reacted quickly, the lovely dancer would have hit the hard, marble floor.

  With lightning fast moves refined by years of military training and stealth missions where silence and quick reactions were the only thing between life and death, he grabbed her arms as she started to tumble.

  Pulling her into his arms, he watched the papers float down around them, intensely aware of her soft curves pressed against his firm chest. The floating papers drifted like snowflakes, landing noiselessly around them as their eyes locked, hearts beating almost as one.

  He’d originally thought she was younger, but the woman staring up at him with shocked, emerald eyes was in her mid to late twenties. And she was startlingly lovely! Cute nose, full, gloriously-wide lips, long, black lashes, and a sexy tongue that snuck out slightly, taunting him as she licked those sin-inducing lips that he suspected would be delicious to kiss.

  “Oh!” she whispered, her fingers gripping his upper arms.

  He felt her breath, smelled the soft, flowery scent of her hair, and wanted to bury his nose in the dark mass of curls. Not a good reaction, he thought to himself. Even worse, he could picture her naked. In his bed.

  Pushing that image out of his mind, he focused on the woman. And not all of the things he’d like to do to the woman. “Are you okay?”

  Jaffri noticed that she was holding her breath. He was painfully aware of her fingers sliding along his arms, those tentative touches exploring, her delicate fingers sending sharp sensations throughout his body, every one of them ending sharply in his groin. He should pull back, he thought, not wanting to frighten her again. Unfortunately, his body wasn’t listening to common sense. Her body was lush in all the right places and those eyes! Damn, those bewitching green eyes against the pale skin and black hair were his undoing. He couldn’t have stopped his body from responding even if he’d wanted to.

  At this particular moment, he didn’t give a damn if she knew how much he wanted her. There was no hiding it anyway and he detested dishonesty. She was beautiful and he was only human.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered. “I can stand on my own now.”

  Jaffri agreed. She was extremely fine.

  He released her reluctantly, his hands lingering on her waist to ensure that she was steady. And because he didn’t want to let go.

  The slight pressure on his arms indicated that she was less reticent. Stepping backwards, he looked down at the woman. She was a bit taller than average, but still short compared to his six foot, four inch height. When those green eyes blinked up at him, all he wanted was to taste those full, rosy lips.

  Then her green eyes widened and he braced himself. He’d experienced this same reaction from others throughout his entire life and he smothered the frustration, the anger. Recognition flooded her face and he sighed with weariness.

  “You’re the prince!” she gasped. Immediately stepping back, she moved to curtsy, but her lack of shoes, not to mention her obvious horror at the shocking breach in palace protocol, caused her to slip again. He caught her once more, chuckling this time.

  “No need to curtsy,” he assured her. “What’s your name and why are you working on a Saturday?” he asked curiously.

  Giselle stared up at him, curling her fingers into fists so she didn’t “accidentally” reach out and explore more of those muscles. He was tall and solid, with deliciously broad shoulders that turned into a taut, tapered waist. He reminded her of a tall, sleek Hulk-like Goliath. Goodness, he was possibly the hottest man she’d ever seen in her life! Except for the laughter lurking there in those startling blue eyes, he was…yummy!

  But he was royalty! And not just any old prince, like what one might accidentally run into on the street or palace hallway. Oh no! This was THE royal guy. The head honcho royal guy. Giselle mentally chided herself because a royal sheik really should never be referred to as a “honcho” or anything else so casual. “You’re the crown p
rince!” she announced, cursing herself for blurting out something so blatantly obvious.

  Realizing what she just said, Giselle closed her eyes and shook her head slightly to clear it. “You already know that you’re the prince,” and she opened her eyes, muttering another curse under her breath. “I mean, you know you’re the prince. Since you were born a prince and…” more stammering and she pressed her lips closed.

  She sighed and shifted slightly, wishing she had just a few subservient bones in her right about now. She gazed up into his blue eyes with a sheepish smile. “How about if we ignore what just happened and we’ll both go on our way, pretending that this embarrassing interlude never happened, okay?”

  She stood there, her eyebrows lifted in the hope that he would agree. But those startling blue eyes continued to watch her and, unfortunately, his amusement only increased. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t doing anything other than watching her, as if she were some sort of amusing pet!

  “You’re staring at me.” She waved her hand in between them. “You’re supposed to keep on going, pretending that this didn’t happen, remember?”

  He still didn’t move. In fact, he chuckled and stepped closer, towering over her. If she were a weaker woman, Giselle suspected that she might be intimidated. But she wasn’t weak.

  Okay, yeah, she was completely intimidated. This guy was a prince!

  She stopped herself before she could start in with the mental prince-since-birth speech again because, good grief, the way he was staring at her, anything was possible. Even stupid mental lectures at this point.

  With a huff, she crossed her arms over her stomach, unaware of how the movement lifted her breasts, creating an intriguing shadow in the V of her shirt. “You’re not very good at following instructions are you?”

  “You haven’t answered my question,” he pointed out.

  Giselle thought back, trying to remember what he’d asked. On an exciting day here at the palace, she might run into a security guard. Once she’d discovered she was talking to a cook from the palace kitchen. But nope, never a prince! Not even the youngest prince and this wasn’t…

  She was doing it again!

  She unconsciously bit her lip, trying to remember the question. When she looked into his eyes, one dark eyebrow lifting in inquiry, the question finally came to her. “Saturday! Why am I here!” she exclaimed, feeling brilliant for finally remembering what he’d asked…oh, maybe thirty seconds ago.

  In response…well, he still didn’t move. And yet, something changed in his features. She stared at him curiously. She wasn’t sure but…was that another flicker of amusement? Was he…?

  Oh no he wasn’t! The man was…he was laughing at her! Again!

  “Um…” Why was she here? On a Saturday. Good question! And if he would stop looking at her like that, then maybe she could answer him.

  “Tough question?” he teased.

  Giselle’s pressed her lips together and her fists tightened. Not a good idea to punch a prince, she thought. Bad career move. And since she’d just started here, and liked it so far, she should refrain from punching. Refrain from all physical assaults in general. Having grown up with brothers, it was her natural instinct to simply lash out before one of her brothers pounded on her.

  “I’m working,” she finally managed. Pulling her eyes away, she noticed the papers she’d been holding were sprinkled all over the floor. “Darn it!” she muttered, bending down to start gathering up the papers. “Sorry to get in your way, Your Highness.”

  Shockingly, he bent down and helped her collect the papers. “You don’t have to do that,” she told him, although her heart warmed that he wasn’t so pompous that he couldn’t help.

  “I’m the one who caused the chaos, I should help pick up the results.” he explained as he handed a stack of papers to her.

  Quickly, she stood up, the gathered papers pressed against her chest. She awkwardly stuck her hand out, then realized what she was doing, and tried again to curtsy, dropping the papers in the process. “Sorry,” she sighed.

  The prince reached out to catch the escaping papers, and his knuckles accidentally touched her breast. She gasped at the flare of heat, and stepped back. Unfortunately, that created a bigger problem…she was still in her socks!

  She slipped, grace vanishing like fog in sunshine and dignity not far behind. Giselle closed her eyes, bracing for a painful impact and inevitable humiliation. But…no pain. Just…heat and fire and…oh my! Once more, those incredibly strong arms reached out to catch her.

  Opening her eyes, she stared up into those strange, sky blue eyes. The heat was intense and she trembled as she tried to think.

  “Careful,” he cautioned, the rough timbre of his voice causing additional shivers to race down her spine. When his fingers tightened ever so slightly, Giselle realized that he’d felt her reaction as well. Double darn!

  “I really need to put some shoes on,” she whispered, feeling foolish and awkward. “I’m not normally this clumsy.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied, his fingers tightening on her waist, pulling her slightly closer.

  “Thanks,” she muttered, staring at his chest, trying to regain control of her thoughts. “I think I’m okay now.” Goodness, he was hard! He was hard…everywhere!

  “Oh!” and her fingers curled into fists against his arms as she realized that he was fully erect and…Woah! Impressively erect! Was that thing even real? Giselle knew that, if she hadn’t still been in his arms, she would have embarrassed herself further by looking down to verify that what she was feeling against her stomach was real.

  “Um, I’m so sorry to bother you, Your Highness.” Quickly, she pulled out of his arms and took several steps backwards, trying to keep her eyes on his face and praying that there wasn’t anything behind her to trip over. Her gaze moved over his equally impressive shoulders, lined with bulging muscles. Maybe an obstacle would be a good thing, if it meant she could…No! Falling, bad! Dignity, good!

  Taking a deep breath, she shook her head to refocus her mind.

  He laughed softly, obviously amused by her embarrassment. “No bother at all. What’s your name?”

  For the life of her, she couldn’t remember. When a dark eyebrow lifted in amusement, she closed her eyes and focused. Name. Name? “Giselle!” she gasped when the answer finally came to her. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the giant man with all of the yummy muscles was no longer trying to suppress his amusement. He was openly grinning down at her. “Giselle Jones!” She stood up a bit straighter, trying to regain a modicum of professionalism.

  “What are all of these lists about?” he asked as he turned the papers over.

  She was so embarrassed and…well, so fascinated, she had a hard time pulling her eyes away from him. But his body was…well, it was…she realized his body was doing…that… and Giselle had to shake her head in order to remember why she’d been carrying around a bunch of lists. Glancing down, she tried to force her mind to function properly. But this man…he was…hot! And a prince! She had to focus on the “prince” part and not the “hot” part.

  “Um…I was…the lists are for tomorrow night’s dinner with the ambassador,” she finally remembered. “I’m with the Hospitality Division, Your Highness. We’re getting things ready for…” She stopped, realizing that he was frowning curiously at her.

  “You’re new here?”

  She stopped, shifted the papers once again and nodded. “Yes. Why? Is that important?”

  Jaffri took the papers and handed them to one of his guards. Ever since he’d rounded the corner and saw her dancing, he’d been…fascinated. And other terms he wasn’t willing to define at the moment. But yes, this mysterious woman with beautiful eyes and a gorgeous, hourglass figure, fascinated him. A woman who was daring enough to dance in the hallway in socks. Such a breach of palace protocol, but that only made her more interesting.

  She looked at his guards and aides, obviously startled to register their presence. He almost lau
ghed, she looked so adorable and more than a little overwhelmed. Jaffri was used to women pretending to be impressed with his title. That wasn’t what was happening here. In fact, he suspected it was just the opposite.

  “Where are you from?” he asked, changing the subject in an effort to reassure her. Taking her arm, he led her down the hallway to his office. He sensed her wariness and tried to put her at ease.

  “I’m actually from the Boston area,” she admitted.

  Her eyes were wide and wary as he led her over to one of the sofas in his office. He waved for her to have a seat while he walked over to the bar, pouring some liquid into two glasses.

  “You don’t have the typical Boston accent,” he replied, handing her a crystal glass filled with amber liquid.

  She sniffed the stuff in the glass and it took everything in him not to laugh at her disgusted expression. An expression that she tried valiantly to hide from him. But he caught it and thought it was just another example of her uniqueness. It was rare that someone scrunched up their nose at thirty year old scotch.

  “Try it,” he encouraged.

  She took a sip, but he saw that she’d really only coated her lips with the scotch and then licked them. Not a real taste.

  “So, what is your role in the Hospitality Division?” he asked, not calling her out. It was an acquired taste and, if he had his way, this beauty would learn to enjoy the stuff. Or he’d stock his bar with something she enjoyed more. Either way, this woman was…well, he wasn’t sure what she was, other than interesting and beautiful. Different. Yes, she was different from the other women he’d met.

  “I help Stephen, the event planning director, organize the social events at the palace. I’m just a junior member of the staff.”

  He glanced down at the papers still in his hand. “These are the ideas for the next event?”

  The question obviously relaxed her. She smiled, warming to the subject. “Princess Sada requested an old fashioned garden party with a twist,” Giselle explained. Standing up, she moved over to the coffee table where her lists and papers had been placed. She pulled one out, showing him the pictures she’d drawn up and the lists she’d made for the princess’ garden party, excited at all of the possibilities. “Stephan isn’t big on the Victorian rose stuff, so he asked me to come up with some ideas.”