by Allen, Jewel
“You mean nightmares.”
“I suppose they were more like nightmares.”
“I imagine that was tiring.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes. It got to where I could get by on a few hours of sleep. I had gotten used to it.”
“Funny, when I was younger, I used to have insomnia too. In my case, it was because my father was gone a lot, and I worried for him.”
“But he had his guards to protect him, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did. One year one of his guards had turned against him. He shot at my father and nearly killed him. In the end, Father survived.”
He watched the candle between them flickering in the breeze. “It’s hard to know who to trust. We have to vet somebody at least three times.”
“Just like you wished you’d vetted me.” She gazed into his eyes steadily.
Silently, he had to agree.
26
That had been close.
As Samir lay there minutes before and became aware of Reese thrashing around on the bed with him, he had instinctively reached out for her.
To comfort her. To assure her. And also the very selfish reason…to hold her. She was no fragile flower, pushing at him with an arm strength that surprised him.
Even in that minute or two when he was able to hold her, he had to admit to himself that he still loved her, no matter what he told her or himself.
Now, here, in the flickering of a candle over their dinner, in a private alcove of their lodging’s outdoor eating area, she looked rested and more herself.
He had to be careful to not feel sympathy for her. Though her words did prick him with curiosity.
No, Quinn. No!
Her brother intrigued him. He had called from Italy occasionally, and she took the calls away from Samir.
Just as she did now. Her face blanched. “Pardon me,” she said. “My brother is calling.”
She moved away as she always did, still within sight of their table. But her back was turned to Samir, and she was gesturing wildly with her hands. Afterward, she returned and sat down with a despondent air.
He waited for her to explain, but when she didn’t, he asked, “I hope all is well?”
Her expression looked pinched. “My brother’s wants me to bail him out.”
”Are you going to do it?”
She shook her head. After a few seconds, she stopped pretending to eat and instead stared off into space.
“I’m sorry,” she said, rousing herself. “I’ve lost my appetite. If you’ll please excuse me.”
“Of course.” Samir stood as she fled from the room. He finished eating and paid for the dinner. Then he made his way to their suite. He knocked on their door.
“Come in,” came her muffled response.
She was in bed already in a modest nightgown with the covers kicked off, curled up in the fetal position facing the wall away from him. When he walked around so he could talk to her, big tears rolled down her cheeks.
His heart broke for her. He allowed himself that much. She needed someone at the moment.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting on the edge of her side of the bed.
“Don’t be. He’s had this coming a long time.”
Samir chewed on this.
“As I have,” she added. “Samir, you were right in trying to push me out of your life.”
“How so?” he asked, the pain resurfacing.
“Because Quinn and I, we’re two peas in a pod. He is like me, and I am like him.”
“In what way?”
“I…” She passed a hand over her face. “I don’t want to say much more than this—he meant well for me when we were growing up…but didn’t always go about things honorably.”
Samir nodded.
Her eyelids, swollen from crying, began to droop. “I’m just…I don’t know…” She yawned. “I don’t think I’m making sense.”
Despite his resolve, he smiled. “No, you aren’t.”
She yawned and then fell asleep promptly.
He watched her face for several minutes, peaceful in sleep. He hesitated and then reached out and trailed his finger down her cheek.
When she didn’t wake up, he pulled the sheet over her and prepared for bed, changing into pajamas. He got in on the other side and put a lot of space between them.
In no time, he fell asleep.
The next thing he knew, it was morning, and he had his arms around Reese.
Wait. He had his arms around Reese?
She was faced away from him, and he had spooned her. Their bodies fit perfectly. She felt good. She smelled sweet, a floral scent to her shampoo.
But he couldn’t just let her go without waking her up in a major way. He’d need to keep holding her as it would be cruel to wake her. She was obviously very tired.
What in the name of ‘no’ don’t you understand, Samir?
He shoved aside his conscience and closed his eyes, reveling in Reese’s warmth.
She stirred and turned, tossing an arm over his neck. Her face was just inches from his.
Her lips were his for the taking.
He needed to let her go, but what he needed and wanted were two different things.
She stretched in his arms and stiffened. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at his chest, at his mouth, at their compromising position in bed.
“Oh,” she said, sitting up, her disheveled hair adorably mussed. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” he lied. He had to pretend it bothered him, right?
She blinked, looking around. “I must have been so tired.”
She slipped out of bed to the bathroom, and he noted with a pang that she was wearing the nightgown which had gotten his approval when she’d shown him at the store. Was their wardrobe going to be a constant source of reminders for him?
He got up and rooted through his bag for some clothes. She came out then and sat on a chair facing him.
The nightgown was beautiful—of white cotton and covering her from shin to neck, with long sleeves tapering to the wrists.
Reese was beautiful.
He swallowed and turned away, intent on his task of finding his clothes. He went into the bathroom and changed into a loose djellaba, feeling more like himself in his native dress.
“What are we doing today?” she asked.
“We’ll go on a camel ride later to a Bedouin camp on the Sahara.”
“So what do you recommend I wear?”
“Loose and light pants so the sand brushes off easily. We’ll stop at a store later, and you can pick out a headscarf.”
She frowned. “I thought Morocco was more modern than that.”
“Well, it is. It’s mainly to keep the sun off your head and so you can look cool on the camel ride. It’s purely optional.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I’d love to do it.”
He stared at her for a minute, transfixed by her smile, and then looked away, clearing his throat. “Then we’ll stop and get one.”
She drew her knees to her chest, the skirt of her nightgown covering her legs. This did not diminish her attractiveness. If nothing else, it made her more alluring. He could cuddle with her all day.
Samir chastised his wayward thoughts and moved to the door. “I’ll leave you to get ready. See you outside for breakfast.”
27
How could she possibly be in close quarters like this with Samir and not combust? After he left the room, Reese fanned herself.
The memory of waking up beside Samir made her blush. His arms around her, their bodies smooshed together, his breath against her neck. More than the physical, she loved the feeling of security she had waking up to him holding her.
It also made her sad. Just a few days ago, she was poised to be his wife, not just in name. She shouldn’t have agreed to this pretense—his wife for three months, for show.
All this came crashing down thanks to Quinn’s plots. Now he was in prison. Knowing him, he’ll be out again in no time. Like a phoenix ri
sing from the ashes.
She shivered at the prospect.
For now, she could relax. No pressure of getting the jewels. The only thing she wished for was that Samir had given her a chance instead of this inane agreement to stay platonic as a married couple for three months.
Grow a spine, girl.
Samir wanted to be platonic? He’d get platonic. No kisses, no touches, no nothing. Just slow burn looks so he’d know what he was missing. Meanwhile, she would “princess it” for the next three months.
Oh, yes.
28
Later that morning, Samir was in the middle of a phone call when he noticed Reese coming out of their hotel room and making her way to the lobby. She was all smiles at someone.
“Listen, I have to go,” Samir told the vizier. “I’ll catch you later.”
Samir wandered off to the lobby to find her with her head close to Jason’s, her now bodyguard. Jason was holding her hand. Without thinking, a fuse blew in Samir’s head. Who in the world did this guy think he was?
“Excuse me?” Samir said.
“Oh, hi, dear husband of mine,” Reese said, casting an innocent sidelong glance his way. “I needed a splinter removed from my hand, and Jason was kind enough to help.”
Jason’s eyes darted from Samir to Reese, and then he stepped back. “That’s all it was, boss.”
Samir cooled down somewhat. But he needed to nip this in the bud. “Can I please talk to you for a minute, in private, Reese?”
Reese raised an eyebrow and marched back into their hotel room.
“What the—”
The whole room was covered with laid-out clothes—on the bed, on the chairs.
“I went shopping,” she said.
“No kidding.”
“Yes, this morning while you were out doing whatever, your limo driver took me shopping. On palace credit.”
His mouth opened and closed.
And then he tried again. “You got these all in two hours?” His eyes assessed the clothes.
“Don’t worry, the clothes aren’t for me. They’re for refugees at your border.”
His jaw tightened. “And how do you propose we deliver them to the refugees?”
“You and I can deliver them. Like you’d promised to take me to the camps but never got to during our engagement.”
“I’ve already explained,” he hedged, “we were so busy—”
She put her hands on her hips. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”
“Pardon me?”
“I know why you never had time for them. You didn’t want to.”
“Now, wait a min—”
“You wait a minute.” She walked up to him and looked him in the eye. “Those refugees live in deplorable conditions, and yet their king doesn’t want to step foot and see them. You could be a better ruler than that.”
He came even closer until their faces were right up close to each other. “I know their conditions. I have ministers who visit those camps.”
“Unless you see those camps firsthand, how would you know what they’re like?” Her voice was soft but with an undercurrent of steel.
He was having a hard time keeping up with what she was saying because her standing toe-to-toe with him was so distracting. Her lips were covered in a luscious pink gloss, and her perfume evoked memories he needed to bury. Besides, what about his gripe on her getting too familiar with the bodyguard?
“I’ve visited them before,” he said.
“When?”
“A long time ago. Fine. I’ll take you there.” He looked around. “And you can deliver your clothes.”
“Good.” Her eyes glittered, and then she cast them down. “Do you need me to clear shopping for refugees with you first?”
“No.” He paused. “Within reason.”
A smile played around her lips. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her expression had softened, and she was looking at him with those eyes like she did when they were dating, and before, he usually pulled her into a kiss.
Which he could not do under the circumstances.
“So,” she said, moving out of his line of sight and toward the door. “Are we done?”
“Not quite,” he said. “We need to talk about Jason.”
She looked over her shoulder. “What about him?”
“Having him hold your hand, that was not appropriate. People might see you and talk.”
“So instead, I should hold your hand, and kiss you, you mean?”
“Well, er, not necessarily—”
“And act like we’re in love?”
“You must keep up appearances, yes.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he echoed.
“Why should I do that? I don’t get anything from this.”
“You mean the deal to not prosecute you isn’t a big enough reward?”
“So sue me.” She turned away like a petulant child.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “You seem…different. What’s going on?”
“I’m just fed up with people telling me what to do. First, my brother. Now, you. So I’m going to help you out, but I have to do it on my own terms.”
His jaw clenched. “Which means?”
She turned to face him. “I can flirt with whomever I want. You’re not the only one looking for someone to be with.”
He snatched her arm. Which was a major mistake. Touching her weakened him, and now he could hardly think of anything sensible.
She seized up, her glance falling to his lips.
“If you mess up my kingdom,” he said, “you will pay for it.”
She snatched her arm away and proceeded to clear the room of the clothes.
“Oh, by the way,” she said, “Aaliyah’s coming over a couple of weeks after we return. Then you need not bother yourself about me.”
“She is?”
“Yes. I checked with the vizier, and he said it’s perfectly acceptable.”
“You could have run the idea past me first.”
“What for? Would you have said no?”
“Maybe.”
“On what grounds?”
“Having too many women around will give me a headache.”
She sucked her breath in, her expression darkening.
He winked at her. “I’m joking. Save your indignant lovely pout for another time.”
Her pout turned even more sour.
With that, he left her to put away her charitable contributions.
29
Well.
That was…interesting. Reese bagged the last of her donations and plunked it down against the wall with the others.
She was excited for Alliyah to come over and help her. She could use another woman’s help. More a co-conspirator to help her with her plot.
Goal: to make her husband remember how he fell in love with her the first time. Though the task seemed impossible.
Alliyah was more than her sister-in-law. She would be a breath of fresh air in such a stuffy sheikdom.
Samir the Stuffy.
She giggled to herself. She could, she supposed, also say Samir the Sexy.
The way his eyes flashed and his jaw stiffened, the way he grabbed her arm and asserted his claim on her.
Why, was the guy jealous? She chuckled. Served him right.
Her hilarity was short-lived. She thought of his ultimatum. He cared more about his kingdom than her. He always had.
No matter. Part one of Operation Sheik-it-to-him was in motion. And, boy, was she having fun.
That afternoon, Samir reminded her they were going into the Sahara on their camel ride to a Bedouin camp.
When they’d first talked about doing it on their honeymoon, Reese had thought it would be the most romantic thing in the world, to watch the moon rise over the Sahara Desert.
But now…
It was just a reminder to her of what they could have had. Two people keeping to their lonely side of their island.
> “You’d mentioned about getting a headscarf?” she asked.
“Ah, that’s right. I forgot. We can go now.”
Jason came with them to the limo too.
“Is it so very necessary to ride in the limo?” she asked.
Samir gave her a direct stare. “It’s bulletproof, so yes.”
She shivered. “Have you had any threats?”
“Numerous threats a week. Credible threats.”
“That sucks.”
“Yes.” He smiled. “As you Americans say, that sucks.” His expression darkened. “There are many factions who would love nothing more than for Morocco to be unstable so they could take over this country.”
“Don’t people have better things to do?” she asked.
“You’d think.”
“People here need to take up hobbies. Like melon-ball scooping. That can keep you preoccupied for a while.”
“Agreed. Wait…melon-ball what?”
She laughed. “I can never get those scoops to turn out perfect little melon balls.” She sobered. “I’ve been wondering, Samir. What did those people at Aït Ben Haddou want from me?”
“They probably just wanted you to look at their art store. Or maybe they wanted to kidnap you. Who knows?”
She rubbed her arms to ward off the chill she felt.
The limo slowed in front of a shop full of colorful scarves, some of which hung outside in the balmy weather, blowing in the breeze. The contrast between the limo against the rudimentary storefront was comical.
A woman came out from the back of the store to greet them as they got out of the limo. “Welcome, Your Royal Highnesses. I am so pleased you chose to come to my stand.”
Samir helped Reese to the curb. For a moment, she forgot her resolution and held on to his hand far longer than was probably necessary.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“You’re welcome.” His gaze flicked at her and held. When he finally let go, Reese averted her warm face. Why did her body have to be a traitor and react to him that way?
There were at least a half-dozen ladies in the shop, all dressed in dyed dresses and scarves in a soft fabric that draped prettily. Three of them helped Reese pick out the perfect headscarf. She settled on a turquoise one that brought out the blues of her eyes.
