by Maisey Yates
She would enjoy it. She would want to take pictures.
“I will owe you for this, Adham,” his brother said, his voice pleading.
Adham gritted his teeth, his grip on the phone tightening. “Yes, you will.”
“I’ll be indebted to you for this. Gladly.”
Adham gave his brother a curt farewell and snapped his phone shut. He had thought to escape the hell of unsatisfied longing he’d been living in back in Paris. He had thought that he would be getting away from his future sister-in-law, gaining distance, plus time with another woman, so that when he saw her again on the day she was to become his brother’s wife he would feel nothing.
She is only a woman.
There was no reason that she should tempt him. Yes, she was beautiful—sexy beyond belief. But she was nothing more than an innocent virgin. Virgins held no appeal to him. He enjoyed women with experience. Women who excelled in coy flirtation and sexual games. Women who kept their emotions in control at all times, who were as hardened and cynical as he was. Not women with eyes that were unguarded windows to their souls.
Isabella was not meant for a man like him. He would only tarnish her. He could not give her what she deserved, and neither did he want to. She needed someone who could treat her with softness, possibly offer love—which he had no doubt, given a couple of years to forget his woman, Hassan could do.
Adham had lost the ability to love when he’d watched his mother fall to the ground at his feet, her life snuffed out by an assassin’s bullet. His father had met with the same end. Only he and Hassan had remained. Adham had been able to keep Hassan barred from the room—had spared him the sight, spared him the injury.
But he had seen. He had watched his parents die in front of him. It was only by a twist of fate the bullet he had taken hadn’t killed him too.
Years in military service and protecting his country had helped the wounds created on that day to scar over, to harden completely. There had been times when he had been forced to choose between his own life or the life of his enemy. The fact that he lived was testament to the choices he’d made.
He could not offer a woman love. Did not know how to be a husband or a father. His hands—hands that had taken life—could never cradle a child.
Even if Hassan were not in the picture, he would not touch Isabella.
There would be no taking the edge off tonight. Yes, there were women who worked in the palace who would be willing to come to his bed, but he would not take advantage of them in such a way. And, no matter what his plans had been, he would not sleep with one woman while picturing the face of another.
He stalked into the bathroom that connected to his chambers. The only way he would be able to relax tonight would be with the aid of a cold shower.
When Isabella emerged from her room the next morning to find some breakfast, Adham was sitting at the dining table, with nothing but a mug of coffee placed in front of him.
“I thought you would have left.” She hoped the surge of happiness that had just rocked her wasn’t totally obvious in her tone. It disturbed her, the intensity of the joy that overtook her when she saw that he was still there, when she saw he hadn’t abandoned her.
“Hassan is detained, and shall be until the wedding. He has asked that I stay with you so that you are more comfortable.” There was no warmth in his voice. It was clear by how he spoke that he didn’t want to be with her.
“Did he order you to stay?”
“No. But I would not feel right about leaving you here by yourself.”
“I would be fine.” Three servants came into the room, one carrying a carafe filled with coffee, one with a platter of fruit, the other with two bowls of some kind of hot grain cereal. “And I would hardly be alone,” she said, as one of the bowls was set in front of her.
“Should there be a security issue, I would feel better being here.”
“Is that a possibility?”
“It’s always a possibility. When Hassan is here it will fall to him to protect you, but as he is not I will ensure that you’re safe.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
She was glad he was staying. In fact she was much happier about it than she should be. And that made her wish he had left. What was the point of nurturing her feelings for him? Feelings that were growing along with her attraction to him, despite her best efforts.
“If you wish to explore I could take you to see Adalia. It’s an oasis about two hours from here that the royal family has used for centuries. In times of war, or imminent threat, they would escape to the desert and wait until the danger had passed.”
The idea of escaping the confines of the palace made her feel as though a band that had been slowly tightening across her chest had loosened, enabling her to breathe again.
“Yes, I would like that.”
“You will have to change into suitable clothes. Hadiya can help you with that.”
Suddenly she was brimming with excitement again. She wasn’t simply going to be locked in the palace until the wedding. She was going to be with Adham.
And, as foolish as it was, she felt that if she was with Adham the most important piece of her life was in place.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ISABELLA could tell they were getting closer to the oasis when the sparse scrub brush that lined the road began to grow taller, the color deepening, giving way to a line of cypress trees that reached to the faded blue sky.
“You were right,” she said softly, her eyes trained on the horizon, on the flat topped rocks that looked as though they had been set right on top of the red sand, “it is beautiful.”
“And dangerous.”
“Life is dangerous, though, isn’t it, Adham?”
She noticed his knuckles whiten as he gripped the steering wheel of the off-road vehicle more tightly. “It can be.”
“You know that more than most people, don’t you?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because you’re always telling me how much life experience can take from you. I imagine you must have personal experience with that.”
“I was in the military,” he said, his voice clipped. “You see things … do things that are not always easy. But it was to protect my country and I cannot regret it.”
“But you do.” She looked out of the window, at the fruit trees that were starting to appear with increasing frequency. “Have you ever been shot?” She didn’t really want to hear the answer—didn’t want to imagine him in so much pain.
“Yes. I have also had to use my weapon against others.” He paused, and the full meaning of his words gripped her, took root. “No matter the reasoning, taking another man’s life is not something to find pride in.”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t. You would have had to have good reason.” She believed it. Absolutely and implicitly. She knew Adham would never harm someone unless it was to save his own life, or the life of an innocent party.
“You know this for sure?”
“You’re a good man, Adham. Even when you irritate me I don’t doubt that.”
“I irritate you?” he asked.
“Sometimes. But I know that I irritate you as well.”
“Sometimes,” he agreed easily.
She was glad to hear some humor in his voice. Especially after the bleakness she’d heard when he’d spoken of his time in military service.
“Is this man-made?” she asked, staring at the rock crag that seemed to have grown straight out of the desert sands, arcing over them slightly, providing very heavy cover from the midday sun and making shade for trees and animals beneath its bulk.
“No. This is God’s provision. Even in the desert there is life, if you know where to look.”
They drove around the curved rock and stopped in front of a large pool of water. It was surrounded by rock, a solid stone basin, with plants and palms growing thick and green all around the perimeter. And beyond that, set into the unexpected jungle, was a large tent,
barely visible behind the thick fronds of the trees.
“This is certainly a good refuge,” Isabella said, opening the car door and stepping out into the warm air. It was dry, and still very hot, but the rocks, water and plant life absorbed some of the heat, making it warm, but not scorching as it was out on the sands.
Adham got out of the vehicle and surveyed their surroundings. He looked as though he was a part of the landscape, as if he belonged. As though he alone could tame this wild beauty.
She was suddenly very aware of how alone they were. They had no servants with them, no chaperons. Because Adham was her chaperon. The High Sheikh’s most trusted man.
But he had violated that trust in Paris. He had kissed her. Had wanted her. And she couldn’t forget that. Her body wouldn’t let her. She wondered if he was as plagued by it as she was, or if she was just one woman he’d desired in a long line of many.
“The tent is designed to house staff and all the members of the royal family in total comfort. There is plenty of privacy available,” he said, answering some of the questions that had been rattling around in her head.
He hoisted her bag from the back seat of the Jeep and slung it over his broad shoulder with ease, the muscles in his back shifting beneath his button-up safari-style shirt. She followed him as he moved toward the tent, her footsteps awkward and heavy in the work boots she wore, which came halfway up her shins and made walking stiff.
“Why are we wearing boots?”
“Snakes,” he said carelessly.
She sped up then, walking alongside him. “Snakes?”
“It’s the desert, amira.”
“I know that. And I know that there are several species of snake native to the area. I just didn’t think you would take me anywhere there might be serious danger from them.”
“There isn’t serious danger from them, but there is a possibility of running into them. They like to keep cool, and they need water. This is a very attractive place for wildlife.”
“Well, it is beautiful.” She jumped to the side slightly, after hearing a rattle in the dry brush, but managed not to shriek or do anything horribly embarrassing. “Are there a lot of oases in Umarah?”
“A few. Several along the most common trade routes. But this one has been a well-guarded secret for many generations. So you might run into snakes, but not other people.”
“I love that there’s a way for even the hottest desert to be habitable. It doesn’t seem possible for all this life to be hiding in the middle of the sand … but it is.”
He turned and offered a smile. Her heart stuttered, and she wished she had her camera at hand. “I told you that there is beauty for those who are willing to look.”
It was there in Adham as well. She knew it. He tried to keep people out—at least he tried to keep her out—but she could see there, underneath all the layers of rock, what a good man he was. Strong, but also compassionate—firm, but understanding. He would make a wonderful leader. It was a shame he wasn’t the ruler of Umarah. A shame he couldn’t be the man she was meant to marry.
He doesn’t even want to get married.
Still, she was thinking that being Adham’s unwanted bride would be better than belonging to a man she didn’t love while she longed for another. And how had that happened? She had been determined to be faithful to her fiancé, to be true to their arrangement. She doubted if this raging attraction, combined with the increasingly tender feelings she had for Adham, landed beneath that heading.
The tent was more like a permanent dwelling than the sort of thing she’d been imagining. There were hand-woven rugs on the floor, providing a plush surface for tired feet if the inhabitants had been traveling. Lanterns hung low from the support beams, well away from the canvas that made up the tent.
There were big blocks of canvas hanging from the sides, dividing rooms, creating privacy. The living area was large and open, with divans and plush couches placed around in a wide half-circle, perfect for a big gathering. She could imagine it filled with people, laughter.
“I really love it.”
“I’m glad,” he said, setting her bag on the floor. “It’s a special place for the al bin Sudar family.”
“I wonder if Hassan will want to take vacations here,” she said idly, running her hands along the rich velvet of a red divan. Even her own father had taken them on vacations. They had homes on the outlying islands near Turan, and in Italy. Those times, away from palace life and some of the protocol, were her very favorite memories.
She and Hassan would have children, if all went according to plan. It would stand to reason that he might want to come here with them someday. The thought caused a stab of pain to pierce her chest.
It didn’t seem right, thinking of having Hassan’s children. She didn’t even know the man … and the only man she could imagine having children with was Adham. Why? When had that happened? Why was her heart so tied to this hard man who showed less emotion than granite at times?
Hassan was a handsome man. She remembered that from his picture. Being married to him wouldn’t be a terrible thing. She had never been repulsed by the thought, though it hadn’t exactly made her jump for joy either. But now … now it seemed so wrong. Adham was the man she desired, the man she…. No. She wouldn’t go there. She could not. There was no point in it.
Adham watched Isabella run her fingers lightly over the furniture. His body tightened as he imagined those delicate hands on his body, even as his stomach churned with rage at the thought of her vacationing with Hassan, the thought of her bearing Hassan’s children.
It was a betrayal—of his brother, his country—to despise the thoughts and yet he did. He could not abide the thought of another man touching her—even if that man were his brother, a man who, according to the contract signed by Isabella’s father and by Hassan, had every right to her.
He had brought her here at Hassan’s suggestion, and also to prove to himself that he could master his desire for her. And he could. There was no other option. It didn’t matter that she appealed to him more than any woman in his memory. She was to be a member of his family, a part of his existence, a woman he was sworn to protect for the rest of his life. He had to master his body’s response to her, not simply sublimate it.
It was simply his denied libido reminding him that it had been six long months since he’d had a woman in his bed. A swim in the cold water later would take care of it. Isabella was much happier here than she’d been at the palace. He’d seen the life leech from her when they’d entered the palace at Maljadeed, but here.it seemed returned to her. It made the trip more than worth it. Even if there was a small amount of torture he would have to endure.
He could understand how she’d felt in the confines of the walled palace. It was a difficult place for him as well. It was where his family had been killed. It represented the darkest moments of his life. It was one reason he had always been grateful he’d come into the world two years after Hassan. He had no desire to rule, to care for matters of State. To be trapped in the palace where he had lost his family.
He always felt most free in the desert—less shackled to the bonds his position demanded of him, less tied to the things of the past. In the desert his mind had to be in the present. Watching the weather for torrential downpours and sandstorms, keeping an eye out for dangerous wildlife.
He would welcome the respite from Maljadeed.
Adham cleared his throat. “Hassan is not a big fan of being out in the desert. He prefers the luxury provided by our palaces. There are several in different parts of the country. One on the coast. You will enjoy that one. It might remind you of your home.”
“It’s funny … I find I haven’t really missed my home. Turan. I’ve felt more at home away from my family than I ever have in my life. I think it’s because I was finally able to be myself. I was away from everyone’s expectations of me.” She looked at him then, a small smile tugging her lips. “Well, not everyone’s. But you … I’ve actually enjoyed being with yo
u.”
His chest suddenly felt tight.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, knowing it was abrupt, realizing it was the question he always asked when he wanted to divert her.
“Yes.” It always worked.
“Hassan ordered some staff members to come here ahead of us and stock the fridge.”
“There’s a fridge?”
“There are windmills nearby, and they provide a small amount of power. That way, if there’s a need to charge a satellite phone, or if we need to keep food cold, it’s available. For lights we still use the lanterns.”
“Very efficient.”
“We believe in using the resources the desert provides us with.” A movement Adham had spearheaded. He’d begun drilling in the middle of the uninhabitable places in the desert, had started programs that employed harnessing solar and wind power to provide the people with electricity even in remote places.
“I like that. You’ll have to talk to my brother about all of this. He’ll be very interested in bringing this kind of thinking to Turan.”
Adham moved through the room to the small refrigerator that was in the corner. He pulled out a platter with fresh fruit, stuffed dates and meats and cheeses. His gut clenched. His brother had planned his fiancée’s seduction for him. He could not have given him better tools—unless there was also champagne in an ice bucket somewhere. Which, given his surroundings, he would not discount.
“Lovely!” Isabella said, her eyes bright.
Seeing all that excitement on her beautiful face, an excitement that seemed to be aroused by things he hardly noticed, caused a strange tightness in his entire being. She seemed to revel in everything—the taste of foods he took for granted, views he had seen thousands of times. They were all things that brightened her face, things that brought about her unbridled joy.
He lived his life with his emotions kept carefully in check, yet Isabella wore hers boldly. She had said back in Paris, just before he had made the mistake of kissing her, that she felt everything. It seemed that she did.
