by Kristi Gold
She could not remember the last time he had called on her. She couldn’t imagine why he was here now, but she intended to find out. “Good evening, Your Majesty. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I need to speak with you.”
His serious tone and intense gaze prompted Maysa to press the panic button. “Are you ill?”
“No. I will explain why I am here as soon as we are in a private setting.”
Maysa glanced around him to see a black car parked in the portico, and surprisingly not one of the requisite sentries. “Where are your guards?”
“At the palace. Only select members of my staff know I am here.”
Being completely alone with him somewhat concerned Maysa. She considered asking him to return in the morning, when she was appropriately dressed, well rested and better prepared. However, he was still the king and his wish would have to be her command, an all too familiar concept. During their youth, she would have done anything he asked of her. One fateful night, she had.
Despite all the concerns racing through her mind, and the threat to her composure, she opened the door wide to allow him entry. “I suppose you may come in for a while.”
After Rafiq stepped into the foyer, Maysa closed and locked the door, then faced him to find his dark, pensive gaze leveled on hers. “I sincerely appreciate your willingness to see me at this hour,” he said without a hint of familiarity.
She sincerely questioned the wisdom in allowing him in her home. “You are welcome. Follow me.”
Maysa led him down the corridor and paused when one of the staff appeared from around the corner. She waved the befuddled woman away and continued past the myriad rooms comprising the expansive house belonging to her father, and on loan to her. The same house where she’d gone from teenager to woman in her childhood bed, courtesy of the man walking behind her.
Once they reached her private living area, she shut the door and gestured toward the settee. “Feel free to be seated.”
“I prefer to stand,” he said as he began to pace the room like a caged tiger, his hands firmly planted in the pockets of his black slacks.
Maysa dropped down onto the sofa, curled her legs beneath her and adjusted the aqua caftan to where it covered her bare feet. She chose to continue to speak in English, should one of the staff decide to eavesdrop. “What can I do for you, Rafiq?”
He stopped to stare out the window overlooking the mountains. “I could not sleep. I’ve had difficulty sleeping since…”
“The accident,” she said when his words trailed away. The mysterious, single-car accident that had claimed the queen’s life six months ago. “Insomnia and restlessness are understandable. Rima’s death was tragic and unexpected. If you would like me to prescribe a sleep aid, I would certainly be willing to do that.”
He turned toward her, some unnamed emotion in his near-black eyes. “I do not wish a pill, Maysa. I wish to go back to that night and find a way to prevent my wife’s death. I want to find some peace.”
His feelings for his queen apparently were much deeper than Maysa had realized. “It takes time to recover from losing someone you cared about, Rafiq.”
“It has been six months,” he said. “And I did not care enough, which directly contributed to her demise.”
Evidently she had made an erroneous assumption. It seemed Rafiq’s marriage to Rima Acar had been little more than a long-standing agreement between their patriarchs. Yet she didn’t understand why he blamed himself for her death. “You weren’t driving the car, Rafiq.”
He crossed the room and joined her on the opposite end of the small settee. “But I did drive her away that night.”
She wasn’t certain she wanted to hear the details, but since he’d decided to take her into his confidence for the first time in years, she chose to listen. “Did you argue before she left?”
He lowered his head and streaked his palms over his face, as if to erase the bitter memories. “Yes, immediately after she informed me she was with child.”
Rima’s pregnancy had been kept from the press, but the revelation came as no surprise to Maysa. Unbeknownst to the king, the queen had come to her for confirmation instead of consulting the palace physician, though she never quite understood why. Rima had always been aware of Maysa’s close relationship with Rafiq, at times pitting them as rivals. “Were you not happy to hear the news?”
“I was pleased to know I would have an heir. She was not at all pleased to be having my child.”
Maysa had witnessed Rima’s distress when she’d delivered the results, but she had attributed that to slight shock. “She told you that?”
He released a rough sigh. “Not in so many words, but I sensed her unhappiness. When I questioned her at length, she did not deny it. She disappeared some time later without my knowledge.”
Maysa experienced a measure of satisfaction that he’d chosen to release his burden and a good deal of guilt over what she’d chosen to withhold from him. She suspected she knew where the queen had been before the accident, though she had no solid proof. “Do you know where she might have been going when she left?”
His expression remained somber. “No, and I most likely will never know. I do know if I had been kinder to her, then perhaps she would not have felt the need to leave.”
She offered him the only advice she could give him at the moment. Advice she had been forced to follow since the day he’d told her he would be marrying another, shattering her dreams of a future with him. “Rafiq, you can spend a lifetime wondering what might have been, or you can move on with your life.”
“I told Zain only hours ago that I intended to proceed with my life,” he said. “I did not admit the difficulty in that. To him, or until recently, myself.”
“It would be nice if your brother were here during this trying time.”
Rafiq kept his gaze trained on the floor. “He arrived in Bajul today with Madison and their children.”
She realized having the children around could be the basis for his lack of enthusiasm and distress. “That must be very difficult for you.”
He finally looked at her. “Why would you believe I would not welcome my brother’s family?”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Of course you would, but being in the presence of two infants might remind you of your recent loss.”
“I can handle that, but I cannot abide Zain’s advice. He is convinced I need a sabbatical.”
“Perhaps he is right. Time away would aid in the healing process.”
He frowned. “He is wrong. I only need time to adjust. I can accomplish that and still tend to my duties.”
As far as she was concerned, he was overestimating his strength. “Does Zain know you’re here?”
“Yes. He insisted I talk with you.”
Maysa’s hopes had been dashed once more. “I thought perhaps you came on your own.”
“I would never have thought to bother you,” he said.
“It’s no bother, Rafiq. I considered visiting you after the funeral, but I wasn’t at all certain I would be welcome.”
He looked at her somberly, sincerely. “You will always be welcome in my world, Maysa.”
The memory hit her full force then. The memory of a time when he’d spoken those same words to her.
No matter what the future holds, you will always be welcome in my world, habibti….
Yet she had not been welcome at all. After his marriage contract had been finalized, they had been expressly forbidden to see each other, yet they had continued to meet in secret. Those clandestine trysts had only fueled the fire between them until one night, they had made love the first—and the last—time.
Maysa wondered if Rafiq remembered. She wondered if he recalled those remarkable moments, or if he had pushed them out of his thoughts. She wondered why she had
been such a fool to believe he would have changed his mind about marrying Rima.
She rose to her feet and crossed the room to pour a glass of water from a pitcher set out on a side table. She kept her back to Rafiq as she took a few sips, and swallowed hard when she heard approaching footsteps.
“Have I said something to upset you, Maysa?”
His presence upset her. Her feelings for him upset her. She set the glass on the table and turned to him. “Why are you really here, Rafiq? Why have you come to me after all these years?”
His expression reflected confusion. “You are the one person I have always turned to for solace.”
“Not always,” she said. “We’ve been virtual strangers for well over a decade.”
His expression implied building anger. “You were the one who left Bajul for the States, Maysa. I have always been here.”
“I had no choice after I divorced Boutros.”
“A man you should have never wed.”
A heartless, angry sultan who had almost stolen her sense of self-worth and security. Almost. “As it was with you and Rima, my marriage was no more than an edict from my father.”
Rafiq inclined his head and studied her. “Why did you risk your name and reputation to divorce him?”
She did not dare tell him the entire truth. “He refused to allow me to pursue my profession. I refused to allow him to tell me how to live my life.”
He looked as if he could see right through her. “That is the only reason?”
“Isn’t that enough? And what other reason would there be?”
Now he appeared cynical. “Everyone is quite aware of Boutros Kassab’s reputation for suspect business arrangements and questionable connections.”
She would simply allow him to believe that rather than reveal the harsh reality—Boutros was a sadistic, uncaring lecher. “I was eighteen when we married, Rafiq. I had no involvement in his business dealings. I was only required to play the dutiful wife.”
He raised a brow. “In his bed?”
She hesitated slightly. “Do you wish me to lie and say no?”
“He is thirty years your senior. I hoped you would say he had little interest in anything of a carnal nature due to an inability to perform.”
Many nights she had wished that had only been the case, but it had not. “Boutros is a man, and men rarely lose interest in sex, no matter what their age.”
“Did he satisfy you, Maysa?”
She was momentarily stunned. “That is none of your concern.”
He streamed a fingertip down her cheek. “I am only curious if he knew how to please you. If he learned, as I did, how to make you tremble with need.”
She circled her arms around her middle as if that might afford her protection from his magnetic pull. From the memories. “Did Rima satisfy you, Rafiq? Or did you simply go to her for the sake of producing an heir?” The moment the words left her mouth, she silently cursed her thoughtlessness.
Rafiq reacted by turning away, crossing the room and moving to the window to stare at the mountains once more. She approached him slowly and rested a palm on his shoulder. “I am so sorry, Rafiq. I did not mean to be so unkind. I know how much you are hurting over the loss of your child. I also know that you did care very much for your wife, and you were a good husband to her. You would never ignore her needs.”
“And in doing so, I was forced to disregard what I needed most.”
“And that was?”
“You.”
Without warning, Rafiq spun around and crushed Maysa against him. He claimed her mouth with a vengeance, with a touch of desperation. And as she always had, she willingly accepted the kiss.
She hated that he could so easily mold her into a willing, wanton woman, but not quite enough to stop him. She despised herself for wanting to give in to the ever-present desire. To do so could lead to undeniable pleasure, and quite possibly disaster. He didn’t necessarily want her. He only wanted comfort wherever available, as it had been all those years ago. And that made her furious enough to recapture her common sense.
With all the strength she could muster, Maysa moved back, putting some much-needed distance between them. “How many women were there after me and prior to your marriage to Rima?”
Confusion crossed over his expression. “Why does that matter?”
“Perhaps you could call on one of them to provide the escape you so obviously need.”
His handsome features turned to stone. “You truly believe that is all you mean to me?”
She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Yes, I do. You’re only seeking a temporary diversion, and after you receive it, you will be gone again.”
“I seek the company of someone I trust. Someone I have always cared about.”
“If you truly cared about me, you would not have kissed me.”
“Perhaps the kiss was a mistake,” he said. “Perhaps I should not have come here.”
She released a disparaging laugh. “You’re right. It was a mistake. Someone could find out, and that would not go over well with the elders. I am a scorned woman, remember? A divorcée and to some, the equivalent of a harlot. And let us not forget you are the almighty king.”
“You have never been a harlot in my eyes,” he said adamantly. “And at times I wish to forget I am the king.”
The sudden dejection in his tone tugged at Maysa’s heartstrings. “It sounds as if you could use a sabbatical.”
“I have nowhere to go where I would be left alone.” He fixed his gaze firmly on hers as his lips curled into the familiar teasing smile. The one that had always crushed her determination. “Unless, of course, you would be willing to open your home to me. I would keep to myself. You would not know I am here.”
She would know he was there every moment of the day, whether in his presence or not. “I question the wisdom in that plan.”
He took her hands into his. “I only wish for time away from my responsibilities, and to become reacquainted with a friend.”
How very easy it would be to agree to his request, but… “You have no wish to become reacquainted in bed?”
“I would never ask anything of you that you are not willing to give.”
That alone presented a problem—she could find herself willing to give him everything, receiving nothing in return aside from nights of pleasure and more good memories to temporarily overcome the bad. He could also break her heart once more.
Maysa tugged out of his grasp and strolled around the room, all the while weighing the pros and cons. Then something suddenly occurred to her. She could use his presence to her advantage. She could finally show him that improvements to health care for the poor should be paramount during his reign. She could introduce him to exactly what his people endured in the face of illness. And she would do so while keeping her wits about her.
After all, the guest wing was far removed from her private suites, allowing them physical distance. Aside from that, she was a strong, independent woman. She had superb skills honed at the best medical facilities in the United States. She had survived and divorced a known tyrant. She could handle a king—or so she hoped.
On that thought, she faced Rafiq again, lifted her chin, and centered her gaze on his. “All right. You may stay.” When he began to speak, she held up a finger to silence him. “As long as you abide by my rules.”
He sent her a suspicious look. “What would these rules entail?”
“I prefer to reserve the details for later.” When she actually knew what they were.
“All right,” he said. “Is there anything else you require of me tonight?”
One response vaulted into her brain. An inappropriate response that she shoved aside. “Not at this time.”
Rafiq regarded his watch before bringing his attention back to her. �
�I must return to the palace now. We shall continue this discussion when I arrive tomorrow to begin my respite.”
Tomorrow? “I thought perhaps you would need more time to make arrangements.” Or to change his mind.
“I have complete control over when I stay or when I leave the palace. After all, I am—”
“The king. I know.” All too well. “I’ll see you out.”
They walked side by side to the door where Rafiq paused and regarded her earnestly. “I am forever in your debt, Maysa, and I assure you I will give you no cause to distrust my motives.”
That remained to be seen. “I’m pleased to know that. And I reserve the right to add conditions should your motives come into question.”
“I will strive to win back your trust. The way you once trusted me before our lives intruded on our relationship.”
Maysa wanted to believe him. More important, she wanted not to be so drawn to him. Wanted not to feel so lost when he looked at her as he looked at her now—with a heated gaze that traveled from her forehead to her mouth.
They stood for a few long moments, face-to-face, the tension as thick as the mountain mist. Maysa recognized that it would only take a slight move toward him before they found themselves lips to lips. Body to body.
She finally cleared her throat and stepped back before her resolve shattered. “Have a good night, King Mehdi. I will see you tomorrow.”
“I will be here before day’s end, Dr. Barad.”
The formality surprised Maysa and sounded false to her ears. Yet if that formality kept her grounded, she would avoid calling him by his given name. Avoid touching him altogether. Avoid any circumstance that could lead to risks neither could afford to take. But when he leaned and brushed a soft kiss across her cheek, and presented a soft, sensual smile, she worried danger could lurk around every corner when he returned to her home.
