The Desert Rogues Part 1

by Susan Mallery

  She started to say she couldn’t wait to experience it all but then she remembered she probably wouldn’t still be in El Bahar in the spring. It was mid-October. If she only stayed for her required month, she and Bethany would be home for Thanksgiving. Oddly enough, the thought made her sad.

  “What do you think of my country?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I haven’t seen enough to form an opinion. The palace and the grounds are lovely, of course.”

  He reached up and loosened his formal black tie. The dangling ends contrasted with the snowy white of his shirt and looked amazingly sexy.

  “I would be happy to put a driver at your disposal,” he said. “You could go wherever you like.”

  Her mouth twisted. It’s not as if she didn’t have the time to see all of El Bahar. Her days were pretty empty. “While I appreciate the gesture, Malik, I don’t think that’s going to be enough.” She set her drink on the low table in front of them and folded her hands together in her lap.

  She gazed at him. “I’ve always been a busy person, and I’m more comfortable going and doing all the time. Right now I spend my days wandering around these rooms. Bethany is in school, and everyone else is busy.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  She didn’t have an answer to that. As much as she would like to return to teaching, she knew it was out of the question. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Dora is busy with her political work, forwarding the rights of women, and Heidi spends all her free time working on ancient texts.”

  “You said that you always wanted to continue your education. Obtain your post-graduate degrees. El Bahar has several prestigious universities. Two of them are right here in the city.”

  “Yes, there’s that,” she said quietly. Except she wasn’t going to be around long enough to take one class, let alone get a doctorate.

  “You are thinking there isn’t much you can do toward that in a month,” he said, his voice faintly accusing.

  She felt herself flush and had to bite back a defensive retort. She had no reason to feel guilty, she reminded herself, even if she didn’t believe it.

  He leaned toward her, his expression intense. Darkness filled his eyes until the pupils and irises were the same color and impossible to tell apart. “Is it so horrible here?” he asked. “Is that why you don’t want to stay?”

  “No. Of course not. It’s just…” How could she explain the distance between them if he refused to acknowledge its existence? “I’m not sure I can fit in. I wasn’t raised to be a royal princess. While I’ll agree there are wonderful advantages, it can be a difficult life. I saw a bit of that tonight. Everyone was staring, and I was terrified I would put a foot wrong.”

  “You were fine. Everyone adored you.”

  “This time. But what happens when I say the wrong thing or accidentally insult a visiting dignitary? I don’t want to be responsible for starting an international incident.” She rubbed her temple. “I can’t figure out if you really don’t understand or if you just don’t want to. Didn’t Iman have any doubts?”

  He stiffened. “I will not discuss her with you.”

  “Of course not. Everything always goes your way, or it doesn’t go. Isn’t that right? You wanted to marry me and we’re married. You want me to stay and you expect that to happen as well. You don’t want to discuss Iman or how she died, or what was so horrible about your relationship, so we don’t.” She glared at him. “You can’t have it both ways. Either I’m your wife or I’m not. If you want me to take this seriously, you have to do the same. Circumstances do not bend to your will, however much you might wish them to.”

  Malik put his glass on the table and stared at her. She half expected him to leave, but instead he rose to his feet and crossed to the French doors. Once there, he stared out into the darkness.

  Tension radiated from him. Tension and something that might have been pain. For a moment she thought about going to him and wrapping her arms around him. Not because her body ached for his touch, but because he looked so alone standing there, as if once again the burden was his to bear, and no one was going to share the load.

  But before she could decide if that was a sensible idea, he spoke, and his words immobilized her.

  “Iman isn’t dead.”

  Her lips parted. She tried to speak, failed, then tried again. “But everyone said…” She paused and recalled what had been said to her. They hadn’t actually said she was dead. “They implied she was dead.”

  “A subtle difference, but there all the same. She has left El Bahar and will never return. That is what matters. While it would have been better for all of us if she had died, she did not.”

  “I don’t even know what to say to that,” she admitted. “You’re sorry your ex-wife didn’t die.” A thought occurred to her and she gasped. “You are divorced, aren’t you?”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I assure you, my marriage to you was completely legal. Iman and I have been divorced for years.”

  “Oh. Good.” Although if they hadn’t divorced, her problem would have been solved. Odd how she felt relieved to hear otherwise. She pressed her lips together. “Why are you so angry with her?”

  He shrugged and returned his attention to the darkness beyond the balcony. “Anger doesn’t describe how I feel.” He paused. “Ours was an arranged marriage, as most are for those in my position. It was a disaster from the start. We had nothing in common. Despite that, I attempted to get to know her. I thought we could at least be friends. And perhaps with friendship would come caring.”

  He hadn’t said love. Liana had the brief thought that he hadn’t experienced very much of that in his life, so he was unlikely to expect it in an arranged marriage.

  “But that didn’t happen?”

  “No. Iman was beautiful, but her heart was cold and ugly. She had been forced into our marriage against her will and she made no attempt to conceal her hatred both of me and the situation. When we finally consummated our union, I discovered that she’d already been with another man.”

  A virgin bride might be an old-fashioned concept back home, but Liana suspected it was expected for the bride of a soon-to-be ruling monarch. “You couldn’t forgive that?” she asked.

  He turned to face her. “I couldn’t forgive her lover following her here and continuing to claim her favors. I couldn’t forgive her for making a fool of me and, by association, my country. I couldn’t forgive the fact that many of the servants knew of her infidelities but were afraid to tell me the truth, and that rumors abounded in the souk where the street sellers told stories about the new princess. And I couldn’t forgive her stupidity and carelessness in allowing me and my father to walk in on her while she entertained her lover in our marriage bed.”

  All the blood seemed to leave Liana’s head. She felt dizzy and confused. Malik’s stark words painted a clear picture of a faithless wife making a fool of her husband.

  “The name Iman means faithful, but in her case it was a lie,” he continued. “When I realized the extent of her transgressions, I banished her and divorced her. Everything she had ever touched was destroyed and her name was no longer spoken here. She betrayed us all, for what is done to the Crown Prince is done to each citizen. I care not about what she did to me, but it is unforgivable that she so defiled the glory of El Bahar.”

  Lines of tension stiffened his body, but his face was expressionless. Except for the clipped harshness of his words, he might have been discussing a current movie.

  But Liana knew him well enough now to sense what the truth cost him. While she didn’t understand what it must have been like for him to have his wife’s infidelities spoken of throughout the country, she felt his pain now as clearly as if it was her own. Her heart ached for the proud man standing in front of her. He wanted only what was good and right for his country. He’d sacrificed himself in ways no one could ever truly appreciate. He was El Bahar, and he would give his all for the betterment of his people. His last thought, his la
st breath, would be for them.

  His words echoed in her brain. “What is done to the Crown Prince is done to each citizen.” Which meant Malik’s humiliation was also theirs. Would he be humiliated if she left him? Would her legacy be as brief and painful as Iman’s?

  She didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to know that she had the power to hurt him. But she couldn’t escape the reality of what telling her about his past had cost him. Malik was a proud man and he’d laid open his shame at her request.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said at last. “I appreciate knowing the truth and I promise to honor your confidence.”

  He dismissed her with a flick of his wrist. “Even the street cleaners know the truth. There is no confidence to keep.”

  She told herself he felt embarrassed by his past and that was why he treated her so casually.

  “You asked me once what I learned from my first marriage,” he said. “I’m grateful I never loved her.”

  His pain was so clear to her, she could have traced the still bleeding soul wounds. She saw the child who had been thrust into a frighteningly adult world and left to survive without comfort or affection. She saw a young man coming to terms with his sexuality in full view of an interested nation. She saw a husband who, despite his claims to the contrary, must have secretly hoped for someone to finally love him and share the burden of his office only to find himself rejected and then humiliated by his new wife. She saw a determined leader—a lion of the desert—alone. Untouched by kindness or love.

  Without considering the consequences of her actions, she rose to her feet and crossed to stand in front of him. She wrapped her arms around him and rose on tiptoe to kiss him.

  He grabbed her upper arms and thrust her away from him. “I don’t want your pity,” he growled, his eyebrows drawn together, his mouth a straight line.

  Despite his obvious irritation, she smiled. “Malik, you inspire many emotions in me—mostly anger and frustration. I promise, I’ve never once felt pity.”

  “Then why do you come to me now, after I’ve told you about the whore who was my wife?”

  She slid her hands under his jacket and again pressed a kiss to his forbidding mouth. “Because you’re finally more man than prince. While the prince is scary and annoying, the man is very appealing. I would like to kiss him before he changes back.”

  His expression softened and he placed his hands on her waist. “I’m not annoying. I’m considered charming and an enjoyable companion.”

  “Yeah, right.” She gazed into his eyes and watched the first flickering flame ignite. “So, do you want to talk all night or could I interest you in something a little more physical?”

  Dark eyebrows raised slightly. “Are you propositioning me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Malika knew that making love with Liana again would be a mistake. While he kept Liana at a distance, he knew that he was safe. But if he allowed himself to touch her again, to be with her, to claim her, then he knew that he would be forced to expose himself in ways he never had before. And once he’d allowed the light of Liana inside himself, he could never again be content to survive in emotional darkness.

  So, even as her mouth pressed against his and he felt himself growing aroused and ready, he resisted. If he held some part of himself back from her, he thought he might be able to contain his growing need. If he could channel the energy and make it all about sex, they would both survive.

  Yet, even as he attempted to hold himself apart, to keep his mind clear and his touch impersonal, he felt the fire growing. It burned through his reserve, melting the edges of his being until they blurred and connected with the wonder that was Liana.

  He cupped her face, then moved his hands to her hair. He unpinned her tiara, then freed the long strands from her elegant hairstyle.

  “You were magnificent tonight,” he murmured as he kissed her soft cheeks, then her mouth. She tasted sweet and hot. Her lips welcomed him with nipping kisses, her tongue stroked against his, making it impossible for him to maintain his distance.

  “I was terrified,” she whispered between kisses. “All those people staring and waiting for me to say or do something wrong.”

  “No.” He raked his fingers through her long hair and kneaded her scalp. “They were watching because they were envious. All the women admired you and all the men wanted you. Tonight when they make love with their wives, they’ll imagine you in their beds.”

  She drew back and looked at him—her blue eyes were bright with a combination of passion and laughter. “I don’t think so. I’m willing to admit that I clean up pretty good, and the dress was amazing, but I was just—”

  He claimed her mouth to silence her. He plunged his tongue inside her, relearning the secrets of her mouth, her taste, her heat. He pulled her closer and she trembled in his embrace.

  “You were everything,” he breathed. “Perfect and lovely. You are my wife.”

  He felt her shiver. “Malik, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

  He knew because he felt the same uncontrolled passion growing inside himself. As much as he wanted to jerk up her dress and sink himself into her right now, he wanted to make it last between them forever. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her body. He wanted to lick her all over, then have her do the same to him. He wanted to dip his tongue into her waiting heat and have her take him in her mouth, then he wanted to be on top of her, plunging home, claiming her, marking her. He wanted to spill his seed in her again and again until her body had forgotten what it was like to be with any man but him. He wanted to brand her with his kisses and his touch until she existed only for him—as he would exist only for her.

  He kissed her mouth, then moved lower—trailing a damp path down her throat and onto her chest. The sweet taste of her skin made him hungry for all of her. With fingers that weren’t as steady as they should have been, he lowered the zipper of her dress and pushed the velvet off her shoulders and down to her waist.

  She wore a lacy bra that teased by hiding her tight nipples. He saw the puckered flesh pushing up against the fabric. Supporting her weight, he urged her back, until her breasts thrust up toward him. He leaned over her and took one nipple between his teeth. He gently moved back and forth, making her skin harden and her breath come in short gasps.

  “Malik,” she sighed, holding on to his shoulders. “You’re making me crazy.”

  “Good.”

  He brought her back to a standing position. Her face was flushed, her eyes glazed. He knelt at her feet and tugged off her dress, then had a little breathing trouble of his own when he realized she wore a garter belt and stockings. He swallowed hard and ignored the pressure between his legs. A voice in his head screamed for him to take her now, to free himself and plunge into her, carrying them both to paradise. Instead he forced himself to gently tug off her panties, leaving her in stockings and a bra. Then he drew her to the sofa and had her sit.

  Kneeling before her, he kissed her deeply. She hugged him, making it easy for him to unfasten her bra. When the garment fell away, he studied her rounded breasts and the pattern of veins under pale skin.

  “So lovely,” he murmured as he began to explore the curves.

  He cupped her fullness, then stroked the exquisitely soft undersides. With his tongue, he flicked against her nipples, touching quickly and lightly, making her gasp. He tasted the sweet valley between the curves and licked all of her.

  She squirmed and spoke his name and buried her fingers in his hair. Her hips moved, shifting closer until her heat pressed against his need and she began to rub up and down, driving them both to the edge. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he dipped lower, kissing her ribs, her belly and the hot skin of her thighs. Only when he felt her shudder did he part the protective folds of her feminine place and love her there.

  She was already so hot and wet that he knew she wouldn’t last long. He found the one tiny spot that made her cry out
. With his lips and tongue, he circled and stroked, his steady rhythm matching the tightening of her leg muscles. He used one of his hands to dip inside her, pushing up so he touched that most sacred place from above and below. With his other hand, he reached up to cup her breast.

  Heat radiated from her as if she suffered from an intense fever. Perhaps she did. She was a wildly sexual creature—untamed and magnificent in bed. When she drew her knees back to urge him on, he moved more quickly and thrust his finger deeper. Her breath caught, then stilled and he knew that it was her time. He focused all his considerable attention on the messages of her body, willing her to experience the ultimate release in the most perfect way possible.

  She cried out and convulsed into spasms. Her strong internal muscles, her legs, her stomach all flexed and released with thousands of pulses. He continued to touch her, lighter and lighter, drawing out every second until she was spent and still.

  He looked up and saw that a flush covered her from her breasts to her hairline. Her gaze met his, and he saw the tears in her eyes. For a second, fear gripped him, but then he knew. Her release had been so complete that she’d lost control in more ways than one.

  “No one has ever made me feel like that before,” she whispered. “Not ever.”

  He had known he had to be strong—to stay away from her or he would be lost. Yet it was too late. With Liana, most especially in her arms, he was just a man like so many others. Human—imperfect—alive. When he was with her he could succumb to the allure of her body and forget himself. He knew the truth. He’d seen the darkness that awaited him, but for these few moments he could pretend.

  He wanted to tell her that if she left him, there would be nothing for him but dust and blackness. Yet he would not speak the words because she would never understand. So instead of responding, he simply moved closer. And when her hands reached for his trousers and unfastened them, he allowed her to pull him free.

  Her fingers were small yet sure. She stroked him to a state of readiness that made him grit his teeth.