Her Desert Prince (Desert Destiny Series Book 1)

by Marie Tuhart

  “That’s my woman.” He brushed his lips over hers, then pulled back. The contact made her skin tingle. “And I’ll behave myself in public, I promise.” He stood and held his hand out to her.

  “Why doesn’t that statement reassure me?” She allowed him to pull her to her feet. As brief as the kiss was, she wanted more. Not a good sign—she wanted to sink into his kiss, to feel his body against hers, to explore this attraction.

  “Maybe because when we’re alone, I make no promises.” He gave her a wicked grin, his eyes alight with mischief. Her body tightened. “You see, Catherine, I find myself in a unique position.”

  “I know I’m going to regret this, but what position is that?”

  His grin grew wider, and he said, “I want you.”

  She stared at him, barely breathing. He wanted her? “That’s impossible,” she blurted out. He couldn’t be serious. Then she remembered the kiss on the balcony, the walk in the garden. Given the unadulterated desire she experienced with him, maybe it wasn’t so impossible.

  “I assure you, I do want you.” He guided her out of the breakfast room and down the hall. “We will discuss my need for you later, too.”

  Malik led her out to the waiting vehicle. Her bag, with all her materials, was already there. She slid onto the supple leather seat, her mind still swirling over his wanting her. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

  Didn’t he get it? He couldn’t want her. No one wanted her because she enjoyed a little kink in the bedroom. But if Malik did … she’d have no defenses against him. She didn’t want to destroy his life. Oh, Lord, what was she going to do now?

  She couldn’t think, not about Malik and sex. Her core tightened with the knowledge that he wanted her. Her brain knew it was an impossible situation. Her heart craved a strong man who would take control in the bedroom. Her thoughts chased each other around, and by the time she and Malik had arrived at the hospital, she was no closer to a solution.

  Her eyes opened to see people crowd around the vehicle the second it stopped. Paparazzi and what she assumed was security, based on their uniforms.

  Malik swore. “How the hell did they know we were going to be here?”

  “This is why I should leave. You don’t need this.” Her stomach tumbled over and over.

  “I can handle them. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. You, on the other hand, need protection. Don’t answer them, keep your head held high, and walk straight into the building with me.”

  Catherine almost told Malik she didn’t need tips on how to handle the press. Seven years had passed since she’d been under such scrutiny, but there were some lessons one never forgot.

  One of the lessons she’d learned on the night Jamie died was not to duck and run. So many accusations had been thrown at her that night as she left the hospital. She hadn’t even had time to process her grief over losing Jamie before the paparazzi had descended. Fear crawled into her throat.

  “Ready?” Malik asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

  She took a deep breath. She could, no, would do this. She wouldn’t let Malik, his family, or the hospital’s children down. “Let’s go.”

  “That’s my woman,” he said again. His woman. What did that mean? Her stomach fluttered with the idea of being his woman. Malik raised his hand and the door was opened. He stepped from the vehicle and held his hand out to her. Grasping it, she allowed him to help her out.

  Camera flashes went off, and she fought the urge to duck her head and hide behind Malik. No. She stood up straighter. She wasn’t going to allow the press to threaten the inner peace she’d fought for years to achieve. She was strong. She could do this.

  Lifting her chin, she kept pace with Malik as he guided her into the hospital, ignoring the shouts and flashes. She was grateful for Malik’s strong presence by her side. Once inside the hospital, the noise from outside was muted, and Catherine breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Very good.” Malik brushed a kiss over her cheek, leaving a trail of fire. “You handled them like a pro. My personal security will take you to Hassan, and he will show you where you’ll be working. I’ll be there after I talk to the press.”

  “But,” she protested, and caught his hand before he could turn away, “I haven’t decided.”

  “Yes, you have. You made the decision by coming to the hospital with me.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She had done no such thing. Perturbed, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I came because I have a job to do.”

  “You could have walked away.” His eyes gleamed in satisfaction.

  “No, I have a contract and made a commitment to your family to paint the mural.” Throwing a hand up, Catherine blew out a breath. “Besides, wasn’t it you who said I couldn’t leave Bashir?”

  He inclined his head. “Because the press would follow you back to your country.”

  “And they’re not following me now?” She wrapped her arms around her waist, staring at him.

  “But I’m here to protect you.” He grinned and ran a finger over her cheek, causing a delicious sensation of excitement to run though her body before he turned and walked away.

  “This way, Miss Taylor.” She recognized the voice. Catherine looked up to see the taxi driver from yesterday.

  Lord, was it just yesterday? So much had happened since she’d arrived. It felt like weeks had passed.

  “Samir?” she asked, as she fell into step with him.

  “Yes, Miss Taylor. Prince Malik has asked me to become your personal bodyguard while you are here.”

  “But … ” Her mind tried to work out what Samir was saying. “You’re not a taxi driver, are you?”

  “No, my lady.” He rubbed his ear. “King Jamal was not happy with me about the deception yesterday.”

  She remembered how the guard at the gate had reacted and then Jamal’s animated conversation with Samir.

  “Catherine,” Hassan said, approaching the pair. “I’m so glad you decided to stay.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it.

  Samir cleared his throat, and Hassan smiled. “Relax, Samir, I’m family, after all.” Hassan slid her arm through his. “Let me show you around.”

  An hour later, Catherine was much more relaxed. Hassan was an easygoing type of guy, and his passion for being a doctor was evident in everything he did, from showing her their newest operating room to introducing her to the other doctors and nurses to answering questions. And he didn’t make her blood boil in the way Malik did.

  Finally, Hassan took her to the ward where she was to paint the mural. She made her way to the middle of the room and slowly turned, taking in the size of each blank, white wall and noting where the windows started and ended.

  Murals were always a challenge, but this one much more.

  The room would be occupied by children who had enforced stays at the hospital, not of one or two days, but of several weeks or months.

  Realizing she’d left her bag in the car, she turned to ask Samir to get it, but he held it out.

  “His Highness thought you might need this,” Samir said.

  “Thank you.” She took the bag from his outstretched hand, and then looked at Hassan. “I’d like to spend some time in here alone. Is that okay?”

  “Sure. I need to get back to work anyway.” Hassan gave her a smile and left.

  Catherine moved into the middle of the room once again, before she sat on the floor.

  “Shall I get you a chair?” Samir asked.

  “No, thanks. But you may want to get one for yourself, I’m going to be here a while.” After pulling out her sketchpad, she went to work.

  Several hours later, Catherine stood and stretched. Leaning over, she picked up her sketchpad and flipped through the pages. Nothing seemed right. It didn’t help that every other sketch was one of Malik. That man had gotten under her skin, and she couldn’t figure out how to get rid of him, or if she even wanted to.

  This was not good. She needed t
o concentrate on her job. She glanced at the drawings. While they were good, they didn’t fit the room.

  If she were going to do this right, she needed to talk to the children who would occupy the room.

  Strolling over to Samir, she smiled at him and said, “I need to talk to Hassan.”

  Samir nodded and pulled out his cell phone. Within minutes, Hassan entered the room. “What can I do for you, Catherine?”

  “I’d like to talk with the children who will occupy this room.”

  Hassan crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her.

  “What is it?” She bit her lower lip.

  “I’m sorry, Catherine, I’m trying to find a way to put this delicately.”

  Her fingers tightened on the sketchpad. What was it with this family and dithering? “Just tell me, please.”

  Placing his hands in the pockets of his white coat, Hassan rocked back on his heels. “Most of the children who will occupy the ward will be long-term-care kids.”

  “Yes, I’ve been informed of that.” She tilted her head. “I don’t understand why you’re skirting around this fact. No child should spend his or her days cooped up in a hospital.”

  “Agreed, but many of the kids have terminal illnesses or have very long recovery times. Many of them will never leave this ward.”

  Catherine’s heart stuttered. No wonder her manager had pushed her to take this job. If anyone understood terminal illness, it was her. Jamie’s long, hard-fought battle with cancer had opened her eyes to helping those she could with her art. She’d spent time after Jamie’s death with terminally ill children. “I don’t have an issue with that.” When Hassan didn’t answer, she asked, “Is today a bad day? Are there many families visiting?”

  “Families are always visiting. It is good for the kids, but … ” Hassan spread his hands out in front of him. “Catherine, you do understand that some of these kids have undergone extreme treatments?”

  It took a minute, then she realized what he was trying to say. He was afraid she’d react badly to seeing the ill children. “Hassan,” she started. “I’ve spent many days working with terminally ill children at a rehab clinic, trying to brighten their lives with my art. Does that help?”

  The relief at her words spilled over his features as he smiled. “Thank you for understanding.”

  “Let’s go see the kids.” Catherine concentrated on her breathing as they walked down several hallways to where the current children’s ward was.

  This was not the time to let her emotions get in the way. But the minute she entered the room, her emotions went into overdrive.

  She wanted to gather each child into her arms and promise them they would never hurt again, but realistically that was a promise she couldn’t keep. So the best she could do was involve them in the mural and make it come alive for them.

  Pasting a smile on her face, she approached the first bed, introduced herself and talked to both the child and family. Slowly, she made her way around the room, talking to each child, until she reached the last one. A nurse sat next to his bed, trying to coax him into eating. The boy stared straight ahead.

  Her heart turned over. There was something in his blank stare that brought tears to her eyes. “Who is the little boy?” she asked Hassan in hushed tones after she walked over to him.

  “That’s Zain.”

  “Can you tell me his story? He looks so alone.”

  “He has no family.”

  “The poor little guy.” Judging by the bandages on his hands, he wasn’t able to feed himself. “What happened to his hands?”

  “Burns.” Hassan let out a sigh. “He was caught in a house fire.”

  The pain the little boy must have suffered shot through her heart. With a nod to Hassan, she moved over to the bed and pulled up a chair. She gave the nurse a smile, then looked at Zain.

  “Hi, Zain, my name is Catherine. Dr. Hassan told me your name, and I thought I’d come and visit you. I’ve already visited with the other children.” She kept her voice low and her tone soothing. “I’m here to paint the mural in the new children’s ward, and I wanted to find out what you and the other children want on the walls. How about I show you some drawings and you can tell me which ones you like?”

  She lifted her sketchbook and opened it to a page that held an elephant. “Now, what do you think of him?”

  8

  Malik stared in awe as he stopped in the doorway of the children’s ward. The sight in front of him caused his heart to swell.

  Catherine sat on the floor, Zain in her lap, with the other children sitting around her. Young voices spoke all at once.

  But it wasn’t the other children that fascinated him, it was Zain. Zain was allowing someone to hold him. Malik closed his eyes with a prayer of thanks. He’d visited Zain every day since the accident, and Zain hadn’t reacted to him or anyone else. Just a blank stare. Until today. Until Catherine.

  “Let’s see.” Catherine’s voice carried across the room. “What about a jungle background with lions, tigers, zebras, and maybe an elephant or two?”

  “Yeah.” The chorus of young voices grew loud as they scooted closer to Catherine.

  “What else?” she asked, her eyes shining and a smile on her lips. Pride filled Malik. She would make an amazing wife and royal surrogate mother to the ill children. Too bad their engagement was fake.

  “A castle,” Lyssa, one of the children with cancer, said.

  “An amusement park,” Cadi said. He had an arm and leg in a cast.

  Catherine wrote down each suggestion as the children called them out, then she tilted her head down to Zain. “What do you think, Zain? A castle with an amusement park in the courtyard? What would you like?”

  Zain lifted his head until his mouth was close to her ear. To Malik’s amazement, the child’s lips moved. His Catherine was a miracle worker.

  Her face lit up when Zain finished speaking. “What a great idea.” She lifted her head. “Zain suggested I include animals from your wonderful country. What do you kids think about that?”

  There was another chorus of young voices saying yes, they loved their country. “Very good, children,” Catherine said. “I thank you for your help.”

  “Will we be able to see you paint?” Lyssa asked.

  Catherine tilted her head, exposing her neck, and Malik wanted to lower his lips to taste that patch of silky skin. Then he’d run his tongue over her, making her shiver with the same need coursing through him. But not now, not in front of the kids.

  “Well, I’ll have to ask Dr. Hassan about that.” The kids frowned. “It will be a little bit before you’ll be able to see anything. The way I work is to first outline the animals, then paint them. That way I don’t make a big mistake, like putting elephant ears on a giraffe.”

  The kids burst out in laughter, but the laughter turned to a groan as a bell rang. Catherine glanced up at one of the adults sitting beyond the circle.

  “It’s four o’clock. Time for the kids to be back in bed and get ready for dinner,” one of the parents told her.

  “Okay.” Catherine smiled at the children. “Let’s get a move on, kids.”

  Malik watched as the kids scrambled to their feet, some with the help of the adults, and others okay on their own. It was obvious the kids had taken to Catherine, but the adults as well. Words of praise for her and for her including the children in her work floated around the room.

  He still stood in the doorway, no one noticing his presence yet, and he wanted to keep it that way. Catherine had set Zain on his feet and then pushed herself up until she was standing. Zain clung to her leg until she picked him up. She was so tender with the child. She would make a great mother.

  Malik continued to watch as Zain lay his head on her shoulder as she carried him back to bed. She lay him down on the white sheets, covering him with a blanket, before whispering to him. Not wanting to alert her to his own presence, Malik moved slowly into the room. Catherine was covering Zain with the blanket and brushe
d a lock of the boy’s hair out of his face.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow, Zain. I have an idea, and I’ll have to run it by Dr. Hassan first, but how would you like to be my helper?”

  Zain nodded. The boy looked so small under the covers, but Malik was aware he wasn’t eating well.

  “Good. I’ll talk with Dr. Hassan, but you need to be a good boy and eat all your dinner and get a good night’s rest.” She ruffled Zain’s hair, then dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

  Another miracle appeared. Zain smiled at Catherine. Malik almost pumped his fist in the air and let out a cheer. She’d broken through Zain’s protective shell in a single day. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but he was happy she had. Convincing her to stay was one of the best decisions he’d ever made.

  “Prince Malik?” a soft voice said, catching his attention.

  He glanced over at the bed closest to him, where Isis lay with her mother by her side. “Hello, Isis.” With a smile, he maneuvered to her bedside.

  Catherine’s heart caught in her throat as Zain smiled at her. Her goal had been to involve him with the other children, and she was overjoyed he’d responded to her and her sketches. While he would only speak to her in one or two whispered words, it made her heart sing that he did so.

  “Until tomorrow, my little friend.” She brushed a kiss over his soft cheek before turning to gather her belongings. She jerked when she saw Malik standing across the room.

  He was talking to some of the family members as they began filtering out of the room. How long had he been there? She shrugged; it didn’t matter. She’d spent all day with the kids and didn’t regret one moment of it. Placing the strap of her bag over her shoulder, she moved toward the door.

  At the last minute, she glanced back at Zain. He watched her, his eyes glowing, much better than the vacant stare he’d shown when she’d arrived.