“So,” she said, looking up at him. “I guess we’ll ride the horses back to the palace?”
“Yes.” He folded his arms over his chest. “But first, would you care for a guided tour?” He extended his arm in a gesture that indicated the desert.
“Very much,” she said.
Fariq saw the smile in her eyes. He felt more satisfaction in seeing her pleased than he did from all the supplications he’d granted the previous day. Which was most perplexing.
“Very well. The horses are waiting for us.” He saw doubts in her gaze as she glanced back at the tent.
“What happens to it? Is it all right to leave it?”
He nodded. “It is permanent, with a full-time staff. My father keeps it as a symbol of our nomadic ancestry. My brothers and I like to come here to clear our heads.”
“A modest little getaway?”
“Just so,” he said grinning.
He smiled often in her presence, he realized. Perhaps that was the reason he wished to spend time with her. It had nothing to do with her avid response to his kiss. Although the image of her from two weeks before was still vivid in his memory. Her beautiful hair a silken curtain of shimmering mahogany highlights in tousled disarray around her face. She looked as if she’d just come from a man’s bed. He’d been unable to resist the temptation she’d presented. Even now, with her hair covered and only the twinkling of her eyes visible to him, he grew aroused at the memory. How curious.
“Let us go.”
They mounted their horses and he led the way, circling the oasis. He told her about the natural underground spring that supported the lush plants, trees and flowers. For thousands of years his people had relied on its bounty for life. It was a mark of their resilience and determination to survive. He explained all of this as pride in his country and heritage swelled in his chest.
“Of course once oil was discovered, economic considerations changed.”
“I guess so,” she said dryly. “Speaking of which, what was that all about yesterday?”
“I spoke of it on the day you had your first riding lesson. It is one of the programs that benefit my people.”
“You should have elaborated. I feel like an idiot for insinuating the horses were better cared for than the people.”
“I thought it would have more impact if you saw for yourself.”
“Show don’t tell. Definitely an impact,” she agreed. “I need to apologize for thinking what I thought.”
“There is no need. This desert tradition was begun by my grandfather and passed down to my father and now me. One day I will relinquish the privilege to Nuri.”
“But he’s only five. Isn’t he too young?”
“Traditionally it is the age when royal children begin learning about their culture, customs and all that will be expected of them.”
“So that’s why you wanted the twins here. And me with them.”
He nodded. But it didn’t explain why he now wanted her here without the children. He should have learned. The dangers of the desert were nothing compared to the jeopardy posed by a woman. But this woman surely posed no threat. After careful consideration, his aunt had said she was perfect.
But if that was so, why had he been so exhilarated by her eager acceptance of his offer to ride this day? His wife would never have agreed to the invitation. It was a nasty pastime in her opinion, too dirty and windy. Her hair and cosmetics would have been compromised.
Surely his suggestion of a ride was nothing more than courtesy to Crystal who was a guest in his country as well as his employee. What more could it be, he thought, gazing at the barren, unforgiving sands beyond the oasis? The desert was like a woman. When its danger struck, one learned not to make the same mistake. He would play gracious host, quickly show her the sights as promised, then lead the way back to the palace where he would no longer be alone with her.
Crystal looked at him. “Tell me about this tradition where you grant wishes.”
Good. A neutral topic. “My grandfather believed the people should share in the wealth. Twice a year he met with them to hear and grant their petitions.”
“I’m surprised there weren’t more people. You could be stuck there for days hearing everyone’s requests.”
He smiled. “The process did get out of hand and forced us to revise it. All the requests must now be submitted in writing for screening. Only those with merit are invited to the oasis.”
“So they know ahead of time that the wish will be granted?”
“No.”
“But everyone who shows up does get what they asked for?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a fraud.”
“How so?”
She studied him, then looked straight ahead as her body swayed with the horse’s gait. “You’re aloof, acting as if you don’t care. Yet you play fairy godfather.”
He wasn’t especially comfortable with the fairy part, but he understood the reference. “It is my job.”
“And you love it.”
He took great pains to conceal his emotions and hadn’t been aware they were so readily discernible. It was disconcerting that this woman had seen what he was feeling.
“It is my job,” he said again.
“Why do you hide the fact that you’re a softie?”
Before he could respond, a strong gust of wind swirled the sand up and around them. The sudden whirling grit along with the flapping material in her robe startled the horses into restlessness. The animals were accustomed to riding in the desert. Fariq had learned never to ignore their instincts and behavior, which warned of something he could not yet see. When her horse continued to dance uneasily, he reached over to grab the bridle and soothe the beast even as the wind picked up.
He met her gaze. “We must go back to the oasis at once. Sandstorms come up unexpectedly in the desert.”
“Shouldn’t we go back to the palace? Wouldn’t we be safer there?”
“Yes. But we would never make it in time. We must hurry and take shelter. Just in case,” he said.
“How long before we can start back to the palace?”
“Maybe a few hours.”
She shrugged. “That’s not so bad.”
“Or longer,” he added.
“We could be here overnight?”
“Maybe more than one. But do not be concerned. You will be safe. I promise no harm will come to you.”
The fearful look in her eyes was tinged with innocence and had compelled him to issue the vow. His promise was instantly followed by a powerful urge to take her in his arms. Which he would not do. So he swore on the honor of his ancestors to protect her from the elements.
Because, of course, she was safe from him.
Chapter Six
Crystal threw back the bedcovers wondering which god she’d ticked off and how she could make amends.
Shuddering, she listened to the wind howling outside and flinched as grit and sand pelted and pushed against the tent. Before the storm, the expensively furnished interior could make her forget that she wasn’t in the palace with sturdy walls around her. Not anymore. Now Mother Nature was waving her atmospheric wand with a forceful reminder that the only thing standing between her and the elements was flimsy material.
Crystal turned on the bedside lamp, then grabbed her robe. The storm had increased in intensity after they’d returned to the oasis and taken shelter. Fariq had notified his family that they were staying put. Then he’d spent the rest of the day working, but she’d been at loose ends since the children had returned to the palace. Fortunately this modest royal getaway spot boasted a well-stocked library.
The staff had insisted on preparing dinner, then Fariq had finally convinced them to go home to their families in case the storm grew more intense. The two of them had eaten at the beautifully carved table she’d admired yesterday. Had it only been a day? It seemed much longer. Afterward, Fariq had once again buried himself in work. She hadn’t realized she’d looked forward to spending ti
me with him until it hadn’t happened.
And why should it? She was the hired help. If a fluke of nature hadn’t landed them in this predicament, she would be back at the palace checking on the children, not out in the desert alone with their father. To take the edge off her disappointment and loneliness, she’d retired with a book to the same bedroom she’d slept in the night before. Between the wind’s mournful wail and the way it made the tent walls snap, the storm kept her awake better than a shot of caffeine. Every time she started to drift off, a particularly vicious gust would attack. If you can’t beat ’em, get up and read, she thought.
“I saw your light.”
Startled, Crystal looked up to find Fariq in the doorway. “I didn’t know you were still awake.”
Fortunately she’d been preparing to read and had on her glasses. But her hair was down. She tugged the lapels of her robe more tightly across her breasts. As if that would really do anything constructive to restore her disguise.
He was still dressed in loose cotton pants and shirt. The sash was gone, but his dark wavy hair and the shadow of his unshaven jaw still made him look like a rogue.
“Are you all right?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. “I keep wondering if any minute I’ll wind up airborne, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.”
A slow half smile curved his mouth. “If memory serves, that was a tornado. This is a sandstorm. Very different and quite common in this part of the world.”
“It’s all your fault, you know.”
“Excuse me?” he said, one dark eyebrow arching upward.
He spread his feet wide apart and folded his arms over his chest. The pose made him look like a conquering hero, and her heart responded with an energetic and persistent thumping, like the damsel in distress she was.
“Obviously you have recently lied,” she explained. “The fury of a thousand sandstorms has descended upon you and I’m caught in the cross fire. So I guess it’s one down and 999 to go?”
He laughed. “Now who’s revealing a flair for drama?”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” she said with a gusty sigh. Just what they needed. More air flow. “Just call me Sarah Bernhardt and you could be Laurence Olivier.” A strong blast battered the wall behind her, and she glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Then there’s the whole ‘huff and puff and blow your house down’ thing.”
“A reference to the big, bad wolf?” His enigmatic gaze locked with hers. “I have heard of it. It’s one of Hana and Nuri’s favorite bedtime stories.”
The supremely confident expression on his face was so profoundly male that her insides warmed and liquid heat melted through her. She voted him the sheik she’d most like to be trapped in a sandstorm with. Definitely big bad wolf material. And with every fiber of her being she wished he would sink his teeth into the role and kiss the daylights out of her again. Which was why she really, really needed him to go away and leave her to her book.
He stared at her for several moments until she finally said, “Was there something you needed?” The moment his eyes narrowed and darkened, she knew her phrasing was bad. “I…I mean, something I can do for you?” The suggestive words made her cringe. It was like being trapped in quicksand and every time she opened her mouth it sucked her farther down. “Why are you here?” she finally asked.
“As this is your first sandstorm, I wished to assure myself that you are not frightened.”
The fury his closeness generated inside her was far more unnerving than what Mother Nature was dishing out. “I’m fine,” she lied.
Just then a blast of wind smacked against the flimsy wall, startling her. She jumped off the sofa, moving farther into the interior of her room.
“I see that you are not frightened,” he said dryly, moving behind her to place his hands on her shoulders.
The squeeze of his strong fingers reassured her at the same time it unsettled her. The warmth of his hands touched her skin even through the material of her robe and spread heat over her body.
She swallowed and turned toward him. “It just surprised me. That’s all. You can go. Really.”
“I promise you, there’s no cause for concern,” he said.
“I’m not concerned.” Then her teeth started to chatter, giving her away.
“I will stay with you and take your mind off the storm. Perhaps some wine would help?”
“I don’t think so.” Just what she needed, something to lower her inhibitions. She was already precariously close to throwing caution to the wind. It was a really bad idea to be alone with him, but his reassuring presence did make her less afraid. “If we could just talk for a few minutes. Idle chitchat would be just the thing.”
“Of course. Let’s sit,” he said, urging her back to the low sofa. “What would you like to talk about?”
She gathered her terry cloth robe around her, flimsy armor against the chill wind and the power of his appeal. “I’d like to pick up the conversation we started earlier.”
The sofa dipped from his weight as he sat beside her. He was close enough for her to feel the heat from his body and smell the uniquely masculine scent of his skin combined with the spicy fragrance of his cologne. The intoxicating mixture burrowed deep inside her releasing the flutters she’d just restrained.
He frowned and his forehead puckered in thought. “I do not recall. Which conversation was that?”
“The one where you refused to admit you’re a softie.”
“I admit nothing,” he said, but humor warmed his eyes. “I will only say that I cannot afford weakness.”
“On the contrary. I was there when you were giving out cash like it was Monopoly money. From where I sat, it looked like you could afford pretty much anything. And I swear you were enjoying it.”
He rested his arm along the sofa back, his fingertips millimeters from her hair. “I was speaking figuratively. What I meant was that concealing flaws is a sheik’s duty. The best defense is an impenetrable offense. In disguise, one can work freely. Don’t you agree?”
Crystal stiffened at his words and pushed her glasses up more firmly on her nose as she lifted her gaze to his. Had he guessed? Was he baiting her? A particularly noisy gust of wind shook the tent as she answered his question. “I…I wouldn’t know.”
“You are pale. Are you still afraid?”
She shook her head. “Not afraid exactly. Definitely nervous. This is my first sandstorm. And we’re so completely alone.”
“You have nothing to fear from the wind…or me.”
“I’m not afraid of you. And if the rest of the world could see you with your children as I have, your cover would be blown.”
“I’m glad you trust me. While you are under my protection, I’m sworn to safeguard you in every way. Your virtue is secure with me.”
“My virtue and I thank you.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “If you were a virgin, under El Zafirian law, your father could insist upon a marriage if you were compromised.”
“Then it’s fortunate for you that my father will never find out we spent the night alone together.”
His eyes widened, revealing his surprise. “You are a virgin?”
She’d meant the comment to be flip and funny, but he’d taken her literally. And hit the nail on the head. Heat crawled up her neck and flamed in her cheeks. “This isn’t something I want to discuss with you.”
“But you were nearly engaged. How can this be so?” he questioned, searching her face. His disguise had slipped big-time because his astonishment was showing.
“It’s so because I never slept with the man I almost married. Or anyone else,” she added, lowering her gaze as humiliation cranked up the temperature in her cheeks.
“Why?”
She so didn’t want to have this conversation. But the fierce gleam in his eyes and the commanding tone in his voice told her he wasn’t going to let it drop. “There was something about him I didn’t trust. And it turned out I was right.”
�
�What did he do?”
She couldn’t tell him, of all people, that she gave the guy the heave-ho because he only wanted her for window dressing. “He wasn’t the person I thought,” she finally said.
“Then you were wise not to give yourself to him.” He reached out and touched one finger to her chin, urging her to meet his gaze. “We are indeed alone. But if you trust nothing else, trust this. I am an honorable man. I would not compromise you.”
“Why?” She’d caught the “why” virus from him, but oh, how she wanted that one word back. Her voice sounded pathetic and needy. How awful was that?
“Because you are a virgin.”
“What difference does that make?” Now it sounded like she was begging. “I’m just curious.”
“As I said, El Zafirian law deals harshly with a man who would so dishonor a woman.”
“What if she doesn’t want to get married?”
“If the issue is pressed, there is no choice. It is the law.”
“Surely there are extenuating circumstances. If she doesn’t want to marry, she could keep it to herself.”
He nodded. “But the law was written to protect women from men who would merely use them and cast them aside.”
“Why would a woman want to marry a man like that, anyway?”
“At least it gives her some recourse—if she so desires.”
“So if you—we—slept together, you’d be forced to marry me if my father insisted?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t want to get married?” she asked.
“That is correct.”
“Should I be insulted?”
He shook his head. “It has nothing to do with you. Each son of the royal house of Hassan is required to marry and provide heirs. Years ago there were very practical reasons for this. The mortality rate was quite high. To ensure the royal succession, it was necessary to produce many children.”
To Kiss a Sheik Page 8
