The Desert Prince's Mistress

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘Better go and answer it, hadn’t you?’ she said, her heart beating so fast that her words sounded strangled.

  Both her sisters turned and looked at her, both sets of eyebrows raised in identical sisterly question.

  Even the children were silent.

  They heard the door open and the sound of Lara’s father speaking to someone, then a low, murmured reply. Ten expectant faces were turned towards the door of the dining room, listening as two pairs of footsteps approached.

  ‘Wassamatter, Arnie La-La?’ demanded her nephew, and Lara realised that she was gripping onto him very tightly indeed, instinct and a deep sense of hope and longing telling her who the caller might be.

  She wanted it to be…but surely it couldn’t…it just couldn’t…

  The world stood still and her heart clenched tightly in her chest as she stared straight up into a pair of rueful golden eyes, vaguely aware of her sisters both sitting bolt upright, making twin sounds of disbelief.

  Well, she felt a bit like that herself—he looked so gorgeous. Strong and tall and lean as he stood there, just looking at her. She could scarcely think straight and her hands felt clammy.

  ‘Darian,’ she breathed.

  ‘Hello, Lara,’ said Darian softly.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THERE was another pin-drop silence, and Lara wasn’t surprised—because the sight of Darian standing in her parents’ beautiful old farmhouse was slightly surreal—as if they had all been taking part in a black and white film and somebody had just stepped in in full Technicolor.

  He wore jeans, and beneath a battered leather jacket was a warm, soft sweater, just like the one he had been wearing the first time she’d seen him. His hair was all ruffled, and sprinkled with snowflakes, and his skin looked even more vibrant and glowing than usual, his eyes shining with health and vitality.

  Lara’s mother coughed. ‘Er, aren’t you going to introduce us, Lara?’

  ‘Yes, do, Lara,’ said Heather, her oldest sister, in a voice which couldn’t disguise her restrained excitement.

  ‘This is Darian Wildman,’ said Lara breathlessly. ‘He’s a…he’s a friend of mine.’

  The golden eyes gleamed in silent challenge.

  ‘Won’t you sit down, Darian?’ said Lara’s mother mildly, as if men who looked like Hollywood film stars suddenly appeared in her dining room every day of the week. ‘And have some tea? Or I could probably rustle you up some lunch if you haven’t already eaten.’

  He smiled at her, and Lara watched her mother melt. ‘I’d like that very much, Mrs. Black, but I wonder if first I could have a few words with Lara? In private?’

  ‘Of course.’ She looked at her daughter. ‘Lara?’

  Lara rose to her feet on legs which felt as if they had suddenly been transformed into jelly. ‘Let’s go into the sitting room,’ she said unsteadily.

  The fire was blazing and there was a photo album lying open on one of the sofas. An empty champagne bottle was upended in the bin and there was crumpled wrapping paper from the anniversary presents lying waiting to be hurled on the fire. It looked messy and warm and homely.

  Outside the window, the scene was startlingly white and beautiful, and Darian released a slow sigh as he turned to look at Lara properly, dressed in palest cream, her hair all loose around her shoulders, looking like a winter wonder herself. ‘Lara,’ he said softly.

  Her heart was beating very fast. ‘How the hell did you find me?’

  ‘Jake told me where you were.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘Eventually.’ It had been like trying to extract blood from a stone, Darian remembered with a kind of grim admiration. ‘He didn’t want to. Gave me a great long lecture on how wonderful you were and how he wasn’t going to stand by and see you hurt—but in the end I asked him whether you would be happier to see me than not, and then he told me where you were.’ His eyes were very clear—clear and golden. ‘So are you, Lara? Happy to see me?’

  ‘I’m not sure how I feel,’ she answered truthfully, because she didn’t yet know why it was he had come.

  He looked at the way her dark lashes were half lowered. ‘You look very beautiful,’ he observed softly.

  ‘Thank you.’ She let the lashes flutter up, cautious and wary. She felt as if she was skating on ice, without knowing how thin it was.

  ‘But you’ve lost weight!’ he accused softly.

  She ran her eyes over the shadows and angles of his gorgeous face. ‘Well, so have you!’

  ‘I’ve been in the saddle every morning, riding through inaccessible parts of Maraban—what’s your excuse?’

  She didn’t answer that. She didn’t have to. She wasn’t going to tell him that she had missed him and been pining for him, because that way she risked too much. Too much hurt if he told her, as she suspected he was about to, that he was going to stay in Maraban. That his life was there.

  But if that was the case…

  ‘Why are you here, Darian?’

  ‘Can’t you guess?’

  Oh, but guessing was a dangerous game. She knew what she hoped, but she dared not risk saying it. What if her dreams were way off mark? Would that not just put him in the awful position—for him and for her—of having to reject her? But he’s here, a little voice reminded her. He is here. ‘I’m not a mind-reader.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’ The last time he had made love to her he had thought she could see into his very soul. And he hers. God, it seemed like a lifetime ago now, and in a way maybe it was. ‘Come over here, Lara,’ he said, in a low, soft voice. ‘You’re a long way away from me.’

  It was only a few steps, but it felt like a million, and Lara’s feet took her slowly towards him like a child learning to walk for the first time. That was exactly how she felt. Unsure and uncertain and a tiny bit afraid.

  He put his hand up and touched her cheek, saw her eyelashes briefly flutter down to shield her eyes, and when she opened them again they were bright. And wary.

  ‘Why have you come here?’ she whispered again.

  ‘Because…’ He searched for the right words, and wondered why they were so hard to find. Maybe because he wasn’t used to saying what was really on his mind. And in his heart. ‘I’ve…missed you.’

  ‘Have you?’ Her heart leapt in her chest. It wasn’t the biggest declaration in the world, but maybe because of that it felt more real, more solid. For Darian was not a man to use words he did not mean.

  He nodded. Tell her how much. ‘Very much.’

  It had been an entirely new sensation, one that he had tried at first to deny and then to rationalise his way out of—until he had realised that there was no way out, that for the first time in his adult life there was no template to follow. This was all very new to him, and exciting, and kind of scary.

  His eyes gleamed very gold. ‘Actually—very, very much.’

  She could tell that he was choosing his words carefully, and the flicker of hope became a little steadier. ‘Well, I’ve missed you, too.’

  ‘Have you, now?’ He smiled, but he saw how huge her eyes seemed in her face. She looked all wary, on edge. Fragile, as if she might just crumple up or dissolve. He felt a fierce rush of protectiveness and it took him by surprise—but why should it have done, when he stopped to think about it? Hadn’t he been exactly that during that chaste first night together in Maraban? ‘Don’t you think we ought to sit down?’

  She was pleased to, because her legs were feeling as wobbly as her emotions. They sat, side by side on the sofa, to the left of the roaring blaze, and while part of her longed for him to take her into his arms and kiss her the other part of her was enjoying his almost Victorian restraint. Passion was easy, but emotion wasn’t. Not for Darian. Passion could be something to hide behind, and he wasn’t attempting to.

  She turned to him. His eyes looked different, she thought, as though he had seen something new—and maybe he had. ‘So tell me about Maraban,’ she said softly. ‘What was it like in the desert?’

 
Darian’s eyes narrowed. He realised that her focus was absolutely right, though maybe that shouldn’t have surprised him. Another woman might have wanted to talk about herself, about them, but Lara didn’t. Had she sensed that his whole life and his whole perspective had changed? That change had somehow arisen out of the amazing experiences he had lived through, in the desert especially?

  ‘It was just the two of us,’ he began, his eyes narrowing with memory, taking him right back to the way it had been. ‘Oh, there were guards stationed further down the mountain, of course, but in effect it was just me and Khalim. We rode, and we walked, and we talked. We did a lot of talking. We lit fires—it was bloody cold. The snows had set in, so we had to take food with us.’

  ‘Not too much of it, judging by the look of you,’ she said wryly.

  ‘No.’ He smiled. ‘I guess it must almost have qualified as fasting.’

  ‘And fasting is cleansing,’ she observed, remembering the yoga course she had signed up for, until she had found sitting around saying ‘Om’ a bit boring and dropped out. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘Very.’ It had been the first time that he had ever really stopped, slowed down, really given himself time to think and to smell the roses. To look at his life and put it into some kind of perspective. ‘Khalim offered me a place there,’ he said slowly.

  She had guessed that this might happen, had been mentally prepared for it, but even so it was still a shock. ‘What kind of place?’

  ‘To rule the western region of Maraban. To publicly acknowledge me as his brother—to legitimately make me…’ He laughed. It sounded so bizarre—hell, it was bizarre—but that didn’t mean it wasn’t happening. ‘Prince Darian of Maraban.’

  Lara nodded. Heady stuff, being offered your own kingdom. Darian had influence and relative power in England, but nothing could compare to that. ‘What did you say?’

  He nodded slightly. She was perceptive indeed. She had not made any assumption about what his answer had been. ‘I told him no.’

  ‘My God,’ she breathed. ‘Was he angry?’

  He shook his head. ‘I think he was relieved, in a way. He made the offer out of filial loyalty, because he felt that it was right, and that only confirms what a remarkable man he is.’

  ‘But why did you refuse it?’

  For the first time he touched her. Picked up her hand and examined it, stroking the tip of his finger reflectively over the palm. It was both tender and yet curiously erotic, and Lara trembled. Was it still pretend tenderness, or was it real this time?

  He felt her tremble and stopped stroking. Not yet, he thought. Not yet.

  ‘I refused it because we are both strong men, and you cannot have two strong men governing side by side—it might work well as an ideal, but the reality of two such mighty egos clashing would be explosive!’

  Yes, she could see that. ‘But weren’t you tempted?’

  ‘By power?’ he questioned slowly, and she nodded. ‘For about a nano-second.’ He looked very reflective for a moment, then gave a wry smile. ‘But I could envisage the repercussions, should I accept such an offer. Maraban is Khalim’s by birth as well as by blood. He knows his country more intimately than anyone. To bring in a man who is only half Marabanese would be to weaken the throne, supply subversive factions with a legitimate cause to revolt.’

  ‘That’s remarkably far-sighted of you,’ she observed. ‘Lesser men would have grasped at the chance of such power, no matter what the consequences, but not you.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Not me. Because lately I have learned too much to ever disregard what the consequences might be.’

  There was a pause, and this time the silence had about it a quality which made Lara still, some instinct telling her that what he was about to say would be profound.

  ‘And Khalim and I read his…our,’ he amended, with a wry smile, ‘father’s diaries.’

  Lara looked at him in astonishment. ‘I thought you said there was a fifty-year rule preventing that?’

  ‘So there is, but as Khalim rather arrogantly announced—why make the laws if you can’t break them occasionally, too! Though they will still not be made public until the allotted time.’ There was a pause. ‘Makim knew nothing about my mother’s pregnancy,’ he told her quietly. ‘That much was clear. He mentions her with great affection, but nothing more than that. It appears to have been a very passionate affair which had consequences of which he knew nothing.’

  ‘And that makes a difference, doesn’t it?’ she questioned slowly. ‘To you?’

  He traced the line of her lips with the tip of her finger. ‘Yes, it does. Of course it does.’ He smiled. ‘It means that I was not rejected nor forgotten by the Sheikh, nor denied a heritage that was truly mine. He simply didn’t know anything about me.’

  He tilted her face so that their eyes collided, blue with gold. ‘But that’s enough about Maraban.’ His voice was soft now. ‘I came here to talk about something quite different—something more important still.’

  Her heart had begun to race. ‘Oh?’

  Once more he picked his words with care, recognising their significance and knowing how important it was that she believed them.

  ‘I want to tell you why I came back,’ he said simply.

  ‘Oh?’

  This was hard, to just come right out and say it, but he knew that he had to. For both their sakes. ‘I never felt complete before, Lara.’ He hesitated, trying to make sense of it. For her. And for him, too. ‘Maybe that’s the way it always is when you don’t know what your true parentage is. And knowing is one thing, but seeing is something else. Seeing really is believing. When I tasted some of the life in Maraban, saw my father’s home and land and the way he must have lived his life, I felt in a way as if I had come home.’

  He paused, remembering how Khalim had told him that to feel deeply made you more of a man, not less. But it went against the grain with Darian. Old habits died hard. He had grown up believing that it was a sign of weakness to express your feelings. Yet now he recognised the importance of saying what he really meant, not hiding behind the tough, macho exterior which had been his childhood protection.

  ‘When you discover your identity—you come home. You’re at peace with yourself—at least in theory.’

  She raised her face to his. ‘I…I don’t understand.’

  It had taken him a little while, too. ‘I found the peace which comes with knowing what my roots are, but I had lost something, too—the something that makes everything in life worthwhile. The something that makes living wonderful and the world an empty place if it isn’t there.’ He felt the thaw around a heart which had always been hard and tough and cold. It was like taking a leap into the unknown, he thought. Unexplored, uncharted territory—which took more courage to confront than any barren and inhospitable Maraban desert.

  ‘Love, Lara,’ he said simply. ‘I found you, and I found love, and when you went away something was missing. You’d struck a hammer-blow to my heart and it made me realise how much I wanted you in my life.’

  ‘Oh, Darian,’ she whispered, her voice faint, her blood pounding a symphony inside her head, weakened with pleasure and a sense of wonder. ‘Darian.’

  He smiled. ‘But it wasn’t the first time I’d felt that way.’ His voice softened. ‘I experienced it the first time I lay in your arms, but it scared the hell out of me. I put it down to the fact that we’d just had amazing sex. It made me feel vulnerable, you see, in a way I wasn’t used to feeling. It’s what made me not ring you.’ He sucked in a deep breath. ‘But I was blinding myself to the truth—then and later.’

  ‘Oh?’ The word was barely audible.

  ‘That you were the missing part of the equation, Lara. That once you’d left Maraban it no longer felt like home. Home is where the heart is, and you have my heart. You were the factor which somehow made it all complete. Made me complete,’ he finished, and it was a declaration so raw and intense that Lara felt rocked, shocked into a disbelieving silence.

&n
bsp; ‘I love you, Lara,’ he said simply. ‘And I want you in my life. Permanently. Yours is the face I want to see first thing in the morning and last thing at night.’

  Part of her was still scared that he was just saying it because he was in a heightened state of emotion, because all his past had coming flooding back in such a dramatic way. But when she looked into his eyes she saw the shining truth written there, and she knew she owed him nothing less in return.

  ‘And I love you,’ she said shakily. ‘So very, very much.’

  He touched her hair with a sense of wonder. ‘When did it happen?’ he mused. ‘And how does it happen? In a moment? In a look, or in a kiss? In an emptiness when someone isn’t there any more and you wish they were?’

  ‘All of those things,’ she agreed. ‘And a few more besides.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully.

  ‘Please, Darian,’ she begged, ‘will you just kiss me now?’

  ‘Oh, God, Lara,’ he said unsteadily. ‘Try stopping me.’

  He kissed her until he had to force himself to stop, drawing his lips away from her dazed and reluctant face.

  ‘Oh!’ She pouted. ‘Why did you do that?’

  He moved away with difficulty. ‘I hardly think it will make a good impression on your father if he comes looking for us and finds the door to his sitting room locked! Come on,’ he said tenderly. ‘Let’s go and find your family.’

  Nothing more was said, not then, but nothing needed to be and nobody asked. Maybe it was plain for everyone to see, thought Lara. They went back into the dining room, where her mother had cleared the table and made tea, and Darian sat down and was welcomed and introduced properly.

  She feasted her eyes on him as he solemnly began to assist her niece in dressing her new dolly while her smallest nephew tugged insistently at the leg of his trouser, and he looked up at her and smiled, and it was all there, written in that silent and loving curve of his lips.

  It seemed nothing short of a miracle that the two of them had been brought together, to this sweet, satisfying conclusion. Fate, Khalim would have said. Predestination.