Her Desert Prince

by Rebecca Winters

  “Thank you for coming. Did you get the letters?”

  “Yes. They’ve been delivered.”

  So fast? “Excellent. Well, I’m ready.” She started to pick up her suitcases, but he said, “Leave them in here.”

  Lauren frowned. “Leave them? I don’t understand.”

  He spread his hands. “All will be explained if you will accompany me.”

  This meant Rafi had gotten her note and knew of her plans. As head of security, nothing went on in the palace he didn’t know about. “Very well.”

  Once out the door she followed Nazir along one corridor and down another she hadn’t seen before. The palace was like a small city. Eventually they came to a portico and he led her beyond it to a glorious garden of palms and desert plants growing outside the palace.

  Nazir made a gesture with his hands. “This way, please.”

  Several hundred yards off in the distance she spied a helicopter gleaming in the sun. She walked toward it, curious to know what was going on. Closer now she saw three men inside, one at the controls. Another one jumped down wearing tall leather boots.

  There was no mistaking Rafi in a khaki shirt and trousers. She didn’t like admitting it, but just seeing his burnished face and those strong hands on his hips in a totally male stance sent an explosion of excitement through her body. It wasn’t fair for one man to be that endowed. She’d hoped to put distance between them, but such wasn’t the case.

  “How are you this morning, Lauren?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “We’ll see.” He moved closer, pressing the back of his hand to her cheeks and forehead. After receiving her note, he could be excused for wondering why she’d made plans to leave the palace without telling him last night.

  His touch electrified her, never mind his black eyes that reduced her insides to pulp. “I—I don’t have a fever,” her voice faltered.

  “Let me be the judge of that,” came his answer in a smoky tone. He wasn’t talking about the state of her health. With a comment like that, Lauren wasn’t sure if her legs would hold her up.

  “Are you satisfied?”

  “I guess I’ll have to be,” he murmured. “If you’re still intent on visiting the site of the sandstorm, the king has put a pilot at your disposal.”

  Her debt to the king continued to grow, but of course it was Rafi who made things happen. “I shouldn’t have said anything to you last night. You’ve all done more than enough for me.”

  “It won’t take long. Have you flown in a helicopter before?”

  “Yes. Many times, in fact.”

  “Then let’s be off. Just remember we’re flying to the sun’s anvil. It’ll be 122 degrees Fahrenheit, if not more, so beware.”

  On that note he helped her inside. His hands rested on her hips longer than necessary before she climbed in the back and strapped herself in the seat. It was all she could do not to turn around and launch herself into his arms.

  The man next to her in Arab dress smiled at her. He had to have noticed what had transpired while Rafi was assisting her.

  This was madness. Shame over her desire for him drove her to keep her eyes trained on the desert. The rotors whined. When liftoff occurred, she didn’t once look ahead to where she’d be able to see the back of his head.

  Instead she stared out her window and watched as the palace and finally the small green settlement of the Oasis itself disappeared. It was almost frightening to see nothing but sand below, an entirely different perspective from the air than on the ground.

  They flew on into a world of nothing but undulating sand dunes forming their own fantastically shaped hills and valleys, untouched except for scorching sun and air. Out in this vast expanse, you had no sense of direction but for the sun which was almost at its zenith, denoting noon.

  The pilot knew where they were, with today’s technology, he could pinpoint the exact spot where the sandstorm had come upon her caravan. The real marvel were the Bedouins of the desert who’d been crossing these sands for millennia and had their own ways of functioning day and night in such an inhospitable wilderness. Yet for all that it had a terrifying beauty.

  No sign of brown mountains sweeping across the horizon like a tsunami today. Maybe Rafi had been right and it hadn’t been her appointed time to die. Instead fate had delivered her into his arms. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out her thoughts of him, but it did no good.

  From the first moment she’d heard his deep voice and had felt his hand swallow hers—even before she saw him—she’d felt him to her very soul.

  “Lauren? We’ve arrived.”

  At the sound of his voice, she let out a little cry of surprise and opened her eyes. She’d been so buried in her own torturous thoughts, she hadn’t realized they’d landed.

  “If you’re feeling unwell, we’ll return to the palace.” What made him think there was something wrong? She didn’t understand.

  He opened the door and got out. When she climbed forward, he put an impersonal hand on her upper arm to assist her as she jumped into the sand, but an electric current ran through her body just the same. They’d landed in a valley with gigantic mounds of sand spreading in every direction. The pilot stayed at the controls. The other man climbed out and walked a distance off.

  Stunned to be that little granule of sand again, she looked all around before flicking Rafi a glance. “Where did it happen exactly?”

  “According to the pilot, beneath this mound in front of you. I flew your body from here to the palace in the hope you could be revived.”

  She gasped because the sand dune in front of her rose at least twenty feet. Its smooth crescent shape ran the length of the horizon. Lauren took several steps forward, but with each thrust, her foot sank and it took effort to pull it out.

  How foolish of her to think she could come out here and find anything, let alone her medallion! It was buried here somewhere, forever. The knowledge seemed to bring an end to an era for Lauren.

  Her grandmother, her grandfather, the medallion—all were gone. The end of the beginning or the beginning of the end? Whatever, it was written in the sand now.

  Her shoulders started to shake as tears began falling. She hung her head because she was beginning to sound like Rafi. She needed to get out of here and start a new life for herself, maybe in America? Wherever, she knew she needed to be somewhere far away from everything that reminded her of the past, away from him.

  She felt him approach her side. Her body came alive whenever he was around and the sensations were so new, so different that they upset her. She didn’t know where to go with her new feelings for him. “You warned me, Rafi, but please don’t say anything. I only need five more minutes.”

  The suffocating air was so hot that the moisture evaporated as it dripped off her chin. Though he obeyed her, he didn’t go away. Instead he wrapped his arms around her neck from behind so the tears fell on his bronzed skin. He pressed his chin in her hair and drew her into him in a protective gesture where she felt the steady pounding of his heart against her back.

  For the moment he was comforting her like he might a child. Unfortunately the warmth from his hard-muscled body and his great strength increased her desire for him. She’d known such desire existed after listening to her grandmother, but she’d never felt its power until now.

  This physical thing between them was sublime torture for her, tapping into her deepest emotions. She couldn’t hold back the tears. They burst over the dam. How long she sobbed, she didn’t know. Twice now she’d fallen apart in his arms.

  She couldn’t fathom leaving him and this place where life and death had taken on an entirely new meaning. Her grandmother had been faced with the same decision, but somehow she’d found the will to walk away from King Malik.

  How did she do that?

  Lauren didn’t have Celia’s resolve. Never to see Rafi again…

  Ashamed because she was making a spectacle of herself, she sniffed hard and moved out of his arms to walk
back to the helicopter on her own. This time it was the other man who helped her inside. She thanked him and the pilot before Rafi climbed in and shut the door.

  Once more they were off, winging through the sky with no trace of clouds. Nothing but hot, hot blue, the sun reflecting off the sand sculptures below and the haunting profile of a man who was larger than life to her. Larger than her grandmother’s sheikh. For the rest of Lauren’s days, that picture would remain indelibly carved on her consciousness.

  The men talked back and forth. She noticed Rafi speaking into his headset. Lauren could imagine that they had much more to do with their time than ferry around the American who must appeared spoiled to them, but as she was a guest of the king, they had their orders. When she got back to the palace, she intended to stay in her room for the rest of the day.

  Rafi put out a hand to help her down from the helicopter. “Enjoy your afternoon. We’ll talk later,” he said before walking swiftly away in another direction, taking her heart with him. Nazir stood by to escort her back to the palace.

  Now that another duty was done, Rafi could get back to his job as head of security. That was as it should be, she told herself, but her pain at watching him disappear sent her on a churning, downward spiral as she followed Nazir along various corridors.

  She thought they looked different from the other ones. Before she could question him, Princess Farah came out of a set of doors wearing riding clothes. She smiled at Lauren.

  “I’m so glad you are back. I just returned from a horseback ride with my husband, come inside and have a swim with me. We’ll eat lunch by the pool.”

  “That sounds lovely, but I didn’t bring a suit.”

  “I have many I haven’t even worn.” She glanced at Nazir. “Thank you for finding her.” He said something back in Arabic and walked away.

  They entered a fabulous octagonal room with a round swimming pool and a high ceiling of fretwork and inlaid tiles. “You were looking for me?”

  “Yes. I thought you might like to go riding with me, but found out you’d already left your suite.”

  “Your father arranged for me to fly out to the place where the sandstorm hit.”

  The princess looked shocked. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “It sounds silly now, but I lost a piece of jewelry my grandmother gave me when the sandstorm hit, and I hoped I might see it in the sand. Rafi told me it would be buried. Of course, he was right.”

  Farah’s liquid dark eyes were filled with compassion. “I’m so sorry, but compared to your life, something material isn’t so important in the scheme of things.”

  “You’re right, Your Highness.” It belonged to the past.

  The princess smiled and showed Lauren to an ante-room where she could change. When she came out again in a yellow bikini, she discovered they had company. Farah made the introductions.

  Of the three black-haired sisters, Lauren found herself staring at the eldest, Samira, who had the look of Lauren’s mother. Samira was forty-one with five children. She’d brought her two youngest to the pool, an eight-year-old son and a five-year-old daughter.

  Of course, she was older now than Lauren’s mother had ever been. Still, Samira reminded her of some of the pictures in her wallet of Lana, and it gave Lauren’s heart a tug to see the resemblance.

  Basmah was thirty-nine and had four children. She’d brought along her youngest twin daughters, just turning four.

  Farah explained that she and her twin brother Rashad were both thirty-four. Lauren saw the longing and love in Farah’s eyes whenever she looked at her nieces and nephews. They were all adorable and got in the pool with Lauren without hesitation.

  After some serious playtime, she climbed out and joined the others. They lay on loungers by the side of the pool to keep their eye on the children. Lauren sipped on her iced fruit drink. Having been born princesses, all three women were the products of formal education and spoke excellent English. Lauren discovered they were well-traveled and forward-thinking about their nation’s future.

  Their conversation was focused fairly constantly on their brother Rashad, a chemical engineer who’d been doing great things at his lab in Raz to open up new industries. Basmah and Samira were helping their mother plan the thirty-fifth birthday party for Farah and her brother being held in another week. The lot fell to Farah to think of a birthday present they could give him. Something exceptional.

  “What do you think, Lauren?”

  “Well, if I had a brother, I’d find him something to enjoy when he wants to relax.”

  Basmah shook her head. “He doesn’t know how to relax.”

  “She’s right!” Samira echoed. “He’s too busy working all the time.”

  “Surely he has down time.”

  “If he’s not at work, he’s off on his horse,” Farah inserted.

  “He likes them better than women,” Basmah added. “At least that’s what all his girlfriends say.”

  Everyone laughed, including Lauren. “In that case, why not pick out a fine saddle blanket?”

  “For that matter, why not a new saddle?”

  Lauren eyed Samira. “You could give him one, but he probably won’t use it.”

  She frowned. “Why not?”

  “Because it needs to fit him and his horse like a glove. No hand fits a glove the same way, neither does a man on his horse. I bet it took your brother a long time to decide on the one he uses now.”

  Farah nodded. “You’re right. Abdul would say the same thing.”

  “Does he like jewelry? Maybe you could give him a ring from all of you with three stones.”

  “That’s a lovely idea, Lauren, but he doesn’t like them. He says they irritate him when he works.”

  “Well, he’ll have to get used to one when he’s married,” Basmah commented.

  “He’s dreading that day.”

  Lauren looked at Farah. “In this day and age he still can’t choose his own wife?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s tribal law that our father chooses the spouses, I’m glad he picked Abdul for me. I love him now. But it’s different for you, being an American.”

  “That’s true. Even if my father were alive, a woman still gets to pick the man she will marry.”

  Lauren felt Basmah’s eyes on her. “You are the most beautiful American woman I ever saw in my life. When you go back to your country, you will have many opportunities to marry and do your own choosing.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, but the truth is, I don’t plan to marry.”

  “You don’t want children?” Farah cried.

  Lauren saw one of the little twins running along the tiles to catch up with her sister. She was so sweet. “Not without the right man.”

  “He exists somewhere,” Farah said with her heart in her eyes. “You have to believe that.”

  “I do,” Lauren said with a sad smile, “but it doesn’t mean fate will bring us together.” Rafi’s image would always be sketched on her heart.

  “That is true,” Samira murmured. “You sound very wise.”

  Lauren shook her head. If she’d been wise, she wouldn’t have come to the desert, but then she wouldn’t have met these delightful women who were also the grandchildren of King Malik. She wouldn’t have met Rafi.

  “You don’t know how lucky you are,” Farah confided. “I worry about our brother who will have to live with a woman he doesn’t love. They’ll be married at the end of the year.”

  “Give them time,” Samira counseled.

  “Time won’t fix anything for Rashad,” Farah blurted. “I know my twin brother too well. He’ll never be happy. Our mother’s fears have come true, he has been too favored.”

  “What do you mean?” Lauren questioned her.

  Farah spread her hands. “He’s been given every gift a man can have. Our mother is afraid there’ll be a price to pay.”

  “A price?”

  “Yes. Heaven is jealous of him.”

  “Our mother worries t
oo much,” Basmah said.

  Farah looked sad. “I happen to agree with her. Something will come along that Rashad will want more than anything on earth, and for all his godlike virtues, it won’t be granted.”

  Godlike. Celia’s very words. They raised goosebumps.

  With nothing but the sound of the childrens’ voices in the background, the women grew quiet. Their collective silence indicated they feared Farah had spoken the truth. How awful for their brother.

  Before long the children grew restless and the fun ended. Everyone left the pool room except for Farah. “Perhaps later in the week you’ll come to my suite and have dinner with me.”

  “What about your husband?”

  “He’s away on business and won’t be back until next week.”

  “Then I’d like that very much.”

  “So would I. I’ll phone you.”

  Lauren left the pool and headed for her suite. She’d just returned to her room where a dinner tray was waiting for her when the phone rang. It set off her pulse because she’d been hoping to hear from Rafi. She picked up and said hello, trying not to sound too eager.

  “Mademoiselle Viret? This is Louis at the travel office in Montreux.”

  “Oh—thank you for returning my call,” she said, fighting her disappointment. “Have you made new travel arrangements for me?” She was determined to leave the Oasis before…before she could no longer do so. “Desolé, mademoiselle. I’m most sorry to tell you that it will be impossible for you to leave Al-Shafeeq until the date you’d originally set to return to El-Joktor.”

  She panicked. “But I told you I’d pay you extra.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not a question of money. The men in charge of the caravans don’t operate by the same rules as most of us. They agree on a fee and a time when they’re ready to go. You can try another agency, but I can promise you won’t have better luck with them.”

  “I believe you. Then I’ll book a helicopter.”

  “There is no service at the Oasis except in an emergency, and it has to be cleared through the royal palace. The fee would be prohibitive.”

  That meant going through Rafi. She couldn’t possibly ask him for another favor that would require the king’s involvement. “I understand. Merci, Louis.”