With a growing sense of inevitability, she hung up the receiver. There was going to be no escape until Mustafa took her back to El-Joktor. Since she was a guest of the king, she couldn’t go to a hotel. That would be an insult to him. But another night with Rafi, let alone another week, would melt her resolve not to get any more involved.
She ate part of her dinner, wondering if he would call or come by. Maybe she’d watch TV; she moved over to the sofa facing the cabinet holding it. With the aid of the remote, she surfed a few channels, all in Arabic. Everything reminded her of Rafi. She shut it off and rested her head on the pillow while tears slipped out beneath her eyelids.
What other man could ever cause her to burn with desire the way he did? He brought her to life in a way that frightened her because she knew no other man could ever make her feel that way again. This morning she’d been wrapped in his arms. She’d felt the essence from his soul reach out and fill hers. For a little while they’d stood in the sand dunes, one pulsating entity.
Lauren couldn’t comprehend not ever seeing him again and in that moment she knew that she was falling in love with him….
Conflicted beyond bearing, Rashad returned from Raz at dinnertime, barely able to function. Taking Lauren to the desert earlier in the day hadn’t shed any new light on her secret. Worse, her tears had brought out his protective instincts. He’d come close to breaking every self-imposed rule by kissing her senseless in front of the pilot and bodyguard.
He’d never believed in witches until now, but she was a temptress, a beauty who didn’t seem to know it, a spy who didn’t spy, a flirt who didn’t flirt, a seducer who’d made no move to seduce. She was the sweet embodiment of the word treachery in breathtaking female form. At this point he was ready to carry her off and forget the world.
To his dismay, she’d claimed all his attention for the last three days. During that time he hadn’t checked in with his father who liked daily updates on business. Rashad needed to drop in on him now before he went to her room.
“At last, Rashad.” His father was sitting in a chair with his sore foot resting on the ottoman while he drank his favorite mint tea. “I’ve had dinner, but I’ll ask for a tray to be sent up for you.”
“Thank you, but I ate earlier.” Rashad sat on the seat opposite his father. “I was in Raz until a half hour ago and came as soon as I could.”
“I’m glad you’re here because there’s something important I need to talk to you about.”
An odd nuance in his father’s tone made Rashad uneasy. “What is it?”
“I’ve had correspondence with Sheikh Majid al Din. He wants to move up your wedding date.”
Rashad shot out of the seat, turning away from his father while he attempted to contain his shock and yes, anger. He’d been dreading this since his sixteenth birthday.
“I can see this has upset you.” His father had always been kind to him. His voice was kindness itself right now, but Rashad couldn’t handle it.
“By how much?” he asked through clenched jaws.
“He wants to see his daughter married in a month.”
“A month?”
His father eyed him with love. “I’ve touched the only sore spot in you.”
Rashad stopped pacing. “I knew this day was coming, but I thought I had more time. I need a moment to take in the realization that my world is about to change.”
“I felt the same way when your grandfather confronted me. He told me who my bride would be two years before my wedding. I decided to lessen your pain by only giving you a month to agonize about the coming ceremony.”
The irony of those words would have made Rashad break out in harsh laughter if he didn’t love his father so much. “Have you told anyone else?”
“No one except for Nazir who has been our go-between. I’m to let Sheikh Majid know in three days’ time if this is satisfactory. This thing has to be done in absolute secrecy so as not to upset the neighbors on our other borders.”
“Not even my sisters know?” Rashad persisted.
He shook his head. “Especially not Farah, who continually begs me to let you choose the woman you will marry. She wearies me with it.”
“Farah believes in love,” Rashad muttered.
His father grunted. “You and I know that a powerful kingdom cannot be ruled by a sheikh who is so besotted with his wife, he can’t see the shadows of his enemies outside the tent.”
The palace was hardly a tent, but Rashad understood the point of the metaphor well enough. It had been drummed into his head since he was a child. His father would be horrified to know that a possible enemy had already invaded the palace and, as yet, Rashad had done nothing about it!
The way his father talked, Rashad was convinced that his sister had said nothing about the American woman staying at the palace. Was it simply coincidence Sheikh Majid wanted to speed up the time? Or could it be some grand design to help Rashad fight the spell this woman had cast over him? It was a spell. How else to explain the weakness he felt for her, the longing that kept him in pain throughout the night. Could she truly be like the female black widow he and his young friends had once watched in fascination while she stung her mate to death?
Tonight he would get the truth out of her. His hell had gone on long enough. Once she was exposed, his desire for her would turn to bitter gall. It had to. “If you’ll forgive me, father, I need to be alone so I’ll say goodnight.”
“I understand that better than you do. Goodnight, my son.”
Once out the door, Rashad checked the phone logs in the communications room. Nothing had turned up on their guest except for two short calls to and from the travel agency in Switzerland.
With everything taken care of for the moment, he strode down the hall swiftly to reach the other side of the palace. His wedding day had been moved forward, but tonight he didn’t want to think about it. He wanted Lauren.
Right now he was the one who felt closed in. He craved a night with her where he could pretend he was a free man like any other, able to be with the woman he desired. For tonight he would forget his royal responsibilities. Until she’d been blown in to his world, he’d never felt or resented them so heavily.
At Ziyad’s place he could be himself. No one would bother him or give away his identity. Tonight it was crucial he acted on the feelings roiling inside him. What made it more exciting was that despite the part she’d been playing from the beginning, he knew Lauren desired him, too. In fact, every word and gesture was putting an edge on their experience, heightening the potent tension between them.
After knocking on her door, he slipped inside and discovered her on the sofa in front of the television. When he walked around in front of her, he saw moisture on her cheeks and didn’t know what to think.
“How is it that more often than not, I find you in tears?”
CHAPTER FIVE
LAUREN’S CRY FILLED THE ROOM. She lifted her head and sat up, pushing the tendrils of silky hair out of her face. “Rafi—” Her voice throbbed.
He knelt down next to her, all male and warm. She could smell his aroma. The scent from his shower was familiar to her now. His piercing black eyes roved over her flushed face with relentless scrutiny. “Are you still so sad?”
“I’ve just been thinking about my grandmother this evening. I guess it’s a case of knowing that when I get home, I’ll have to deal with my life on my own. As you can see, I’m a c-coward,” she stammered and wiped the moisture off her face. “How was your day?”
Shadows had darkened his features. “I’d rather not talk about it.” He took hold of her hand and smoothed his thumb over her wrist. “Naturally you feel closed in, so how about we go out tonight? We’ll go to a local cabaret with music and dancing. I’m off duty. Here in the desert we believe music helps dispel sadness. Does that appeal to you?”
“It sounds wonderful.”
“Good. While you freshen up, I’ll do the same and come by for you in ten minutes.” He got to his feet. “Don’
t forget to bring a wrap, it will be cool out.”
“What should I wear?”
“The outfit you have on is perfectly adequate, but if you wish to change, that’s up to you.”
She watched him leave, but she had no intention of going out with him in pants and a top. After deciding the black was too dressy, she decided on her cream-colored dress. She put it on over her head and pulled the hem down to her knees. The sleeveless cotton outfit more or less skimmed her body. An insert of cream lace formed the neckline.
She only had one pair of high heels, black. After slipping them on, she put on lipstick and brushed her hair, then reached for her black sweater. By the time she heard his voice coming from the sitting room, her excitement at going out with him was so great, it sent her heart tripping off the charts.
To her embarrassment she almost ran into the other room, leaving him to believe she couldn’t wait to be with him. With her face hot, she stared at the tall, striking, black-haired man standing there in beige trousers and a black silk shirt.
“You look lovely.” His deep voice resonated through her body.
She could hardly talk. “Thank you.” There were no words to describe his masculine appeal.
Between his lashes, his black eyes gleamed. “Shall we go?”
They left the suite and walked down several long hallways to a palace entrance in companionable silence. Though their bodies never touched, Lauren felt the electricity between them like a living thing. She stepped outside into a garden of palms where the last stages of twilight could be seen through the fronds. The perfumed air was still hot.
He took her sweater before helping her into the waiting black limo, evidently a privilege he enjoyed due to his position at the palace. Their arms brushed. The touch of silk against her bare arm left her trembling with unassuaged needs.
Lauren was so aware of him, she scarcely noticed where they were driving. Before she knew it, they slowed down and stopped in front of a restaurant with a bistrolike facade. She heard Arabic music before he escorted her through a doorway of beads to the dark, smoke-filled interior.
The place was filled with locals and a few tourists. They were seated at small square tables surrounding a dance floor with a band playing in the background. A heavyset man at the bar nodded to him and indicated an empty table beneath a balcony that ran along one side. No sooner had he seated her than a waiter came over.
Rafi flicked her a probing glance. “What is your pleasure?”
“A cola.”
“Nothing stronger?”
“Not tonight.”
“So be it.” He said something to the other man in Arabic, then moved his chair next to her and put his arm around the back of hers. His closeness sent a wave of delight through her body. “You’re about to see one of our women belly dance,” he spoke next to her ear, disturbing her hair. “If she dances for me, it will be to make you jealous because you’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”
Lauren smiled and lifted her eyes to him. “How many times have you made her jealous by coming in here with one of your favorites?”
The waiter returned with two colas, followed by fanfare from the band, saving him from answering.
A woman close to forty, and built along the lines of Farah, undulated onto the dance floor. Her loose black hair swung back and forth below her waist with hypnotic rhythm while her stomach and hips did the most amazing things.
As Lauren looked around, she noticed that most of the audience was made up of men. This close to the woman, Lauren could understand their fascination. She danced with enough seductive expertise to restart a heart that had gone into cardiac arrest.
Lauren cast a covert glance at Rafi whose gaze was riveted on the desert beauty with her red lips and flashing black eyes. Her spangles and bracelets made their own brand of music. The woman worked the floor. Near the end of her routine, she approached their table.
The dancer flashed Lauren a look that could kill before her gaze settled on Rafi. While she put on a show for him alone, bending backward to give him a good long look at her, Lauren saw unfeigned desire in the woman’s eyes. It was so blatant, Lauren looked down. When the music ended, the dancer didn’t move away.
He said something to the woman. She backed away slowly. But at the last moment before she disappeared, she shot Lauren a look of venom. Lauren grabbed her glass and drank all her cola at once.
The second she put her empty glass on the table, she heard the band start to play a song she could identify. Rafi stood up. “Let’s dance.”
In a euphoric daze, Lauren moved into his strong arms. She’d been in them before, but this time it was different. He held her so close, she could feel his hard-muscled body down to their feet. There was no place to put her arms but around his neck. As she did so, she felt his hands rove over her back and pull her up tight against him.
“It’s a good thing we’re surrounded by people. Otherwise I would devour you,” he admitted with a frankness that caught her off guard. “Have I frightened you?” he whispered against her lips.
“No.” Her voice throbbed, she needed him the way she needed air to breathe.
“That’s good because I’m going to kiss you. It’s something I’ve wanted to do since the moment you woke up after the sandstorm.” So saying, his compelling mouth closed over hers.
At the first taste of him, the room, the music, the people…everything faded into nothingness. All she was aware of was this man who’d set her on fire. She didn’t know where one hungry kiss ended and another one began. Filled with indescribable ecstasy, she never wanted this rapture to stop.
Her grandmother had prophesied it. With the right man, the passion in Lauren would be unleashed. She knew now her whole life had been waiting for Rafi who’d brought her to life and was making her feel immortal.
Malik’s words. Like grandfather, like granddaughter.
A groaning protest escaped her swollen lips when he suddenly relinquished her mouth and put his hands on her upper arms to separate her from him. She watched him swallowing hard. His breathing sounded shallow. “We have to leave,” he said in a husky voice.
Lauren couldn’t bear it, but when she saw everyone in the candlelit room looking at them, she realized she’d been so enthralled, she’d forgotten where they were. Another belly dance was about to begin. Lauren needed no more urging and hurried outside ahead of him.
She climbed into the waiting limo without his help. When he got in, he sat opposite her. The car started moving. He eyed her for a long moment. “I’m not going to apologize for what happened in there.”
“Did I ask you to?” she cried. “I’m the one who practically threw myself at you. Obviously it shouldn’t have happened, so please—let’s not get into a dissection of my emotional lapse.”
They rode back to the palace in a silence punctuated with her heart pounding out an irregular rhythm. It would never go back to normal. When they arrived at the entrance, she grabbed her sweater lying on the seat and took off, anxious to reach her suite. Halfway down the first hall, his long strides caught up to her.
She kept going and soon arrived at her destination. He followed her inside the doors. Without closing them he said, “I’ll say goodnight. In the morning after breakfast, Nazir will come for you and show you out to the limo where I’ll meet you.”
Her hands made a fussing movement. “Won’t you have to be on duty?”
“I’m making the time for you.”
His words made her body go weak. “Thank you for taking me out tonight. I loved it, even if the dancer wanted to kill me.”
“I believe she did. What’s interesting is that all the males in the room wanted to kill me. Goodnight.”
To Rashad’s chagrin, the night turned out to be an endless one. After getting up, he paced the tiles, counting the minutes until he could be with her again. When it was time, he dressed in a non-royal Bedouin robe and sunglasses.
Her eyes exploded like green fire when he slid into the back of t
he limo next to her a few minutes later. She wore tan pants and a white top. Her fragrance was always a feminine assault on his senses.
“Good morning.” He kissed the corner of her mouth because he couldn’t help himself and felt her quiver. Their desire for each other was tangible. “I thought you might like to go shopping in the souk. You’ll need a translator, so I’m offering my services.” He clasped the hand nearest him and heard her take a deep breath.
The Oasis, a three by five mile rectangle, contained the village where he’d taken her last night. In no time at all they reached the center. He told the driver to drop them in front of the Almond Tree Café and wait for them.
She put on a pair of sunglasses and got out after he’d helped her. Together they started moving among the locals. A few tourists were about. They walked in front of the shops in the bazaar. With her blond hair and fair complexion, not to mention her enchanting figure, she was a target for every eye.
Enough items were displayed to please the typical tourist. Though she moved slowly and inspected everything, she didn’t buy anything. “If there’s something that catches your eye, I’ll barter a good price for you.”
“Thank you, but I just like to look.” They eventually turned a corner. Halfway down she paused. “Oh good. A bookstore.” After going inside, she asked in English if the owner had a book in Arabic on the Shafeeq dynasty. The old man didn’t understand.
Rashad’s brows met. She wanted a book on his family? That made no sense to him. “Maybe I can help. What kind of book do you mean?”
She turned to him. “Any literature on the Shafeeq family. Something I can take home as a souvenir.”
There wasn’t such a thing in the public domain, but she didn’t know that. He asked the owner in Arabic. The old man shook his head before breaking into a long explanation.
Rashad translated for the owner. “Would you like a cigar box with a likeness of Sheikh Umar or Sheikh Malik on the top?”
A genuine look of excitement broke out on her face. “I’d love both of them! How much does he want for them?”
Her Desert Prince Page 8
