by Annie West
‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course.’ Lina struggled to keep her voice steady when inside all was turmoil. She’d dissolve into something perilously close to putty in those large hands should he kiss her again.
Sayid Badawi held part of her soul. He had from that first night, when she’d come to him, scared yet determined not to show it. Maybe it was gratitude that had turned into a teenage crush she hadn’t grown out of. But whatever the reason, the compulsion she felt was real.
She desired the Emir.
Even now, with his mouth flat with disapproval, Lina wanted to kiss him again. And so much more.
Defiantly, ignoring the warning glitter in his gaze, she hiked her chin up. She wasn’t ashamed of kissing him. He was a grown man, a powerful, experienced man. She hadn’t forced him to kiss her.
‘That was a mistake.’ His low voice ground across her skin like sandpaper rasping tender flesh. ‘It should never have happened.’
Lina opened her mouth to blurt out that it hadn’t felt like a mistake. It had felt as close to perfect as anything she’d experienced in her life.
His expression snapped her mouth closed. She might disagree but clearly he felt differently.
For the first time since he’d kissed her, Lina felt the hot sear of embarrassment. It branded her from her flaming cheeks to the soles of her feet and everywhere in between. Not because she’d responded with abandon, forgetting every lesson about modesty and morals. Not because there’d been nothing but the negligible barrier of her swimsuit between their naked bodies. But because, now he’d come to his senses, his distaste was obvious.
She was an orphaned charity case, a country-bred nobody who’d only just learned her letters. Who was she to think of kissing a prince?
She looked down, away from that haughty, beautiful face. But that gave her a view of the perfect symmetry of his collarbone, his masculine strength and—
‘I’m sorry, Lina. That was my fault.’
Her head jerked up, eyes widening. ‘No! It was mine.’ She’d been the one incapable of hiding her desire. She’d urged him on, admitting she wanted his kiss. A fresh tide of heat engulfed her but Lina held his gaze. ‘I’m sorry.’
It was a lie. She didn’t regret any of it, except the moment he’d pulled away. And the troubled expression he wore now.
The forbidding lines clamping his mouth eased a little and his gaze warmed. ‘Perhaps we could share the blame and agree it won’t happen again.’
Belatedly Lina nodded, knowing it was another lie. One taste of his passion wasn’t enough, but what option did she have but to agree? For a moment longer he regarded her in silence. She wished she knew what he was thinking. But on second thoughts, it was probably better not to know.
Words formed on her lips, a tumble of emotional, desperate words that would only betray her feelings and embarrass him. Resolute, she kept her mouth closed.
‘Wait here.’ He released her and swung away.
Instantly she missed his warmth, his support. She even found herself stumbling a fraction, she who’d inherited her mother’s grace and balance.
Lina told herself not to but her gaze followed him as he strode around the pool. Completely naked, his back view was one of the most enthralling sights she’d witnessed. Far more fascinating than the glaciers and remorseless mountain peaks that had captivated her in Switzerland. The curve of the spine that ended in the strong, bunching muscles of his glutes. The breadth of his shoulders compared with his narrow hips. The long, strong legs that—
He grabbed a towel and swung round, whipping the fabric around his hips as he turned. Immediately Lina blinked and averted her stare, pretending fascination with the aqua luminescence of the pool.
‘How did you know about the pool?’ It took a second or two to clear her head and focus on the words.
‘Pardon?’
He stood before her now, arms crossed over a chest that was definitely heavier and broader than it had been four and a half years ago. The sight of him sent another judder of appreciation right to her core.
‘The pool, Lina. How did you know where to find it?’
Lina ripped her attention away from his body. Was it always like this when a woman desired a man? She’d had no idea such feelings could addle the brain.
‘I caught a glimpse from my rooms, but I didn’t—’
‘Your rooms?’ He didn’t sound angry. His voice wasn’t much above a whisper, yet she sensed something wrong.
She nodded. Of course her suite was a mistake, too grand for her. It was probably meant for some visiting ambassador and there’d been a horrible mix-up.
But not hers. She’d done nothing wrong. Except throw yourself at the royal ruler of the kingdom.
‘Down there.’ She waved a hand towards the far end of the courtyard. ‘You can just see a patch of water through the plants. I thought this wing was deserted, you see. I’d never noticed any lights but mine.’
‘You’d better show me.’ Again his voice was even and well-modulated. Yet Lina knew he wasn’t happy.
* * *
Sayid followed her along the path. She paused where they’d grappled, bending to retrieve a towel she’d dropped.
His eyes had adjusted to the semi-darkness and nothing could have prevented his gaze following her movement, zeroing in on that peach-perfect backside so lovingly moulded by her swimsuit.
Heat sluiced his body as desire flamed red-hot.
He knew lust of old. Had learned to manage it, giving in to it only for short stints. But this... He shook his head. This was unprecedented.
He’d swear Lina didn’t know how provocative that movement was. Or that the sway of her hips as she walked was pure invitation.
Her supple movements as much as the delicious shape of her body ratcheted up his tension, and his arousal. Too easily he imagined himself entwined with Lina, her legs around him, pulling him to her with the raw enthusiasm she’d exhibited when they kissed. She’d be a passionate lover and he wanted her badly. He actually shook with the effort it took not to give in and haul her against him, under him and—
Lina stopped. Sayid realised she was at the door to the main guest suite.
It wasn’t one of the regular suites. This was reserved for the Emir’s most intimate friends. Part of his private apartments, it was set aside for his lover of the moment.
‘Who let you in here?’
Her forehead crinkled at the bark in his voice but she didn’t shrink back. ‘Your chamberlain. Is there a problem? I thought it a mistake. I didn’t expect to be in such luxurious rooms.’ Her hands tightened on the towel she held. ‘I’ll pack up now and—’
‘No. There’s no need.’
And no point. The damage was done. By now it would be common knowledge to anyone who cared to find out that Lina had spent each night apparently at his beck and call.
It made no difference that nothing had happened between them. Except for that incendiary kiss. What mattered was that Lina had moved into the rooms reserved for his short-term lovers. Moving her out now would achieve nothing but speculation that he’d grown tired of her.
Sayid rubbed a hand over his tight jaw. The very thing he’d sought to protect her from, or at least part of it, had happened despite his good intentions.
Many of his uncle’s staff had been replaced in the last few years, but obviously someone in the palace remembered Lina’s arrival as a personal gift to the Emir. The expectation that she’d become his concubine. They must have informed the chamberlain, who’d assumed Sayid would want his lover near.
What a hellish mess.
Yet as he thought it, part of him, the ruthless part ready to snatch what he wanted and hold it by force if necessary, revelled in having her so conveniently close.
All he had to do was reach out and take her.
Anticipation skat
ed over his skin as he looked down at her ripe lips. Her kiss had been delightfully enthusiastic.
‘Sir? Is there a problem?’
It was the Sir that stopped him. The reminder that far from being equals, all the power rested with him. She deferred to him, obeyed him.
Who knew what she’d do out of obedience?
Bile rose in his throat. He’d never forced a woman in his life.
Guilt spiralled through his belly, rising to clog his chest. It was one thing to invite a sophisticated foreign woman to become his short-term lover. It was another to seduce his own ward! The woman he’d gone to such lengths to protect. The woman who, even with the gloss of recent foreign experience, was indebted to him and who, he knew, took debts of honour seriously. Look at the way she’d held back on accepting the education she so desired, till he’d found a way for her to pay him back.
It was unthinkable that Lina Rahman should give him lessons in honour. And yet...
Sayid remembered his youthful disdain for his uncle’s sybaritic lifestyle. For the unbridled self-indulgence and licentiousness. Yet when Sayid had scoffed about him being a roué, his father had opened his eyes to Sayid’s own weaknesses.
There was a strong streak of sensuality and self-indulgence in the family, he’d said. Down the generations they had a reputation for being passionate and hot-blooded, overstepping the bounds. That made them formidable warriors, greedy for victory and its spoils. But there was a constant need to rein in that tendency. The blood flowing through Sayid’s uncle flowed in their veins too. And the potential to wallow in selfish pleasure. It was Sayid’s duty, he’d said, to be strong and honourable. To put responsibility above pleasure and resist corruption.
‘No. There’s no problem.’ Sayid made himself step back from the door. ‘It’s late. You should turn in. It’s been a long evening.’ He swung away from the door then stopped.
Slowly he turned back, reading tension in her slim form. See? He’d done right, putting her away from him.
Yet still he lingered.
‘Don’t call me sir.’ Logic told him he was mad, smashing that barrier of formality. Yet he felt sick when Lina used his title. As if she’d kissed him because of his position, his authority over her. The idea was untenable.
‘But I...’ Her eyes rounded. ‘You’re the Emir.’
As if he could forget. If he weren’t, if he were simply a man who’d met a beautiful young woman, it would be so much easier to deal with the feelings Lina stirred.
‘I think we’ve got beyond that, don’t you?’ It was hard to tell in the shadows but he’d swear she blushed. ‘As my ward—’ he bit back a grimace on the word ‘—you have the right to call me by name.’
He didn’t have a clue what the protocol was. Yet he knew a sudden, fierce urge to have this from Lina at least, since honour dictated he could have no more. The sound of his name on her tongue.
‘And I would prefer it.’
Her chin hiked higher, her eyes meeting his with that same unabashed stare he’d noticed the day she’d returned to Halarq. An electric charge sparked in the air between them.
‘As you wish—’ she paused so long he found himself leaning towards her in anticipation ‘—Sayid.’
Her voice was like a sighing night breeze, wafting the scent of spices and sweetness. It was a voice that would haunt him through the long sleepless hours of the night.
Abruptly he nodded, then turned and stalked away down the path to his suite. He didn’t look back. It was only wishful thinking that tried to convince him Lina stood, watching every step.
Four years ago she’d sorely tested his willpower as he battled the urge to claim her. Incredibly he faced the same problem again. The urge to reach out and simply grab what he wanted. With Lina he had no off switch.
Sayid breathed in the garden’s honeysuckle perfume. Yet another scent lingered, teasing, in his nostrils. The scent of roses and female flesh.
He set his jaw, ignoring the memory of that sexy body flush against his.
It was going to be a long night. But he vowed by the end of it he’d have a solution to the taunting, seductive problem that was Lina, distracting him from his work, and the dictates of honour.
CHAPTER SIX
SAYID WAS IMPRESSED as the group of local elders showed him through the community centre he’d funded. He’d heard good reports of it, including last night from his Minister for Education, who’d visited as part of his programme to increase school attendance.
With Lina, he recalled.
They’d all liked Lina.
Sayid’s mouth firmed as he realised she’d slipped into his thoughts again. All night she’d been on his mind, since that mind-numbing kiss.
Finally, in the early hours, he’d come up with a solution to her distracting presence. It would mean never seeing her again, forcing her to get on with her own life far from him. Resolutely he ignored the inner silent howl of outrage at being deprived of her. It was for the best.
‘Would Your Highness be interested in seeing the final space?’ His guide indicated doors at the end of the room.
A grey-bearded elder spoke. ‘It would probably not be of interest, sire. It’s only where the women gather.’ His expression and tone were dismissive. Exactly the attitude Sayid and his reformist staff had worked so hard to change.
‘I’d be pleased to see what use they make of it. If our presence won’t disturb them.’ Traditionally women stayed apart from men.
The first man nodded. ‘It is good of Your Highness to ask. But there can be no objection.’ Nevertheless, he nodded to his grandson, who accompanied them. The boy ran off to warn the matrons of the visit. He slipped through the door and Sayid heard laughter, clapping and singing.
Obviously the women were having far more fun than the men this morning.
Intrigued, Sayid followed his guide to the double doors that opened onto a wide courtyard surrounded by colonnades. Fig and pistachio trees shaded the yard and at the centre of the far wall, surrounded by tiles of blue and aqua, a fountain streamed into a shallow pool.
The aroma of new bread hung in the air, and the rich melding of scents, rose, jasmine and lily, from the group of women seated all around the space.
All this he absorbed in moments, but it was the movement at the centre of the courtyard that caught his attention. Amidst the smiling, singing group, three young women danced, their long skirts billowing around them. One wore the traditional necklaces and headscarf of a bride and sunlight glinted off flashing antique silver coins as she turned.
But it was another dancer who held Sayid’s gaze. Ebony tresses drifted around her shoulders, all the way to her tiny waist, as she circled. Her hands described a series of intricate, elegant shapes as she twirled, every movement, every dip and sway, graceful.
Lina. His heart slammed into his ribs then took up an uneven beat.
She wore a long traditional dress of russet red, unadorned but for a scarf of red and lilac belted at her waist, the ends flaring out as she spun. Her dress was less elaborate than the ones worn by the others but his eyes were drawn to her as inevitably as one of his Bedouin ancestors spying a life-giving oasis in the desert.
Pleasure swelled at the sight of her, nimble, supple and beautiful. There was desire—that was inevitable with Lina—but there was more too, the appreciation of any bystander watching a master at work. She could have been a professional dancer with those exquisitely light movements that looked deceptively easy but which he knew took years and considerable skill to perfect.
‘Your Highness.’ His guide spoke. ‘Allow me to introduce my wife and my wife’s sister.’
Sayid dragged his attention back to the introductions, smiling and making small talk with the group of older women who’d come to greet him.
‘My granddaughter is to be married soon and the girls are practising the dances for th
e celebration,’ one woman explained.
Just then there was a shout of laughter and another of warning. Sayid turned to see a little girl, who’d been trying to emulate the dancers, twirl too fast and lose her balance, running full tilt into Lina. A second little girl, presumably trying to catch her friend, raced after her but, dizzy from the spinning, toppled against her instead.
There was a flurry of skirts and Lina, with her two small assailants, tumbled to the ground.
The singing stopped, the other dancers whirling to a halt.
Then, breaking the silence, came the husky sound of laughter. It was joyous and uninhibited. Contagious too, especially when Lina’s face emerged from the tumble of bodies, wearing a grin as bright as the sun. Her laughter was like that too, bright and glorious.
It struck Sayid that he’d missed the sound of laughter these last years as he strove full-time to do his duty for his country.
As he watched, Lina reached for one little girl, tickling her. Then the sounds of mirth filled the courtyard as the two little girls squealed in mock dismay, pretending, but not too hard, to escape.
* * *
Lina’s hair was in her eyes and she was gasping as her two small tormentors tickled her, when a low rumbling sound caught her ears. Rich and mellow, warm and inviting, the male laughter tugged at something inside. She lifted her head, intrigued, brushing a swathe of hair back from her face.
One of the children took that as a cue to burrow closer and Lina automatically wrapped an arm around her. This pair was a delight and for some reason had shadowed Lina since she’d arrived.
Struggling up, she propped herself on her other hand and almost fell back to the floor. For standing near the courtyard entrance, at least a head taller than those around him, was the Emir, resplendent in white robes.
Sayid. The name whispered through her brain and she recalled the sound of it on her tongue, the delicious, dangerous taste of it as she’d called him that last night. Had she imagined that flare of desire in his eyes in response?
