by The Sheikh
“What man wouldn’t?”
Murat’s expression hardened. “Is that what you think? Do you resist me because you assume I will not keep my vows? I assure you, I have no interest in being with another woman. You are my wife and I seek solace in your bed alone.”
Had things been different, the information would have thrilled her. As it was, she felt a slight flicker in her chest, but she quickly doused it.
“For now,” she said.
“For always.”
He drew his horse so close, her leg brushed against his.
“I am Crown Prince Murat of Bahania. My word is law. I will honor our vows to my death.”
The declaration had the desired effect. She felt bad for doubting him and for the briefest moment wondered if she was being incredibly dumb to resist him.
Yes, he’d married her against her will, but it wasn’t as if he planned to mistreat her.
Wait! Was that her standard for a happy marriage? Lack of mistreatment? What about love and respect? What about treating each other with dignity? What about the fact that for the rest of their lives together, he would think it was all right to ignore her opinion and desires and simply do what he wanted?
“I plan to release you well before you breathe your last,” she said.
His gaze narrowed. “You mock my sincerity.”
“You ignore my deepest and most sincere wishes.”
“I have not tried to bribe you.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “And that’s a good thing?”
“I knew you would not approve. Nor would jewels and money influence your decision.”
“You’re right about that.” How could he know her so well on the one hand and be such a jerk on the other? “You’re very complicated.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
“I’m not sure it’s a compliment.”
“Of course it is. You will not be bored with me.”
That was true. “We’d fight a lot.”
“Passion is healthy.”
“Too much anger can chip away at the foundation of a relationship.”
“I would not allow that to happen.”
“You don’t always get to choose.”
“Of course I do. I am—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Crown prince. Blah, blah, blah. You need some new material.”
He stared at her with the shocked expression of a man hearing words from the mouth of a beetle. Both dark eyebrows raised, his mouth parted and she half expected him to stick his finger in his ear and jiggle it around.
“You dare to speak to me that way?”
“What’s the problem. I am, for the moment at least, your wife. If I don’t, who will?”
“No one. It is not permitted.”
“Murat, you seem to be a pretty decent ruler, but you really have to get over yourself.”
She half expected him to call down thunder onto her. Instead he stared at her for a long moment, then tossed his head back and began to laugh.
The sound delighted her, even as she realized she’d never heard it before. Oh, he’d laughed, but not like this—unrestrained, uncontrolled. He was not a man who allowed himself to be taken off guard very often.
In that moment she knew she could make a difference for him. She could be the person he trusted above all others, the person he depended upon. She could ease his burden, give him a safe place to rest.
Need filled her. All her life she had longed to be a part of something. She’d always felt out of step with her family, and since leaving home, she’d never found anyone to love that completely. With Murat…
He was a man who took what he wanted. She thought of all the dates she’d had with guys who didn’t bother to call when they said they would or who were too intimidated by her family to want a relationship with her. Men who hadn’t been strong.
Murat was too strong. They had been too weak. Was there any comfortable place in the middle? And if she had to choose one or the other, which was best?
Strength, she decided. Perhaps there was something to be said for a prince of the desert.
“What do you think?” Murat asked as he passed her a bowl filled with a spicy grain dish.
Daphne smiled. “It’s amazing. I feel as if I’m in the middle of a giant movie.”
A sea of tents surrounded them. Twilight approached, and in the growing dark, campfires stretched out toward the horizon. The last rays of the sun danced off the dozens of banners flying from tall poles.
Scents of a thousand meals prepared on open flames blended with perfumes and oils and the clean smell of fresh straw.
She and Murat dined alone. The guards were always there, ever-present shadows who watched for danger. Yet she felt comfortable and at peace. Should the unlikely occur and someone try to attack Murat, the intruder would be laid low long before he reached the center of the camp. The desert tribes were both fierce and loyal.
“While silence is often welcome in a woman,” he said, “in your case it troubles me. What are you plotting?”
“I’m thinking about your people. They have a long and proud history.”
“It is true. Many have sought to invade our land and none have succeeded. Now we have an air force to protect us from the skies.” He picked up his glass of wine.
“Why do I know you care more for the fate of my people than you care for me?”
“Because it’s true,” she said cheerfully before biting into a piece of chicken.
“You think you can say anything to me.”
“Pretty much.” She reached for her napkin. “What are you going to do to me? I’m the future queen. You can’t really lock me up.”
“There are other forms of punishment.”
He spoke the words in a low voice that grated against her skin like burned velvet.
“Cheap threats,” she told him. “I am the future queen. You must honor me.”
“I already do.”
“Not enough to admit you were sincerely wrong to hold me prisoner and marry me against my will.”
“Perhaps we could put that behind us and move forward.”
She glanced up toward the stars. “Oh, look. There’s a flying camel.”
He growled. “You mock me.”
“I’m telling you what it will take for me to forgive and forget. It won’t happen without you accepting your part in what you did.”
“We will speak of something else.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that.” She reached for another piece of chicken.
The night was cool but pleasant. Murat sat across from her, looking completely at home in the primitive surroundings.
“Did you come out here much when you were younger?” she asked.
“When I could. There were many things for me to do back at the palace. Studies, lessons. I was presented to visiting dignitaries and expected to sit through many meetings. But when time permitted I escaped to the desert.”
Where he could just be a boy. She could imagine him riding hard and fast as he played with the other children. For an hour or two he wouldn’t be the prince, and how he must have treasured that time.
Daphne shifted on her cushion. She wasn’t used to sitting so low on the ground.
As she got more comfortable, she noticed a group of people walking toward them.
There were maybe seven or eight, both men and women. They took a few steps, stopped, seemed to argue among themselves, then moved forward again.
One of the guards rose and spoke with them. After a few minutes, they were waved forward. The walking, stopping, arguing continued as they got closer.
“I wonder what that’s about?” she asked, nodding at them.
Murat followed her gaze. “They are not sure if they should interrupt us,” he said. “The men resist, but the women insist. Some men should control their wives better.”
“Some men are sensible enough to listen to a more intelligent opinion. What should we do?”
“Greet them.”
Murat wiped his hands, then rose and helped her to her feet. They stood by the fire and waited as the small group approached.
Everyone bowed. One of the women elbowed one of the men but he didn’t speak.
Finally the woman took a step forward and bowed again.
“Greetings, Your Highness,” she said, speaking to Daphne. “May the new day find you strong and healthy and blessed with good fortune always.”
“May the new day find you equally blessed,” Daphne replied.
“I fear it will not.”
“We should not be here,” one of the men said. He looked at Murat. “We are sorry to have troubled you and your bride.”
“No!” The woman glared at him. “We are in need.”
“How can we help?” Daphne asked.
The woman sighed. “A family who travels with us has a camel in labor. There is trouble of some kind. The man who usually helps with such things did not come with us. We have heard that you are trained with animals. Is it true?”
Daphne took in their robes. While the cloth was clean, it had been mended and patched in several places. She doubted these people could afford to lose a healthy, breeding camel.
The man with her grabbed her arm. “In all this crowd, there must be one other who can assist us. You should not bother the wife of the crown prince.”
“There is no time,” the woman said. “The mother grows weak.” She looked at Daphne. “Please help us.”
Daphne wasn’t sure of the protocol of the situation. Nor did she know if she could help. “I’ve never delivered a camel before,” she admitted. “I’ve had a lot of experience with cows and horses. If that is good enough.”
The woman sagged with relief. “Yes. Please. A thousand thanks. This way.” Then she hurried off.
Daphne started to follow her and wasn’t all that surprised when Murat and his guards fell into step.
“You have delivered cows and horses?” he asked. “In Chicago?”
“No. In the country. It’s not all that far to the farmlands in the south. I would spend a few months there every summer. Nothing against your father and his hundred or so cats, but it was always a nice change to work on big animals instead of small house pets.”
As she walked, she shrugged out of her robes, handing them to Murat who passed them on to a guard. By the time they reached the straw-lined enclosure, she was down to her jeans and a T-shirt. Both of which were going to be pretty yucky by the time this was done. Birth was never tidy.
Three hours later a baby camel teetered on spindly legs. His mother moved close and nudged him until he began to nurse. Daphne leaned against the makeshift fence and smiled. This was the part she liked best—after, when things had gone well.
“Impressive,” Murat said, stepping out of the shadows and moving close. “You were very confident.”
“All that medical training paid off.” She stretched. “I didn’t think you’d stick around. It’s late.”
“I wanted to see what happened.” He put an arm around her and led her away from the pen. “While you were working, I spoke with some of the elders of the tribe.
The mother has died and the father is ill. There are three boys who tend the family’s small herd. They desperately needed this birth.”
“I’m glad I didn’t know that,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have liked the pressure.”
“Had the camel died, I would have compensated them, but you were able to give them back their livelihood.”
There was pride in his voice, which surprised her. Her parents had never thought much of what she did for a living, why should Murat?
He pulled her close, but she resisted. “I’m pretty stinky,” she said. “I don’t suppose we have a shower in our tent.”
“No, but I can provide you with a bath.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Their massive private tent had still been under construction at dinner so she hadn’t had a chance to see the interior. Now she followed Murat inside to a foyerlike opening. They removed their shoes. He held open a flap, and she stepped into an amazing world she hadn’t known existed.
The fabric ceiling stretched up at least ten feet. Carpets were piled on top of each other underfoot. Her toes curled into the exquisite patterns and softness.
Low benches and plush chairs provided seating around carved tables.
Old-fashioned lamps hung from hooks, providing illumination. The faint but steady rumble of a generator explained the flow of fresh, cool air she felt on her face.
“This way,” he said and led her deeper into the tent.
There was a dining area, a huge bed on a dais, and a tub filled with steaming water that nearly made her moan with delight.
She had to resist the urge to dive in headfirst. Instead she tugged off her socks, then glanced down at her filthy T-shirt.
“Good thing I didn’t pack light,” she said. “I think this one is past recovering.”
Murat shrugged out of his robes and left them draped over a low chair. Then, wearing only loose trousers and a white shirt, he moved close and held out his hand.
“What?” she asked.
“Your clothing.”
She took a step back. “I’m not getting undressed in front of you.”
“You forget. I have seen you bare before.”
“That’s not the point.”
Actually, it was exactly the point. Getting naked with Murat around would only lead to trouble. Even talking about it made her body start to react. Tiny pin-pricks of desire nipped at her skin. Her belly felt hollow and hot and an ache took up residence between her thighs.
“I’m perfectly capable of bathing myself,” she said.
“I am offering to help.” His dark gaze caught her and wouldn’t let her go.
“Not necessary.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Murat, I’m not playing that game. Now shoo so I can get cleaned up.”
Instead of leaving, he moved closer. “I am here to help you with your bath, my most stubborn princess. I give you my word that I will make no attempt to seduce you in your bath. I will not make suggestive remarks or touch you in any inappropriate way. Now, take off your clothes.”
Was this how the cobra felt in the face of the snake charmer, she wondered. She didn’t want to listen or do as he said, yet she found herself reaching for the hem of her T-shirt and pulling the whole thing off, over her head. She handed it to Murat.
Her jeans were next, leaving her in a bra and panties. Turning her back on him, she unfastened the former and pushed down the latter. They tumbled to the carpeted ground. Then she stepped into the steaming tub and sank down into the water.
The heat soothed aching muscles. She reached up to keep her hair out of the water, but Murat had moved behind the tub and brushed her hands away.
“I will do it,” he said as he gently coiled her hair, then took pins from a nearby tray and secured her hair on top of her head.
“Here.”
He handed her a bar of scented soap and a washcloth. She breathed in the smell of flowers and sandalwood.
The water was clear, which made her feel awkward about being naked. Murat stayed behind her, and there weren’t any mirrors, so she tried to tell herself he wasn’t really there…watching. Still, as she smoothed the soapy washcloth across her suddenly sensitive breasts, she felt his gaze on her.
She turned only to find him with his back to the tub. He stood by the wooden dresser, opening a drawer and drawing out a nightgown. Okay, so her imagination was putting in some overtime. Obviously he’d meant what he said. This was just a bath.
Being female and completely comfortable supporting two opposite ideas at exactly the same time, her next thought was one of annoyance. Didn’t he notice that she was naked? Didn’t he find her sexually appealing? Wasn’t he aroused by the situation? They were married, and a man was supposed to want his wife.
She quickly finished washing
and wrung out the cloth. Annoyance made her slosh the water as she stood.
“Could you hand me a towel?” she asked.
Murat reached for one and handed it to her. From what she could tell, he barely looked at her naked, wet body. How perfect. Now that he had her, he didn’t want her anymore. Just like a man, she thought as she rubbed herself dry. Fine. She could “not want” him, too.
She wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out of the tub. He passed her a nightgown. The soft, pale silk was unfamiliar, but at this point she was too much in a temper to care. She let the towel drop to the floor and slid the nightgown over her head.
The see-through fabric left nothing to the imagination. The front dipped down nearly to her stomach, and the back consisted of a few lacy straps and nothing else. Ha! As if Murat would care.
She wanted to kick him. She walked to stalk out into the night and scream her frustration to the heavens. What was wrong with him not to react? And more important, why did she care? She didn’t love Murat. Lately she didn’t even like him very much. So why did it bother her that he hadn’t pounced on her like a cat on catnip?
“I’m going to bed,” she said curtly. “Good night.”
“You enjoyed your bath?” he asked from his place just behind her.
“It was fine.”
“You would consider it finished now?”
She turned until she could look at him. “As I’m out of it, dry and dressed, I would go with yes.”
“Good.”
A rush of movement followed the word and she found herself caught up against him as he hauled her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers.
She had no time to think or react or even feel. His hands were everywhere. Her back, her sides, her breasts. He kissed her hotly, ravishing her. Somehow she managed to part her lips, and he swept inside with the purposefulness of a man set on claiming his woman.
Even as he cupped her breast and stroked her hard nipple through the thin fabric of her nightgown, he squeezed her rear and pulled her into him. She felt the pulsing hardness of his arousal.
“You want me,” she murmured, her mouth still against his.
He raised his head and stared at her. “Of course. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Because I was naked and you just ignored me.”
