His hand on her backside excited her. Already she could feel his erection hard against her, and she craved the feel of him inside her. She rubbed her body against him, pressing her sensitive nipples to his chest. She loved the masculine roughness of his cheeks and chin, and the rich, warm scent of him. Everything about him sent her senses into overdrive.
She wanted to rip his clothes off and admire the outline of his powerful body in the moonlight. His hands ran urgently over her silky attire, pulling the fabric taut against her body and lifting her dress until he’d reached right underneath it and his hot palm pressed against her waist.
Sam’s breath came hard and fast now, and she couldn’t form a coherent thought. She was all touch: her fingers in his hair, on his stubbled jaw, along the hollow of his spine and the bold curve of his backside.
I want you to make love to me. Her body shouted it, but she managed to keep the words from passing her lips. She couldn’t give him that kind of power over her.
“You are the only woman for me, Samantha.” He pulled his lips from hers long enough to growl the words.
Am I?
The question sped across her mind like a bird passing in front of the moon. Maybe there was something to all his talk of destiny. Perhaps his supreme self-confidence was well placed and she should bow to his greater wisdom in these matters.
Her body certainly liked the idea. Her insides already pulsed as if she was on the brink of an orgasm, and they hadn’t even undressed. She’d never known anything like this kind of desire. Certainly not with Allan.
Allan. Guilt and disappointment soaked over her like a sudden shower. What was she thinking kissing Osman while a man who still thought he was her fiancé sat waiting for her?
“Don’t worry, my treasure,” murmured Osman, as if he could read her mind. “There are no problems we can’t solve together.” His touch was tender and insistent, and her skin hummed under his fingers. “Rest assured, I’ll make you the happiest woman alive.”
Right now she believed him one hundred percent. Of course, it wasn’t her brain talking. She knew that. Heat snapped through her, and her nerves jumped with messages of desire. The longing building inside her grew so intense, so unbearable that she found herself clawing at his robe, trying to lift it so she could feel him underneath it.
Did men wear underwear in Ubar? It didn’t feel like it. Curiosity and passion knotted her gut into a snarl of excitement as her fingers plucked at the rough silk of his robe.
Then she heard the sound of a man clearing his throat behind them.
Osman’s head jerked up. “Eldar, what is it?” He couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice. Eldar was the man who’d surprised them during their kiss in the tent, too. Was this a coincidence or something more sinister? She remembered how one of his men’s footsteps had been found in the sand near his car.
Of course that was probably just because they helped unpack it, but still. She kept her face pressed to Osman’s strong shoulder, unwilling to turn and face the interloper, even though there could be no doubt as to her identity.
“Dinner, your highness.” Eldar’s voice contained a smarmy apology.
“In the future, Eldar, please respect my privacy and announce your arrival from a greater distance.” Osman had stiffened, and she could feel his frustration at being interrupted. Even future kings could suffer management difficulties apparently.
“Yes, your highness.”
She heard the sweep of Eldar’s robe as he turned and left.
Osman stroked her hair. “It’s not easy being a public figure even in your own home. I’m still trying to work the kinks out.”
“Do you trust him?” Her concern for Osman’s safety trumped her worries about offending him. And Osman hadn’t been back here that long. He might be unaware of palace intrigues that had festered for years in his absence. “It just occurs to me that if one of your staff wanted to make a power play he now has two less people in the way.”
“Eldar?” Osman blew out. He still held her close against his chest, and she could feel his heart beating. “He’s not even been here that long. The two who died were my father’s closest confidants, but Eldar and Isfir, the fourth guard, were hired shortly before I arrived. They were chosen especially for their sharp-shooting capabilities.”
“And how do you know they are trustworthy?”
“They came with high references. Rifal hired them himself.”
“You might want to have someone you trust do more checking into them.”
“I’ll take your advice, Samantha.” He said it earnestly. “I appreciate your concern.”
“Damn you, you’ve made me actually care about you.” It was horrifying and funny at the same time. She’d managed to extricate herself from their embrace, and it now seemed both embarrassing and extraordinary that she’d fallen into it. She smoothed her hair and attempted to erase some of the wrinkles in her dress. How did he have such an effect on her?
It was obvious she wouldn’t be safe until she was back on American soil.
One more day. All she had to do was not sleep with him—or marry him!—for one more day, and she could run screaming back to her old life. Without Allan. So in that sense it would be a new version of her old life.
Without Osman.
Which would be much more relaxing and sensible than the last two days with Osman. “I guess we should go to dinner.”
Once again, they sat in the grand dining room where large filigree lanterns cast multicolored patterns across the walls and ceiling. Conversation at dinner was surprisingly animated. Somehow the sudden and violent deaths had made everyone more aware of how precious their time on earth was and more determined to savor each moment.
Fragrant grilled meats, spicy rice, lush salads of cucumber and melon filled the table, and although no one seemed to drink alcohol, there were rich fruit nectars, a deliciously tart limeade and the ubiquitous and lovely rose water drink.
Sam found herself ravenous and didn’t hesitate to enjoy the offered bounty. Osman beamed with pleasure to see her enjoying the local cuisine, and to her surprise she found it rather adorable. As her hunger subsided, she grew increasingly curious about the other two breathtakingly handsome men at the table.
She turned to Zadir, at her left. “Did you drop everything in your life to come back here as well?”
Zadir seemed surprised by her bold question. “I’m not sure any of us literally dropped everything. I still own a number of properties around the world that are in various stages of renovation. When the market for each one is right, I’ll sell it, and knowing me I’ll likely buy more even though I plan to live in Ubar.”
“You’re a property investor?”
“Yes. I like to buy landmark properties that are feeling their age and make them fit for a king or queen again.”
Osman leaned forward. “Which makes it ironic that he’s now inherited a tract of land that doesn’t even boast a peasant’s cottage.”
Zadir grinned. “Yup, a thousand square miles without a single structure on it. For the first time ever, I’ll have to build my house from scratch.”
“Something traditional?”
“Not even slightly. Ultramodern and designed for the specific conditions of our desert environment.”
“Interesting! Do you have an architect in mind?”
An enigmatic expression crossed his face. “I do. My first challenge is convincing her to come to Ubar.”
“Her?” Osman lifted a brow. “I’m sure you’ll work your magic on her. You just need to meet with her.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.” He tore a piece of flatbread and scooped some chicken from his plate with it. “We were in the plane crash together.”
Amahd looked up. “You survived an ordeal in the wilderness together and you can’t convince her to design your house?”
Osman winked at Ahmad. “I suspect he’s already become personally involved with her. And screwed things up.”
A
mahd shook his head. “Your life would go much more smoothly if you kept your focus on matters of business and didn’t get distracted by women.”
“Amahd can apparently resist all temptation,” said Osman with a smile. “Or at least so he claims.”
“Why are we talking about me? Samantha was asking about Zadir.” Amahd helped himself to some melon. Sam found the quietest of the three brothers rather intriguing. She suspected there was more to him than met the eye and that when he finally fell for a woman it would be something to behold.
Shame she wouldn’t be here to witness it. “I can tell you all love Ubar, even after your years away.”
Zadir gestured with his hands. “How could you not? Our mountains are like the backbone of the world. The sun rises here with a fierce intensity that makes me feel more alive than I have in years. The grandeur of the open plains calls to my soul….”
“And makes him want to gallop about them on a horse,” said Amahd with a smile. “Me, too.”
“Do you have Arabian horses here?” Sam had seen some lovely specimens in and around Nabattur. Not that she could tell once horse from another.
“They’re from Arabian stock but refined for our local conditions to be even sturdier and more sure-footed,” explained Zadir. “Amahd plans to breed some of the finer specimens.”
“As soon as I get the first stage of oil exploration out of the way.”
“Is there much oil on your land?” Sam remembered they’d had a well sabotaged, but so far she hadn’t seen any signs of oil drilling.
“It’s everywhere,” said Amahd with a sparkle of excitement in his eyes. “Our father ignored it. He insisted it would bring nothing but trouble. I plan to help my brothers exploit our resources in a way that will benefit the people and preserve our natural beauty.”
“Until you told me about the well being set on fire, I had no idea there was oil in this area. I thought the economy was based on…” She couldn’t even remember.
“Textiles. Our carpets and woven silks have been sought after for centuries, and somehow this region has managed to survive on that. But we all agree that it won’t hurt to usher in something more lucrative in the twenty-first century.”
“I wish you the best of luck in all your endeavors.” Sam meant every word. Ubar couldn’t have more enthusiastic caretakers.
She felt Osman’s gaze burning a hole right through her. “You’ll witness it with your own eyes.”
She attempted a fake laugh and glanced at Allan, who’d been munching silently this whole time. He looked up, eyes wide.
“Hardly, when we’re heading for the airport as soon as the festival ends tomorrow. Did our Land Rover ever get fixed?” She couldn’t believe she’d completely forgotten about it in all the excitement.
“Yes,” said Allan with enthusiastic vigor, and Osman—simultaneously—in a low growl. Allan continued, “It’s been repaired and I tested it out. I tried to tell you earlier but you were…missing.”
Sam swallowed. Kissing, rather than missing. “Great.”
Servants passed around sticky desserts and coffee along with sugared apricots. Osman was very quiet. Allan filled the air with chatter about an experimental film he was planning to shoot next, about the people who rode night buses between Brooklyn and Manhattan. The brothers listened politely, but Sam had a hard time even following the conversation. Because next it would be time for bed.
With Allan.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
They bid each other good night in the dining room, and Sam and Allan set off for their bedrooms. Sam was surprised that Osman simply nodded—albeit with a smoldering glance—and headed for his room. Where was the commanding man just dying to take over the rest of her life and make her his queen?
It disturbed her to find that she missed him.
“I’m glad the car’s fixed.” She tried to sound cheerful.
“Thank God. I was beginning to wonder if they’d ever let us go. I called the nearest American embassy and let them know our whereabouts.”
“What?” Sam stopped dead in the hallway.
“Seriously, I felt like we’d been kidnapped. If all goes smoothly and we’re allowed to leave for the airport, I’ll let the embassy know everything is fine. If not, at least someone knows where we are.”
“How did you make the call when there’s no cell service here?” She’d been carrying her phone around for two days, and it hadn’t made a peep. It had probably run out of battery again but she’d forgotten to check.
“I managed to get enough bars in Nabattur to make a call. It wasn’t easy. They’re doing a great job keeping this place in the middle ages.”
“I hope no one gets in trouble.” She started to walk again, eyes focused on the blue-and-white tile mosaic under her feet.
“Especially us. Geez, Sam, what’s gotten into you? Are you getting Stockholm syndrome or something? This Sheikh Osman has been holding us as his virtual prisoner for nearly three days.
“Nonsense. He’s been a wonderful host and given us an insider’s view of the festival. I think you’re being ungrateful.”
“I think you’re being far too trusting. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed he’s got a major crush on you.”
And the feeling is mutual.
“He’s very sweet. I think I’ll miss him.” She might as well start letting Allan down easy. They were close to their room doors, and her nerves jangled as she wondered whether he’d follow her inside. There was no way she could sleep with him tonight.
She grabbed the heavy iron handle and pushed the door. Allan hovered behind her and sniffed loudly. Which gave her an idea. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.” She manufactured a loud sniffle.
“Oh, no. Not until we’re back home. I can’t travel on a plane with a cold. My sinuses swell up until they feel like they’re going to explode. And I don’t have my neti pot. Jeez, you could have warned me earlier.” He was already backing away like she had rabies.
“Earlier I wasn’t sure. I thought it might be allergies. But now.” She rubbed her nose unattractively with the back of her hand, which helped to hide her smile of triumph.
“Well, Sam, I did promise I’d spend the night with you, but a cold…. You know how that affects me, and we still have a full day of filming tomorrow.”
“It’s okay. Really.” She tried to look disappointed, which was hard when she felt nothing but sweet relief.
“Try to get some sleep. We need to be ready for anything tomorrow if they won’t let us go.”
His words left her with a twinge of anxiety. What if Osman didn’t let them leave? Or, more likely, didn’t let her go. He’d stirred up something between them that threatened to spiral out of control. Obviously, it was up to her to get both of their lives back on track.
She’d deliberately chosen a life behind-the-scenes, after watching her parents’ relationship unravel, then crash back together, over and over again, on the pages of gossip rags as well as in their living room. She hated the spotlight. She craved a quiet and peaceful life, with predictable routines. That would be impossible with a monarch, especially one with the charisma and energy of Osman. Around him it was hard not to get swept up in his wake. If she wasn’t careful, she could find herself way out of her depth.
She undressed slowly and put on her familiar white-and-yellow pajama pants with a white camisole top. She had to trust him.
Beshwistar.
The word crept into her mind. Have faith. If he cared about her, he’d let her go. She had no idea what feelings he really had for her after only two days, though he was obviously attracted to her.
Curiosity made her approach the mirror on one wall, to see what drew him to her. It was an old mirror, spotted with age, so probably everyone would look at least half decent in its misty depths. She looked more or less the same as usual, though her olive skin was a little more tanned after two days in the hot Ubar sun.
No doubt Osman would forget her as quickly as he seemed to have fallen for h
er. He probably fell for a different woman every week, and she happened to be in the right place at the right time when he needed a wife to claim his crown. Next week he’d find someone far more suitable and likely more beautiful, too.
She climbed under the covers, which felt deliciously cool against her hot skin. Getting some sleep wouldn’t be easy, but she’d be grateful for it tomorrow when she faced another long day on her feet.
She was drifting off to sleep when she heard a tiny sound and her eyes snapped open. A long triangle of light poured in from the hallway, because her door was now cracked open. “Who’s there?”
Heart pounding, she sat up in bed.
“Do you really need to ask?” Osman’s low voice soothed her. Which was strange. Shouldn’t she be nervous about his intruding uninvited into her room? Mostly she was just relieved he wasn’t Allan.
She sat silent in the darkness, waiting. The door closed behind him, blocking out the light, and she heard his robe swish as he crossed the floor toward her bed. Excitement crackled through her. Moonlight pouring through the filigreed wooden shutters covered the walls and ceiling with starry patterns of dark silver. Osman’s greenish eyes didn’t glow like the mysterious black leopards’, but she could see them shining as he sought her in the dark.
His weight on the bed tilted her toward him as he sat. “I came to continue what Eldar so rudely interrupted.” His hand took hers and lifted it to his lips. Her skin sizzled as he kissed the back of her hand with exquisite softness.
She struggled to keep her senses, which was never easy with Osman around. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Of course it is.” He kissed her wrist, and a shiver of arousal ran up her arm. “You can’t deny what’s happening between us.”
“I agree there’s a powerful attraction, but that doesn’t mean we should act on it.”
“We already have.” He’d turned her hand and now feathered kisses over the supersensitive skin of her palms and fingertips.
Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6 Page 18
