Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6

by Jennifer Lewis

  The mental effort of holding conversation with a man suspected of being their enemy would get his mind off Mackenzie for an hour or two. He’d hoped that bedding her would help get her out of his mind. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. It was hard to get his mind off her for even a few seconds.

  Mac made up for her tardy arrival at day care with an ice cream sundae party for two. Then she tucked Maddy in bed and tried not to dwell too much about how much she’d enjoyed making love with Amahd.

  Not making love.

  Having sex.

  It felt like more, though. Her heart filled with emotion at the way he’d wrapped his arms around her and held her so tenderly. Could all that shared intimacy have simply been lust?

  She managed to snatch a few hours of restless sleep, then rose before dawn to get ready for the last day of the contest. She dropped a yawning Maddy off in day care before sunrise, and drove to the palace to begin a long list of routine checks.

  By the time she made it out to the contest grounds, the festive atmosphere was in full swing, banners flying and horses’ hooves thudding on the dry soil. She didn’t even know which team was ahead, or if their plan to thwart their enemies was working. None of that was really her business. She needed to make sure that nothing broke or seized or spilled over until the party was over.

  She missed the first contest of the day—and all the anxiety over running into Amahd—when a washing machine hose broke and she had to go fix it. She’d happily have hovered in the back hallways of the palace for the rest of the day, but she decided to hurry to the competition grounds between events to make sure nothing important got knocked over or stepped on during the first event. There were staffers there to keep an eye on the equipment but they were young and so caught up in the excitement—and all the beautiful women—that they weren’t entirely reliable.

  She glanced about her as she headed out to the field, hoping that Amahd was somewhere else getting refreshments before the last round.

  Why was she so afraid of running into him? She should be excited to see him after yesterday’s events.

  But things were weird between them, as usual. She couldn’t imagine him texting her to say “Good morning,” or to share intimate observations about anything. It was all or nothing with him. She wasn’t sure if he’d smile and wave when he saw her, or if he’d simply ignore her.

  “Hey, Mackenzie!” Sam strode toward her, all smiles, radiant in a bright yellow dress with tiny silver mirrors.

  “Hi, Sam.” She prayed Sam wouldn’t ask her anything about Amahd. “Did Maddy enjoy the party the other night?”

  “She loved it. It was sweet of you all to invite her.” Maddy hadn’t stopped talking about it and kept asking when she could go back to the palace. She’d somehow hit it off with Aliyah’s daughter Nasri, despite them only knowing a few words of each other’s language.

  Mac didn’t mention that, though. It might seem like she was angling for another invitation, which—depending on how things went with Amahd—could be very uncomfortable. Things promised to be awkward at the oil field but least there no one suspected anything so it would be their secret.

  Sam still had a dangerously curious expression on her face, which made a knot form in Mac’s gut. She decided to steer the conversation away from herself. “The contest seems to be going well. The guests are enjoying themselves.”

  “Aren’t they? I think they were all a little wary at first but now they’ve relaxed they’re all pretty friendly. I don’t think any of them was particularly close before, because they’re all from different generations and have different agendas. It’s really good to see them all getting along and realizing we have more to gain from working together than from being suspicious of each other. And luckily, despite our over zealous team…” She winked. “Everyone has won something so they all feel victorious.”

  “Sam, you have to help me.” Ronnie hurried up to them, a frown on her usually calm face.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Zadir twisted his ankle jumping off a horse this morning and he insists on competing.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Sam’s expression was a mix of worry and confusion. “These Ubar men do not admit to the possibility of injury slowing them down.”

  “What if it’s fractured or something? He won’t even let the doctor look at it. He keeps saying it’s fine. He really shouldn’t put weight on it right now, let alone gallop a horse around standing up in the stirrups.”

  “You’re right. But the only way we’ll convince him to step down is if we can find a replacement for him.” She glanced at Ronnie’s small belly. “It’s a shame you’re pregnant.”

  They both turned to look at Mac.

  Whose mouth immediately opened in protest. “I have no idea how these games work. And I hadn’t ridden in years before last week. And—”

  “You’ll do fine from what I’ve heard. And you’ll have a lot of fun.” She clutched Ronnie’s sleeve. “Let’s go talk to Zadir.”

  “What? Wait!” Mac’s protest followed them as they hurried away. Irritation surged through her. Who did these royals think they were? Why would they assume she would just drop everything to play in their reindeer games? It was too much pressure, for one thing. If she screwed up she’d let the whole nation of Ubar down.

  It wasn’t fair.

  But because she was a mere peon, a lowly employee, she would get railroaded into it whether she wanted to ride or not.

  This job was turning out to be a lot more trouble than it was worth.

  On the other hand, riding in the contest would be an experience of a lifetime. And dammit, she hadn’t done too badly when she practiced with Amahd.

  Still, she was an employee, not a member of the royal family. Sam and Ronnie were egalitarian-minded Americans, so that didn’t seem a big deal to them. Amahd was traditional. He’d complimented her riding but he might not like the idea of having her represent Ubar on the team.

  Which of course made her want to ride.

  Now she’d be mad if he said no.

  And she had a job to do. She sucked in a breath and headed for the garden, where there had been some trouble with the fountain pump yesterday. She couldn’t let them distract her from her duties any more than they already had done.

  She glanced around surreptitiously as she walked. She had no idea how Amahd would react to her. Would he greet her like a lover? Or look right past her like she didn’t exist?

  Both were painfully possible.

  The fountain sparkled in the early morning sunshine, refusing to offer a distraction. Guests were heading for a big breakfast buffet in the dining room, then heading back to the garden to munch on their pastries and sip coffee poured from big brass urns. The atmosphere was cordial but also bristling with adrenaline.

  And among these people, possibly even right next to her, was their enemy—or enemies—who wanted to bring them harm.

  No one mentioned that. It would probably seem cowardly. Instead they all put on a brave face like soldiers marching cheerfully into battle. She resolved to do the same. Being scared never helped anyone.

  And frankly, she was more scared of what would happen when she saw Amahd than of some mysterious coward hiding in the shadows and waiting for a chance to hurt someone.

  There he was. She froze, breath stuck at the bottom of her lungs as she caught a glimpse of Amahd entering the far side of the garden. He wore his usual long white robe, which did nothing to hide his powerful and commanding physique. He was talking with a breathtakingly beautiful woman—probably a highly eligible princess—and heading right toward her.

  Butterflies tickled her stomach. She could turn and rush off to check the air-conditioning equipment. The drain lines could probably use flushing.

  No. She intended to stand here and greet Amahd like a perfectly normal person. She’d even greet the girl in the dress and veil covered in tiny gold dots.

  Or was that inappropriate since she was staff and this gir
l was…

  Maybe she should go check the plumbing vent stacks. They’d found a huge wasp nest in one yesterday.

  Her heart thudded as he drew closer. He’d seen her. She saw him peer at her out of the corner of his eye. His expression remained unchanged, serious and pensive. Perhaps his gorgeous companion was wondering aloud about the meaning of life.

  Mac schooled her expression into a pleasant smile. A professional smile. She could do this. Hi, Amahd.

  No.

  Hello, Mr. Al Kilanjar.

  No way.

  “Hey there!” The cheery but vapid greeting fled her lips as he drew within earshot.

  His dark eyes grazed her face for a split second and he nodded politely, as if acknowledging a staff member who’d brought him a drink. “Good morning.”

  His companion was bolder and took a few seconds for a good long stare with big dark eyes ringed with more eyeliner than a Vegas showgirl.

  Mac wanted to shrivel up and blow away. Her pounding pulse threatened to move up to her brain and become a pounding headache. But she managed to keep her professional smile plastered on her lips until he went past.

  This man had made passionate love to her yesterday. He’d kissed her all over her naked body and made her pant and moan with desire, and now he intended to walk past her like she was just another fly on the wall?

  Hell no.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Amahd!” She called after him, and he turned—along with everyone else in that part of the garden. “Zadir is injured so Sam and Ronnie suggested I should take over for him on the team for the last event. What do you think?”

  She dared him to ignore that suggestion, and in front of all these people. Triumph and terror flooded her brains in equal measure.

  “Uh…” Amahd looked dumbstruck, as if someone had suggested that one of the white peacocks compete on the team.

  “I’m familiar with the games.” She squared her shoulders. She’d played them competently during their practice. “And the horses.”

  He stepped closer, and her heart beat faster. He spoke low. “But you’re not from Ubar.”

  True. “I live here now. And I promise to ride for Ubar as if my life depended upon it.”

  Why was she begging for a chance to ride on this team? She must be out of her mind. Still, it would be better than being tossed aside like yesterday’s leftovers.

  Amahd studied her face with his typical grim contemplation. Maybe he was going to say no—right here in front of everyone—and she’d have to fight a powerful urge to run off and lock herself in a broom closet. Her face heated as he stared at her, apparently in deep thought.

  At last he spoke. “Then we would be grateful for your assistance.”

  She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at his stilted formal response. She chose to nod her head in a hopefully valiant fashion. At least he was looking at her! “I won’t let you down.”

  “I’m sure you won’t.” A wrinkle was forming between his brows—and between the carefully shaped brows of his beautiful companion, who had pulled a phone out of her sleeve and was consulting it as if she’d grown bored with standing and waiting.

  Now was a good time to make an exit. “Thank you.” She turned and left before anything else could go down. She had no clue what all the bystanders were thinking.

  She wasn’t even sure what she was thinking. Until now no one had really noticed her and she was just another employee. Now, in addition to secretly sleeping with a royal prince right here in the palace, she’d now seized responsibility for the entire nation’s reputation on the playing field.

  She’d jumped from the frying pan in to the fire.

  The final event involved thrusting a lance through each of two suspended rings—while galloping like a maniac—then stabbing it into a peg in the ground, picking that up and carrying it over the finish line. All the members of a team rode at once and teams were judged on how well they kept pace with each other as well as completing the tasks.

  Mac realized immediately that this event would require a lot of practice for them to ride together with synchronicity.

  And there was no time for practice.

  Sam and Ronnie probably hadn’t realized this fully when they volunteered her for the team. And she’d been so caught up in her own ego, and not wanting to be ignored by Amahd, that she’d failed to figure it out for herself.

  Now she was going to have to make the best of it and hope she didn’t set herself up for a lifetime of regret and recrimination.

  Her teammates gave her a plain white robe similar to theirs and brief but reassuring advice: keep your eyes on the target; follow through on each movement, etc. Their only advice on speed was, “gallop as fast as you can.” Apparently, any attempt at, say, controlling the horse, was looked upon as poor sportsmanship at best, lily-livered cowardice at worst.

  She attempted to reassure them that she’d do her best to keep pace, and really, stabbing some stationary rings was a lot easier than roping a moving calf. Or that was what she told herself as they moved their snorting and excited mounts—all of them stallions—into position near the starting line.

  Adrenaline flooded her system. First, she had to watch carefully for the start signal—a lowered flag from the judge—and not jump past the line too soon. Then she had to cue her horse into action at exactly the same time as the others. The pressure was intense. She’d never competed as part of a team before and was used to having failure or success on her own head alone. And this was the last event of the entire contest—thus determining the final rankings.

  Her stallion, named Azik, was flea-bit gray in color and had powerful hindquarters that suggested he could jump into a flat out gallop from a standstill. She just hoped she could stay with him when he did it.

  Banners fluttered and musicians strummed and blew traditional tunes into a brisk wind that was blissful relief in the hot desert sun. The crowds gathered around the playing field, excitement buzzing in their voices.

  You can do this. She tried not to glance around, as all the onlookers made the pressure worse.

  What if she fell off? Got injured? Couldn’t work for a month or more?

  She tried to banish the negative thoughts from her mind and replace them with a positive vision of their team flying past the finish line in unison, rings and pegs on their lances and triumph on their faces.

  But what if—

  The flag fell and she spurred her horse forward, flowing with the powerful leaping motion as they headed for the first challenge. She raised her lance, eyes focused tightly on the ring.

  She’d never practiced this move, but she’d watched the brothers and the opposing teams do it as individuals the day before and had a chance to observe that how you carried your body and where you focused your gaze made a big difference in the outcome.

  She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the first ring, thrusting her lance into it.

  Yes!

  Almost as soon as she had it, the second ring approached and it took all her focus and dexterity to shift her lance a few inches to the left in order to catch it.

  Yes!

  The ground blurred beneath her and she couldn’t make out the outlines of the rectangular peg fast approaching to her right. There was no time to see if she’d kept pace with the others. All she had to do was—

  Yes! She speared the peg and to her immense relief it rose off the ground with the tip of her lance. She’d seen one man spear it then drop it two days earlier so she raised her lance as she kept her horse on course for the finish line. They were over it before she even had time to breathe.

  “Yeah!” She let out the victorious whoop before she could stop herself. When she turned to look at the brothers she could see that they’d also captured both rings and the peg. They looked pleased. She tried to focus on Osman and Gibran more than Amahd so she wouldn’t give anything away.

  “You rode well.” Amahd’s rough compliment filled her heart with all the emotion of an impassioned I love
you.

  “Thanks. You too.”

  He didn’t acknowledge her compliment. Probably Amahd riding well was a given. Was there anything he didn’t do well? He even seemed to excel at making small talk with the guests when he forced himself to do it.

  She must be dreaming to think that a man like Amahd would want anything more than an affair with her.

  As the first team, they had to wait for the other three teams to run before a winner could be declared.

  One of Satya’s men dropped his lance attempting the spear the peg. One of Akar’s team missed the first ring and another missed the second. Tabriq’s team tackled all the obstacles successfully, but one of their horses spooked right after the start and after that they weren’t riding in line.

  They stood side by side for over an hour, commenting on the riders and horses but not a single intimate word, or even an acknowledgement of yesterday’s naked encounter, crossed their lips.

  Their physical closeness made the lack of verbal intimacy seem strange and awkward, but she kept reminding herself there were people close by and maybe when they were alone—if they were ever alone—he’d say something to make her feel as if she was more than a notch on his hand carved bedpost.

  It was no surprise when the judge announced that Ubar had won the event. Mac snuck a lightning-fast glance at Ahmad, who—at the exact same moment—turned to look at her. Their eyes met and she felt a jolt of joy and exhilaration stronger than anything she’d ever experienced.

  Which was silly. It didn’t mean anything that they’d won. It’s not like he’d hand chosen her for the team. But she hadn’t let them down.

  Zadir, using a crutch, congratulated her, and insisted that she join them for the medal ceremony. She joined them on the platform as they accepted gold medals and, for the highest combined score in the entire tournament, a big carved platter from the judge.

  Her fingers brushed Amahd’s as they passed the platter from one team member to the next. A jolt of energy surged through her and she glanced up at him to see if she’d feel the same when their eyes met—but he was looking past her.