A Cinderella for the Desert King

by Kim Lawrence

  It ought to have felt strange to be touched but it just felt gloriously right.

  The sight of his dark head against her breast was the most erotic thing she had ever seen. When he lifted his head his cheekbones were scored with dull colour. ‘I want to feel you around me, Abigail, holding me tight.’

  She struggled to force her response past the aching occlusion in her throat as his words sparked a flame into life inside her. She had wanted him, wanted to give him comfort, wanted to feel it in return—to feel warm and safe—but this was not comfort, it was something hotter and more dangerous, something wild. Her skin felt heated and she was shaking with need as he caressed her breast once more, and then, as she moaned against his mouth, he took hold of the fabric bunched at her waist and pulled.

  There was a jagged tearing sound and then a moment later cool air was on her hot skin.

  She opened her eyes as he levered himself away and pulled herself into a sitting position, but the protest in her face faded away when she saw he had only left her to kick away his shorts.

  As he turned back to her, her greedy glance slid over the strong, perfect contours of his body. The power and the beauty of his fully aroused male body made her head spin with desire that thudded like a hammer in her head and pooled hotly between her legs.

  A hand on her breastbone, he pushed her back down and brought his hands to either side of her face as he covered her body with his.

  The first skin-to-skin contact of their naked bodies was electric. He parted her lips and sank his tongue deep into her mouth, the repeated penetration a rehearsal for what was to come. Abby sank her finger into his hair and kissed him back with a wild, combative ferocity that matched his.

  His hands were everywhere, touching her, caressing her until her pleasure-saturated nerves were screaming for some sort of relief.

  When his hand slid between her legs, his finger spreading the sensitive folds and sliding into the warm slickness of her femininity, she screamed his name.

  ‘Zain!’

  Her fingers clawed his back as he parted her legs and mounted her, his powerful body, slick with sweat, rearing over her before he slid into her in one powerful thrust.

  A slow sigh hissed through her parted lips as, head thrown back, she absorbed the sensation of him inside her, making her aware of herself in a way that she had never experienced before.

  Her eyelids flickered as she heard the astonished growl of his exclamation, the words muffled as his head dropped into her shoulder, then lifting fractionally. This time she could make out what he was saying and hear the concern in his deep voice.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  All right? She was absolutely incredible! ‘Better than all right,’ she husked. ‘Don’t stop, please...?’

  ‘I couldn’t even if I wanted to!’ The tension in the raw admission was mirrored in the taut, strained lines of his face as he began to move again, drawing a sigh of relief from Abby. The sigh of pleasure became something more as by slow, careful increments he sank deeper before pulling out, repeating the movement, touching places that fed directly to the pleasure centres in her brain.

  Her back arching, she grabbed his hips, pulling him deeper into her. There were no barriers of any sort between them, there was no check on the things she said to him, the words she used to urge him on as she wrapped her legs tight around him and let him take her into uncharted territory with each stroke.

  She reached the explosive climax a second after she felt his hot release inside her; every muscle in her body spasmed then relaxed, the process repeating until she lay spent and breathing hard, pressed down into the mattress by his weight.

  She was still floating some place out of her body when he moved to lie beside her on his back.

  * * *

  A primal surge of possessiveness tightened in Zain’s chest, the powerful, fundamental response interwoven with tenderness as he struggled with the realisation that he had been Abby’s first, her only lover. Something he hadn’t thought possible.

  ‘I lost control... I’m sorry.’

  The words were heavy with self-recrimination and Abby’s head turned sharply towards him on the pillow, their glances locked.

  ‘Take that back,’ she hissed furiously. ‘Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.’

  ‘I assumed...there is a lot of stuff out there about—’ It was no excuse and he felt ashamed for voicing it.

  ‘My multiple lovers? None of it is true—it was only ever my agency trying to get publicity. I’ve never even met some of the men I’m meant to have been sleeping with—one of them is even gay, though I don’t think he actually knows it yet.’

  ‘And you don’t mind?’

  ‘It’s mostly harmless, and Nana and Pops don’t do the internet or read tabloids so there’s no harm done.’

  ‘If I’d known you had never been with a man before I would have not been so—’

  ‘You were perfect,’ she cut in, blushing ferociously.

  ‘I would be flattered except you’ve not really had any other experiences for comparison, have you? Another thing...’ He hesitated.

  ‘I’m fine. What did I do wrong?’

  ‘Not you, me... I... I didn’t use protection; are you...?’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Right, that could be a complication.’

  She swallowed. ‘It was just one time.’

  He reached for her and pulled her down to him, a realisation dawning on him—the possibilities this new development created. ‘It doesn’t have to be one time...eighteen months is a long time to go without...’

  * * *

  Abby could have pointed out that she had gone twenty-two years without with no ill effects, but she didn’t. Shading her eyes with her lashes, she asked, ‘So does that mean you won’t be...?’ She broke off, arching her back as he ran a hand over the curve of her bottom.

  Zain completed the question for her. ‘Sleeping around?’

  An image of Zain in bed with faceless and beautiful women floated into her head along with a stab of pain that felt as if a hand had reached into her chest and squeezed hard.

  Abby looked away and nodded, hoping nothing in her expression gave away the fact that his reply mattered more than a little to her.

  ‘I have too much respect for you to do that.’

  She didn’t doubt his words but there was a certain uneasiness in his tone.

  ‘I don’t want your respect, I want... I want...’ Shaking her head, Abby struggled to sit up but was prevented by the weight and tensile strength of the arm that lay across her shoulders.

  A long finger on the angle of her jaw brought her face around to his, her lashes lowered before he could read the answer to his question in her eyes. ‘Abby, what do you want?’

  ‘I want...’ It was as if someone had turned up an invisible volume control and the whisper that had been active in the back of her mind became a loud, deafening and infinitely shocking shout.

  Love!

  She wanted love!

  A strong sense of self-preservation made her rush immediately into rationalisation mode—of course she wanted love; didn’t everyone? Only a fool would fall in love with a man who didn’t believe in love...a man who had to all intents and purposes walled off his own feelings. But could she really walk away from what Zain was offering after she’d experienced a passion more intense than she had ever thought possible? Love was wonderful but there was also something to be said for a physical connection that defied explanation.

  So maybe this was nothing more than strong sexual attraction—very strong...primal even—amplified by their first dramatic meeting and the fact she had just made love to the man who had haunted her dreams ever since he rode to her rescue. From a safe distance she could call it temporary insanity, but there was no reason to call it anything else now, not when she could embr
ace the opportunity Zain was giving her and enjoy the situation as it was.

  Her muddled thoughts were interrupted as he kissed her, his lips warm and persuasive, moving over her body. Suddenly none of the questions seemed to matter so much. She would take what was on offer!

  ‘I want this too...’ he said against her mouth. ‘Besides, I’m not about to give grist to the rumour mill by taking anyone other than my wife to bed, especially considering the new developments.’

  ‘What new developments?’

  ‘My father told me tonight that he intends to abdicate in my favour. I persuaded him to wait before he announces anything, but eyes are going to be watching me very closely once this leaks.’

  Which, of course, it would.

  ‘That means you’re going to—’ The rest was lost in the warmth of his mouth.

  ‘Be very frustrated,’ he rasped against her lips, ‘if you don’t focus on the next lesson.’

  His voice in the semi-darkness made her shiver. ‘There’s a next lesson?’

  It turned out there were two more that night.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ZAIN HAD LEFT before she woke. She had a vague memory of him kissing her goodbye, but that must have been hours ago, as the bed beside her was now cold.

  It wasn’t the first time Abby had woken alone since she came to Aarifa and she never liked it, but during the last four weeks she had come to realise that Zain worked harder than anyone she knew.

  Having a greater grasp of Aarifan politics after four weeks of immersion therapy on the subject, Abby understood why he worked as hard as he did. He had no choice.

  At first Zain had seemed surprised by her questions and Abby suspected he had initially doubted her interest was genuine, as his early responses had been pretty monosyllabic, but as he’d come to realise that her interest was real he had opened up and become more expansive. Now it had reached the point where he volunteered information—be it a breakthrough or an obstacle—without actually waiting for her to ask.

  A couple of times recently he’d even asked her opinion. It gave her a little glow to know that he valued it, or, at least, it seemed he did to her.

  But they never discussed the widowed princess, Kayla. Over the last few weeks malicious rumours had started to spread, which as far as Abby could make out were intended to harm her reputation. Luckily, the wife of a courtier she had become friendly with had warned Abby that it was Kayla spreading these, and Abby had been able to minimise the damage. There were also rumours that Zain and Kayla had once had a relationship before Kayla’s marriage, which had made Abby burn with jealousy. When she had asked the woman why Kayla hated her so much, she’d needed pushing but had finally expanded on her initial diplomatic, It’s not my place to say.

  ‘Kayla wants what you have, Amira. I went to school with her, and she will do anything to get what she wants. Tell the Prince,’ she’d said.

  But Abby knew Zain would only tell her to stay away from Kayla. And, besides, she wanted to show him she was strong enough to confront this on her own. It certainly wasn’t her place to be jealous of whatever might have happened in the past. Nevertheless, it gave her comfort to know that every night it was their bedroom Zain came to.

  Sliding out of bed, she headed for the bathroom, humming softly under her breath, but she stopped humming when she became aware of the familiar monthly ache low down in her belly. Since that first night they had slept together they had been careful to use protection, but a tiny part of her had been nagging at her, aware there was some chance she might be pregnant. But now, the evidence to the contrary was clear and suddenly overwhelming.

  Without warning, the tears just kept coming, gushing out from some unidentified region deep inside her, before finally they dried to an occasional burble of misery. Sniffing, Abby walked across to the marble washbasin and turned the cold tap on full, telling her red-eyed image sternly to, ‘Get a grip!’

  She splashed her face with water and switched off the tap but stayed where she was, leaning on the basin, looking at herself, a questioning frown furrowing her smooth brow.

  Her reaction had been inexplicable, and not just the reaction but also the strength of it.

  This was a good outcome, the desired outcome, she reminded herself. She knew that, and yes, she was relieved, or at least part of her was. But there was another part that felt oddly...what...? Bereft. The recognition deepened her frown and increased her growing sense of unease.

  She hadn’t wanted to be pregnant—it would have complicated an already complicated situation and she’d been too scared to even imagine the consequences of an accidental baby, considering their arrangement. Not that the idea of pregnancy scared her; she wanted a child one day but she wanted that baby to be the product of a loving relationship. She wanted to give the man she would eventually love in a ‘forever after’ sort of way the ultimate gift of his child.

  Another sob began working its way past her trembling lips but it never escaped. Instead her eyes flew wide and she literally stopped breathing, the blood seeping from her face and leaving it paper-pale!

  The truth hit Abby with the force of a tsunami blast and continued to reverberate through her body: some secret part of her had wanted a child because she loved Zain!

  Because she did love him. As the denial fell away the pain rushed in to fill the vacuum it left. Loving a man who would never return those feelings was always going to hurt, which was why she supposed she had been in denial, filling her thoughts with enough irrelevant chatter to drown out the words that were now shouting inside her head.

  Zain was the last man she would have expected to fall in love with. No matter what he said, Zain was wrong—there was no choice involved; love defied all logic.

  * * *

  Patience was not one of Zain’s strengths and Aarifan politics seemed a slow-moving machine. The past few weeks had been at times incredibly frustrating—there had been moments when he had struggled to retain control in the face of the obstacles being put in his way by the powerful politicians who opposed his reforms in any and all ways they could.

  But today had been a good day and it was still early, he saw, glancing down at his wrist. The early breakfast meeting had been an unexpected breakthrough. He had brought a previously obstinate opponent around to his way of thinking and he was buzzing with a sense of purpose.

  It took days like this to keep him going through all the days when it felt as if he was being blocked at every turn, days when progress seemed impossible and the tightrope of diplomacy slippery as ice. Days when, if it wasn’t for the fact he vented in private with Abby, he might have been tempted to forget the advent of civilisation and throw the whole avaricious bunch in a deep dungeon. Abby had proved a very effective sounding board, listening to him rage and talking him down.

  She was going to be thrilled when she heard about this advance...he couldn’t wait to—His footsteps slowed, a thunderstruck expression crossing his face...

  He couldn’t wait!

  It was literally true.

  He wanted so badly to share the victory with Abby, just as he had shared the defeats and setbacks, and it was something he could not imagine feeling a few short weeks ago.

  How far had he strayed from his original game plan...what had it even been? He had rewritten the rules to fit the circumstances and his needs so often it was hard to remember. It was easy to justify his first diversion from the plan because it had been totally unrealistic to expect to fight the intense sexual attraction between them. He couldn’t get enough of her and actually he couldn’t even see why it had ever seemed so important to take such a masochistic stance, why he had seen danger where in fact there was pleasure.

  Sex he could rationalise; what made him more uneasy was the recognition of the emotional, almost symbiotic, connection they seemed to have developed...if this was how he felt now, what was it going to be like when the ei
ghteen months was up?

  He made himself walk slowly to the door. It wasn’t as if he needed her here; she liked to be involved...she was lonely, and it would have been cruel, he told himself, to leave her to her own devices.

  Surely the only thing that had changed was that in eighteen months’ time they would part as friends...if ex-lovers could be friends. Or maybe they would even be parents...that circumstance still an unknown, the memory of their first time and his thoughtlessness always there in the background.

  He walked into Abby’s room, almost tripping over the suitcase by the door.

  For a split second shock closed his brain down—it closed everything down—then, as the paralysis weakened, something close to panic tightened like an icy fist in his belly. Before he identified it as such it shifted into full-blown, mind-numbing fury. She was running away. She was leaving him.

  Didn’t everyone?

  He was literally shaking as he strode across the room and through the door between the wardrobes that lay open.

  Passport in hand, Abby was standing looking adrift, the long, lightweight trench coat she wore open to reveal a plain white silk shirt she had teamed with dark, narrow pedal-pushers.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Had she intended to slip away while he was absent?

  * * *

  Abby blinked; she was working hard at disguising her misery, at the truth she was sure was written all over her face, and it left little or nothing to register his awesome fury.

  ‘Sorry, it was a last-minute decision.’ She managed a smile...held it for a few seconds before it faded, too bright and too brittle. Hell, she really needed some time to sort herself out—if she stayed now she’d do something irreversibly stupid like blurt out the truth. ‘I would have rung but I didn’t want to disturb your meeting...how did it go?’

  ‘To hell with my meeting!’ he growled.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said automatically, assuming from his attitude that it had gone badly. A knot of protective anger tightened in her chest; he worked so damned hard and for what seemed to her very little thanks. Sometimes she wished she could bang together the heads of those men making his life tough. ‘It’s just I’ve been putting off going to see Nana and Pops but I need to; I only told them half the story and they deserve more, plus the solicitor says the vendors are finally ready to exchange contracts, and I’d like to give them the keys in person.’