by Kim Lawrence
When it stopped she stood there feeling quite crazily bereft.
‘That doesn’t change anything, except fine... Oh, God, I have no self-control when it comes to you! I’m just—’
‘In love?’
She froze and thought, Am I that obvious? ‘I wasn’t trying to fall in love...’
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, the action so tender that it brought tears to her eyes. ‘I know... I was actively fighting it...’ A grin split his lean face... Suddenly he looked younger. ‘I was a fool. It feels great to surrender to you.’
Golden joy burst inside her but she shook her head. ‘You can’t stay married to me.’
He looked at her with frustration. ‘Are you going to tell me why?’
‘The polls.’
‘What polls?’
She gritted her teeth; he really wasn’t making this easy for her. ‘You don’t have to pretend,’ she said, wishing that doing the noble thing felt less absolutely awful. ‘I know that the numbers were bad.’ Her carefully composed voice acquired a little wobble that required her to stop and swallow several times before she continued, looking up into his face through a glaze of tears. ‘I know that the longer I stay the worse they will get...the people will reject you because I remind them of your mother. So, I’m going now before things get worse, and don’t try and stop me,’ she warned, knowing that if he did she wouldn’t have the strength to do the right thing.
He didn’t look at all impressed by her sacrifice. ‘Who the hell has been filling your head with this nonsense?’
‘Kayla. And it’s not nonsense, it’s the truth.’
His expression darkened. ‘Kayla...is poison.’ He dismissed the other woman with a contemptuous click of his long, expressive fingers. ‘The woman wants power and position. She had an affair with me to get it and, when I didn’t play the game like she wanted, she married my brother. I should have kept her away from you. I thought I had; I’m sorry, cara.’
She knew she shouldn’t but she leaned in as he stroked her cheek, the tenderness in his face bringing tears to her eyes. ‘The poll...’
He sighed. ‘There was a poll, not instigated by me,’ he added. ‘And the numbers were not good but that was when the news was first broken. Another, this time with my approval, was put out in the field yesterday and the results came back this morning.’
Abby closed her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Zain.’
‘My popularity ratings have soared, all thanks, it seems, to my redheaded wife.’
Her eyes flew wide. ‘Kayla lied!’
He arched a sardonic brow and drawled, ‘Now, there’s a shocker.’ All hint of sardonic humour vanished as he framed her face between his hands. ‘You’re the dream I never even admitted I had, Abby. The dream I was afraid of. I’ve been a coward, and my only excuse is that I’ve been guarding my heart so long that I forgot I had one, and I was too cowardly to admit what I felt...felt from that first moment I saw you...so brave, so beautiful, so...’
She raised herself on tiptoes, grabbed his head and kissed him. The kiss led inevitably to another then another...and by the time they surfaced the horse had wandered a few yards away.
‘Does this mean...?’ Was it possible to explode from sheer happiness? She felt as though she was walking on air as light as the bubbles of happiness popping in her bloodstream.
‘Yes?’ he prompted.
‘You want me to stay longer than eighteen months?’
‘I want you beside me every day...’ His voice dropped a shivery, sexy octave as he whispered, ‘Every night,’ against the sensitive skin of her earlobe. He stopped nuzzling her neck and lifted his head to stare down into her face with an expression that stopped her heart as he caught her hand and pressed it to his chest. ‘I want you beside me always. I love you and I could not do this...any of it, without you.’
What could she say to that? With stars in her eyes Abby linked her arms around his neck. ‘You saved my life; I think I owe you mine.’
‘I don’t want your gratitude, Abby. I want your heart, your love.’
She looked at him with shining eyes and whispered, ‘You have both.’
Zain’s eyes blazed with love as he took her hands and pressed them to his lips. ‘I will keep them safe, I promise.’
Abby lifted her face to his kiss with a blissful sigh. ‘I’m going to have to learn some languages.’
‘The language of love is the only one that counts,’ he said, leading her by the hand to the horse. Heaving himself with no seeming effort into the saddle, he held out a hand, which she took. A moment later she was sitting in front of him.
‘Are we going home?’
‘I like the way you say that, but no, I thought we might detour. There is a certain oasis I know.’
The wind caught her hair and whipped her laugh away as he kicked the King of the Night into a gallop across the red sand. It felt as though they were the only two people on earth and she liked it.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed A CINDERELLA FOR THE DESERT KING you’re sure to enjoy these other stories by Kim Lawrence!
THE GREEK’S ULTIMATE CONQUEST
A RING TO SECURE HIS CROWN
SURRENDERING TO THE
ITALIAN’S COMMAND
ONE NIGHT TO WEDDING VOWS
Available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE GREEK’S BOUGHT BRIDE by Sharon Kendrick.
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The Greek’s Bought Bride
by Sharon Kendrick
CHAPTER ONE
HE RECOGNISED HER straight away, though it took him a moment to remember why. Xan Constantinides gazed at the tiny redhead whose thick curls were tumbling over her shoulders and a flicker of something between desire and anger whispered across his skin. But he welcomed the distraction—however temporary—which allowed him to forget the promise he had made so long ago. Was it the wedding of one of his oldest friends which had pushed the unavoidable into prominence, or just the march of time itself? Because it was easy to believe that nothing would change. You acted as if the fast days weren’t spinning into years. And then suddenly there it was—the future—and with it all those expectations...
A marriage he had agreed to.
A destiny he had always been determined to honour.
But there was no point in thinking about it now, not with a packed weekend lying ahead of him. Friendship and a valuable business partnership dictate
d he must attend the wedding of his friend the Sheikh, even though he usually avoided such events like the plague.
Xan returned his attention to the redhead. She was sitting on her own in the small terminal of the private airfield, waiting to board the luxury flight, the fiery disarray of her hair marking her out from the other women. Her clothes marked her out too and not simply because they were a far cry from the skimpy little cocktail dress she’d been wearing last time he’d seen her—an outfit which had sent his imagination soaring into overdrive, as it had obviously been intended to do.
Xan slanted her an assessing glance. Today there was no tight black satin Basque or skyscraper heels, nor fishnet stockings which had encased the most delicious pair of legs he had ever seen. No. She had taken the word casual and elevated it to a whole new level. Along with a pair of tennis shoes, she was wearing cut-off jeans which displayed her pale, freckled ankles and a plain green T-shirt which echoed the cat-like magnificence of her emerald eyes.
It was the eyes he remembered most. And the slender figure which had failed to fill out the curved dimensions of her skimpy uniform, unlike her over-endowed waitress colleagues who had been bursting out of theirs. And the way she had spilt the Old-Fashioned cocktail all over the table as she bent to serve him. The dripping concoction had caught his trouser leg—icy liquid spreading slowly over his thigh. He remembered flinching and the woman he’d been with snatching up her napkin to blot at it with attentive concern, even though he’d been in the middle of telling her that their relationship was over.
Xan’s lips flattened. The redheaded waitress had straightened up and mouthed an apology but the defiant glint in her green eyes had suggested the sentiment wasn’t genuine. For a moment he had found himself wondering if it had been a gesture of deliberate clumsiness on her part—but surely nobody would be that stupid?
Would they?
And now here she was in the most unexpected of places—waiting to board a luxury flight to the wedding of Sheikh Kulal Al Diya to the unknown Englishwoman, Hannah Wilson. Idly, Xan switched his cellphone to airplane mode as the redhead began to scrabble around inside an oversized bag which looked as if it had seen better days. Was she also a guest at the glittering royal marriage? His lips curved with something like contempt. Hardly. She was much more likely to have been hired to work at what was being described as the most glitzy wedding the desert region had seen for a decade. And in a country which demanded the most modest of dress codes, it was unlikely that she would be showing as much of her body as last time.
Pity.
Sliding the phone into his pocket, he allowed himself the faintest smile as she glanced up to notice him staring at her and a spark of something powerful passed between them. A full-blooded spark of sexual desire which fizzled almost tangibly in the air. Her magnificent eyes widened with disbelief. He saw the automatic thrust of her nipples against the thin T-shirt and his groin tightened in response.
Sometimes, Xan thought, with a frisson of anticipation, sometimes fate handed you something you hadn’t even realised you wanted.
* * *
It was him.
It was definitely him.
What were the chances?
Somehow Tamsyn managed to stop her jaw from dropping—but only just. She’d been expecting the great and the good to be gathered together here at this small airport, ready to board the royal flight which would whisk them to Zahristan, but she hadn’t really been paying attention to the other guests as they were all being guided into the small departure lounge. She’d only just got her head around the incredible fact that her sister Hannah was about to marry a desert king and would soon become a real-life queen. And even though Hannah was pregnant with the Sheikh’s baby and such an unlikely union made sense on so many levels, Tamsyn hadn’t quite managed to contain her disgust at the proposed nuptials. Because in her opinion, the man her sister was marrying was arrogant and domineering—and it seemed he chose his friends on the same basis.
She stole another sneaky look at the Greek billionaire who was lolling against a sofa on the other side of the small terminal, his exquisitely cut suit doing nothing to disguise the magnificence of his muscular body. Xan Constantinides. An unforgettable name for an unforgettable man. But would he remember her?
Tamsyn offered up a silent prayer. Please don’t let him remember her.
After all, it was months and months ago and only the briefest of encounters. She bit the inside of her lip. Oh, why had she decided to send out a message of sisterly solitude to the woman the tycoon had been in the process of dumping in the swish bar where she’d been working? At least until her employment had come to a swift but wholly predictable termination...
She’d noticed Xan Constantinides from the moment he’d walked into the twinkly cocktail bar. To be fair, everyone had noticed him—he was that kind of man. Charismatic and radiating power, he seemed oblivious to the stir of interest his appearance had created. Ellie, one of the other waitresses and Tamsyn’s best friend, had confided that he was a mega-rich property tycoon who had recently been voted Greece’s most eligible bachelor.
But Tamsyn hadn’t really been listening to the breathless account of his bank balance or his record of bedding beautiful women before callously disposing of them. His physical presence made his wealth seem almost insignificant and she surprised herself by staring at him for longer than was strictly professional, because she wasn’t usually the sort of cocktail waitress who ogled the better-looking male customers. And there had never been a customer quite as good looking as this one. She remembered blinking as she registered a physique which suggested he could easily go several rounds in the boxing ring and emerge looking as if he’d done nothing more strenuous than get out of bed. When you teamed a body like that with sinfully dark hair, dark-fringed eyes the colour of cobalt and a pair of lips which were both sensual and cruel—you ended up with a man who exuded a particular type of danger. And Tamsyn had always been very sensitive to danger. It was a quality which had hovered in the background during her troubled childhood like an invisible cosh—just waiting to bang you over the head if you weren’t careful. Which was why she avoided it like the plague.
She remembered feeling slightly wobbly on her high-heeled shoes as she’d walked over to where the Greek tycoon had been sitting with the most beautiful blonde Tamsyn had ever seen, when she heard the woman give an unmistakable sniff.
‘Please, Xan,’ she was saying softly, her voice trembling. ‘Don’t do this. You must know how much I love you.’
‘But I don’t do love. I told you that right from the start,’ he’d drawled unequivocally. ‘I explained what my terms were. I said I wouldn’t change my mind and I haven’t. Why do women refuse to accept what is staring them in the face?’
Tamsyn found the interchange infuriating. Terms? He was talking as if he was discussing some kind of business deal, rather than a relationship—as if his lovely companion was an object rather than a person. All she could think was that a woman didn’t just come out and tell a man they loved them, not without a certain degree of encouragement. Her irritation had intensified while she’d waited for the barman to mix two Old-fashioned cocktails and when she’d returned she had noticed Xan Constantinides watching her. She wasn’t sure which had annoyed her more—the fact that he was regarding her with the lazy assessment of someone who’d just been shown a shiny car and was deciding whether or not he’d like to give it a spin—or the fact that her body had responded to that arrogant scrutiny in ways which she didn’t like.
She remembered the peculiar melting sensation low in her belly and the distracting tingle of her breasts pushing against the too-skimpy top of her uniform. She remembered being acutely aware of those cobalt eyes being trained on her, uncaring of the woman beside him who was trying very hard not to cry. And Tamsyn had felt a kick of anger. Men. They were all the same. They took and they took and they never gave back—not unless they were fo
rced into a corner. Even then they usually found some way of getting out of it. No wonder she deliberately kept them at arm’s length. With an encouraging smile she’d handed the woman her drink, but as she lifted the Greek’s cocktail from the tray, Tamsyn had met a gaze full of sensual mockery.
She told herself afterwards that she hadn’t deliberately angled the glass so that it sloshed all over the table and started to seep onto one taut thigh, but she couldn’t deny her satisfaction when he recoiled slightly, before the blonde leapt into action with her napkin.
She was sacked soon afterwards. The bar manager told her it was a culmination of things, and spilling a drink over one of their most valued customers had been the final straw. Apparently she wasn’t suited to work which required a level of sustained calm, and she reacted in a way which was inappropriate. Secretly she’d wondered whether Xan Constantinides had got her fired. Whether he was yet another powerful man throwing his weight around and getting the world to jump when he ordered it to. Just like she wondered if he would remember her now.
Please don’t let him remember her now.
‘Would all passengers please begin boarding? The royal aircraft will be departing for Zahristan in approximately thirty minutes.’
Obeying the honeyed instruction sounding over the Tannoy, Tamsyn bent to pick up her rucksack as she rose to her feet. Didn’t matter if he remembered her because he was nothing to her. She was on this trip for one reason and that was to support Hannah on her wedding day, no matter how big her misgivings about her choice of groom. Because, despite having tried to persuade her big sister not to go through with such a fundamentally unsuitable marriage—her words had fallen on deaf ears. Either Hannah hadn’t wanted to listen, or she hadn’t dared—probably because she was carrying the desert King’s baby and there was all that stuff about him needing a legitimate heir. Tamsyn sighed as she rose to her feet. She had done everything she could to influence her sister but now she must accept the inevitable. She would pick up the pieces if necessary and be there for her—just as Hannah had always been there for her.
