by Jennie Lucas
Where she had died.
Across the cave, she saw Kareef gently calm the stallion, whispering words in ancient Qusani as he removed the pack from the horse’s haunches. He offered the horse water and food then brushed down the horse in long strokes. The sound of the brushing filled the silence of the cave. She stared at him.
Kareef always took care of everything he loved. What a father he would make.
But they could never share a child.
Not a day went by that Jasmine didn’t think about the baby she’d lost in the riding accident before she’d even known she was pregnant. Their child would have been twelve now. A little boy with his father’s blue eyes? A little girl with plump cheeks and a sweet smile?
As Kareef started a fire in the fire pit with wood left recently by Qusani nomads, a sob rose from deep inside her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking up as tears spilled down her cheeks. “It’s my fault I lost our baby.”
She heard his harsh intake of breath, and suddenly his arms were around her. Sitting against the wall of the cave, he lifted her into his lap, holding her against his chest as tenderly as a child.
“It was never your fault. Never,” he said in a low voice. “I am the only one who was to blame—”
His voice choked off as the small fire flickered light into the depths of the cave, casting red shadows over the earth. She looked up at him slowly. His face was blurry in the firelight.
She blinked, and the pain in his eyes overwhelmed her. She could hear the roar of the wind and hoarse rattle of the sand against rock outside. Instinctively, she reached out to stroke the dark hair of his bowed head. Then she stopped herself.
“You broke your promise to me, Kareef,” she said hoarsely. “You brought a doctor to this cave, after you gave your word to tell no one. Though we both knew it was too late!”
“You were dying, Jasmine!” He looked up fiercely. “I was a fool to make that promise, a fool to think I could take care of you alone, a fool to think that love alone could save you!”
“But when I lost your child and the ability to ever conceive,” she said numbly, “you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
His hands suddenly clenched around her shoulders. The dark rage in his eyes frightened her.
“I left to die,” he ground out. With a hoarse, ragged intake of breath, he released her, clawing his hand through his black hair. “I failed you. I couldn’t bear to see the blame and grief in your eyes. I went out to the desert to die.”
His voice echoed in the cool darkness of the cave.
He’d tried to die—the strong, powerful, fearless boy she’d loved? The barbarian king she’d once thought to be indestructible?
“No,” she said, “you wouldn’t.”
“One more thing I failed to do.”
Bewildered, she looked up at his handsome face, half-hidden by the shadows. “But…it wasn’t your fault.”
“I was the one who saddled Razul for you! I was the one who taunted you into climbing on his back! I wanted so badly to race with you.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I thought I could keep you safe.”
“Kareef.” Her voice was a sob. “Stop.”
But he was beyond hearing. “After the accident, I let you stay here in the cave for days, injured, without a doctor’s care. You nearly died from the infection.”
“I was trying to protect my family from the shame—”
“I brought the doctor too late, and never thought to worry about his assistant.” He gave a bitter laugh—brittle, like dead leaves blowing in the wind. “Afterward, when I disappeared into the desert, I left you believing you’d be happier without me, safe and protected by your family. It never occurred to me that the scandal could break and you’d be sent into exile. You’d already been in New York for three years before I even heard you’d left Qusay!” He leaned forward, his jaw tight. His eyes were dark in the flickering fire. “But I made him pay for what he did to you.”
Her full, pink lips trembled. “Who?”
“Marwan. When I discovered he was the one who’d started the rumors, I stripped him of everything he owned. I sent him into exile.”
A small sound escaped her lips. A rush, like a shuddering sigh. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Did you know he blackmailed me?”
“What?”
“On my journey back to the city, when I still had a fever, he threatened to tell everyone about my miscarriage. He said he’d claim I did it deliberately to rid myself of the baby. He’d say I’d had endless nameless lovers and couldn’t guess the father. He said he would ruin me.” She took a deep breath, forcing her eyes to meet his. “He would do this—unless I took him as my lover.”
Kareef sucked in his breath.
“What?” he exploded.
“He was afraid of you,” she said softly, wiping her eyes hard. “But he wasn’t afraid of me. When I wouldn’t do it, he carried through with his threat. Within days, the scandal cost my father his job at the palace. It gave his enemies the weapon they needed. If my father couldn’t control his own family, they said, how could he advise the king? So everything that happened, it’s my fault, you see.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “All my fault.”
She looked back at Kareef.
And almost didn’t recognize him.
Rage such as she’d never seen before was on his face. Rage that frightened her.
“I will kill him,” he ground out. Clenching his hands, he rose to his feet. “Wherever that man is hiding in the world, I will make him feel such pain as he cannot imagine—”
“No,” she gasped, grabbing his hand. “Please. It’s all over.” She pressed his hand against her forehead, closing her eyes. “Please, I just want to forget.”
His hand tightened, then relaxed. Slowly, he sank beside her. Kneeling, he took both her hands in his own.
“By the time I found out you were in exile…it was too late to do more than send money to New York.” His voice was ragged. “But every day since then, I’ve tried to find absolution.” He turned away. “But I know now I will never find that, no matter how hard I try.”
“Kareef,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. It was… It was…” Putting her hand on his shoulder, she stared at the smooth rock wall of the cave and the truth dawned on her. “It was an accident.”
His back slowly straightened. “What did you say?”
“An accident.” She looked at him, and it was as if the sun had broken through dark clouds, bringing light, bringing peace. Tears fell down her cheeks as she breathed, “I was barely pregnant. We didn’t know. The accident was no one’s fault. No one is to blame. We’ll never forget we almost had a child. But we need to forgive—both of us. It wasn’t your fault.”
His voice was low and thick with grief as he said, “I wish I could believe that.” He looked down at her hands. “You’re shivering.”
She was, but not with cold.
Rising to his feet, he crossed the cave. Digging through the horse’s pack, he found a red woven blanket and unfolded it near the fire. Jasmine watched his face in the flickering shadows, her heart aching.
All these years, she thought he’d blamed her—and he’d thought the same.
For her, it had been thirteen years of exile.
For him, it had been a living death.
“Here,” he said in a low voice. “You can rest here, where it is warm.” He turned away. “I will stay awake and keep watch until the storm is over.”
Trembling, Jasmine rose to her feet. She slowly walked toward him. Reaching up, she placed a hand on his cheek and forced him to look at her.
“It was an accident, Kareef,” she said, looking straight into his eyes. “You were not to blame!”
He gave a hoarse intake of breath. “Is it possible you could forgive me?” he whispered, searching her gaze. His blue eyes were deep and endless as the sea.
She stroked his cheek with her hand. Tears filled her eyes. “How could I bla
me you? You were…have always been—” my only love, her voice choked “—my dearest friend.”
She heard his ragged breath, felt the pounding of his heart against hers. His body was hot. His skin smelled of musk and sun and sand.
He looked down at her, and his gaze suddenly burned through her, stretching every nerve from her fingertips to her toes in taut anticipation as she heard the howl of the darkness outside. “And you are mine.”
Lowering his head, he kissed her.
Hidden in this cave, hidden far from the outside world and protected from the outside storm, he kissed her as if nothing and no one else existed. He pressed her against the smooth red rock wall of the cave, and she kissed him back fervently, her heart on her lips.
He abruptly pulled away from her. She blinked at him in the flickering firelight, dazed. His eyes were dark with need. Her lips felt swollen and bruised from the ferocity of his kisses—almost as bruised as her healing heart.
With a growl, he lifted her up into his arms, holding her against his hard chest as if she weighed nothing at all. She stared up at him, breathless, mesmerized by his brutal strength. She could hear the howl of the wind whipping sand outside, hear the whinny of the stallion. The small fire flickered shadowy firelight against the smooth red rock of the cave.
They were safe here. They were warm. They were together.
He lowered her gently to the blanket, then pulled off his white shirt and black pants and shoes. She gazed at his naked body in wonder as he stood before her. The muscles of his tanned body glistened in the twisting firelight.
Kneeling in front of her on the blanket, he slowly pulled off her panties beneath her dress, drawing them down her legs.
Then, with a wicked half smile, he tossed them into the fire.
“What?” she spluttered, staring at the white cotton fabric now burning beside the charred wood. “What did you do that for?”
He lifted a black eyebrow, giving her a dark look that curled her toes. “We needed fuel for the fire,” he whispered.
But a fire was already burning inside Jasmine, burning right through her, consuming her whole. He pulled her down into his lap, pulling her white skirt up to her hips. She was naked against him as he slid his hardness against her, rocking back and forth against her wet core. He leaned up to kiss her.
Hot. Hot. She was burning up, turning to ash and flame.
“Take off my dress,” she whispered. “Take it off.”
“You,” he repeated approvingly, sliding his hands over her breasts as he nipped little kisses up her neck, “are a wanton.”
With a tug, he pulled the white cotton dress up and over her shoulders and threw it down on the earth. She sat in his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist. She looked down at their naked intertwined bodies in the firelight. As he started to move against her, the soft sound of her gasps soon matched the cries of the wind outside.
The tension coiled low in her belly as he slid over her. Pleasure built inside her and then, suddenly, he lifted her up and impaled her with a single deep thrust. She gasped at the depth of his penetration.
He hadn’t just filled her body. He filled her soul.
She gripped his shoulders and let the ecstasy build inside her, higher and higher. Even when the euphoria finally ripped her to shreds, exploding her into pieces, she kept her secret hidden inside.
I love you.
I will always love you.
She couldn’t speak the words. She knew they changed nothing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FOR an instant Kareef was afraid he’d hurt her. Then she moaned, swaying against him, tightening her legs around his waist as he filled her.
He gasped at that movement, at the way her full breasts brushed against his chest. Then he pushed her down again, thrusting inside her, filling her so deeply a growl escaped the back of his throat.
Firelight cast shadows over her beautiful face, her full, swollen lips, and the long dark eyelashes tightly closed in an expression of joy. Watching her, he held his breath with the effort it took to hold himself back.
He was inside her, but she was the one who filled him.
Jasmine. Her beauty. Her boundless sensuality. She swayed against him with the decadent grace of a houri. Beads of sweat were like clear pearls on her white, swanlike neck as she leaned back, gasping. The veil of her dark, glossy hair cascaded down her back, swinging back and forth as she kept her eyes closed, panting for breath.
Lifting her head with his hand, he kissed her. She gasped her pleasure against his mouth, gripping his shoulders, biting into his flesh with her fingernails, marking him in her own act of possession.
The force of his taking was primal—unstoppable. He heard her cry out and could hold back no longer. He gripped her against his body as he poured himself into her with a shout.
He collapsed back on the red blanket, holding her against him. He did not know when he woke. She was still sleeping in his arms.
They were both naked. The fire was dying. The night was growing cold, the darkness growing around them.
He felt her shiver. He looked down at her face. She was sleeping, her cheek pressed against his chest. Her beauty went beyond her dark hair or perfect pink lips. It went deeper than her pale skin with roses in her cheeks.
Even after all the times he’d made love to her, he did not feel satiated. And he was starting to fear he never would be.
He did not want to divorce her.
Silently, Kareef withdrew himself from beneath her body and rose to his feet. Crossing the cave, he pulled a second blanket from the horse’s pack. Crawling back beside her, he covered them both with it, wrapping her in his arms. He knew, even in sleep, he would not let her go.
Growing drowsy, he looked down at her sleeping against him. He wanted her like this every night. In his bed. At his table. On his arm. Charming diplomats with her beauty. Dancing in his arms.
With her beauty and gentle grace, Jasmine would be the perfect queen. But…
His jaw tightened as he stared at the dying fire.
He still had to divorce her. He had to provide an heir of the blood. The Al’Ramizes had reigned Qusay for a thousand years. His cousin Xavian had given up the throne when he’d learned he was a changeling, a substitute for a lost Al’Ramiz child.
Blood meant everything. It gave the Al’Ramiz men the right to rule. Not just the right—the obligation. And Jasmine could never become pregnant with his child.
His throat became tight. He looked away, staring at the bumps and rocks of scattered earth illuminated by the fading embers of the fire. Outside, he could hear the rattle of the sand against the solid rocks of the cliffs, hear the wind wailing in disappointed fury as it slowly died.
He slept fitfully, holding her tight.
“Kareef.” Her naked body stirred in his arms. “Are you awake?”
Her voice was like a dream, full of sweet warmth, offering such peace. He slowly opened his eyes.
At the mouth of the cave, above the piles of new sand, he saw the gray light of dawn creeping over the western mountains. The wind had died down. The desert was calm. He could hear the plaintive sound of morning birds, hear the soft whinny of the stallion hungry for breakfast.
It was morning. The storm was over.
Their time was over.
Unwillingly, he turned to Jasmine. Her face was like cool water, a balm to his spirit. Her brown eyes reflected deep pools of light. But it only made the pain worse.
He did not want to let her go.
“It’s barely dawn,” he lied softly. His arms tightened around her. “Go back to sleep.”
For a moment, she rested against him, and silence fell in the cool darkness of the cave. Then she shifted in his arms and her head popped up to look down at him. “Do you think your men are looking for us?”
“Yes,” he said. “They will be here soon.”
He heard her intake of breath, felt her pull away from him on the blanket. When she spoke, her voice was curiously flat.
“Then it’s time.”
“Time?”
“Time for you to divorce me.”
He looked up at her. Her expression had turned to stone, the pools of light shuttered and gone. She glanced over at the black fabric now crumpled on the other side of the cave.
“I know you have the emerald,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said, his jaw tight. “I brought it with me.”
“So eager to be rid of me?”
“I promised to set you free.”
She lifted her chin, her expression a mixture of bravado and pain. “So do it.”
Kareef’s hands tightened into fists.
Jasmine was right. It was time. The storm was over, and his men were no doubt grimly combing the desert. Soon, they’d be found, and Kareef would return to Shafar. Back to the royal palace, back to his endless duties. He would be hosting a royal banquet tonight.
Then, tomorrow, he would attend the Qais Cup. And witness the wedding of Jasmine Kouri to Umar Hajjar.
It was dawn. The magic was over.
“Kareef?” Jasmine looked at him, her eyes swimming with misery.
She felt the same as he did, he realized. She did not want this divorce.
The knowledge flooded him with sudden strength.
So he would not give her up. Not yet. He wasn’t done with her yet.
“No,” he growled. “I won’t speak the words yet.”
“But Kareef,” she choked out, “you know you must!”
“Must?” He sat up. His shoulders straightened as his whole body became as unyielding as steel. He looked down at her, as selfish and ruthless and harsh as any ancient sultan.
“There is no must,” he growled, lifting his chin as his eyes glittered down at her. “I’m the king of Qusay. And until I release you, you belong to me.”
You belong to me.
Jasmine shivered at the words. She could not deny them. She did belong to Kareef. She always had, body and soul.
But he was king of Qusay. He could not keep a barren woman as his bride. And she couldn’t openly remain his mistress. Such a scandal would make the one thirteen years ago seem like nothing.
