Crowned At The Desert King's Command (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Jackie Ashenden

  She was a such a pretty, pretty thing.

  And in addition to her steel he’d also had a glimpse of her passion that night beside the fountain, and he wanted to test it. Wanted to see if that passion truly did extend to him. Because her desire was going to be fairly crucial when it came to the provision of an heir; he would never force himself on an unwilling bride.

  He’d held that strawberry out towards her, a challenge for her to accept, and accept it she had. He’d taken advantage, brushing the strawberry over her luscious mouth, watching her eyes grow round and then glow bright. Watching as her small white teeth had sunk into the flesh of the berry, taking a bite. When he’d withdrawn his hand he’d allowed his fingers to brush her lower lip, and it had been just as soft and silky as it had looked.

  The memory of that mouth had taunted him for the past two days, no matter how many meetings and other duties he’d immersed himself in, and he couldn’t seem to stop looking at it now. It was just as full as it had been that night, just as pink, and now sheened lightly with water.

  Perhaps he needed to test her again, push her further. See how receptive she was so he knew what he’d be dealing with come their wedding night.

  Slowly, he moved over to where she stood, then stopped in front of her. She tipped her head back to look at him, folding her arms again, but he saw the movement of her throat as she swallowed and noted the flicker of apprehension in her eyes as he came close.

  He’d seen that same apprehension that night beside the fountain, but he’d put it down to shock. He had, after all, delivered an ultimatum with which she hadn’t been at all happy. However, it surely wasn’t shock now, so what could it be? She liked his body—that wasn’t the issue—so it had to be something else. But what?

  ‘I thought you said you were not afraid of me,’ he murmured.

  She blinked. Clearly she hadn’t expected him to notice. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘But you are afraid?’

  ‘N-no.’

  The stutter was slight, but he caught it, narrowing his gaze and studying her more intently. ‘Do not lie to me, Charlotte.’

  She shifted in the water as he said her name, as if the sound of it affected her in some way.

  ‘Well, okay. I suppose I am a little...apprehensive. But that’s only because you’re not wearing anything.’

  ‘I will be your husband,’ he pointed out. ‘My not wearing anything is something you will have to get used to.’

  Her blush deepened. The line of her shoulders was tense, and he had the odd urge to put his hands on her and stroke that tension away, ease her fear. But that would set a dangerous precedent, and not one he could afford.

  And besides, he had the sense that it wasn’t actually his nakedness that was the problem.

  He took another experimental step towards her, watching as her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. And then something else flickered to life in the deep blue of her gaze.

  Oh, she was bothered by him—of that he had no doubt. But it wasn’t because she was afraid of him.

  ‘So,’ she said, quickly and sharply, as if she were using the words to stop him in his tracks. ‘What do you want for a phone call?’

  Momentarily distracted, he did stop. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re very fond of ultimatums. “Marry me or your father stays here. Get in the pool if you want to discuss a phone call.”’ Her chin lifted even higher. ‘So now I’m in the pool, what do you want in return for giving me that call? Because I can sense an ultimatum coming already, believe me.’

  He might have found fault with the accusing note in her voice had he not already decided that she was using the phone call issue as a distraction. He also knew what she was trying to distract him from. But, unfortunately for her, it wasn’t going to work. Since he’d decided on marriage securing the succession was going to be important, and he couldn’t leave anything to chance.

  Such as her being bothered by her own response to him.

  ‘What is disturbing you, ya amar?’ He took another step closer. ‘Tell me the truth so we can discuss it.’

  ‘The phone call—’

  ‘It is not the phone call,’ he interrupted flatly, taking yet another step, until mere inches separated them. ‘You are afraid, and I do not think it is me you are afraid of, but yourself.’

  She hadn’t moved, yet her tension was obvious as her head tipped back so she could look up at him. The colour of her eyes had darkened and her mouth was slightly open, the pulse at the base of her throat racing.

  ‘I...’ she said hoarsely. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I think you do.’ He reached out and slid a careful hand behind her head, pushing his fingers through her wet hair and cradling the back of her skull in his palm.

  She stiffened, and he could feel the tension in her neck, see it in the awkward way she was trying to hold herself away from him.

  ‘Your Majesty...’

  ‘“Your Majesty” is unnecessary. You may call me Tariq.’

  Her throat moved as she swallowed, her gaze pinned to his. ‘I’m happy with Your Majesty.’

  Stubborn girl.

  ‘You cannot call your husband Your Majesty,’ he said, amused. ‘Say my name, Charlotte.’

  He stroked his thumb over the tight muscles at her nape, watching as her eyes darkened even further, her pupils dilating into black. Oh, yes, she was certainly responsive to him, and it was exactly the kind of response he’d been hoping for.

  ‘T-Tariq.’

  His name was soft and smoky sounding, the slight stutter of it somehow erotic.

  Ah, perfect.

  He could feel himself harden, his own pulse beginning to ramp up. The slow melt of her resistance was unexpectedly seductive. Going slowly and carefully had never appealed to him much before, but he could certainly see the allure now.

  ‘That’s better.’ He drew her close, so they were almost touching, continuing to stroke the back of her neck, soothing her. ‘You know, do you not, that wanting one’s husband is perfectly acceptable?’

  She was breathing very fast, her gaze dropping to his mouth and staying there. ‘I... I don’t want you.’

  He nearly smiled at the obviousness of the lie. ‘Of course you do not. That is why you have not told me to stop.’

  Charlotte drew in another shaky little breath, yet her gaze didn’t move from his mouth and her head lay heavy in the palm of his hand, the tension bleeding out of her muscles completely.

  ‘I should.’

  ‘Why?’ He searched her flushed face. ‘Physical desire is nothing to be afraid of.’

  She gave him a brief, fleeting look before she looked away again. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve...never felt it before.’

  So... All of this was new to her. Perhaps she was even a virgin...

  A deep possessiveness he hadn’t known was inside him stirred, along with a satisfaction that would have disturbed him if he’d thought about it in any depth.

  But he didn’t want to think about it in any depth, so he didn’t.

  ‘You feel it now.’ He didn’t make it a question.

  Her lashes fell, her gaze once more going to his mouth, as if she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t speak. But then she didn’t need to. He knew the answer already.

  Of course she felt it.

  ‘Say it again,’ he murmured. ‘My name.’

  ‘Tariq...’

  The word had barely left her lips before he’d bent and covered them with his in a feather-light kiss. A mere brush across her mouth. To taste her and tempt her. To test their undeniable physical chemistry.

  She went very still, her body trembling.

  He’d intended to end the kiss almost as soon as it had started, thinking that would be sufficient, and yet he found he couldn’t pull away, that something inside h
im was catching fire.

  He touched his tongue to her bottom lip instead, tracing the line of it the way he’d traced it with that strawberry, and she trembled even harder. Then her lips were softening, opening for him, and he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, allowing his tongue to sweep in and taste her.

  Oh, so sweet... Like that strawberry. Like honey. Like the late-summer wine that came from the vineyards in the valley to the south.

  He spread his hand out on the back of her head, his fingers pushing into her hair, holding her still as he kissed her more deeply, chasing that sweetness.

  She gave a little throaty moan. The sound made all the blood in his body rush to a certain part of his anatomy, and all of a sudden the kiss turned hot—far hotter than he’d intended.

  This was supposed to be a test. For her, not for him. And yet he found that he was the one on the edge of control.

  He wanted her robe gone. Her bikini gone. He wanted her naked and up against the wall of the pool. He wanted to be inside her.

  Her hands touched his chest, her fingers pure electricity on his skin.

  If you do not stop now, that is exactly what will happen.

  And it must not. He knew what happened when he didn’t control himself...when he let passion get the better of him. Distance—that was what his father had taught him. Distance and detachment. And that was not what was happening now.

  It took every ounce of will he had, but he managed it, tearing his mouth from hers and letting her go.

  She was staring at him in shock, her mouth full and red from the kiss, her eyes round as saucers and dark as midnight.

  ‘I will arrange your phone call,’ he said brusquely.

  Then he turned around and left the pool before she could say a word.

  ‘I don’t like it, Charlotte.’

  Her father’s voice sounded cracked and tinny down the phone.

  ‘I don’t like it at all.’

  Charlotte gripped the phone Tariq had handed to her hard and tried to ignore her future husband, standing on the other side of the desk, his face impassive.

  He’d been as good as his word in arranging the call, though he’d offered no explanation for his sudden change of heart. She thought it might have something to do with what had happened between them in the baths the day before, but she wasn’t sure.

  She was trying very hard not to think about that herself. Though it was difficult when he’d insisted on remaining in the room while she spoke to her father, watching her with his intent golden stare.

  ‘It’s okay, Dad,’ she said, trying to be reassuring. ‘Like I was saying, we met and...f-fell in love, and he asked me to marry him. And I said yes.’

  ‘But it’s only been three days,’ her father pointed out, sounding cross.

  ‘Isn’t that how long it took you to decide to marry Mum?’

  Her parents had had a mad, passionate, whirlwind romance—at least that was what her father had said, always bitterly—followed by a quick wedding. And then, years later, an acrimonious divorce.

  With her in the middle.

  She was suddenly even more conscious of Tariq, just on the other side of the desk, staring at her intensely. His presence was intimidating, pressing in on her, making her skin prickle with heat at the memory of his mouth on hers, the feeling of his hand cradling the back of her head, his body tall and powerful and so achingly close.

  Speaking of mad and passionate...

  That had been her yesterday, at the baths. Her heartbeat had been frantic, her skin too tight and too hot. She’d been overwhelmed by him, by the taste of him—something indescribable that reminded her of dense, rich, hot chocolate. Sweet and decadent and dark.

  She should have stopped him, but when he’d touched her she hadn’t even been able to remember why it was wrong to want him anyway. He’d told her that physical desire wasn’t anything to be afraid of and in that moment, with the way he’d held her and the gentleness with which he’d explored her, fear had been the last thing she’d felt. All she’d been conscious of was her hunger. For him.

  Her pulse was beating hard now, almost drowning out her father’s voice.

  ‘Yes, that’s true,’ he was saying. ‘But look what happened there. That woman ruined my life and nearly destroyed my career, while she got to swan off with her divorce settlement, footloose and fancy-free.’

  Meaning without the millstone of her daughter hanging around her neck, presumably, though Charlotte didn’t ask him that. She knew his thoughts on the matter. If she hadn’t got so afraid and run off during one of their more bitter arguments, staying out the whole night while her parents called the police, trying to find her, her mother might have continued to fight the custody battle and would probably have won.

  But her mother hadn’t continued to fight. She’d deemed Charlotte too much of a problem and left her with her father.

  ‘Well,’ her father went on crossly, not waiting for her to speak, ‘I suppose if that’s what you want to do, then that’s what you want to do. But now I’ll have to find myself a new bloody assistant.’

  So he might never see his daughter again and all he could think about was hiring a new assistant?

  Did you expect it to be different? For him to care?

  No—and that was the sad thing. She didn’t. He’d never made a secret of how unhappy he’d been when he was granted full custody of her, how she’d limited him in terms of his career, and how if she hadn’t gone running off that night things would have been different.

  The fact that she’d tried very hard not to be an impediment to his career as a kid, and then as an adult—had actively tried to help him with it, in fact—didn’t seem to register.

  ‘Sorry, Dad,’ she said, not knowing what else to say. The pressure of Tariq’s gaze was like a weight, pressing down on her.

  ‘Can’t be helped, I suppose,’ her father muttered. ‘Look, I’d better go. These soldiers look like they’re ready to get rid of me. Speak soon.’

  The call disconnected.

  He doesn’t care and you know it.

  Her eyes prickled, which made her angry. Because, yes, she did know it. She always had. The professor resented her, so why she kept trying to change his mind about her she had no idea.

  He’s all you have—that’s why.

  But that didn’t bear thinking about—especially not with Tariq still staring at her so intently. She didn’t want him knowing how little she was valued by the only important person in her life, and she especially didn’t want him seeing her tears.

  So she swallowed down the lump in her throat, blinked the moisture from her eyes and handed him back the phone. ‘Thank you,’ she said, pleased that her voice at least sounded level. ‘I don’t think there will be any repercussions for you.’

  He took the phone and slid it back into his pocket, but his gaze didn’t leave her face. ‘What did he say to you?’

  So he’d picked up on her upset. Wonderful.

  ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business.’

  ‘You will be my wife soon,’ he said flatly. ‘Everything you do is my business.’

  There was a stillness to him, an intensity that unnerved her. Though that wasn’t the only unnerving thing about him. In suit trousers and a black business shirt open at the neck, displaying bronze skin and the beat of a strong pulse, he had a charisma that was undeniable.

  She found herself staring at that pulse and thinking about what it would be like if she brushed her mouth over it. What his skin would taste like. What he would do if she did that...

  ‘Charlotte,’ he said softly. ‘Up here.’

  She jerked her gaze up to his, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. Because of course he’d know exactly what she was thinking—like he had in the baths yesterday. She’d tried to hide it, tried to distract him with her request for a phone call,
but he hadn’t been deflected. He’d been relentless, getting the truth out of her whether she wanted to give it to him or not.

  You liked giving it to him.

  The taste of him was suddenly in her mouth, the memory of his lips on hers scorching.

  ‘He said nothing,’ she murmured thickly, trying to shove the memories from her head. ‘Just that he’d have to get a new assistant.’

  The gold of Tariq’s eyes was molten, the heat in them like the desert sun. As if he was angry. But she couldn’t imagine why he would be.

  ‘That is all?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It upset you?’

  ‘Of course it upset me.’ She tried to keep her voice level. ‘He’s my father and now I’ll never see him again.’

  Tariq’s gaze narrowed. ‘I do not think that is why you are upset.’

  But she didn’t want to have this particular conversation. She felt too raw, too uncertain. There was the pain of her father’s dismissal and her own anger, as well as the press of that unfamiliar hunger every time she looked at the Sheikh, standing behind his desk. The memory of his kiss still burned in her mind and she didn’t want it there.

  She looked away. ‘Perhaps we could talk about this at a different time? I have to—’

  She didn’t hear him move, but he must have done because suddenly one large hand was cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin. ‘You hoped for more from him?’

  Her heart was beating loudly in her ears again and his body was inches away. His palm against her skin was hot, and part of her wanted to jerk away while another part wanted to lean into his touch. It had been such a long time since anyone had touched her quite like this. A long time since anyone had been interested in her feelings.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ she said, not sure why she was telling him this when she’d been so determined not to. ‘I hoped he might be upset that he wouldn’t see me again rather than because he’d have to get a new assistant.’

  His thumb brushed her cheek again and she didn’t want to look at him. Because he was too close and that raw feeling in her chest wouldn’t go away. Those golden eyes of his would see her vulnerability all too easily, and he’d know how badly her father’s easy dismissal had hurt.