Читать книгу Midnight in the Desert Collection - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 43

LATER THAT EVENING, Lauren left the bedroom, having dressed in a pair of cream-colored denims and a light-green blouse. As she entered the sitting room she heard Rafi’s knock on the door before he entered wearing a dark silk shirt and dark trousers. He was the epitome of manhood. His name came out in a whisper.

“Good evening, Lauren. How did your day go?”

She smiled. “As if you didn’t know. I was paid a visit by the Princess Farah. That was your doing, so don’t deny it.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He smiled back. “The day can hang heavy while you’re recuperating alone.”

“It went by fast for me. She’s a lovely person. We had tea and biscuits. Tomorrow she’s going to take me on a tour of the grounds.” All the time she was talking, his eyes roamed over her face and figure, causing a suffocating feeling in her chest.

“Speaking of tours, I’m off duty now and thought you might like to see the main rooms of the palace. We’ll eat dinner here in your room afterward.”

Lauren closed her eyes tightly to catch her breath before opening them again. “I’d hoped to take a tour while I was visiting here.”

He spread his hands in a way she was beginning to recognize as purely him. “Then I’m happy I can grant your wish. Perhaps your travel agency didn’t know, but I’ve had to order the interior of the palace off limits to the public. In these modern times, there’s too much danger to take risks.”

She blinked. “I didn’t know. If that sandstorm hadn’t happened …”

Lines suddenly marred his handsome features. “Then we would never have met unless fate had deemed it otherwise. Shall we go?”

For the next hour Lauren wandered with him through room after room, marveling over the ancient citadel, which was a museum in and of itself. She wouldn’t know where to begin describing the tiles on the floors and walls, the cutwork ceilings, the tapestries and urns, the sweeping staircases, all the trappings of a great empire.

In one of the great rooms, Rafi pointed out the lineage of the Shafeeq dynasty. Lining the walls were enormous framed oil portraits of the sheikhs. Each had a name plate, but Lauren couldn’t read them. “What are their names?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes. I think Arabic is a beautiful language. The names sound so different to my ear.”

The comment seemed to please him. He turned to the portrait at the far end. With expert recall he gave her a short, stunning history of each one. In time they came to the second picture from the end.

“This one is Sheikh Malik Ghazi. The royal family calls him the great one.”

Lauren’s heart thudded painfully hard. It was almost impossible to believe she was standing in front of the likeness of her grandfather when he was maybe thirty years old. She’d already been given a description of him by her grandmother. The newspaper picture of him hadn’t done him justice. He was everything Celia had said he was, and more.

Dark and splendid … like Rafi who had that same aura of authority, the fierce warrior look that could inspire followers and terrify their enemies. Lauren was furious with herself that she couldn’t stop obsessing over this enigmatic man.

From the beginning he’d been careful to let her know he was still enjoying his bachelor status. One of these days soon she would have to leave the Oasis. For her own sake she didn’t dare get in any deeper.

“Why did they call him that?”

“His father died young. King Malik had to take over the affairs of the kingdom at nineteen.”

“That’s too young to have such great responsibility, don’t you think?” It was a miracle he’d had time for her grandmother.

“It is what it is.”

Lauren had to smile at another one of those fatalistic comments she’d heard fall from his compelling lips. “I can’t imagine it.”

“He’s the one who united many neighboring tribes and made our nation a greater kingdom than it was before.”

Her mouth had gone so dry, she didn’t know if she could enunciate clearly. “Is he still alive?”

“No. He died suddenly four months ago. Dr Tamam said his heart just stopped beating.”

Celia had died a mere two months ago.

The timing of their deaths shook Lauren to the core. “How old was he when he passed away?”

“Eighty-one.”

“Then he had a long full life, like Johara.” Quiet reigned before he nodded. “An astute observation.”

“Is that how she’ll die?”

“Maybe. I could hope she’ll be in flight and free when it happens. Birds weren’t meant to be tamed.”

“That’s a surprising statement coming from you.”

He flashed her a glance she couldn’t decipher. “Lately I’m a mass of contradictions.”

She sensed he didn’t want to talk about it anymore and moved on to the last portrait. “I take it this is the king to whom I’m beholden beyond my ability to repay. King Umar Jalal Shafeeq,” she said aloud. “I’m sorry for the bad pronunciation. His name and image were stamped on my entry visa.”

“You said it well,” he came back.

“I know he has a kind heart or I wouldn’t be his guest. Is he a good king, too? You don’t have to answer that if you can’t, or don’t want to.”

A light flickered in Rafi’s black eyes. “The world could learn from a leader like him.”

Lauren’s mother had been the king’s half sister … How sad they had never had a chance to meet.

“Then he must be the best and you’ll always want to work for him.” Lauren took a deep breath. “Thank you for showing me this fabulous palace and giving me this much of your time.” She bit her lip. “It’s clear you’re one of the king’s right hands, but you don’t have to spend any more time with me.”

He angled his head toward her. “Lauren, do I detect some fear that I’ll beat you at cards tonight?”

“Yes,” she lied, because being with him any longer meant she might make a fool of herself and do something with this man that she might one day regret.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a devilish twist of his lips. “If I win, I’ll only take a few more bites out of you.” She could still feel his mouth against her throat and Lauren’s heartbeat increased to a dangerous level.

When they reached her suite, their dinner had been put on the low round table where they could eat and play cards at the same time. Rafi had thought of everything.

They sat down and got into the game in earnest, enjoying their food in between shuffles. In the end, she beat him again, this time by a much larger margin. Lauren decided he’d allowed her to win, but she didn’t care. It was enough to be together and Lauren suddenly had the oddest sensation that it could go on forever.

He put the cards in a stack and shoved it to the center of the table. “Since you’ve won hands-down, what prize do you want from me?” Rafi reached for her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. “Name it and it’s yours.” Shock waves traveled through her body.

“Do you think before I leave the Oasis it would be possible for me to visit the place where the sandstorm overtook the caravan?”

His brows formed a black bar above his eyes, changing the tenor of the evening. She wished now she hadn’t brought it up. “Tell me, Lauren, why would you want to return to the spot that could only hold a devastating memory for you?”

“The maid has never found my medallion. Dr. Tamam said they made a search of the clinic, but it wasn’t there. I think when Mustafa pulled me off the camel, he must have caused my chain to break and it’s buried somewhere in the sand. I would give anything to recover it.”

Rashad’s dark head went back while he examined her features. “Don’t you realize that if the medallion is out in the desert, it’s buried beneath a mound of sand?”

“I’m sure you’re right,” she said in a subdued voice.

“You look tired,” he said, helping her to her feet. “I’m going to say goodnight and will see you tomorrow.” Instead of another bite from her throat, he kissed her forehead and disappeared so fast, she didn’t have a chance to call him back.

She should have kept quiet about the medallion. Here he’d done everything humanly possible to make her happy since her accident, and she’d rewarded him by asking for another favor. In making that request, she’d stepped over a line. His swift departure left her under no delusions on that score. She wouldn’t blame him if he thought she was the most selfish female alive.

Resolute, she sat down at the desk and composed a letter to the king, thanking him for his generous hospitality and the services of the clinic doctor and his chief of security. After that she wrote a note to Rafi.

When she’d finished, she put them outside the suite door, then walked over to the desk and dialed number one. A male voice came on the line. “This is Nazir. How may I help you, mademoiselle?”

“Forgive me for bothering you this late, but I’d like to leave the palace in the morning and I need a driver to take me to a hotel. Could you arrange that for me?”

“Of course. I will send someone to your room after you’ve been served your breakfast.”

“Thank you very much. One more thing. There are two letters outside my door. Would you make certain they are delivered?”

“Certainly.”

She hung up the phone, wishing the travel agency she’d called in Montreux would ring her back. They’d promised to arrange for helicopter transportation for her from Al-Shafeeq to El-Joktor and would phone her with the details.

Lauren had come here with questions about her grandmother and the romance she had encountered with Malik. But now she had seen firsthand how captivating this desert kingdom was. She might not have answers to all her questions, but she knew one thing for sure. She needed to get away from the man who had captured her own heart; she needed to get away from Rafi.

Rashad had just gotten off the phone with Farah when Nazir came to his suite with two envelopes and informed him Mademoiselle Viret wished to leave the palace in the morning. That didn’t surprise him.

He told Nazir he’d take care of it. After he left, Rashad stood in the middle of his sitting room and opened the envelope addressed to his father first. After reading it, he turned to the one meant for him.

Dear Rafi,

Princess Farah said neither you or Dr. Tamam wanted payment for your actions during the sandstorm. I’m left with no choice but to simply thank you for saving my life. I’ll never forget you. Lauren.

Her sentiment worked both ways. Rashad had wanted her so much tonight, he’d felt as though he was dying. He’d never known hunger like this before. It went beyond the physical to some other place, sending the same kind of shivers racing across his bronzed skin he’d felt when he’d picked her up in his arms the first time.

That same chemistry had been instantaneous for her, too. He remembered the second she’d awakened to discover him holding her hand at the bedside. She hadn’t spoken for a long time. That was because a white-hot heat more blazing than the desert sun had enveloped them through no volition of their own. The harder they’d fought it, the more intense their desire had grown.

Though he believed she had an agenda, no human could simulate the chemistry between them. Tonight those heavenly green eyes had seduced him, willing him to make love to her.

Throughout his life he’d known temptation and had been able to withstand it because he was his father’s son and had a sacred duty to uphold. If he hadn’t been careful all these years, he would be dead by now. His father had trusted no one and neither did he, least of all this beautiful flesh-and-blood creature with flaxen hair and peridot eyes sent to weaken his defenses.

And he knew she’d been sent.

Tonight Farah had phoned and given him the proof. At first he’d thought she hadn’t told him anything that could help him. By the tone of Farah’s voice, Rashad thought Lauren had won his sister over completely. Just when he’d decided Farah hadn’t discovered anything that could help him, she’d mentioned the Garden of the Moon.

That was the clue he’d been waiting for. Every alarm in Rashad’s hard body had gone off. He’d found a link to the medallion and was getting closer to an answer.

Wasting no time, he’d phoned Mustafa who had sworn an oath he’d never said anything about the Garden of the Moon to Mademoiselle Viret. According to him, the foreigner had been unusually quiet and had appeared deep in thought throughout the entire journey.

Rashad believed him.

He finally went to bed, determined that over the next few days he would get a confession out of her, starting by giving her what she wanted first.

“Good morning, mademoiselle. I’m Nazir.” The fortyish-looking man stood in the doorway wearing traditional Arab robes. He broke into a smile. “We spoke on the phone last night, but haven’t yet met. I’ve been instructed to accompany you to the western gate.”

“Thank you for coming. Did you get the letters?”

“Yes. They’ve been delivered.”

So fast? “Excellent. Well, I’m ready.” She started to pick up her suitcases, but he said, “Leave them in here.”

Lauren frowned. “Leave them? I don’t understand.”

He spread his hands. “All will be explained if you will accompany me.”

This meant Rafi had gotten her note and knew of her plans. As head of security, nothing went on in the palace he didn’t know about. “Very well.”

Once out the door she followed Nazir along one corridor and down another she hadn’t seen before. The palace was like a small city. Eventually they came to a portico and he led her beyond it to a glorious garden of palms and desert plants growing outside the palace.

Nazir made a gesture with his hands. “This way, please.”

Several hundred yards off in the distance she spied a helicopter gleaming in the sun. She walked toward it, curious to know what was going on. Closer now she saw three men inside, one at the controls. Another one jumped down wearing tall leather boots.

There was no mistaking Rafi in a khaki shirt and trousers. She didn’t like admitting it, but just seeing his burnished face and those strong hands on his hips in a totally male stance sent an explosion of excitement through her body. It wasn’t fair for one man to be that endowed. She’d hoped to put distance between them, but such wasn’t the case.

“How are you this morning, Lauren?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“We’ll see.” He moved closer, pressing the back of his hand to her cheeks and forehead. After receiving her note, he could be excused for wondering why she’d made plans to leave the palace without telling him last night.

His touch electrified her, never mind his black eyes that reduced her insides to pulp. “I—I don’t have a fever,” her voice faltered.

“Let me be the judge of that,” came his answer in a smoky tone. He wasn’t talking about the state of her health. With a comment like that, Lauren wasn’t sure if her legs would hold her up.

“Are you satisfied?”

“I guess I’ll have to be,” he murmured. “If you’re still intent on visiting the site of the sandstorm, the king has put a pilot at your disposal.”

Her debt to the king continued to grow, but of course it was Rafi who made things happen. “I shouldn’t have said anything to you last night. You’ve all done more than enough for me.”

“It won’t take long. Have you flown in a helicopter before?”

“Yes. Many times, in fact.”

“Then let’s be off. Just remember we’re flying to the sun’s anvil. It’ll be 122 degrees Fahrenheit, if not more, so beware.”

On that note he helped her inside. His hands rested on her hips longer than necessary before she climbed in the back and strapped herself in the seat. It was all she could do not to turn around and launch herself into his arms.

The man next to her in Arab dress smiled at her. He had to have noticed what had transpired while Rafi was assisting her.

This was madness. Shame over her desire for him drove her to keep her eyes trained on the desert. The rotors whined. When liftoff occurred, she didn’t once look ahead to where she’d be able to see the back of his head.

Instead she stared out her window and watched as the palace and finally the small green settlement of the Oasis itself disappeared. It was almost frightening to see nothing but sand below, an entirely different perspective from the air than on the ground.

They flew on into a world of nothing but undulating sand dunes forming their own fantastically shaped hills and valleys, untouched except for scorching sun and air. Out in this vast expanse, you had no sense of direction but for the sun which was almost at its zenith, denoting noon.

The pilot knew where they were, with today’s technology, he could pinpoint the exact spot where the sandstorm had come upon her caravan. The real marvel were the Bedouins of the desert who’d been crossing these sands for millennia and had their own ways of functioning day and night in such an inhospitable wilderness. Yet for all that it had a terrifying beauty.

No sign of brown mountains sweeping across the horizon like a tsunami today. Maybe Rafi had been right and it hadn’t been her appointed time to die. Instead fate had delivered her into his arms. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out her thoughts of him, but it did no good.

From the first moment she’d heard his deep voice and had felt his hand swallow hers—even before she saw him—she’d felt him to her very soul.

“Lauren? We’ve arrived.”

At the sound of his voice, she let out a little cry of surprise and opened her eyes. She’d been so buried in her own torturous thoughts, she hadn’t realized they’d landed.

“If you’re feeling unwell, we’ll return to the palace.” What made him think there was something wrong? She didn’t understand.

He opened the door and got out. When she climbed forward, he put an impersonal hand on her upper arm to assist her as she jumped into the sand, but an electric current ran through her body just the same. They’d landed in a valley with gigantic mounds of sand spreading in every direction. The pilot stayed at the controls. The other man climbed out and walked a distance off.

Stunned to be that little granule of sand again, she looked all around before flicking Rafi a glance. “Where did it happen exactly?”

“According to the pilot, beneath this mound in front of you. I flew your body from here to the palace in the hope you could be revived.”

She gasped because the sand dune in front of her rose at least twenty feet. Its smooth crescent shape ran the length of the horizon. Lauren took several steps forward, but with each thrust, her foot sank and it took effort to pull it out.

How foolish of her to think she could come out here and find anything, let alone her medallion! It was buried here somewhere, forever. The knowledge seemed to bring an end to an era for Lauren.

Her grandmother, her grandfather, the medallion—all were gone. The end of the beginning or the beginning of the end? Whatever, it was written in the sand now.

Her shoulders started to shake as tears began falling. She hung her head because she was beginning to sound like Rafi. She needed to get out of here and start a new life for herself, maybe in America? Wherever, she knew she needed to be somewhere far away from everything that reminded her of the past, away from him.

She felt him approach her side. Her body came alive whenever he was around and the sensations were so new, so different that they upset her. She didn’t know where to go with her new feelings for him. “You warned me, Rafi, but please don’t say anything. I only need five more minutes.”

The suffocating air was so hot that the moisture evaporated as it dripped off her chin. Though he obeyed her, he didn’t go away. Instead he wrapped his arms around her neck from behind so the tears fell on his bronzed skin. He pressed his chin in her hair and drew her into him in a protective gesture where she felt the steady pounding of his heart against her back.

For the moment he was comforting her like he might a child. Unfortunately the warmth from his hard-muscled body and his great strength increased her desire for him. She’d known such desire existed after listening to her grandmother, but she’d never felt its power until now.

This physical thing between them was sublime torture for her, tapping into her deepest emotions. She couldn’t hold back the tears. They burst over the dam. How long she sobbed, she didn’t know. Twice now she’d fallen apart in his arms.

She couldn’t fathom leaving him and this place where life and death had taken on an entirely new meaning. Her grandmother had been faced with the same decision, but somehow she’d found the will to walk away from King Malik.

How did she do that?

Lauren didn’t have Celia’s resolve. Never to see Rafi again …

Ashamed because she was making a spectacle of herself, she sniffed hard and moved out of his arms to walk back to the helicopter on her own. This time it was the other man who helped her inside. She thanked him and the pilot before Rafi climbed in and shut the door.

Once more they were off, winging through the sky with no trace of clouds. Nothing but hot, hot blue, the sun reflecting off the sand sculptures below and the haunting profile of a man who was larger than life to her. Larger than her grandmother’s sheikh. For the rest of Lauren’s days, that picture would remain indelibly carved on her consciousness.

The men talked back and forth. She noticed Rafi speaking into his headset. Lauren could imagine that they had much more to do with their time than ferry around the American who must appeared spoiled to them, but as she was a guest of the king, they had their orders. When she got back to the palace, she intended to stay in her room for the rest of the day.

Rafi put out a hand to help her down from the helicopter. “Enjoy your afternoon. We’ll talk later,” he said before walking swiftly away in another direction, taking her heart with him. Nazir stood by to escort her back to the palace.

Now that another duty was done, Rafi could get back to his job as head of security. That was as it should be, she told herself, but her pain at watching him disappear sent her on a churning, downward spiral as she followed Nazir along various corridors.

She thought they looked different from the other ones. Before she could question him, Princess Farah came out of a set of doors wearing riding clothes. She smiled at Lauren.

“I’m so glad you are back. I just returned from a horseback ride with my husband, come inside and have a swim with me. We’ll eat lunch by the pool.”

“That sounds lovely, but I didn’t bring a suit.”

“I have many I haven’t even worn.” She glanced at Nazir. “Thank you for finding her.” He said something back in Arabic and walked away.

They entered a fabulous octagonal room with a round swimming pool and a high ceiling of fretwork and inlaid tiles. “You were looking for me?”

“Yes. I thought you might like to go riding with me, but found out you’d already left your suite.”

“Your father arranged for me to fly out to the place where the sandstorm hit.”

The princess looked shocked. “Why would you want to do that?”

“It sounds silly now, but I lost a piece of jewelry my grandmother gave me when the sandstorm hit, and I hoped I might see it in the sand. Rafi told me it would be buried. Of course, he was right.”

Farah’s liquid dark eyes were filled with compassion. “I’m so sorry, but compared to your life, something material isn’t so important in the scheme of things.”

“You’re right, Your Highness.” It belonged to the past.

The princess smiled and showed Lauren to an anteroom where she could change. When she came out again in a yellow bikini, she discovered they had company. Farah made the introductions.

Of the three black-haired sisters, Lauren found herself staring at the eldest, Samira, who had the look of Lauren’s mother. Samira was forty-one with five children. She’d brought her two youngest to the pool, an eight-year-old son and a five-year-old daughter.

Of course, she was older now than Lauren’s mother had ever been. Still, Samira reminded her of some of the pictures in her wallet of Lana, and it gave Lauren’s heart a tug to see the resemblance.

Basmah was thirty-nine and had four children. She’d brought along her youngest twin daughters, just turning four.

Farah explained that she and her twin brother Rashad were both thirty-four. Lauren saw the longing and love in Farah’s eyes whenever she looked at her nieces and nephews. They were all adorable and got in the pool with Lauren without hesitation.

After some serious playtime, she climbed out and joined the others. They lay on loungers by the side of the pool to keep their eye on the children. Lauren sipped on her iced fruit drink. Having been born princesses, all three women were the products of formal education and spoke excellent English. Lauren discovered they were well-traveled and forward-thinking about their nation’s future.

Their conversation was focused fairly constantly on their brother Rashad, a chemical engineer who’d been doing great things at his lab in Raz to open up new industries. Basmah and Samira were helping their mother plan the thirty-fifth birthday party for Farah and her brother being held in another week. The lot fell to Farah to think of a birthday present they could give him. Something exceptional.

“What do you think, Lauren?”

“Well, if I had a brother, I’d find him something to enjoy when he wants to relax.”

Basmah shook her head. “He doesn’t know how to relax.”

“She’s right!” Samira echoed. “He’s too busy working all the time.”

“Surely he has down time.”

“If he’s not at work, he’s off on his horse,” Farah inserted.

“He likes them better than women,” Basmah added. “At least that’s what all his girlfriends say.”

Everyone laughed, including Lauren. “In that case, why not pick out a fine saddle blanket?”

“For that matter, why not a new saddle?”

Lauren eyed Samira. “You could give him one, but he probably won’t use it.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“Because it needs to fit him and his horse like a glove. No hand fits a glove the same way, neither does a man on his horse. I bet it took your brother a long time to decide on the one he uses now.”

Farah nodded. “You’re right. Abdul would say the same thing.”

“Does he like jewelry? Maybe you could give him a ring from all of you with three stones.”

“That’s a lovely idea, Lauren, but he doesn’t like them. He says they irritate him when he works.”

“Well, he’ll have to get used to one when he’s married,” Basmah commented.

“He’s dreading that day.”

Lauren looked at Farah. “In this day and age he still can’t choose his own wife?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s tribal law that our father chooses the spouses, I’m glad he picked Abdul for me. I love him now. But it’s different for you, being an American.”

“That’s true. Even if my father were alive, a woman still gets to pick the man she will marry.”

Lauren felt Basmah’s eyes on her. “You are the most beautiful American woman I ever saw in my life. When you go back to your country, you will have many opportunities to marry and do your own choosing.”

“Thank you for the compliment, but the truth is, I don’t plan to marry.”

“You don’t want children?” Farah cried.

Lauren saw one of the little twins running along the tiles to catch up with her sister. She was so sweet. “Not without the right man.”

“He exists somewhere,” Farah said with her heart in her eyes. “You have to believe that.”

“I do,” Lauren said with a sad smile, “but it doesn’t mean fate will bring us together.” Rafi’s image would always be sketched on her heart.

“That is true,” Samira murmured. “You sound very wise.”

Lauren shook her head. If she’d been wise, she wouldn’t have come to the desert, but then she wouldn’t have met these delightful women who were also the grandchildren of King Malik. She wouldn’t have met Rafi.

“You don’t know how lucky you are,” Farah confided. “I worry about our brother who will have to live with a woman he doesn’t love. They’ll be married at the end of the year.”

“Give them time,” Samira counseled.

“Time won’t fix anything for Rashad,” Farah blurted. “I know my twin brother too well. He’ll never be happy. Our mother’s fears have come true, he has been too favored.”

“What do you mean?” Lauren questioned her.

Farah spread her hands. “He’s been given every gift a man can have. Our mother is afraid there’ll be a price to pay.”

“A price?”

“Yes. Heaven is jealous of him.”

“Our mother worries too much,” Basmah said.

Farah looked sad. “I happen to agree with her. Something will come along that Rashad will want more than anything on earth, and for all his godlike virtues, it won’t be granted.”

Godlike. Celia’s very words. They raised goose-bumps.

With nothing but the sound of the childrens’ voices in the background, the women grew quiet. Their collective silence indicated they feared Farah had spoken the truth. How awful for their brother.

Before long the children grew restless and the fun ended. Everyone left the pool room except for Farah. “Perhaps later in the week you’ll come to my suite and have dinner with me.”

“What about your husband?”

“He’s away on business and won’t be back until next week.”

“Then I’d like that very much.”

“So would I. I’ll phone you.”

Lauren left the pool and headed for her suite. She’d just returned to her room where a dinner tray was waiting for her when the phone rang. It set off her pulse because she’d been hoping to hear from Rafi. She picked up and said hello, trying not to sound too eager.

“Mademoiselle Viret? This is Louis at the travel office in Montreux.”

“Oh—thank you for returning my call,” she said, fighting her disappointment. “Have you made new travel arrangements for me?” She was determined to leave the Oasis before … before she could no longer do so.

“Desolé, mademoiselle. I’m most sorry to tell you that it will be impossible for you to leave Al-Shafeeq until the date you’d originally set to return to El-Joktor.”

She panicked. “But I told you I’d pay you extra.”

“I’m afraid it’s not a question of money. The men in charge of the caravans don’t operate by the same rules as most of us. They agree on a fee and a time when they’re ready to go. You can try another agency, but I can promise you won’t have better luck with them.”

“I believe you. Then I’ll book a helicopter.”

“There is no service at the Oasis except in an emergency, and it has to be cleared through the royal palace. The fee would be prohibitive.”

That meant going through Rafi. She couldn’t possibly ask him for another favor that would require the king’s involvement. “I understand. Merci, Louis.”

With a growing sense of inevitability, she hung up the receiver. There was going to be no escape until Mustafa took her back to El-Joktor. Since she was a guest of the king, she couldn’t go to a hotel. That would be an insult to him. But another night with Rafi, let alone another week, would melt her resolve not to get any more involved.

She ate part of her dinner, wondering if he would call or come by. Maybe she’d watch TV; she moved over to the sofa facing the cabinet holding it. With the aid of the remote, she surfed a few channels, all in Arabic. Everything reminded her of Rafi. She shut it off and rested her head on the pillow while tears slipped out beneath her eyelids.

What other man could ever cause her to burn with desire the way he did? He brought her to life in a way that frightened her because she knew no other man could ever make her feel that way again. This morning she’d been wrapped in his arms. She’d felt the essence from his soul reach out and fill hers. For a little while they’d stood in the sand dunes, one pulsating entity.

Lauren couldn’t comprehend not ever seeing him again and in that moment she knew that she was falling in love with him….

Conflicted beyond bearing, Rashad returned from Raz at dinnertime, barely able to function. Taking Lauren to the desert earlier in the day hadn’t shed any new light on her secret. Worse, her tears had brought out his protective instincts. He’d come close to breaking every self-imposed rule by kissing her senseless in front of the pilot and bodyguard.

He’d never believed in witches until now, but she was a temptress, a beauty who didn’t seem to know it, a spy who didn’t spy, a flirt who didn’t flirt, a seducer who’d made no move to seduce. She was the sweet embodiment of the word treachery in breathtaking female form. At this point he was ready to carry her off and forget the world.

To his dismay, she’d claimed all his attention for the last three days. During that time he hadn’t checked in with his father who liked daily updates on business. Rashad needed to drop in on him now before he went to her room.

“At last, Rashad.” His father was sitting in a chair with his sore foot resting on the ottoman while he drank his favorite mint tea. “I’ve had dinner, but I’ll ask for a tray to be sent up for you.”

“Thank you, but I ate earlier.” Rashad sat on the seat opposite his father. “I was in Raz until a half hour ago and came as soon as I could.”

“I’m glad you’re here because there’s something important I need to talk to you about.”

An odd nuance in his father’s tone made Rashad uneasy. “What is it?”

“I’ve had correspondence with Sheikh Majid al Din. He wants to move up your wedding date.”

Rashad shot out of the seat, turning away from his father while he attempted to contain his shock and yes, anger. He’d been dreading this since his sixteenth birthday.

“I can see this has upset you.” His father had always been kind to him. His voice was kindness itself right now, but Rashad couldn’t handle it.

“By how much?” he asked through clenched jaws.

“He wants to see his daughter married in a month.”

“A month?“

His father eyed him with love. “I’ve touched the only sore spot in you.”

Rashad stopped pacing. “I knew this day was coming, but I thought I had more time. I need a moment to take in the realization that my world is about to change.”

“I felt the same way when your grandfather confronted me. He told me who my bride would be two years before my wedding. I decided to lessen your pain by only giving you a month to agonize about the coming ceremony.”

The irony of those words would have made Rashad break out in harsh laughter if he didn’t love his father so much. “Have you told anyone else?”

“No one except for Nazir who has been our go-between. I’m to let Sheikh Majid know in three days’ time if this is satisfactory. This thing has to be done in absolute secrecy so as not to upset the neighbors on our other borders.”

“Not even my sisters know?” Rashad persisted.

He shook his head. “Especially not Farah, who continually begs me to let you choose the woman you will marry. She wearies me with it.”

“Farah believes in love,” Rashad muttered.

His father grunted. “You and I know that a powerful kingdom cannot be ruled by a sheikh who is so besotted with his wife, he can’t see the shadows of his enemies outside the tent.”

The palace was hardly a tent, but Rashad understood the point of the metaphor well enough. It had been drummed into his head since he was a child. His father would be horrified to know that a possible enemy had already invaded the palace and, as yet, Rashad had done nothing about it!

The way his father talked, Rashad was convinced that his sister had said nothing about the American woman staying at the palace. Was it simply coincidence Sheikh Majid wanted to speed up the time? Or could it be some grand design to help Rashad fight the spell this woman had cast over him?

It was a spell. How else to explain the weakness he felt for her, the longing that kept him in pain throughout the night. Could she truly be like the female black widow he and his young friends had once watched in fascination while she stung her mate to death?

Tonight he would get the truth out of her. His hell had gone on long enough. Once she was exposed, his desire for her would turn to bitter gall. It had to. “If you’ll forgive me, father, I need to be alone so I’ll say goodnight.”

“I understand that better than you do. Goodnight, my son.”

Once out the door, Rashad checked the phone logs in the communications room. Nothing had turned up on their guest except for two short calls to and from the travel agency in Switzerland.

With everything taken care of for the moment, he strode down the hall swiftly to reach the other side of the palace. His wedding day had been moved forward, but tonight he didn’t want to think about it. He wanted Lauren.

Right now he was the one who felt closed in. He craved a night with her where he could pretend he was a free man like any other, able to be with the woman he desired. For tonight he would forget his royal responsibilities. Until she’d been blown in to his world, he’d never felt or resented them so heavily.

At Ziyad’s place he could be himself. No one would bother him or give away his identity. Tonight it was crucial he acted on the feelings roiling inside him. What made it more exciting was that despite the part she’d been playing from the beginning, he knew Lauren desired him, too. In fact, every word and gesture was putting an edge on their experience, heightening the potent tension between them.

After knocking on her door, he slipped inside and discovered her on the sofa in front of the television. When he walked around in front of her, he saw moisture on her cheeks and didn’t know what to think.

“How is it that more often than not, I find you in tears?”