Lost to the Desert Warrior Read online

  Her enchantment with dancing reminded him of that magical moment when a newborn foal staggered to its feet for the first time, balancing on shaky legs as it realised there was a whole new world to explore.

  His grip on her must have tightened, because those exotic, beautiful eyes lifted to his in silent question.

  Raz felt as if someone had kicked his legs out from under him.

  Sexual energy crackled between them, scorching hot and intense. His hand was on her back and he felt the change in her, felt her response to the chemistry as her eyes dropped to his mouth and lingered there.

  This time there was no shyness in her gaze, just curiosity, and something far, far more dangerous that came from the knowledge she’d acquired over the past week. Her eyes darkened like the sky before a storm, those eyelashes a silky veil of temptation. And then her lips curved into a happy smile and she leaned her head against his chest, the softness of her hair brushing against his jaw, the scent of it yet another drugging assault on his senses.

  Fighting the impulse to drag her from the dance floor, Raz closed his eyes and gathered her close, blocking out everyone around them.

  Time passed unobserved until the pace of the music increased and she tilted her head back and looked up at him.

  He slid his fingers into her hair, pleased that Avery hadn’t suggested she wear it up. ‘Do you want to carry on dancing or would you like something to eat? Maybe a drink?’

  ‘The beat has changed.’

  ‘It’s a different dance. I can teach you.’

  ‘You must be tired of having to teach me everything.’

  Her eyes were soft on his and he tightened his grip on her, pressing her closer until their bodies touched from waist to thigh.

  ‘No, I am not tired of teaching you.’ His arm was curved around her and the contours of her body fit perfectly against his. Sexual arousal slammed into him and he felt the answering tremor of her body and knew she felt the same. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. ‘You’re enjoying yourself?’

  ‘Yes. Very much.’

  ‘Did you have fun with Avery?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve never talked to another woman before. Not like that.’

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  Colour streaked along her cheeks. ‘Life.’

  ‘Your life, habibti?’

  ‘Not specifically. She talked a bit about you and Salem. She is obviously very fond of you both.’

  ‘Those feelings are returned. Mal has been a friend for as long as I can remember. He and I were at the same party the night he first met Avery. It was like watching two asteroids collide. Everyone in the vicinity was hit by the explosion and the subsequent fallout.’ They both glanced towards the edge of the dance floor, where Avery was deep in conversation with Mal, their connection so close it felt like intruding to watch it.

  ‘They’re perfect together.’

  There was a wistful note in her voice and Raz tilted his head so that he could see her face.

  ‘I thought you weren’t romantic?’

  Her eyes were fixed across the room on Avery and Mal who were indulging in a last brief exchange before greeting their guests. Remembering what Mal had told him earlier, Raz could guess what the exchange was about.

  ‘I’m not. Not for myself. That doesn’t mean I can’t be pleased when other people find love.’

  He looked down at the glossy curve of Layla’s mouth and suddenly wanted to be alone with her, away from the curious glances and the speculation.

  ‘Let’s get out of here. The Old Palace is famed for its water gardens. They were a gift from Mal’s father to his mother on their marriage.’ Keeping his arm around her, he guided her outside.

  ‘Should we be doing this? There are people waiting to speak to you.’

  ‘Then they can wait. I have been doing nothing but speaking to people. Tonight is for us.’ He wondered how often before in her life she’d been able to please herself and decided he probably didn’t want to hear the answer.

  ‘It’s peaceful here.’ Tilting her head back, she stared up at the stars. ‘I love the sound of the water. It reminds me of your home.’

  ‘Our home.’

  She hesitated, then pulled away from him and sat down on the low wall that surrounded the bubbling fountain. ‘Did your wife love it there? Was it her favourite place?’

  He stiffened in instinctive rejection of the personal nature of her question and then saw the anxiety in her eyes and realised how much courage it had taken on her part to ask it. ‘Nisa preferred the city. She grew tired of moving around. She was made impatient by the restrictions placed on our movements. She wasn’t always careful.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’

  But she had asked, and emotion settled in his stomach like a solid lump. ‘The day she was killed—she wasn’t even supposed to be in the desert. She had been staying in the city but had come out to surprise me. I had ridden one of the horses and she climbed into my four-wheel drive. They had tampered with the brakes and she was inexperienced at driving in the desert. Had I been the one at the wheel then perhaps—’ He broke off, knowing that ‘perhaps’ was a useless word. ‘She couldn’t control the vehicle. It rolled and she was crushed.’

  He felt her arms slide round his waist.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry you lost her. I’m sorry for any part my family played in that. For all of it.’

  ‘An individual is responsible for his own actions. I have never blamed you.’ But he understood how hard it must be for her and knew he was the one making it hard.

  ‘It hurts you to talk about it.’ Her voice was soft in the semi darkness. ‘I apologise. I shouldn’t have asked. I’ve spoiled the moment.’

  ‘You have a right to ask, and you’ve spoiled nothing.’

  ‘I have no rights, Your Highness. We both know that.’

  Sadness shadowed the dark depths of her eyes and Raz pulled her to her feet and took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

  ‘You are still calling me Your Highness after everything we have shared? Have we not moved further on than that?’

  ‘You married me because it was the right thing to do for your people, and in doing so you ignored your personal wishes.’

  ‘Maybe that was true at the time of the wedding, but it isn’t true now. Do you think I was ignoring my personal wishes last night? Do you think what we do together has anything to do with my responsibilities?’

  ‘Raz—’

  Her hand was on his chest, her eyes on his, and he lowered his head, his mouth hovering above hers.

  ‘Do you think this isn’t personal? Does this not feel personal, habibti?’

  * * *

  Layla felt everything inside her tighten and spin out of control. Staring into his dangerous black eyes, she felt the world around them fade to nothing. The distant sound of chatter was replaced by the pounding of blood in her ears and her vision was filled with nothing but him.

  She felt the roughness of his cheek against the softness of hers, the warmth of his breath and the bite of his strong fingers in her hair as he held her head for his kiss. But he didn’t kiss her. Not quite. And the anticipation was electrifying. She felt his tension as powerfully as he evidently felt hers.

  ‘Do we have to stay?’ She almost whispered the words. ‘Would it be possible to leave?’

  His dark brows met in a concerned frown. ‘You’re not happy? Then we will leave.’ Without pressing for further explanation he took her hand and led her towards some steps that led past a cascade of fountains to the rear entrance of the Old Palace. ‘We can reach our rooms from here.’

  She walked with him through an arched entrance, up spiral stairs, along opulent corridors with gilded mirrors and ornate tapestries, past uniformed staff and the odd exotically clad
guest until they reached their private suite.

  ‘I should not have taken you this evening,’ he breathed. ‘Forgive me.’

  ‘Why do you say that? I had fun. Such fun.’

  ‘You wanted to leave.’

  ‘But not because I wasn’t enjoying myself.’

  ‘Then why?’

  Layla hesitated, and then stepped forward and placed her hands on his chest. ‘Because of this. Because of what I want to do.’ She felt him tense. Saw the shock in his eyes as he realised her reasons for abandoning the party were not the ones he’d assumed they were.

  ‘Layla—’

  ‘Don’t speak.’ She wanted the illusion. No matter what lay between them, tonight it was all about the chemistry and she didn’t want to shatter that with words. Whatever emotional hurdles they faced, physically there were none.

  This time her fingers were swift and sure as she undressed him. Within seconds he was naked from the waist up, his trousers riding low on his waist, revealing a gloriously masculine chest, every line of muscle clearly delineated as he stood in front of her. Her fingers slid up his chest to his shoulders and then lingered on the hard swell of his biceps. His physical strength fascinated her, and she traced the shape of his muscles with the tips of her fingers, hearing his breathing change, feeling the tension in him as he held himself still and let her explore. She took her time because she wanted to discover and memorise every inch of him. After her fingers she used her lips, her tongue retracing the line her fingers had taken. And still he stood still, although she sensed the effort it took him to do so.

  Candles flickered in all corners of the room, sending shafts of shimmering light across them, turning his chest from bronze to gold.

  Without hesitation she undid his trousers and dropped to her knees in front of him, her hair falling in a sweep of dark silk over her shoulders.

  She glanced up at him and his gaze clashed with hers and held.

  Then slowly, gently, she took him in her mouth and saw his eyes close, his jaw clench. She felt the thickness of him in her mouth, tasted the silky, salty heat of him, until he groaned deep in his throat and closed his hands in her hair, easing her away from him.

  ‘Give me a minute—’

  His voice was thickened, his eyes dark with something she hadn’t seen before, and then he pulled her to her feet and their mouths came together at the same time. This time there was nothing gentle about the kiss, no tentative exploration or patient instruction, just raw, undiluted passion. His hands were locked in her hair and then ripping at her dress as they kissed, so hungry for each other they staggered slightly and sent a lamp flying from its place on a table.

  Raz caught it in his hand and she laughed against his mouth. ‘Good catch, Your Highness.’

  ‘If it had fallen we would have had Security swarming all over this place.’

  Without lifting his mouth from hers he replaced the lamp and urged her back towards the bed, but Layla twisted at the last moment so that this time he was the one on his back on the bed and she was the one on top.

  Her hair fell forward onto his chest and he slid his fingers into it.

  ‘I love your hair.’

  Smiling, she licked her way down his chest, heard him groan deep in his throat as she moved lower again, exploring him intimately, until his hands closed on her hips and he shifted her over him, his impatience evident in the hard bite of his fingers.

  His hair-roughened thigh brushed against the softness of hers and she lowered herself onto him, watching his eyes turn deep, dark black as he drove deep into her. Layla moaned with the sheer pleasure of it, moving instinctively, until he locked his fingers over her hips to control her movements.

  ‘Give me a minute—’

  His tone was raw, right on the edge of control, and she leaned forward to kiss his mouth, licking at his lips until he muttered something unintelligible and caught her head in his hands. They kissed like wild things, the heat a pulsing, pounding force, his body hard in hers as they drove each other to the same peak and over the edge. She felt him pulse inside her, watched his face as he lost control, as pleasure gripped them both and spun them into ecstasy.

  Afterwards, she curled against his chest and felt his hand come up to touch her hair.

  He didn’t speak and neither did she, because she’d learned how easily words could destroy and she wanted to preserve the moment. Preferably forever, but if not forever then at least for now.

  And in the aftermath of their loving, while they both lay bathed in intimacy, she knew that Avery had been right.

  She loved him.

  The realisation was overwhelming, terrifying and puzzling all at the same time.

  But most of all it was shocking. Shocking to learn yet another thing about herself. When she’d made the decision that marriage to Raz was the best solution, she’d braced herself for living with a stranger, but she was fast discovering that the stranger she was living with was herself.

  She realised that her life before him had been as dry and empty as the vast desert. Because she’d never known anything else she’d assumed that was all there was, but now she knew differently. She’d thought she knew herself well, but had discovered she’d only known one small part of herself. And as for knowing him—

  They say his heart is frozen into ice.

  She knew that wasn’t true.

  She lifted her head and looked at him, staring down into the fierce black of his eyes. To describe him as handsome was to do him a disservice, because his appeal went so much deeper than that. Etched in those striking features was a strength that was more than surface deep.

  Something flickered in those ebony depths and she saw all her own questions reflected back at her.

  Without speaking he lifted his hand and pushed her hair away from her face. It was impossible not to react to his touch because it seemed everything she felt about this man was exaggerated and out of her control.

  She felt a stab of envy for his wife, whom he had loved so deeply, swiftly followed by guilt that she could feel that way about someone no longer alive.

  A few weeks ago she hadn’t known anything about love.

  She’d felt disconnected from the poets’ description of the agony and heartache that came with love and loss. She’d never seen any evidence to support the theory that hearts could break, shatter or be frozen into ice.

  She’d been willing to believe in love, but had never expected to experience the reality.

  But now she had both experience and evidence. She felt the pain of it heavy in her chest, the ache behind her ribcage growing by the hour.

  Raz frowned slightly and just for a moment she thought he was going to say something. Then he gathered her close and pulled the covers over them both.

  ‘That was amazing. You are amazing.’

  Layla said nothing because she had no idea what to say.

  When she’d made the decision to suggest marriage to him she’d been prepared to live in a loveless partnership. Any alternative hadn’t occurred to her, because although she’d been willing to believe love existed for other people she’d had no evidence to suggest she was capable of it. All she’d wanted was respect and kindness. She’d been ignorant of the impact of sexual attraction and ignorant of the power of love.

  But now she knew about both.

  And she knew love hurt.

  * * *

  ‘Do you have to go away, Daddy?’

  Raz turned at the sound of his daughter’s voice and saw her standing watching him, her expression forlorn. Layla hurried towards her, trying to distract the little girl with the promise of a swim.

  Raz noticed she didn’t look at him.

  It had been two weeks since the party in Zubran, and since their return Layla had been withdrawn and quiet. So quiet he was becoming increasin
gly concerned.

  He made a mental note to talk to her about it immediately on his return.

  ‘I have to go, but it’s only for one night.’ He scooped Zahra into his arms. ‘When I come back we will ride together, I promise.’

  As if realising that she should say something, Layla roused herself. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I have another meeting with the Tazkhan Council—this time to discuss arrangements for formalising my position.’

  ‘So will we be moving to the city?’

  It was Zahra who asked the question, but he wondered if that was what was bothering Layla.

  ‘We will live there for some of the time, but not all.’ He watched Layla’s face but her expression didn’t change.

  As his security guards made the final preparations around him he drew Layla to one side. ‘You are very quiet. Is something worrying you?’

  ‘Nothing. I hope your meeting goes well.’

  She was detached and formal and he knew this wasn’t the right time to push her. Not with his daughter watching and his security team hovering in the background.

  ‘I will be back tomorrow.’ He lifted his hand to her face, intending to kiss her, and then let his hand drop, shocked by the impulse. They were in public, their exchange witnessed by a dozen other people.

  Before he could say anything she stepped back. ‘Safe trip.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LAYLA LAY AWAKE in the bed, sleep chased away by the ache in her chest.

  Maybe a heart could break.

  She’d read about people who lost partners only to die themselves.

  Maybe such a thing was possible. Just one more thing she’d been wrong about.

  It was almost a relief that Raz was away for a night because she didn’t know how to be with him any more. She didn’t know how not to show him that she loved him, and she didn’t know how to stop herself falling harder and deeper.

  Unable to sleep, she decided to read for a while and pressed the switch for the light by the bed. Nothing happened. Assuming the bulb had blown, she leaned across and tried the other one. When that didn’t work either she pulled on a robe, slid on her shoes and walked out of her bedroom and onto the terrace. Stars twinkled in the sky and everything was quiet.