Page 64 of Desert King's Forbidden Temptation

He stood very still.

‘She knew—or thought—that this marriage was my salvation. Perhaps she thought it was yours too. She wanted it enough for both of us that she was prepared to sacrifice her own happiness, to take herself completely out of the picture, rather than risk ruining it for us. That’s so like her.’ Elana’s smile was watery. ‘She is the most thoughtful, kind-hearted person in the world.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed without hesitation, feeling instantly bonded to Elana now that they were both on the same page: in complete adoration of Eloise. ‘Tell me where I can find her?’

Elana grinned. ‘But of course.’ She moved to a desk and scrawled something out, then handed the paper to him. ‘My home in London. I suggested she stay there while she found her feet with the new job, halfway hoping she’d hate it and come home before she’d signed a lease anywhere else.’

‘She’ll come home,’ he promised, gripping the paper tight between his fingers. ‘I’ll make sure of it. Thank you, Your Highness.’ He bowed.

‘Please, let’s not be so formal. We’re like family now.’

Family. More family. He grinned as he left the room, on a quest to lock the last piece of the puzzle in place. There were still a lot of unknowns, but with Eloise, he knew he could stare each and every one of them down.

CHAPTER TWELVE

SHEREADTHESavisian newspapers each morning, looking for the announcement. For anyhintof an announcement, telling herself that when she saw it in black and white, she’d exhale.

Then, it would be afait accompliand she could stop questioning her decisions, looking for another angle, hoping for some way to have her cake and eat it too.

But the truth was, she could never do that to Elana. She couldn’t do it to Tariq, either, nor the children they would have.

She wouldn’t be a woman in the shadows, always on the periphery of their family. It was beneath her and so far beneath the loyalty Elana deserved.

Days passed, and still no announcement came. Texts with Elana revealed nothing new. Eloise grew restless. She knew she had to find work, something to occupy herself with, but she was suffering from a lack of energy.

She barely left the house. She went from the bed to the sofa to the kitchen to make a tea, then back to the sofa, and always, the events of her days in Savisia played in her mind like a film. Every interaction, smile, touch, closeness... They played over and over, so her heart throbbed and twisted and she ached for him, desperately needed him, in a way that was making it impossible to breathe. But this was now the rest of her life.

She had to learn to live with this.

On the fifth day, she dressed in jeans and a sweater, determined todosomething. She ate a small breakfast, had a strong, black coffee then began to brush her hair, staring at her reflection with a frown. Already her skin looked to have paled. She missed the sunshine. She missed the heat.

She missed...everything.

A knock sounded at the front door, and she moved to it slowly. When Elana stayed here, there was a security presence, but for Eloise, a lock was enough. She unclicked it and opened the door a crack. Then froze.

‘Tariq.’ His name burst from her lips, shock, confusion, anger, love and need tangling inside of her, filling her mouth with longing. He wore full Savisian dress, and he looked quite impossibly handsome. Her heart stammered.

‘Eloise.’ His eyes glittered when they met hers. ‘Do you have a moment?’

As if she had anything else to do! But this was an impossible conversation. ‘I thought I explained in my note,’ she said quietly. Then, softer still, ‘Did you get the note?’

‘Yes, little one, I got the note. Now,’ his voice was gruff, ‘let me come in or I will bang this door down.’

She didn’t doubt him, but even without the threat, she would have opened the door. It had taken all of her courage and strength to walk away from him once; she couldn’t do it again, not just yet.

Strangely, her first thought was that she was self-conscious. She’d only worn long, flowing dresses around him before. And the caftan in the cabin. And of course, nothing at all on their last afternoon together. But this was different. Today, she wore western clothes, and somehow it felt as though it delineated an invisible line between them, emphasising how far apart they were, in reality.

Only Tariq wasn’t looking at her clothes. As he swept into the entrance foyer, he only had eyes for her. Her face, her eyes, her lips, her hair. He stared at her until her heart almost burst from her body.

‘Has it really only been five days?’ he demanded, lifting his hands and cupping her face, holding her steady for his inspection, staring down at her until she was trembling.

‘Tariq, stop,’ she whispered, with barely any strength, because being held by him, touched by him, was so, so good, so powerful, she could barely breathe. ‘You can’t be here.’

‘Why not?’

‘You know why not,’ she responded quickly, the words breathy. ‘You’re going to marry my best friend. We can’t do this. I won’t.’

He moved his finger to her lips, pressing it there. ‘How do you think I found you?’ he asked gently, light reprobation in the words.

---