Page 7 of Desert King's Forbidden Temptation

‘Isn’t that a little like shutting the gate after the horse has bolted?’

His eyes widened at her colloquial expression, and she wondered if she’d gone too far. ‘You’re doing everything you can to avoid agreeing with me, but you know that I am right.’

Her jaw dropped. Hewasright, damn it. ‘I don’t think a week is necessary,’ she muttered. ‘Your Highness,’ she forced herself to add.

‘We’re talking about a lifetime commitment.’ He waved a hand through the air. ‘Take a week. Once Her Highness agrees to this, there is no turning back, for either of us.’ Again, there was that look in his face of apprehension, of doubt. She leaned forward, breath held, fascinated by him, by his mind, his thoughts. Far too fascinated than was wise. ‘I’m sure you’d prefer to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that your advice to her has merit.’

He had her cornered. There was no way she could refuse his suggestion now.

‘Fine,’ she said with a small nod, and then, because she worried she might seem churlish, she forced a smile to her lips. ‘Thank you.’

His own smile showed; he saw through the polite acceptance, but she barely noticed his cynicism. Her eyes were transfixed by the curve of his mouth, and the beauty it gave his chiselled, symmetrical face.

‘My chief of staff will have your things moved to the palace.’

‘The palace?’ She gaped. ‘That won’t be necessary. I have a perfectly adequate hotel room in the city.’

‘You are here to appraise your princess’s future life, are you not?’

She bit down on her lower lip, nodding slowly.

‘Then you’ll come and stay at the palace. Live as she would live. It will be the best way to give qualified advice.’

Another excellent point, but she wanted to buck against it. But the room...the man...everywhere she looked, she was reminded of his power and importance, his political prestige. It was in his air, his manner, his assessing gaze. He was not a man to be argued with—not over details that barely mattered. ‘If you’re sure, Your Highness.’

His chuckle was softer this time, and slower, so it wrapped around her like tentacles of smoke, pulling her towards him even when she stayed perfectly still.

‘I’m sure, Eloise. Come, my chief of staff will take you to a guest suite.’ He moved towards the door, big and strong, his thobe billowing behind him. She could only watch, frowning, as he drew near the door then pulled it inwards. He turned to face her, their eyes locked, and the floor seemed to give way.

‘Do not look as though I am about to feed you to a pack of wolves. I assure you, it’s not necessary.’

‘What was that all about?’

‘Showing my future wife the kindness of respecting her decision-making process? Do you think I erred?’ Tariq pushed his own best friend and trusted advisor, studying the man carefully. A view of the Savisian gulf glistened in the distance, the sun bouncing off the surface as it often did by day. Though never, Tariq remembered with a shiver, in his nightmares.

‘Of course not. I did wonder, however, if you were having second thoughts?’

‘No,’ he denied sharply. After all, Tariq didn’t have the luxury of second thoughts. Not after what he’d learned. His lips tightened at the memory of the conversation he’d endured five months earlier, a day after burying his beloved father. It was the kind of conversation one could never forget, words that had shaken him to the foundation of his core, changing every single thing he knew about life and his place in it. The indefinable sense of rightness to his position in Savisia, to his role as ruler, was suddenly awash, adrift on the very same turbulent ocean that had swollen and rocked his sleep for years.

‘Your father never wanted you to learn the truth, my darling. He was adamant I could not tell you.’

Tariq had considered that. For as intrigued as he’d been by his mother’s pronouncement, he was also unfailingly faithful to his father, and trusted his wishes implicitly.

‘If this secret mattered so much to him to keep, perhaps you should hold it for a little longer?’

‘I can’t. His death changes things.’

Her worry had been obvious and Tariq, ever the protector, had hated seeing her upset. He’d crouched beside her, bracing for whatever was to come.

‘What things?’

She’d pleated the fabric of her pale skirt, fingers working meticulously to form line after line after line. He’d watched the gesture, waiting, every cell in his body locked.

A sob had bubbled from his mother. Such a shocking sound, he’d been a child once more, afraid of the dark, of small spaces, afraid even of his own shadow at times. Those were irrational fears he’d overcome many years earlier, fears his father had helped him face and rise above. Now, he feared nothing, not even the march of time itself.

But his mother’s sadness...

It was too much.

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