Page 9 of Desert King's Forbidden Temptation

She turned her concentration to the building, forcing herself to admire the enormously high ceilings, carved from marble and stone, with gold leaf detailing at the top of each pillar, and then the sparkling white tiles beneath them, marble as well, with a vein running through them that looked like silver. She ached to stop walking and take a closer look, to chase a vein with a fingertip and feel it pulse beneath her skin.

She adored history, and the ancient buildings of this part of the world were quite beyond compare. It wasn’t just the grandiose furnishings and architecture she admired, but the older relics, too, like the tapestries that were hung with details of life millennia ago. She looked at them wistfully as they passed, making a mental note to come back another time and pore over them one by one, to understand this ancient, beautiful land.

The Royal Guard of Savisia was evident here, with armed guards in traditional uniforms standing sentry at each doorway. She passed twelve before the staff member leading her turned into another corridor, this one lined on one side with windows that framed a distant view of the sparkling ocean. Here, there were vases on either side of the corridor, with enormous arrangements of flowers that were native to this region. She breathed in the fragrance as they passed and was strangely homesick for Ras Sarat.

When had that country come to feel like home? When had she stopped craving the rolling fields of the Cotswolds, the sound of bees buzzing over the blackberry vines in spring, the feel of milky sun on her skin and late-afternoon rain, drizzling all around? She couldn’t say, only that while she still loved England, it was very firmly a part of her past now, rather than where she felt she belonged.

Perhaps that old adage was right: home is where the heart is, and to all intents and purposes, her heart was with Elana. She had no family left of her own. Her parents had died, her great aunt had passed. There was no one else. Just Eloise. She and Elana were kindred spirits in that way.

Which was why she had to get this right.

It was a huge responsibility, but she knew Elana, and she knew what she wanted in a partner—what she deserved. Not love, because that wasn’t what Elana wanted, but respect, happiness and similar life outlooks that would make sharing the rule of both countries easy. She also knew the dire straits of the Ras Sarat economy, and how much pressure was on Elana’s young shoulders, so if there was any way of making this work, Eloise was determined to see that happen.

With renewed purpose, she followed the servant all the way to an enormous pair of doors, framed on either side by floral arrangements at least as tall as she was.

The servant knocked, and Eloise waited, trying to ignore the way her stomach was somersaulting.

It was no use.

As soon as the doors opened inwards, and she saw the stunning room, with Sheikh Tariq in the centre, her heart slammed into her rib cage and her knees felt weak. It was an effort just to smile at him, and she was sure the result was a travesty of tight-lippedness.

‘Eloise.’ She was half tempted to ask him to revert to calling herMiss Ashworth.Anything to stem the strange sensation overtaking her body.

‘Your Highness.’ She dipped into a curtsey out of habit, then straightened.

‘How is your accommodation?’

Her lips twisted. ‘Beautiful, thank you.’

‘Good.’ He nodded, and there was something in his eyes that made her feel as though he genuinely cared for her comfort. She ignored that—it was all about Elana. As it should be.

‘Are those the rooms Elana would occupy, as your wife?’

His eyes were loaded with speculation when they met hers. ‘My wife will share my apartment,’ he corrected. ‘It’s more than big enough for two, or more.’

She was so conscious of the thundering of her pulse, she wondered how he didn’t hear it. The noise was loud enough to flood her ears.

Reminding herself she was here to find out as much as she could about this man, she forced herself to put aside her own peculiar reactions and do what this position required of her. ‘More?’ she prompted easily.

‘Well, yes. Naturally children will be required.’

‘Children, plural?’ she prompted, something wistful twisting in her gut. Flashes of desires she’d pushed to the back of her mind a long time ago suddenly danced right in the centre of her vision, so for a moment, all she could remember was her fervent hope for a large family. As an only child, she’d had a quiet childhood and hers had been particularly lonely. She’d craved noise and love and fun, all the idyllic notions she’d conjured as she’d sat solitary, reading or colouring. But then, her parents’ vicious fighting had overshadowed that, and Eloise had come to crave solitude and silence—a life lived alone, without the risk of pain her parents had seemed to delight in inflicting on one another, and splashing back onto Eloise, on a daily basis.

‘That would be my preference. I grew up without a sibling,’ he said, after a brief pause. ‘It is a large burden to place on a child’s shoulders.’

‘What burden is that?’

‘Inheriting the throne.’

She nodded thoughtfully. She’d heard Elana make a similar remark often enough. She didn’t doubt it was the truth. But hearing it from this man intrigued her—far more than it should have. Frustrated by her ever-present curiosity, she told herself she was only acting as an agent for her friend. ‘Do you resent it?’

‘Not at all.’ His response was swift.

‘And yet, you feel it to be a burden?’

‘It’s a precarious position,’ he said after a beat. ‘Your friend and I are in the same scenario. There is no spare, for either of us. Marriage, and children, is a sensible precaution.’

‘So you’d want children quickly?’

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