Page 4 of Desert King's Forbidden Temptation

‘And what, pray tell, is your metric?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘What tools are you using to assess my suitability?’

‘I’m afraid it’s not quite so scientific,’ she said with another shrug. ‘Ellie is my best friend in the whole world and has been for a long time. In truth, we’re more like sisters; I know her better than anyone. I can’t say what I’m looking for, but she deserves to be happy. And I don’t know—I would like to know that you could make her happy, especially after all that she’s been through.’

He ran a hand over his chin. ‘I read about her fiancé.’

Eloise’s face paled. It had been an awful time in Elana’s life, which meant it had also been awful for Eloise. She swallowed, searching for what to say in response and decided there was nothing she could offer.

‘She took his death hard?’

Eloise frowned. ‘Of course, Your Highness.’

‘They loved one another.’

She nodded, a small smile of nostalgia touching her lips. ‘Madly.’

‘I imagine she has mixed feelings about my proposal then.’

Eloise’s eyes widened. ‘I—’ Damn it. She’d said too much. ‘If Elana had decided against your offer, she would never have sent me.’

He was quiet, evaluating those words, and finally, he nodded once. ‘And you also want this marriage to go ahead?’

How could she answer that without giving away the precarious circumstances the nation of Ras Sarat was in? The dire state of their economy and political system was something Eloise had no intention of revealing to this man. ‘I make it a point to keep an open mind at all times.’

The flex of his brows intrigued her. A new reaction, one she hadn’t witnessed yet.

‘Besides being a loyal friend to the Princess, do you have any qualifications that makes you suitable for this role of trusted advisor?’

‘The most important qualification is that she trusts me,’ Eloise said softly. And that was saying something: Elana had frequently found herself surrounded by piranhas until Eloise had come to Ras Sarat. ‘But I have other qualifications that she relies on, beyond this.’

‘Such as?’

‘Is it relevant, Your Highness?’ Her eyes widened and cheeks glowed warm as she realised how she’d just spoken to him. ‘I’m so sorry. That was unforgivably rude of me.’

‘Direct, not necessarily rude. And in case you hadn’t realised, I prefer frank conversations.’

‘Nonetheless—’

‘I’m not interested in your apology.’

He crossed his arms, drawing—and holding—her attention on his broad pectoral muscles. He wore the traditional thobes of his country, loose and crisp, but now, they showed a hint of the definition she’d observed in photographs online, pictures of him at events overseas, when he’d worn western clothes and his body had been more discernible. Her mouth went dry. She reached for a water glass before realising it belonged to the previous occupant of her chair.

The Sheikh stood and now it was his height that had her mouth drying out, and her eyes widening. He was easily six and a half feet, his frame and physique things of great beauty, of rare, fascinating proportions, so she felt as though she were in the presence of an ancient god. He moved to an ornately carved table at the end of the room and poured a fresh glass of water. Little pieces of lemon and pomegranate bobbed on the surface, and when he placed it in front of her, she caught a hint of the fragrance.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

He dipped his head once, but rather than returning to his own seat, he perched his bottom on the edge of the boardroom table, close enough that the fabric of his thobe draped a little over the arm of her chair. Surreptitiously, she moved both hands towards the water, out of the way of temptation. Temptation? A fine bead of perspiration dampened the back of her neck and she looked away hurriedly, focusing on the exquisite view she had through the palace window, of a grove of fig trees, planted in perfect lines, hundreds of years old so they were each enormous enough to provide a significant canopy.

‘Your qualifications,’ he prompted, voice silky and mesmerising and so close she could almost imagine it wrapping around her, filling the spaces inside her chest.

She swallowed hard then replaced the water glass to the table, keeping one hand on it as though it were an anchor to reality and her obligations to Elana. It would be an easy thing to narrate her resume to this man, but something held her back.

‘Why do you think I have any, besides my friendship with Ellie?’

‘Your presence here would not be tolerated if it were friendship alone.’

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