Page 32 of Her Vow to Be His Desert Queen

But inside he hadn’t been hard and cold. He hadn’t wanted to go. He’d wanted to stay with her.

There were tears in her eyes now; she couldn’t stop them. And she didn’t know what to say. He’d told her that the friend she knew was gone, that he’d destroyed him. But part of her didn’t believe that. Because if that was true, why had he told her all of this? Why had he come back to England? Why had he been so insistent on marrying her?

Oh, he’d had many reasons and they all sounded good, but... His mouth on hers had been so hot and hungry, and she’d been able to taste his need. His desperation.

He’d brought her here for a reason, and maybe he wasn’t fully aware of what the real reason was, but she knew.

He’d brought her here to save him.

She lifted her hand and touched his face. ‘I don’t think he’s dead, Khal. I think he’s still here. And I think he needs me.’

Sidonie’s pretty face was flushed and those fascinating emerald-green eyes of hers held a softness he remembered. It was painful, that softness, reminding him of too many things he didn’t want to recall.

But he didn’t want to let her go, no matter how painful or otherwise it was to have her there.

Giving her pleasure had tested both his control and his patience to the limit. She had blushed so beautifully, had whispered his name so huskily, and her skin had felt like satin and had tasted as sweet as he’d thought it would—no, it had tasted better. Made him hungry for more, to have her naked with nothing between them.

But this wasn’t about him and what he wanted. This was about her and wanting to give her pleasure to make up for all the years of pain, and he had. He just hadn’t expected her to turn around and want to give him the same back again.

You should have. She was never one just to take.

Of course she wasn’t. But he’d needed time to get himself under control. He’d felt too close to the edge, and she called that old poisonous blood to the surface far too easily.

Except then she’d taken his refusal as a rejection and there had been pain in her eyes. Pain in her voice as she’d talked about her aunt. And some part of him hadn’t been able to let that go.

He should have known it would all lead back to Aunt May and her emotionally barren upbringing, and he just couldn’t let her believe that there was something needy and desperate about her. As if those things were wrong, which they weren’t. Sidonie had lost her parents too young and had been brought up by someone who’d withheld the love and affection she should have had.

That didn’t make her needy and desperate. It made her hungry because she’d been starved.

Knowing that meant he couldn’t hold back the truth about what had happened all those years ago. She should know how desperately he’d wanted to stay with her and how leaving her had caused him pain. Because it had. And how he’d had to cut away that part of himself. A king could not be broken. A king was strength enduring and there could be no flaws, no jagged pieces of a shattered friendship piercing his heart.

There were no flaws in him now, so he wasn’t sure why her soft words sent a jolt of electricity down his spine. She was wrong, of course. The dead part of him was gone.

He took her hand from his cheekbone, kissed her fingertips. ‘If he were still alive,ya hayati, he would. But he is not. Come, we did not have our dinner in Paris, and I do not want to deny you the birthday feast I promised.’

Yet she didn’t move, her red hair over his shoulder as she looked up at him, her gaze glinting green from beneath long, auburn lashes. ‘I don’t think you brought me here for your country, Khal,’ she murmured. ‘I think you told yourself that and I think you believe that. But that’s not really the reason, is it?’

He stilled. That gaze of hers, it seemed to see inside him. The way it had years ago. She’d always seen deeper than other people. Everyone at Oxford had thought his arrogance had been a pride thing—even Galen and Augustine. But only she had understood that it had been a self-protective thing, to keep people at a distance. He’d never told her why, had only said that Yusuf had been injured in the succession battle, because he couldn’t bear to tell her the truth, that he’d killed him. He couldn’t tell her either, about the shadow Yusuf’s death had cast over his life, or about the doubts that had plagued him. Doubts the heir to the throne should never have had.

He hadn’t wanted to tarnish her light with his darkness.

He couldn’t even bear to do it now.

She’s right, though, you did bring her here for you.

No. She was here for his people, his court. For his country. He wanted to marry her for them, not for himself. He wanted her, it was true, but that was a purely physical want. A man had needs certainly, but he wasn’t a man, not any more. He was a king.

‘There is no deeper reason, Sidonie,’ he said, an edge creeping into his voice. ‘What I told you about being the queen my people need is true.’

‘Maybe. But why care about me, then?’ She pulled her hand from his and touched his cheek again, her fingers light and cool against his skin. ‘Why give me these beautiful dresses and prepare dinners for me? Why give me two weeks? Why agree to be the patron of my charity? Why bother to discuss this with me at all?’

Everything in him tightened. ‘Because I wanted your agreement. I did not want to demand or use force. Those are my father’s tactics, and I will not use them.’

‘No, Khal.’ Her hand dropped to his chest, her fingers trailing over his skin, stroking him. ‘You can tell yourself those things, but I don’t think they’re true.’ Her gaze was so clear, so direct. ‘I think I’m here because my friend needs me and I’m the only one who can save him.’

‘I have told you, that is not—’

But this time it was her turn to silence him with a gentle finger across his mouth. ‘You don’t have to be a king with me, Khalil. You never did. Just as you were never a prince all those years ago.’ She lifted the finger then dropped her hand over the front of his trousers, tracing his rapidly hardening length through the fabric. ‘You were just a man back then, just my friend. And you can be that now, don’t you see? You don’t have to be anything more than who you already are with me.’

---