Page 18 of Her Vow to Be His Desert Queen

His hand at the back of her head firmed and he kept her pinned against the parapet with his body. ‘Come to Al Da’ira,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘Give me two weeks. Two weeks to convince you to marry me. I will show you my country and my people. I will show you why I need you and only you.’

At first she barely heard him. Then gradually, through the haze of desire, the words penetrated.

He’d pulled back, lifting his mouth, his midnight gaze on hers. He didn’t look away or try to hide the desire burning there. He let her see it.

It made her hot, made her heart flutter madly in her chest.

She could still feel his lips on hers, still taste his dark, heady flavour. And his body, rock-hard and tall and so broad... She’d never thought she’d have any of this. Never thought she’d have him look at her that way, have his kiss, have him want her.

‘Two weeks?’ She barely understood what she was saying herself, her voice husky, every part of her shaking.

‘Yes, only two weeks.’ He shifted, that hard thigh pressing insistently against her, right in the place she needed it most. His fingers pushed into her hair, tilting her head further back, and he lowered his mouth again, brushing it over hers. ‘Only two weeks,ya hayati. You can stay in my palace, be waited on hand and foot, and I will give you everything it is in my power to give.’

Her senses reeled. ‘Khal...’

‘Please.’ His voice warmed, became deeper, resonating with the part of her she’d always tried to keep closely guarded around him, and his lips moved over hers once again. ‘Please, Sidonie.’

He’d never said ‘please’ to her before, never like this, with a note of demand and yet also with an echo of longing. As if he was desperate.

‘I...’

‘I will give you more of this.’ His mouth explored lower, along her jawline. ‘I will make you feel so very good.’ He kissed a trail down her throat, his lips closing over her pulse. ‘You have been waiting a long time for this, Sidonie. And so have I.’

He had? He’d been waiting, too?

The thought was there and then vanished, everything burning where he kissed her, as if he was scattering embers over her skin. Except instead of pain he left scorching pleasure, and all she could think was that she wanted more of it. Because he was right. She’d been waiting a long time for him and she was tired of it.

Why couldn’t she have this? Have more of him? Two weeks of being in Al Da’ira, in his palace. Two weeks of being with him. She’d be careful, she wouldn’t let herself get in too deep the way she had last time. And who knew, maybe it would even lay to rest a few ghosts?

He has to give you something too, though, and not just sex.

Yes. He could help with the charity, as she’d thought in the helicopter on the way here. He could be their royal patron, get them noticed, ensure they reached not just beyond the UK and into Europe, but globally too. There were so many orphaned children out there, children like her, children who needed help, and he could make a difference.

His mouth seared her tender throat, and she could feel the slight pressure of his tongue, the edge of his teeth. She closed her eyes, shivering in delight. ‘You mentioned giving me something too,’ she murmured. ‘Something that I want, and I’m not talking about sex here.’

‘I did.’ His breath was warm against her skin. ‘Name it.’

‘You to lend your name to my charity. Be its patron. Help boost our profile.’

He answered without hesitation. ‘I can do that.’

‘Also, if I don’t agree to marry you, I want to be free to leave. To go home.’

Another breath ghosted over her neck and then he commanded softly, ‘Open your eyes.’

She did, automatically obeying him.

He’d lifted his head and was looking down at her, dark fire in his gaze. ‘Yes, you will be free to leave. You have my word.’

Five years ago she would have trusted that word implicitly. But now... Well, he wasn’t the same man she’d once known, he’d even admitted it himself. And she didn’t know who this man was. She didn’t know him at all.

An echo of grief made her throat close, grief for the friend who’d gone and left this man in his place. But grief wouldn’t help. She had to be hard.

‘Can I trust your word?’ she made herself ask bluntly.

A flicker of something she couldn’t decipher crossed his face and then was gone. ‘You can. I swear to you on my crown.’ His voice was flat and certain. ‘And on the lives of my people.’

That meant something to him, she could tell. It was a vow.

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