Page 28 of Her Vow to Be His Desert Queen

‘Oh? Why was that?’

‘She did not like the way he acted, and she was not afraid to tell him so. She also wanted to protect me.’ Khalil’s eyes gleamed. ‘Do not worry, Sidonie. I will not be having more than one wife, I told you that.’

Sidonie had heard the horror stories of the battle of succession, a custom where the oldest children of each queen would fight a ritualistic battle for the right to be named heir. Long ago there had been assassination attempts on children and their mothers to take them out of the running, Khalil had told her, and that sometimes it still happened.

She knew Khalil had wanted to change that, since his own battle had involved wounding his half-brother, Yusuf, badly enough that Yusuf had had to concede the crown. She’d been appalled when he’d told her about it, instantly afraid for him, and had wanted to ask more questions, but he’d changed the subject. And since it had been clearly a painful memory, she hadn’t pushed him.

But...would he tell her now if she asked? Would it still be painful for him? Or was this all he was? This hard, cold king who looked as if he’d never known a moment’s pain in all his life?

‘What is it?’ Khalil asked, his deep voice dark and smooth. ‘You are looking at me very intently.’

And she answered without thought. ‘I’m wondering what happened to my friend, Khalil.’

Sidonie stood there in the golden gown he’d chosen for her and she was every bit as beautiful in it as she’d been in the green dress she’d worn on the plane. She was glowing almost, the gold fabric making her look as if she’d been bathed in sunlight. Her red hair was in a simple, loose ponytail that hung over her shoulder and curled down over her chest, drawing attention to the deep neckline and the shadowed curves of her breasts.

He’d been looking forward to this moment all day. The moment when he’d finally be alone with her and he could start the business of convincing her to say yes to his marriage proposal.

He’d prepared and his preparations were thorough.

A special meal would be brought here, to his favourite room, which he often used when he needed some time alone, along with some of Al Da’ira’s finest wines. And while they ate, he’d talk to her about all the benefits of being his wife. Then after that he’d continue with the seduction he’d initiated back in Paris, demonstrate those benefits physically.

In fact, he was thinking that maybe he’d seduce her first, before the dinner. He was finding it difficult to pay attention to what she was saying, too distracted by the sight of her.

‘Your friend?’ he asked impatiently. ‘I told you. He is gone.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he was not the man to rule this country.’

A crease deepened between her brows. ‘I don’t understand. I thought he’d have made an excellent king.’

The pressure in his chest, the one that had gripped him that morning as he’d put her in the car, intensified. Why was she talking about this? Their friendship had been precious, a long golden summer in the middle of a harsh winter, but it was gone now. It was over, and the man he’d once been had gone along with it, and that man wasn’t coming back.

‘He was not strong enough,’ Khalil said. ‘I told you; a king must be more than a man.’ Gesturing at the couch, he went on, ‘Come and sit with me,ya hayati.I will pour you a glass of wine and you can tell me about your charity while we wait for our meal.’

She gave him a considering look and he thought she might not let it go, but then she came over to the couch and sat down, the neckline of her golden gown shifting, giving him the most intriguing glimpse of the shadowed valley between her breasts. It was obvious that she was not wearing a bra.

His heartbeat accelerated, sudden and intense desire gripping him. It would be so easy to seduce her right here on the couch, to have her naked and beneath him, to be inside her. It wouldn’t take him long. She wanted him. The way she kept looking very pointedly everywhere except at his chest told its own story and that was as he’d hoped.

You are too impatient.

Yes, that was true. But he’d waited a long time to have her. And no matter what he thought about the man he’d been, that man’s memories still filled his head.

Of Sidonie looking up at him the night he’d given her that necklace for her twenty-first. A sun because she’d been sunshine to him. There had been tears in her eyes along with a bright, painful emotion that had caught him by the throat. She’d looked at him as if he’d given her the moon and all the stars, and he’d wanted to kiss her right then and there. Wanted to tell her that he meant it, that she was the only sun in his sky. Because after Yusuf’s death, he’d been able to see nothing but darkness.

Except he hadn’t kissed her, and he hadn’t told her, because he couldn’t back then. He hadn’t wanted to start something he wouldn’t be able to finish.

But things were different now. She wasn’t his sun any more—he didn’t need sunshine to survive these days—but she was still every bit as beautiful, every bit as desirable as she’d been back then. And now he could kiss her. Now he could do more than that, and he wanted to. Hewantedto.

She was fussing with her dress, pulling at the neckline, and, since he was still standing, he found his gaze settling on the curves of her breasts and the pale, creamy skin revealed by the fabric.

Her gaze lifted to his suddenly and he didn’t look away. Didn’t make any attempt to pretend he had been looking anywhere else but at her and the beauty of her body.

A flush rose into her cheeks, but she didn’t look away either. Her eyes darkened as the space between them became full of a crackling tension, all the aching years of desire and the pull of a longing he’d deliberately cut out of his heart.

Are you sure it isn’t still there?

No, of course it wasn’t. The longing he felt now was only physical.

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