Royal Affairs: Desert Princes & Defiant Virgins

CHAPTER SIX

SHE’D been on the verge of telling him something. The question was, what?

And why was he so interested?

Simmering with frustration at her abrupt departure, Karim stood outside the tent, giving her time to prepare herself for bed before joining her. What confession had been clinging to her lips?

Regret for the life she’d led?

Second thoughts about marrying a man just for status and money?

Wondering if her conscience was keeping her awake, he pushed aside the flap of the tent and strode inside.

One glance told him that she was already asleep, apparently oblivious to the hard, simple bed, the spartan surroundings or the nagging of her conscience.

Her luxurious red-gold hair was spread haphazardly over the pillow like sand blown by the wind, and her mouth was the colour of ripe strawberries. Strawberries just waiting to be devoured.

Even in the depth of sleep she looked like every man’s hottest fantasy, and Karim experienced a monumental surge of desire as he stood watching her. The ache in his loins grew to agonizing levels, and he uttered a soft curse and strode to the far side of the room, vowing to stay as far away from her as possible.

Why had he imposed this ridiculous rule that she was to stay by his side for the entire journey? Just who was suffering most?

He lay down and waited for sleep to claim him, but it was asking the impossible, and he was still staring grimly upwards when the princess gave a frightened moan.

Karim was on his feet with the speed and grace of a panther, the hilt of the knife in his hand as he prepared to defend her.

‘Alexa?’ The fading light of the hurricane lamp was enough to show him that no one had entered the tent without his knowledge, which meant that her distress was caused by something different.

Spider? Scorpion?

His senses on alert, Karim prowled silently over to the large bed and stared down at the princess who was now sprawled on her back, one arm flung upwards, her cheeks flushed.

Evidently she was still asleep, which meant that her distress was caused by nothing more than a bad dream. So perhaps her conscience was pricking her, after all.

Slowly he returned the knife to his belt, his attention held by the expanse of creamy bare shoulder revealed by crumpled bed-sheet. Forcing his gaze upwards, he noticed the faint sheen of sweat on her brow, and then she cried out again and this time he saw the trickle of tears on her cheeks.

Shocked by the sight of those tears, Karim froze.

Completely out of his comfort zone, he then took an involuntary step backwards, retreating from such a visible display of emotion as he would a wild beast.

In fact, he would have been far more comfortable rescuing her from the jaws of a lethal predator. He hated tears. In early childhood he’d been given endless opportunity to observe the many uses of female tears, but even he had never before witnessed a woman cry in her sleep.

Reluctantly, he was forced to acknowledge that these were real emotions, not those constructed specifically to extract something from a man, and he stood frozen with indecision as those silent tears ripped holes through his iron-clad defences in a way that no physical weapon would have done. Suddenly he felt raw and exposed as long-forgotten images settled over his brain like a toxic cloud.

His natural aversion to emotional scenes stifled his ability to think clearly, and he stood paralyzed. What was he supposed to do? He knew nothing about dealing with a woman whose tears were genuine.

And then he realised that he didn’t have to do anything.

She was asleep, wasn’t she?

No action was required on his part.

Relieved to have reached that conclusion, Karim was about to return to his bed when she gave another cry, and this time the sound was so tortured that he sat down next to her.

What was he doing?

What did he know about comforting anyone? It was far more usual for him to be the cause of female tears.

Deciding that by far the simplest and safest solution would be to wake her up so that she could solve the problem herself, he reached out a hand and gave her shoulder a firm shake.

She awoke instantly with a horrified gasp, her eyes wide and terrified.

‘Go away!’ She sat bolt upright, her expression stricken. ‘Don’t touch me!’ Her fist powered into his stomach with surprising force, and the breath hissed through his teeth as pain radiated across his abdomen.

‘It’s me,’ he grunted, closing his fingers over her fist before she could do any more damage, ‘Karim. You were dreaming.’

As he waited for the blankness in her eyes to fade and the pain in his muscles to settle, he reflected on the fact that the princess hadn’t been exaggerating her claim that she could manage perfectly well without a bodyguard. No one could have described her as defenceless.

So how could a woman who could deliver a punch like that appear vulnerable?

Her breathing was rapid and she gave a little shake of her head, her cheeks still wet with tears. ‘Sorry. I—I had a dream.’

‘Yes.’ Relieved that the problem appeared to be solved, Karim released her hand and started to stand up, but she grabbed his arm.

‘Wait a minute. Don’t go. Please don’t leave me.’

Her request was so unexpected that he simply stared at her. What did she expect him to do? ‘You’re awake now.’

‘It’s all still in my head. It was so clear …’ Her fingers tightened on his arm and he had little choice but to sit down again.

‘Think about something else,’ he advised swiftly, and she made a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh, fully awake now.

‘Sorry. This isn’t what you signed up for, is it? Go back to bed, I’ll be fine.’ With obvious reluctance, she released her desperate grip on his arm and bent her knees up to her chest, cuddling them like a child. ‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you.’ She was shaking so badly that Karim could feel the movement on the mattress, and he gave an impatient sigh.

‘It was just a dream, Alexa.’

‘Yes.’ Her teeth were chattering and she buried her head in her arms. ‘Go back to bed.’

He should have done exactly that, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to leave her, and that impulse puzzled and exasperated him. ‘What was the dream about?’

Her head lifted and she looked at him, tears spilling out of her eyes and onto her cheeks. She made no sound, but simply blinked a few times and then brushed her tears away impatiently. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘You need to go back to sleep,’ he said roughly. ‘Whatever it was all about, the memory will have gone in the morning.’

‘Not all memories are so easily erased.’ She spoke softly, as if afraid that to raise her voice might make those memories still more vivid. ‘I thought this would be a fresh start. I thought that I could finally leave it all behind. But it comes with you, doesn’t it? It follows you everywhere, because it’s been there for so long, it’s part of who you are.’

Was she talking to herself or to him?

Was she seriously expecting some sort of response?

Karim had no idea what she was talking about, but it sounded disturbingly like the sort of touchy-feely conversation that a woman ought to have with another woman. ‘What follows you?

‘The past. It’s always there. You can never shake it off.’

Confronted with a more clearly defined problem to deal with, Karim relaxed slightly. It was obvious that she regretted the things she’d done in her past, and that was hardly surprising, given just how wild her behaviour had been. Evidently her impending marriage to the Sultan had made her wish that she’d behaved with a little more restraint in her youth, which meant that it was her conscience that was disturbing her sleep.

‘The past is the past.’ Wishing that she’d stop shaking, he kept his words blunt. ‘There is never any point in looking back. It’s over and done with.’

‘That isn’t true. Don’t you ever look back?’

‘No,’ Karim said shortly. ‘The past is over. The future is the only thing that matters. And your future requires us to leave at dawn. If you don’t get some sleep soon you’ll be too tired to travel.’

‘I don’t want to go back to sleep. Can we leave now? I’m scared, Karim.’

‘We’re not leaving. Lie down.’

For once, she didn’t argue. Like a child obeying a parent, she lay down, and Karim stared at her shivering, half-naked form with exasperation. Wasn’t she going to pull the covers up?

After a moment’s hesitation he reached out and tugged the sheet up over her shoulders, covering her body and at the same time pondering on the entirely new experience of tucking a beautiful woman into a bed that he wasn’t sleeping in. As he rose to his feet her hand shot out and her slim fingers gripped his arm again.

‘Will you stay? Just for a moment.’

Her fingers tightened on his arm and he covered them with his own. Her slender fingers were freezing cold, and he rubbed his hand over hers and then realized what he was doing and released her instantly. ‘You’ll be fine now.’

What was he doing?

What instinct had driven him to offer comfort when he was so inexperienced in that particular skill?

‘Please stay with me. Just for a minute.’

For what purpose? What did she want from him? His eyes raked over her shivering body, but there was nothing in the least seductive about the way she lay. She looked fragile and vulnerable as she huddled under the sheets, as if she were trying to make herself as small and insignificant as possible.

‘What are you afraid of?’ Irritated with himself for responding to her, his voice was rougher than he’d intended. ‘Tell me.’

‘Why—so that you can take out your gun and shoot it?’ She gave a shaky laugh, released his arm and curled up into a ball. ‘There are some things that even a bodyguard can’t protect you from, and this is one of them. You’re right. You can’t help me, Karim. Go back to bed. I’m sorry I disturbed you.’

He had her permission to leave.

So why was he still standing there?

Something about her weary dismissal made it impossible for him to walk away, and the urge to help and protect her was so shockingly powerful that he almost laughed at himself. So he wasn’t entirely immune, then. Just like his father before him, he was a man capable of being manipulated by a woman’s tears.

‘There is nothing to be afraid of.’ He was impatient with himself, not her, but he saw her withdraw.

‘I’m fine, Karim. Go to bed.’

Frustrated by his inability to do exactly that, Karim frowned down at her, studying the dark shadows under her eyes and the almost translucent skin over delicate bones. She didn’t look fine. She looked like a woman who was hunted by demons. And she was a woman of contrasts—strong and feisty one minute, vulnerable the next. How had a woman who looked as though a gust of wind could snap her in two, shown such resilience in the desert? ‘Was your dream to do with your uncle?’

‘Can we talk about something else? Anything.’ Sounding more like a nervous child than a grown woman, she huddled under the covers. ‘It would help a lot if you could just talk about something normal for a moment. Tell me about your family.’

‘My family is not normal,’ Karim said dryly. ‘I suggest you pick a different topic.’

‘You pick a topic.’

‘I’m not good at small talk.’

‘Then it will be useful to practice. Come on, Karim. Talk to me.’

Talk? Telling himself that the sooner she settled down the sooner they’d both get some sleep, Karim sighed and rubbed his fingers over his temple. ‘Have you ever heard of dune driving? Because the next stretch of our journey has some of the best dune driving in Zangrar. Steep dunes, spectacular views, exciting drops. It’s the best adrenaline rush in this part of the world—’ he broke off, surprised at himself. Why had he picked that particular topic? What was it about Alexa that made him remember the heady days when pleasure had come before responsibility?

‘Don’t stop,’ she murmured. ‘I want to hear more. You did it when you were young?’

‘As soon as I could drive.’

‘And did the Sultan go with you?’

Karim stilled. ‘Always you ask about the Sultan.’

‘I’m trying to build up a picture.’

‘Yes,’ Karim said finally. ‘Before life became too serious to allow such frivolities, the Sultan had a passion for dune driving.’

‘What does it involve?’

‘Driving up the side of a dune and plunging over the top. A bit like a roller coaster, only less predictable and more hair-raising. And a great deal more uncomfortable if you topple the vehicle.’

‘Did you?’

‘A few times.’ Karim started to smile and then stopped himself, remembering that this was supposed to be distraction therapy, not a trip down memory lane.

‘It sounds dangerous.’ Her voice was sleepy. ‘I’m surprised the Sultan was allowed to do that if he was the heir to the throne. Wasn’t he surrounded by people telling him what to do?’

‘He was sent to boarding school at the age of seven, and from there went straight into the army. The time he spent in Zangrar was very precious because no one really bothered with him.’

It was a long time before she spoke. ‘That’s a very young age to leave your parents.’

‘It is the custom.’

‘I wouldn’t do that with my children. I’d keep them close. Didn’t the Sultan’s mother object to him being sent away? Or wasn’t she given any choice?’

Increasingly discomforted by the direction of the conversation, Karim made a mental note never to wake a distressed woman from sleep again. Suddenly the atmosphere in the tent seemed dangerously intimate and filled with shadows of the past that her words had inadvertently released. ‘The Sultan’s mother died when he was little more than a toddler. He was sent away by his stepmother.’

‘Oh. That’s terrible,’ she breathed softly. ‘Then it’s no wonder that he isn’t interested in emotional relationships, is it? He’s probably had no experience of love.’

‘I thought you didn’t believe in love.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ She smothered a yawn and her eyes drifted shut, her thick, dark lashes forming two perfect crescents on her pale cheeks. ‘I said that this marriage isn’t about love. That doesn’t mean I don’t think love exists. Actually, I do believe that love exists. For the lucky few. It’s finding it that’s the problem.’

Deciding that the conversation had progressed far beyond his comfort zone, Karim rose to his feet. ‘You should rest.’

She didn’t even answer and he realized that she was already asleep, her breathing even and peaceful, the tears on her cheeks now dry.

Karim stared down at her with exasperation and then strode back to his corner of the tent, aware that, while she’d drifted back into the welcome oblivion of sleep, he now had to deal with all the uncomfortable and unfamiliar emotions that their conversation had aroused.

And one thing he knew for sure—sleep would be a long time in coming.

Alexa woke to find herself alone in the tent.

Then she heard Karim’s voice just outside and knew that he hadn’t gone far. Not that she would have blamed him if he had. After being subjected to the torrent of her emotions the night before, a man like Karim must be stifling the urge to sprint fast in the opposite direction.

She closed her eyes, feeling washed out and weedy. It was a recurring nightmare and it always had the same effect on her.

But it was the first time that she’d shared the experience with anyone. And not just anyone, but a man who epitomized everything it meant to be tough and strong. A man, to whom the mere concept of being frightened by something so intangible as a dream, must have been unfathomable.

Alexa covered her face with her hands and gave a groan of embarrassment.

What must he have thought? Even in the depths of her distress, she’d sensed his discomfort. The only reason he’d remained seated on the bed was because she’d gripped his arm and begged him not to leave her.

But he hadn’t left her, had he?

Despite being dramatically out of his comfort zone, he’d stayed by her side until she’d fallen asleep. And, because she knew that it hadn’t been an easy thing for him to do, it somehow made the gesture all the more touching. He’d stayed, and that was what mattered. Clearly an upset woman wasn’t his favourite challenge, but he’d remained by her side until she’d fallen asleep.

No one had ever done that for her before. Not one person.

Pondering on that thought, Alexa slid out of bed, dressed swiftly in her trousers and combat boots, twisted her long hair into a coil and secured it on top of her head. Dressed, she felt more in control. Or did she feel more in control because she’d shared her darkest moment with Karim?

For the first time in her life, she hadn’t felt alone.

Feeling pathetically grateful towards him, Alexa left the tent and was immediately confronted by his powerful shoulders and lean, long legs. He was in conversation with several men from the camp, but he turned as he heard her emerge from the tent. Their eyes met and held.

He said nothing, and yet the moment felt intensely personal—a silent acknowledgement of a secret shared. Then he gave a brief nod and Alexa felt her insides tumble. Suddenly she felt ridiculously nervous and had absolutely no idea why.

‘Good morning.’

He dismissed the man he was talking to with an abrupt wave of his hand. ‘You are feeling all right?’

She dug her hands in her pockets. How was she supposed to reply to that? No, she wasn’t feeling all right. Suddenly she felt as vulnerable as she’d felt when she was eight years old, clinging to the desperate hope that someone, somewhere would care for her and take the pain away if only she could find them.

But at least at the age of eight, she’d had childhood on her side as a decent excuse for such foolish fantasies.

What excuse was she using now?

Her eyes slid to Karim.

What was it about the dark and the dreams that had turned her into a child again? Why was she longing to trust him, when she’d long since discovered that the only person she could trust was herself?

Was it because, for the first time in sixteen years, she’d shared her past? She hadn’t had to cope with it alone, and that had felt good. And, now that she’d experienced the warmth of human comfort, it no longer seemed easy to shut her emotions away. She wanted more, and the power of that need terrified her more than the nightmare itself.

She wanted to feel his touch again. She wanted to reach out and touch him.

But that wasn’t allowed, was it? Although his gaze held hers, he held himself slightly apart—distant and unapproachable, as if warning her that the intimacy that they’d shared during the hours of darkness could not be extended into the daylight.