Desert Sheikh vs American Princess (27 page)

"Sounds like a good thing," she agreed. "Unless you can't pay for your part. Thus the wife, I suppose."

Walid clenched his hands into fists. Did he know he was doing it, or was this some subconscious reaction? "She is not yet my--" Instead of the word "wife," a sound came out of him that wasn't even a whisper.

"Fiancée," he finished, sounding raspy, like his throat was constricted. "Not until the
dublah
ceremony."

Fiancée.
It sounded like Walid couldn't face the idea of marrying Kalilah, but getting engaged to her was worse.

She wanted to scream, wanted to run. But nothing she could do would change anything now.

Walid was getting engaged tomorrow, and... and... and... she just didn't have any words for how horrible that was, what a nightmare.

"No," she said. "Don't think about it."

"Noelle, I am afraid nothing--"

She didn't let him finish. She just wasn't going to face him being completely lost to her.

So she cut him off.

With a kiss.

She turned and slipped between his legs, on her knees, facing him, and lifted her lips to his.

The instant their mouths met, his arms wrapped around her, drawing her to his body as if they had done this a million times, and not just once. And not as if this would be the last time ever.

But tonight. They had tonight. A few precious hours that had to last them the rest of their lives.

"Forget everything," she told him, knowing that this was wrong, that him not being engaged to another woman was a very thin technicality. For now, he wasn't, but he'd already agreed. "Let's just..."

And for an instant, he stared into her eyes. She didn't know what he saw there, but it wasn't a woman who failed at everything she tried.

"Tonight," he said. "Just for tonight."

He slipped his hands beneath the silk of her pajama top, warming her back. It wasn't like the last time they'd slept together. The impatience, the urgency took a back seat. They both wanted to draw out the night as long as they could. As if by taking their time, they could make these moments last forever.

She placed her hands against his chest and felt the solidness of him beneath his cotton shirt. One by one, she undid his buttons, revealing what seemed like acres of golden skin, sown with masculine black hair. He lifted her pajama top over her head and tossed it to the side.

"You are beautiful--" And here he used an Arabic word she didn't recognize. For damned sure it didn't mean fiancée.

And he was gorgeous, she didn't say. She just returned the deep, drugging kisses sending her heart rate into the stratosphere. Because he was gorgeous, but more than that, he was Walid. Walid, honorable and determined to make a success out of the shitty hand he'd been dealt, no matter what. Walid, who couldn't tell a lie to save his life and didn't sleep with women unless he cared about them. Walid, who would never be hers.

Except tonight. He could be hers tonight. That would have to be enough. For the rest of her life, enough.

He stuck his hand into the waistband of her pajama bottoms and pulled down. The silken fabric slipped away easily. Her fingers had suddenly become boneless as she fumbled at the zipper of his trousers. But soon, their flesh met, his hardness and her softness.

Lying facing each other, they whispered each other's names into the darkness as if that could create a magical spell that would extend their time together.
 

They touched each other everywhere, filled the tent with the quiet sounds of their pleasure in each other. But this time, there was more than pleasure. The connection between them deepened, like an aching disaster. There was too much at stake for her to let him into her heart. Soon, they would both be walking around the same palace, with Kalilah like a human wall between them.

When she was slick and ready for him and he couldn't wait any longer, he entered her with slow deliberation. She closed her eyes for a moment, blocking out everything but the pure satisfaction of the instant, the joy of her body's welcome to his as her inner muscles stretched to accommodate him.
 

But her eyes opened when she felt him roll onto his back, taking her with him. She found herself straddling him, looking down into dark eyes whose gold rims seemed to glow in the darkness.

"Noelle." God, would she ever forget the lyrical lilt he put into her name when he said it? "Noelle, I want to see you. I want to remember when..."

She nodded, not sure if she really agreed. When it was over, would she want to remember tonight? Or forget?

She lifted up, his long length coming out of her, then slowly lowered herself back down. He made a strangled sound of pleasure. She smiled. At last, now, when it was too late, she finally had power over him, what she'd wanted since he'd first told her about the kidnapping. She repeated the action, watching his mouth twist as he tried to hold back his moan.
 

As she built the rhythm that would take them to the heights, she gazed down into his eyes. Knowing that this would be their last night together, it felt painfully intimate. More so when he found her clit with his thumb, making her gasp with sharp sensation. With his other hand, he kneaded and caressed her nipple and breast, sending even more pleasure through her.

She wanted so much to make this last, but her body demanded she go faster, take him with her on this dizzy journey. All the time, their gazes stayed locked and she watched emotion and pleasure cross his handsome face. Anticipation building, shocks of joy, uncontrolled desire. And maybe a little regret.

Knowing Walid, a lot of regret.

It wasn't long before the pressure of him flicking and rolling her sensitive core and of him filling her to the hilt cracked her open. Everything that she was seemed to pour out of her in brilliant, shining waterfall lights.

Walid thrust into her twice, then pulled himself out of her as he joined her in the glowing cascade. She collapsed onto his chest, the sweat on her skin sticking her to his chest hair.

Her back arched with shock waves that seemed to go reach into space, she said his name over and over. At that moment, his name seemed to answer every question in the universe.

She lay spread over him, her cheek to his, no strength in her to move. Strong hands stroked her back, pulled her damp hair from her face. She whispered his name again, one more time.
Walid
. It meant the number one, she knew. But at this moment, to her, it meant everything.

He cradled her face in his hands and lifted her up.

For an instant that dragged out into eternity, he simply looked into her eyes. Naked. Unblinking. All the deceptions and conflicts they'd had melted away, leaving only the truth. And the truth was that she loved him. She loved this man despite what he'd done to her--maybe because what he'd done to her was for the good of everyone but himself. She loved him because of the things he was willing to do in the memory of his selfish father, because he would always put the good of other people ahead of his own needs. All of this was in her eyes, she knew, and he could see it like it was written on her forehead.

"Noelle." He stopped there, and swallowed, as if preparing to tell her something so hard that it would change everything.

No. No. Her heart ripped into overdrive. No, he could tell her anything. But there was one three-word thing he could say that would make the rest of her life impossible.

She had to stop him. So she did. With a kiss. Deep and blistering. The kind of kiss that burned into you and left scars behind.

Ten

W
ALID
SAT
ON
the crest of a desert dune, his back to the small camp that bristled with activity under the strict governance of Suzette and her wolf pack of nieces and nephews. It was too bad that her line did not rule Askar, he mused. She would govern with the threat of a steel fist that she would never have to employ. The raise of a single eyebrow would be enough to send warring tribes scurrying to do her bidding.

He had watched the sun rise a few hours ago, an orb of fire now hanging in an azure sky. He could not put off the phone call much longer.

Noelle had been sleeping when he left the tent. Once again, he had admired her silken hair tumbling over pillows, the softness of her cheek that he wished to stroke but could not without rousing her, and the not-quite-so-soft sleep noises that came from her.

It would be the last time he would do so. Yet he could not bear to wake her. They both would have to face the dull reality of the new day soon enough. Or perhaps she would take the news easily. Perhaps he had mistaken her feelings last night, in the middle of their passion. He had felt as if they were connected in a way that would create a bond that would never break. Perhaps her emotions were not as strong as his for her.

He recognized it now. He loved her. Of course he did. Who would not love a woman who was ready to jump out a window to save herself?

Under other circumstances, he would devote the rest of his life to her happiness. But he had to make up for his failures. He had to face what he had done, to make the wrong things right. He could not live with himself otherwise.

She seemed to symbolize Askar even more now. Kept from freedom by first her father, then himself. Desperate to escape, intelligent, and yes, perhaps a bit crazy. Brave when confronted with danger, but overwhelmed with the obstacles in front of her.

In the end, unable to overcome those obstacles.

She would go soon, back to her home.

In time, he would send a representative to her, an offer to assist her in escaping the influence of her father. There must be somewhere in the world she could go to make her own life.

Or perhaps she would find a way to jump out of her father's window. That thought gave him great satisfaction.

He believed she would find a way to help herself, even if she did not believe she would now. Her pirate princess would assist her, if she allowed the figment of her imagination to do so.

First, she must leave Askar. Leave him.

The last thing he wanted was the first thing he must do. The least painful option was to do it as quickly as possible.

He pulled his cell phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and dialed a number that he had programmed in quite recently. One that he would soon have in his Favorites, he assumed.

As soon as he heard the connecting tone, a shadow fell over him. At the same time a voice answered on the other end, he looked up to see Noelle, her golden hair a part of the halo of the sun. Backlit, her face was in darkness, her expression hidden from him.

Whoever was on the other end of the phone must have recognized his number. With efficiency, he was apologized to and connected to another line.

Noelle sat herself next to him, brushing his side. A second, more familiar voice spoke into his ear, skipping the greeting and getting to business.

"So, I assume you found our offer acceptable," said Sheikha Farouk, in Arabic.

Marry Kalilah and get a pipeline. Secure Askar's future and make up for his mistakes. Yes, it was acceptable.

If only there was no one, warm and tousled, sitting next to him. If only he were alone, staring off across the desert.

"I am committed," he answered. "Let us make the arrangements for the fourteenth."

Silence met his proposal.

"I understand that it is soon, Sheikha. My people shall handle the
dublah
, to be held in the palace on the fourteenth," he reiterated.

He could practically hear the sheikha's clenched jaw over the phone. The
dublah
engagement ceremony would commit each of them to the marriage, and generally took months to plan. "That is very quick. This arrangement is not something that shall be swept under the rug."

"It is quick," he agreed. "And it is only an engagement ceremony, which is traditionally private in any case. The wedding itself may be as large as you wish."

Sheikha Farouk laughed. "Ah, I see. As large as I wish so long as I pay for it."

Yet he would be paying for it long after all the bills were settled. Next to him, Noelle leaned back and put on a pair of designer sunglasses.

"Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," said the sheikha. "In fact, I should have expected it. You are, in the end, quite like your father."

Walid's body clenched. Noelle, keeping her silence, turned to him, as if to ask if everything as okay. He made an effort to relax. She looked no less concerned, and began to rub his back through his shirt.

"You and I will get along just fine," the sheikha continued. "I will know what to expect from you, Your Majesty."

She would expect him to act like his father. He could only hope that she would be surprised.

"Please, call me Walid."

"Walid." She took advantage of the invitation without any further prompting. As if she'd been waiting for it. "I appreciate your candor. Let us always be open with each other. My granddaughter is rebellious. I expect you to deal with that."

A woman who did not do what she was told, or behave in the way that was expected. Once, the idea would have irritated him. Now, with Noelle's soothing hand stroking his spine, he could see the advantages. But from the short interaction he had had with Kalilah, he could also see the problems. Hellish problems.