The Sheik and the Virgin Princess (15 page)

“I will introduce you to my favorite cats,” he continued. “I’m sure you’ve noticed all the cats around the palace.”

“Of course. They’re everywhere.”

“They are my pride and joy.” He squeezed her hand, his dark eyes bright with laughter. “Until you arrived.”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about displacing a cat or two in his affections. No wonder Sabrina had been miffed at her arrival. Sabrina had probably come a distant third to Hassan’s sons and his cats.

“We have much to make up for,” Hassan said.

“I agree. Although I have to admit that all the times I stayed awake as a little girl and fantasized about finding my real father, I never pictured anything like this.”

His humor faded. “How I wish I’d known about you. I would have come and swept you away.” He paused. “Or perhaps I would have simply watched from afar. I do not think I could have hurt Fiona by taking away her child. But then I doubt I could have kept from wanting her to be mine forever, so I might have had you both eventually. We’ll never know.”

Zara didn’t know what to say to that. She was tired and fading fast. Late-night parties weren’t a part of her usual world.

“Speaking of true love,” her father said. “I saw you spent much of your time with two particular gentlemen. Both Byron and Jean-Paul would make fine matches.”

Zara suddenly felt as if she’d fallen into the pages of a Jane Austen novel. “I’m not really looking for a ‘fine match,”’ she told him honestly. “Right now I have plenty of changes to keep me occupied.”

“For a time, but eventually you will want more. A husband, perhaps? A family?”

They were all Zara had ever wanted. Roots, she thought longingly. “I’ve thought of those things,” she admitted.

“Then you should spend time with Byron and Jean-Paul. Get to know them. I know they will be charmed by you. Something may light a spark.”

She’d already been set on fire and it hadn’t been by either man in question. Unfortunately, the king wasn’t offering Rafe as a potential bridegroom. Too bad. That would have been a whole lot easier to take. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to dim the light of hope in his eyes.

“I promise to give them a chance, if they decide they would like to see me again.”

“Of course they will want to see you,” Hassan promised in a tone that warned her he would make sure it happened.

Zara had a moment of longing for her small, normal life back in Washington. Somehow she knew that things were never going to be the same again.

Rafe carried Zara’s shoes as he escorted her back to her room. She walked gingerly, wincing as she stepped on a bit of uneven tile.

“Remind me to pick low-heeled shoes next time,” she said, pausing to bend over and rub the ball of her left foot. “I think I broke something tonight.”

“You’ll feel better in the morning,” he promised.

“Only if someone carries me around so I don’t have to walk.”

He had an instant picture of himself carrying her. The image wasn’t unpleasant—in fact, he found himself warming to the idea. The only problem was carrying Zara anywhere would ultimately end up with him carrying her to bed. And as much as she might enjoy teasing him about kissing, she had no idea of the consequences of those actions. Which meant he was going to keep his mind firmly on business.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked as they reached a T intersection in the hallway. Zara turned right, forcing him to stop her and point to the left.

“It was interesting,” she said and stifled a yawn. “I have to tell you that I don’t think I’m the state dinner type. I tried not to say anything too awful or offend anyone, but saying or doing the wrong thing seems incredibly easy. With my ability to put my foot in my mouth, I should be kept away from sensitive situations.”

“You did fine.”

She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “Do you really think the terrier twins were paying attention to what I was saying?”

Fatigue left dark shadows under her eyes. Her skin was pale, her mouth free of lipstick. He thought she looked lovely.

“I’m sure that Byron and Jean-Paul were charmed by you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, right. The worst part is the king wants me to see them again. I think he’s hoping for a match.”

Rafe felt an instant tightness in his chest. He told himself that Zara seeing any man wasn’t his business. His responsibilities lay in keeping her safe, not escorting her around town. She was the kind of woman who needed to be married; he was the kind of man who did best on his own. End of story.

“What are you hoping for?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Answers, mostly. Is Hassan my father? Do I belong here? Actually I have the answer to the last question. I don’t belong here and I’m not sure I ever will.” She paused and glanced around to make sure they were alone. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes. Although if this is about something that involves your safety, I have to warn you that I may tell the king.”

She pressed her lips together. “Don’t you ever go off duty?”

“No.”

She sighed. “This doesn’t affect my safety. I just wish—” She leaned against the tiled wall and closed her eyes. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t come here. That I didn’t know the truth. Although the blood test might show that I’m not Hassan’s daughter.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“I know.”

Rafe studied her pale face. His fingers itched to trace her pretty features. He wanted to pull her close and kiss her, running his hands up and down her body. He wanted to feel her delicate curves, touch her bare skin and taste every inch of her.

The erotic fantasy produced predictable results. Rafe swore silently as blood rushed to his groin, hardening him in an instant.

“Come on,” he said, taking Zara by the hand and gently tugging her down the hall. “It’s time for princesses to be in bed.”

“Are you tucking me in?” she asked playfully.

“Not in this lifetime.”

They stopped in front of her door. She looked at him. “You know, it’s strange. In my regular life I would never come on to any guy, and if I did, any hint of rejection would leave me devastated for the rest of my life. Yet here I’m very comfortable begging you for the smallest of favors and despite your constant refusal, I survive.”

“You’re tough.”

She shook her head. “I think it’s because every time I mention something illicit, your eyes darken with fire. I like the heat.”

Desire poured through him. Rafe would have sold his soul that second if he could have hauled Zara up against him and taken her. He ached to fill her with his arousal, to teach her exactly what kind of magic went on between men and women.

“You’re imagining it,” he said instead.

“Nope. Not even for a second. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that Byron invited me to go horseback riding with him in two days. Apparently, it gets really hot in the afternoon so we’ll be heading out early. I hope that’s all right with you.”

It was as if she’d slapped him. Rafe felt the sting, but didn’t allow himself to show any kind of reaction. Her personal affairs didn’t matter, he reminded himself. This assignment was temporary. Soon he would be back in the City of Thieves, and Zara Paxton would be little more than a memory.

“Just let me know when and where,” he told her. “I’ll be there.”

“Armed?” she asked teasingly.

“Always.”

Her smile faded. “Tell me you want to kiss me good-night, Rafe. I think I’ve earned that.”

Involuntarily he dropped his gaze to her mouth. He remembered her taste, the sweet intake of her breath when he’d stroked her tongue. Oh, yeah, he wanted to kiss her.

“You’re making my life hell, Zara. Is that good enough?”

She raised herself up on tiptoes and lightly kissed his cheek. “Almost,” she told him, before taking her shoes from him and slipping into her room.

This was so not what she’d planned, Zara thought two days later as she rode across the desert. Somehow in her mind the experience had become a cross between a scene in a movie and a perfume commercial. She’d imagined dew glistening on the lush foliage, the sun rising in the east, herself riding elegantly next to a handsome man as their horses galloped across the rolling hills of the desert.

To begin with it was darned hot, even a few minutes before sunrise. Second, lush foliage didn’t fit into the desert and any dew had long been sucked up by the dry, heated air. Last but certainly not least, her half a dozen experiences on tired rental horses at a local stable had not prepared her for the reality of trying to stay on a purebred Arabian gelding.

“How are you doing?” Byron asked.

“Great,” she lied, flopping more out than in the saddle.

At least Byron looked the part…sort of, she thought. He rode well and appeared halfway decent in his riding clothes. It wasn’t his fault that she found Rafe far more compelling. Even though the men had similar coloring, there was no comparing their builds or faces. Rafe was the hands-down winner.

“It’s a beautiful morning,” Byron called out as her horse drifted to the left.

“Yes, beautiful.”

She tried to ease her mount back into line. The horse didn’t want to cooperate. Obviously, the stable guy had been having a laugh at her expense when he’d promised a gentle horse. That or there weren’t any gentle, easy, slow horses in Bahania. Thank goodness they’d stopped trotting and were now walking. At least her butt wasn’t forever slapping against the hard leather of the saddle. While she knew she was going to be sore later, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for the horse. She doubted the creature appreciated being pounded by her bony butt.

“Are you…”

The rest of Byron’s sentence was drowned out by the powerful engines behind him. Zara tried to glance over her shoulder, but the movement made her slip more than she could handle and she had to grab on to the horse’s mane to stay in the saddle. Still, she didn’t have to see the three Hummers and two Jeeps, all filled with armed guards to know they were there.

Instead she turned to glare at Rafe, who rode easily, just a few paces behind them. The man was making her crazy. A bodyguard she could accept. A bodyguard who obviously enjoyed tormenting her was a pain, but also doable. But when he insisted on mocking her, that was too much to stand.

The amount of security he’d arranged for the ride was insane. Every time she and Byron tried to speak, the vehicles drew closer, making it impossible to hear what the other person was saying.

Zara reined in her horse. The animal stopped, which surprised her. Byron slowed his horse. Behind him the motorcade drew to a halt.

“What is it?” Byron asked.

Nothing about the man appealed to her, yet she had told the king she would give Byron a chance. So here she was—keeping her word.

“I thought if we stopped moving, they might stop getting so close,” she told him. “I’m sorry this all turned out so badly.”

He moved his horse closer. “Your father wants to keep you safe.”

Zara held in a groan. The fact that Byron knew or had guessed her relationship with the king shouldn’t be a surprise. Still she felt disappointed. Telling herself no one would be interested in her for herself was one thing, but having it highlighted was another.

Rafe rode to her other side. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes. The duke and I are having a conversation.”

He had the audacity to grin and ask, “What about?”

Zara stalked out of the stable without saying anything. Rafe had been in the middle of telling the horse trainer that none of the mounts had been pushed very hard when he was forced to break off in midsentence to go after her. The stiffness of her walk and the set of her head warned him that she was furious.

Rafe acknowledged that he’d probably gone a bit too far with the Hummers and the Jeeps. Not to mention the armed guards. The odds of a kidnapping taking place were slim at best. Hardly anyone knew about her. Word would spread quickly, but right now she was fairly safe. Still, he’d been unable to resist calling in the troops—to give the duke something to think about if nothing else.

However, Zara hadn’t seen things that way. Worse, she’d probably hated having an audience while she struggled to stay on her horse. Obviously, she hadn’t had much practice riding horses bred in a royal stable.

“Zara, wait.”

He caught up with her in the courtyard between the stable and the house. The sun had already drifted well into the sky, and the heat sucked the air from his lungs. They stood in the shade of a cluster of date palms, but the temperature still had to be over a hundred degrees.

She spun to face him, temper flaring in her brown eyes. “What do you want?” she demanded as she pushed up her glasses. “I would think you’ve already had your joke for the day.”

He instantly felt like a jerk. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I guess I went a little too far.”

“Yes, you did.”

She drew in a breath, then sank down on the blanket of grass by the trees. After drawing her legs to her chest she rested her forehead on her knees.

They were in a small grove of palms, protected from view by the foliage at the base of the trees. Except for a cat grooming in the sun a few feet away, they were alone.