Strangers in the Desert (10 page)

“My parents divorced when I was eleven,” she said. “I saw my mother rarely after that. My father wouldn’t let me go to the States, and my mother wouldn’t come to Jahfar. She called frequently at first, but then the calls tapered off. Eventually, she was more like an occasional pen pal than a mother.”

“Staying with her was awkward.”

“Yes. We were so different by then. I think I appalled her.” She chewed the bread. It went down like a lump of sand, flavorless and gritty in her throat.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because she’s so independent. And I was too Jahfaran, too traditional. I don’t think she liked what my father had made me into.” She’d been waiting, in those early days in her mother’s house, for someone to tell her what to do. Thinking back on it now, the knowledge filled her with disgust. She’d got over her conditioning, but it hadn’t been easy.

“You don’t like talking of this,” he said.

She shook her head. “I don’t, but I probably need to. Maybe I’d remember more if I could face some of the more difficult parts of my life.”

His brows drew together. “How do you mean difficult?”

Isabella shrugged. “I was an only child. You know that. And I always felt like such a disappointment to my parents. My father wanted a boy. My mother wanted to please my father. They divorced because of me.”

“No one ever divorces because of a child. It’s not your fault.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Do they not? Why do you wish to divorce me, then?”

His expression grew fierce. Troubled maybe. “That’s different, Isabella.”

“But you do intend to divorce me,” she insisted. “Nothing has changed in that regard.”

He tossed his napkin on the table. “It’s a little premature to be discussing our future after only one night, don’t you think?”

Isabella’s heart throbbed. “You’ve had a long time to think of your future. I feel like I’m playing catch-up. Like I’m a dog chained to a tree and I can only go so far before the chain snaps me back again.”

“What do you want from me, Isabella?” he asked, his eyes flashing in his handsome face. “I’m giving you this time with us. It’s all I can promise right now. Because Rafiq comes first, and I will do nothing to compromise his happiness.”

Why was she pushing him? Now wasn’t the time, and yet she felt so hurt, so lost and alone, that she couldn’t seem to help herself. She wanted, just once, for someone to say it would be okay.

And yet she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Adan might have enjoyed her body, but he wasn’t here to soothe her bruised soul.

The sudden lump in her throat made eating impossible. She pushed her plate away.

“I don’t particularly like auditioning for a role in your life, you know.” She got to her feet, her hands clenching at her sides. “I didn’t come here to do so, either. Because you’re right, this
is
about Rafiq. So I’d like to keep the focus where it belongs, if you don’t mind.”

“And what do you mean by that?” he asked dangerously.

She tilted her chin up.
Courage, Isabella.
“I mean that last night was a mistake I will not be repeating. If you want me in your bed, then you’ll have to accept me into your life.”

“Are you threatening me,
habibti?
“

She laughed without humor. “As if I could possibly do so. No, I’m telling you that I won’t sleep with a man who refuses to give me more than vague promises about my role in my son’s life. We don’t have to remain together as a couple, Adan, but I
will
be Rafiq’s mother until the day I die.”

The following week would have been idyllic if not for the tension between her and Adan. He spent a lot of time in his office, on the phone, attending to affairs of state, but he often found time to stop and come to wherever she was sitting and playing with Rafiq. His face remained carefully blank when their eyes met, though when he gazed at Rafiq, the love that showed on his handsome features pierced her heart with its sweetness.

He had not once attempted to touch her or kiss her since her declaration to him.

And she had to admit that she missed the physical contact between them. It had been thrilling, intense and
terrifying all at once. She’d thought she would feel more settled, less overwhelmed, if they went back to being strangers to one another.

But nothing could be farther from the truth.

She craved him, craved his heat and scent and passion. One night with him had been the biggest mistake she’d made; because it haunted the rest of her nights and made sleep difficult.

Isabella firmly shoved Adan from her mind as she got dressed and prepared for her day with Rafiq and Kalila. Today, they were going into town to visit the
souq.
It would be their first outing together and she looked forward to it very much.

She met Kalila and Rafiq in the entry, and they walked out to the waiting cars and got inside. Isabella settled Rafiq in his car seat, and then they were rolling toward the small desert town. Rafiq chattered the whole way about things he saw outside the window. Before long, they were in town and Isabella was pushing Rafiq through the
souq
in his stroller. Kalila had said she could do it, but Isabella told her to enjoy the shops instead.

A security detail ranged both behind them and in front of them in order to make sure there were no threats to their safety. It was disconcerting at first, but Isabella soon forgot they were there as she let herself enjoy the outing. The
souq
was colorful, the stalls jammed together haphazardly to create a warren of pathways. There were vendors selling spices, cloth, gold, carpets, copper, clothes and hundreds of other things. Isabella sighed happily. She’d missed this, though she hadn’t been allowed to attend the
souq
very often growing up.

Too dangerous, her father had said, when what he really meant was that he didn’t have time to take her.

Rafiq stared wide-eyed at the motion and color all around them. Isabella stopped and bought him a honey cake at one of the stalls. She put it on the stroller tray and he dug into the sticky mess with relish.

“His father loved honey cakes at that age, too,” Kalila said. “I used to make a special one on his birthday.”

Isabella smiled. In the few days she’d spent time with Kalila, the woman had always been so formal and reserved. This was the first time she’d spoken of something personal.

“Was he a handful growing up?” Isabella asked, thinking that he was certainly a handful now.

Kalila laughed. “He was, as you say, a handful,” she replied. “But a very loving boy nonetheless. He always regretted starting trouble, though I know he did it for attention.”

“His mother’s attention?”

Kalila frowned. “And his father’s. Mostly his father’s, I think. He learned early that his mother was not interested.”

“Does he see her often now?”

Kalila shook her head. “Rarely. He ignores her calls. In his own way, I suppose he’s paying her back.”

Isabella glanced down at Rafiq’s dark head. She couldn’t imagine her own son feeling that way about her. A wave of love and sadness flooded her. If she had her way, he would never have reason to.

“He is a good man,” Kalila continued. “You will need to be patient with him, but he will see what is best.”

Isabella drew in a shuddering breath. “I hope you’re right, Kalila.”

The other woman patted her hand where it rested on the stroller, and they continued their way through the
souq.
The air was hot, and as midmorning approached, it became still and humid.

“We should go back,” Isabella decreed after they’d been exploring for nearly an hour. The
abaya
she wore clung to her skin damply, and the headscarf was no longer doing so good a job of keeping the sun out. She’d long ago put up the hood of the stroller so that Rafiq was covered.

She glanced over at Kalila, frowning at her red face. The old woman wore black, which had to be so hot, but she wasn’t sweating.

“Yes, we should go,” Kalila said.

“Are you feeling well?” Isabella asked as they turned and headed in the direction of the cars.

Kalila waved a hand. Her gait was slow, but steady. “I am fine, Highness.”

Isabella handed her a bottle of water from the bag she’d stuffed in the back of the stroller. “Here, drink this.”

“You drink it. I can wait.”

“No, I insist,” Isabella said, twisting off the cap and giving it to Kalila. “Besides, I have more.”

It wasn’t until ten minutes later, when they were sitting in the car with the cool air blowing, that Kalila cried out. And then she sank in a heap against the seat.

H
EART
attack
were the only two words he heard when Isabella phoned and said they had taken Kalila to the hospital. Adan ran out the door and hopped into one of the Land Rovers, gunning the engine and speeding out of the driveway before waiting for a driver or security. He made it to the small local hospital in record time, tossing the keys to a startled man in a white coat before dashing into the stark waiting room and demanding to be shown to Kalila’s room.

Isabella was sitting on a bench in the hall. She stood as he approached, her face pale and drawn. Anger and fear pierced the veil of his emotions.

“Where is Rafiq?” he demanded before she could speak. First Kalila was ill—and now his son was missing. What was this woman thinking?

Her hands were clasped in front of her body. “There is a playroom nearby. He is there, with a nurse. And he has a bodyguard, never fear.”

Guilt rippled through him, but he could not voice it. Instead, he turned to the door of Kalila’s room.

“Before you go in—” Isabella said behind him.

He turned, one eyebrow lifted in question.

“The doctor is with her, but he won’t tell you this in
front of her. She can’t work anymore, Adan. She can’t take care of Rafiq. Her heart is weak. She’s on medication, but it can’t make up for her advancing age.”

“And that suits you just fine, doesn’t it?” he snapped. “If you think this is your lucky opportunity, Isabella, think again.”

She looked as if he’d slapped her. The guilt washing through him turned into a wave.

“I’ll forgive you for that because I know how much you love her,” she said quietly. “You’re scared and hitting out at me. I understand that. But don’t you dare think I would ever take joy in someone else’s pain. That’s not fair.”

He ground his teeth together.

“You’re right,” he said. And then he turned and entered Kalila’s room.

After another two hours, Isabella took Rafiq home. It was time for his dinner and there was nothing more they could do at the hospital. Kalila was in a private room, receiving the best care money could buy, and Adan was with her. She was weak and tired, but the doctors seemed to think she would recover.

She just wouldn’t be allowed to take care of growing boys anymore. She needed rest, relaxation and someone to take care of her for a change. Her husband had died several years ago, and she had no children of her own. She’d been living with her sister’s family when Adan brought her back to the palace to care for Rafiq, and Isabella supposed that was where she would return.

It made her sad to think of Kalila leaving her son. Rafiq was attached to her, and no matter what Adan had said, Isabella did not rejoice in the fact that Rafiq’s
care would fall to her with Kalila gone. She wanted to be a mother to her boy, but not at anyone’s expense.

Worse, she felt as if Kalila’s attack had been her fault. If she hadn’t wanted to go to the
souq,
if Kalila hadn’t insisted on walking with her—if, if,
if …

There were too many ifs, and she knew it wasn’t right to blame herself. The doctor had told her that Kalila’s heart was weak and an attack had been inevitable. Still …

Isabella shook herself from her reverie. She had the cook prepare dinner for her and Rafiq, then took her son to his room and let him play for a little while before bathing him and putting him to bed. He was fussy, missing Kalila, but she stood over his crib and sang until he began to drift. Once he was asleep, she bent and gave him a kiss, then retreated to her own room, taking the monitor that Kalila relied upon to tell her if Rafiq was awake.

The sun was just setting when she heard a car pull up outside. Doors slammed and then slammed again as Adan entered the palace. She waited a few minutes before going in search of him. He’d been gone so long, and she was worried that maybe something had changed with Kalila’s condition.

She found him in his office, sitting in the darkening room and gazing out the window. His computer wasn’t on, so she knew he wasn’t working.

“Adan? Is everything all right?”

He didn’t turn. “She will recover,” he said. “But she’s very tired tonight.”

“Yes, I imagine she would be.” Isabella bit her lip. “Do you need anything?”

He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “It’s my fault,” he said. “All my fault.”

Isabella’s heart cracked in two. “Adan, no.” She went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Squeezed. “It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.” She swallowed a raft of tears. “And if you want to play the blame game, I’ll say that I think it’s
my
fault. I took her to the
souq
, and I kept her out in the heat too long …”

A sob welled in her chest and she stuffed her fist against her mouth to keep it from coming out. This was about him, not her. About his feelings and fears, not about her insecurities. Damn her, why couldn’t she just comfort him and not make it about
her
for once?

Adan turned the chair and wrapped his arms around her waist, stunning her with the motion. He buried his head against her chest, his breathing coming faster and harder now, as if he, too, was working not to lose control. A tremor slid from his body to hers, and she put her arms around him and squeezed tight.

She didn’t know how long they stayed that way, but the light in the sky had died away completely when his grip finally eased. She couldn’t stop herself from cupping his jaw, from bending and pressing her lips to his forehead.

His hands slid to her buttocks, and a thrill of anticipation snapped over her nerve endings. She threaded her fingers in his hair, lowered her lips to his and drank him in.

They didn’t speak because words weren’t needed. They each knew what the other wanted. What they needed.

He undressed her with quick hands while she did the same for him. Soon, they were naked and pressed
together, their skin hot, their hands seeking, their sighs and moans and kisses only the beginning. He set her on the desk and stepped between her legs. Then he was deep inside her and they were both gasping and groaning with the incredible sensation. Papers fell to the floor as he took her hard, but he didn’t seem to care.

Isabella wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, lifted herself to him, and let her head fall back as he took her body to heights she’d been dreaming of for the past week.

It was so good. So right.

Tears slipped down her cheeks unchecked. She was glad it was so dark, because she was afraid of what he would think if he saw her crying. Would he know she cried because he’d ripped her heart out of her chest and claimed it for his own? Would he know that, in spite of herself, she’d managed to fall for him? That she saw through him, through the facade of the harsh desert lord to the soft, inner core of the man who loved his old nanny so much he would shed silent tears for her?

She cried for herself, too. For the naive, stupid girl she must have been. And for the woman she was now—the woman who would have her heart shattered if this man decided to let her go at the end of their two weeks.

She’d come to Jahfar to find out the truth. She’d found something much more precious.

She didn’t know what had happened between them two years ago, or why she’d walked into the desert and been lost, but she knew that
right now
, she loved this man. She loved him and their child so much she would do anything for them.

Soon, she forgot her tears as her body wound so tight that she knew she was about to explode.

“Yes, Adan, oh yes,” she gasped as he lifted her hips from the desk and ground into her, forcing her into a shattering orgasm that caused black spots to appear behind her eyes. He continued to drive into her—and then his release hit him and he groaned her name as his body stiffened and shuddered.

A few moments later, he gathered her to him and kissed her softly. They held each other for several minutes, not speaking, just breathing.

“Spend the night with me,” he whispered in her ear.

A shiver skated down her spine. “Yes,” she said simply.

Isabella was awakened in the night by Rafiq’s cries. She stumbled from the bed where Adan was sleeping so soundly, the covers shoved down to reveal his naked body in all its magnificence. He lay on his back, one leg bent, an arm thrown casually over his head.

He stirred as she moved, then came awake as if a switch had been thrown inside him.

“Where are you going,
habibti?”
he asked.

“Rafiq,” she whispered, holding up the monitor. “He’s crying.”

She went into the nursery and found her son standing in his crib. It took her a while to figure out that he had a messy diaper, but she managed to change it without too much trouble. Then she sang him to sleep again. When she turned to leave, Adan was standing in the door, watching her. He’d pulled on a pair of shorts, but his chest was bare, gleaming in the tiny night-light illuminating the room. His hair was mussed, and he shoved a hand through it, yawning.

“He’s sleeping,” Isabella whispered as she came over to him.

“You did a good job with him,” Adan whispered back. “He’s comfortable with you.”

She felt ridiculously pleased at that. “I’m learning. But he’s very patient with me.”

Adan smiled. “Patient? I’d never have called our son patient. He’s too much like me.”

Isabella didn’t miss his use of the plural. Hope blossomed in her soul.
Careful, Isabella. It doesn’t mean anything, except that he’s tired and stressed.

He put his arm around her and they walked back to his room in silence. Once there, he stripped the robe from her body and kissed his way across her skin, taking his time, until she was writhing on the bed and aching for his possession.

He made love to her again, tenderly, drawing out the pleasure between them until there was nothing else that existed in this world but the two of them. Isabella came apart beneath him, and then slowly pieced herself back together.

Melancholy set in as they lay together afterward. She was no closer to remembering her life with him than she ever had been. She’d remembered pieces, but not the whole. And she hadn’t yet remembered a thing about her baby.

She didn’t want this time together to end, but she also wanted to see her father. She had to know what had happened and why he’d lied about it to her. Part of her worried that it was something horrible. Something devastating from which she would never recover if she knew the truth.

And part of her
had
to know the truth if she was to
move forward and build a life with Adan and her son. Adan hadn’t said anything, but the way he touched her, the way he made love to her and held her—surely he’d decided they would stay together and parent their son as a couple?

He could not be so cruel as to give her false hope, could he? If he truly intended to send her away, would he have asked her to sleep with him tonight? It had not been about sex at that moment. They’d gone to his bed and fallen asleep in each other’s arms until Rafiq’s cries awoke them.

Now, Adan’s fingers were stroking up and down her arm. Softly, rhythmically.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About Kalila.” His voice startled her, and she turned on her side to face him, spread her hand over his chest and delighted in the feel of smooth hot skin and hard muscle. A sensual shiver slid across her. She wasn’t interested in sex right now, but touching him made her body stretch and come to life in places that should be too sated to do so.

“I know, Adan. You were scared for her. We both were.”

“I shouldn’t have brought her out of retirement,” he said. “But there was no one else I trusted.”

Isabella sighed wistfully. “She wouldn’t have come had she not wanted to.”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have asked. I should have searched harder for someone else. I should have married sooner.”

Isabella felt a pinprick of anxiety. But what else could he say? He hadn’t known she was alive then, she reminded
herself. “You probably should have,” she said. “And yet I’m glad you did not.”

He turned his head on the pillow. “You have complicated my life,
habibti,
but I find I am not sorry for it. You love Rafiq very much, and this makes me happy.”

I love you very much, too,
she wanted to say. But she didn’t. It was too soon, too fresh, and she was still frightened of it. Frightened of how vulnerable it made her. When she’d been alone in Hawaii, she’d known something was missing from her life. But she hadn’t known what that was. Now that she did, the thought of losing it again terrified her.

And if she didn’t quite know how she’d lost it the first time, how could she prevent it happening a second time?

“He’s amazing,” she said. “I can’t believe we made him together. It astounds me every time I look at him. He has so much of you in him, and yet I see me, too.”

“I must find another nanny for him,” Adan said on a sigh.

Her stomach flipped, but then she told herself not to read too much into it. A nanny was not unusual in the least, especially for the son of a king.

“Can Kalila recommend someone?” she asked.

He nodded slowly. “I had not thought of it before, but yes, I will ask her once she’s feeling better.”

“How will you break it to her that she can no longer care for him?”

She could see the gleam of his teeth as he smiled in the darkness. “Kalila would never refuse an order from her king. I plan to buy her a house in Port Jahfar, on the coast, and fill it with servants to take care of her. I should have done this in the first place, but I admit I did
not think of it. I was a teen when she left my parents’ employ, and though I saw her from time to time, it wasn’t frequent enough that I wondered what she was doing in her retirement.”

Her heart squeezed. “You are very good to her, Adan. She’s lucky to have you.”

“No,” he said. “It is I who am lucky to have her. And I want her to know it for as long as she lives. Between me and my siblings, she will never want for company. We will visit her often, and I will bring her to the palace as frequently as she desires, provided her doctor approves.”