Strangers in the Desert (7 page)

Then he shook his head. “It’s never going to work,” he said more to himself than to her.

“What isn’t?” Fear threaded through her voice, pitching it higher. Was he planning to turn the caravan around and take her back to Port Jahfar? Was he reconsidering allowing her to spend time with Rafiq? Dammit,
why
had she said anything?

“Adan,” she said. Demanded.

He looked at her again, his dark eyes hot and intense. And then he kissed her.

It shocked her to realize that his mouth on hers felt right. That the sweep of his tongue, the hot thrill sliding down her spine and the explosive current of sensation pooling in her belly were familiar and welcome.

Her feminine core, already flooded with heat and moisture from the memory, ached with need.

Her arms drifted around his neck as he spread one broad hand against the small of her back and pulled her into his body so that she was half lying on his lap.

Reaching down, he hooked an arm around her legs and lifted her the rest of the way into his lap.

Her buttocks nestled against the solid hardness of his masculinity. When she moved, he groaned low in his throat, a sexy sound that made her want to press her hand against him just to see if the sound would get better.

He cupped her breast, his thumb caressing her sensitive nipple, rubbing so lightly and so expertly she thought she would scream. Her nipples were hard, tight points, and her whole body was attuned to every agonizing caress.

“I want you,” he growled against her lips—and then he was kissing her throat, her collarbone, before claiming her mouth again.

Isabella couldn’t stop the moan that rose in her throat. She’d kissed one man in the two years that she’d thought she was a different person, and she’d pulled back immediately because it hadn’t felt right.

This did.

Incredibly, amazingly right. Which disconcerted her, because she had no illusions about Adan. He might want her physically, but he despised her. Perhaps he’d always despised her. Perhaps that’s why she’d felt compelled to leave.

Feelings swirled in her head, her heart, until she couldn’t untangle them. She felt happy—and sad. She felt cherished—and despised. She felt, with a certainty, that she had once loved him—but that he had not loved her. Sorrow rose up in a solid wave inside her and she suddenly put her hands against his chest and pushed.

It was too much.

He broke the kiss, confusion in his dark eyes as he
gazed down at her. His mouth—that beautiful mouth—was slick from kissing her, and she instantly wanted to press her lips to his again and forget her tangled thoughts.

“I—I’m not ready for this,” she said, her voice thready. “It’s too soon.”

His expression cleared by degrees until he was once more the cool, unflappable ruler. He set her away from him and she smoothed her skirts self-consciously.

“You are correct, of course,” he said. “Forgive me.”

“It’s not that I don’t want …” Isabella swallowed. How could she say it? How could she admit that she did want him? It would be an acknowledgment of his power over her.

And she couldn’t give him any more power than he already had.

“I don’t know you well enough,” she said softly. “I know we’ve had a child together, but what kind of man are you really? What kind of marriage did we have? Did we at least like each other?”

He leaned back on the seat and sighed. “We were good in bed,” he said matter-of-factly. “Though we did not have much time together.”

“Because you were so busy? Or do you mean because I got pregnant?”

“Both, I think. But mostly because you were ill during the pregnancy. We had one month, Isabella, before we began to live like roommates instead of lovers.”

“Oh. Was it a difficult pregnancy, then?”

“Other than your nausea, no. Everything was normal.”

She smoothed the fabric on her thighs again. “I wish I could remember. I feel … cheated.”

Cheated because she’d carried her child for nine months and she could remember nothing about the experience. Cheated because she’d obviously shared her life—and body—with this man, and he was still a stranger to her.

Adan sighed. “You were very beautiful, in spite of your sickness. And you grew quite large. Rafiq weighed over nine pounds when he was born.”

Isabella’s jaw dropped. “He did? My goodness.” And then she giggled, though it threatened to turn into a sob. She pressed her hand to her lips to stop it from doing so. “Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t remember.”

Adan smiled. Her heart stopped. He was breathtaking when he did so. His face, already so handsome, became warm and open, almost innocent in a way. It was an odd thing to think about so hard a man, and yet it was the one word that popped into her mind.
Innocent.

“You looked as if you’d swallowed three soccer balls,” he said. “The doctor said it was only one baby in there, but I began to think he was wrong.”

“Were you there when he was born?”

He shook his head and her heart sank a little at the sad expression on his face. “I was out of the country on business. You weren’t due for another two weeks.”

“I’m sorry you missed it, then.”

He picked up her hand and kissed it. Shock raced in hot spirals along her nerve endings. “I am, too. I would have liked to have been there for you both. You had a difficult time with the labor and delivery, but Rafiq was healthy and you bounced back …”

His voice trailed off and she looked at him quizzically. “What, Adan?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“I
want
to remember,” she said. “Even the hard parts. I want to remember every moment of our lives together. It’s hard not knowing.”

“Perhaps you will remember someday. You remembered our wedding night, after all.”

“Did I? Or was it only a dream?”

One corner of his mouth quirked in a wicked grin. “No, you remembered it quite well. It was a long and pleasurable night.”

Her heart pounded for an entirely different reason now. He was as tempting as sin. And she desperately wanted to take a bite out of the apple.

“Careful, Isabella,” he growled suddenly. Except it wasn’t an angry growl at all.

It was a passionate, sensual sound that stroked along her senses like a trail of hot candle wax.

“I don’t understand,” she managed.

He cupped a hand behind her head and pulled her in for a kiss. Just as quickly, he let her go again. “I’m a man,
habibti,
not a saint. If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to know me
very
well before we ever leave this car.”

T
HE
Butterfly Palace wasn’t as ornate as she’d expected it to be. Nor was it anywhere near as big as the palace in Port Jahfar. Other than a caretaker and a housekeeper, there was no permanent staff. That was why, Isabella thought, they’d traveled in a caravan.

They still hadn’t brought that many people along. A cook. Adan’s assistant, as well as two extra office personnel. Two additional women to help the housekeeper and cook, and a couple of others whose functions she did not know.

Adan took a sleeping Rafiq from Kalila and carried him to his room, which was already prepared, while the housekeeper showed Isabella to her room. She wanted to go with Adan and Rafiq, but she told herself to be patient. They’d just arrived, and there was time to settle in. Besides, Rafiq was asleep and wouldn’t even know she was there.

The room she was shown to was just a room, not a suite, but it was large and airy with tall ceilings, overstuffed couches, and an inlaid wooden armoire and dressing table. A large canopied bed occupied one wall, the mattress thick and covered with a cream duvet and a collection of pillows.

White curtains hung on either side of distressed wooden doors that opened to the outside. The doors were old and shuttered to let the light in, but glass had been fitted to the outer portion of the casement, so that the doors could be opened at any time and yet the room would remain cool due to the modern air-conditioning that had been added to the palace.

The doors were pushed partially to, but Isabella didn’t open them to see what was outside. First, she wanted to unpack, and then she would explore.

While she was putting everything away, a maid brought refreshments—mint tea and a selection of cool fruit—and then hurried away again before Isabella could tell her she really didn’t need anything.

“Is it to your liking?”

Isabella whirled at the sound of his voice. They’d only arrived a little over a half an hour ago—how could she already be so pleased to see him, as if they’d been separated for days instead of minutes?

“It’s lovely,” she replied.

Adan strode over and pulled open the wooden doors. “Come, let me show you something.”

He held out his hand. She didn’t even hesitate before joining him and slipping her hand into his, her skin sizzling where they touched. He stared down at her for a moment, as if he, too, were jolted by the contact, and then he was pushing open the glass and leading her onto a shadowed terrace.

Bougainvillea vines grew in profusion over the arbor that stretched the length of the terrace. A short sandstone wall ran along the back of the terrace, and beyond that was a small hedge that seemed to wind in a path, though she couldn’t figure out the pattern.

“It’s a labyrinth,” Adan said, tugging her forward. “The Butterfly Queen had it built centuries ago. The original hedge didn’t survive, but this one follows the path she had laid out.”

They stopped at the entrance to the labyrinth. She could see the path meandering back and forth.

“You can see all the way to the center,” she said. “I didn’t think that’s how it worked.”

He grinned, and for the second—third?—time today, her heart went into free fall. “You’re thinking of a maze,” he said. “Two different things. A labyrinth is for meditation, among other things. The idea is to walk it and see what the path shows you. It’s a personal journey, and it means something different for everyone.”

She’d have never thought he was the meditating type. “Do you walk it?”

“I have.”

“And?”

Again, with the smile. “Truthfully, I didn’t get it the first time. I was impatient and wanted to reach the end. And then I realized that impatience is one of my faults, and the labyrinth could perhaps teach me something after all.”

“Nooo,” Isabella said disbelievingly. “Don’t tell me you have faults. I can’t imagine that to be true.”

He laughed. “It’s possible I have one or two.”

Isabella grinned back at him. “Careful, Adan, or I might have to start liking you after all.”

“I’ll be sure to do something evil just to keep you on your toes,” he replied.

She looked out over the labyrinth and the garden beyond and sighed. The sun was setting now, and everything was bathed in a soft ocher glow. It was peaceful.

So much quieter than Port Jahfar—or even Maui, with the tourists and the parties taking place so frequently along the beach.

“Did we talk like this before?” she asked. “Or did I merely bow my head and do or say whatever I thought you wanted?”

His fingers ghosted along her cheek, pushed her riot of golden hair away from her face. Her heart raced at the soft touch of his skin on hers. She had to stop this. Because every time he touched her or smiled at her, her heart opened just a little bit wider for him.

“You already know what the answer is, Isabella, even if you cannot remember it.”

She looked up at him. His dark eyes regarded her with something that she thought might be appreciation. Not sexual appreciation, though there was that, too, but an intellectual approval that she was certain she’d not had from him when they were first married.

“Yes, I do. I did what I’d been raised to do, Adan. What my father expected from me. What you expected from me. I tried to be a good Jahfaran wife. I know that, even if I have no memory of it.”

“And what would you do now?” he asked. “If the clock was rewound and you went into our marriage as the person you are at this moment?”

She bit her lip. Why was he asking her this? Was he fishing for an answer, trying to gauge her suitability to be his wife? If she said the right thing, did it mean she could stay with Rafiq forever?

She opened her mouth to say what she thought he wanted to hear.

And then she stopped.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t say what she thought
the correct answer was, because it wasn’t what she knew to be true for herself. Was she still that girl who’d tried so desperately to please her feuding parents? Who’d said whatever they’d wanted to hear if only it would make them happy with her?

She wasn’t, and she couldn’t ever be again.

Isabella took a deep breath. It was filled with the fragrance of bougainvillea and the spicy scent of the man standing so near.

“I would be me, regardless of whether it pleased you or not,” she said.

His smile was as sudden and unexpected as diamonds raining down from heaven. “I am very glad to hear it.”

Dinner was served picnic-style, on a big mat under the stars in the garden with gas lanterns to light the night. There was tabbouleh salad, fresh hummus, roasted lamb with lemon and garlic, rice, and a variety of olives, cheeses, mangoes, figs and fresh hot flat bread that tasted amazing with everything.

Isabella sighed as she popped a bite of bread in her mouth. Rafiq sat beside her, his little head tilted up to watch her eat.

“Very good,” she said. “Yummm. Does Rafi want a bite?”

He shook his head—but then he nodded, and Isabella laughed as she tore off a small piece of bread and fed it to him. He chewed so seriously, then got up to toddle toward his father on the other side of the mat. They’d long ago learned to make a path down the center. Dishes were arrayed to either end of the mat with a big swath in the middle for Rafiq to hold court.

Kalila sat in a chair beside them. She’d insisted on joining them on the mat, but Adan had told her no. At first, Isabella had thought he meant to send her away, but he pulled a chair from nearby and perched it there for her.

Isabella’s heart did that melty thing again when she watched him help the old woman into the chair. He truly cared for Kalila.

Now, Rafiq climbed into Adan’s lap and began babbling something. Adan’s forehead wrinkled as he listened intently. Then he picked Rafiq up and hugged him tight, tickling him as the little boy laughed and squirmed.

Isabella bit her lip. Emotion swirled through her in sharp currents. She was happy—and sad.

She was confused—and frustrated. Hopeful—and hopeless. So many emotions, so many possibilities.

“Sing, Papa!” Rafiq exclaimed through his giggles.

“Ah, you want Isabella to sing? Perhaps you should ask her.”

Rafiq turned his head to look at her. He stuck a finger in his mouth, chewing on it while he watched her with dark eyes. His father’s eyes. Both sets of eyes stared at her now, waiting.

“Ask her,” Adan urged.

“Bell sing?”

Isabella’s heart swelled with love. It was the first time he’d called her anything besides ‘lady.’ It was progress, and she was ridiculously pleased.

“Of course I’ll sing for you, sweetheart,” she said.

“Go sit with Isabella,” Adan said, and Rafiq toddled his way to Isabella’s side. Then he plopped down in front of her and fixed those sweet eyes on her.

She started with a soft, slow island tune she’d learned on Maui, then sang a couple of Jahfaran songs. Rafiq watched her, mesmerized, until eventually his eyes began to droop. Isabella smiled, but she didn’t stop singing. As he tottered, she pulled him close and he settled against her lap. When she looked across at Adan, he was watching her intently. His eyes were as dark and hot as always, but for once she wasn’t thinking of how he despised her so much as she was thinking of how it had felt to kiss him in the car today.

Of how he’d caressed her body and told her that he wanted her. Was it possible they could work their way through this? It seemed odd to be thinking it, when she’d so recently sworn to one of the waitresses at Ka Nui’s that she would never spend her life with a man who didn’t love her—

But that was before she’d realized she was already married and had a child with this man.

Her fingers combed through Rafiq’s soft curls. She would do anything, sacrifice anything, for this child. It was the oddest sensation, and yet it was the absolute truth. She knew it to the bottom of her soul.

She sang more quietly now, as Rafiq’s eyes remained closed and his breathing evened out. A few more minutes and Adan nodded at her. She let the last note taper off and then it was quiet, except for the sound of the gas flames in the lanterns and the night sounds of locusts. Occasionally, there was a distant howl from a lonely jaguar hunting the dunes.

Isabella glanced at Kalila, who was shifting in her chair, and realized that the woman was probably uncomfortable by now. As much as she would love to continue
to sit here with Rafiq asleep on her lap, she couldn’t let Kalila be stiff from sitting too long.

“Perhaps we should take him to bed,” she suggested, glancing at Kalila when Adan looked at her.

“Yes, I think you are right.” Then he got up and came to take Rafiq from her. They progressed into the house while a servant began to clean up the dishes. This time, Isabella followed Adan all the way to Rafiq’s room. It was packed with toys, of course, and decorated in cool blues and white. Connected to his room was another, and this was where Kalila stayed. Adan told her to go ahead to bed, his voice full of concern and gentleness. She curtseyed before going into the room and shutting the door.

Isabella thought that Adan stiffened, but then she decided she must have imagined it because he turned and laid Rafiq so gently into his crib. His hand ghosted over Rafiq’s curls, and then he bent and placed a kiss on his son’s forehead.

Isabella’s eyes filled with tears. Every man, no matter how hard, could be brought to his knees by something. For Adan, it was love for his son that made him human.

Adan stood and turned to her. “If you want to …”

She shook her head. She desperately wanted to kiss Rafiq goodnight, but she was afraid to disturb him. She didn’t know how to do all the things she wanted to do just yet. It saddened and infuriated her all at once, but she had to be patient.

Adan took her hand and led her from the room and back out onto the terrace where coffee had been set at a small table for two. He pulled her chair out and she sank
onto it, her pulse pounding in her throat and temples as he stood so close.

And then he was sitting across from her and lifting his coffee to his lips as he turned to gaze out at the darkened garden.

“It is very peaceful here,” he said after a few moments of silence. “I would stay for weeks if it were possible.”

“I imagine it’s been very hectic since your uncle died.”

“I have been the heir for over a year now, but yes, it has still been quite an adjustment. There is much to do when one is responsible for an entire nation.”

“But we have a parliament now. Surely that helps.”

“I think it does, yes. But there is still much work to be done. Fortunately, wherever I am, I am connected. Imagine the days before we had computers and cell phones.”

“A trip out here would have been a true vacation then.”

“Yes. Now, it is simply another stop. A different location, but the world does not truly go away.”

It occurred to her that she didn’t really know anything about him. “I’m sure I must have known this before, but how many siblings do you have?”

“Three brothers and one sister, who came much later in life. She is ten now.”

“I always wanted a sister. Or a brother,” Isabella added. She’d been so lonely, with her books and tutors and no other children to play with.

Adan seemed to know without asking what she meant. “I would like siblings for Rafiq, as well. He would enjoy having other children to play with.”

Isabella studied the steaming liquid in her cup. “I’m surprised you didn’t remarry by now.”

He shrugged. “Time passed faster than I thought. I don’t think I realized it had been two years until very recently.”

“Do your brothers have children?”

“Not yet,” he said. “Only one of them has married. The other two seem to think playing the carefree bachelor in Europe to be more fun.” His eyes narrowed. “What about you, Isabella? Did you find playing the bachelorette fun?”

A shiver crept over her, not only because the sun had gone down and the desert was cooling. “I didn’t date, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why not? You are a beautiful woman. And you must have got lonely.”

Her heart throbbed. “Did you?”

His eyes glittered in the half-light of the torches. “Ah, answering a question with a question. Classic avoidance. And yes, I did get lonely.”