Their Impossible Desert Match (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Clare Connelly

  He closed his eyes, knowing he couldn’t. They’d started on this path now and it wasn’t in his power to stop.

  And yet he could see danger on both sides. He had to at least protect her from discovery. If they could keep this thing secret then when the time came for her to leave, she could continue with her life with no ramifications.

  That was what he owed her.

  And what about your people? a voice in his head demanded. What would they feel if they knew he’d been intimate with the Princess of Taquul?

  He glanced towards her and something in his chest tightened. Yes, she was the Princess of Taquul, but she was so much more. To him, she was simply Johara, but to his people, was it possible she would continue to represent a threat? A reminder of past hatred and violence?

  The peace was too important to risk.

  Secrecy had to be ensured.

  He vowed not to look at her again.

  ‘You’re cross with me?’ Johara murmured, flicking him an inquiring glance as they walked side by side through the enormous room that led to the large timber doors. It was just the four of them and the allamah and Ahmed had moved further ahead.

  He jerked his attention to her. ‘No.’ He looked away again. ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘You’re so serious. And trying so hard not to look at me.’

  He kept his focus directly ahead. ‘To avoid suspicion.’

  Her laugh was soft. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

  And before he could know what she intended, she moved a step closer, her hand brushing against his.

  He glared at her. ‘Johara.’ His voice held a warning.

  Her smile was pure teasing. ‘Relax. I’m not going to give the game away.’ She brushed his hand again. ‘But remember, it is a game. Try to have a little fun.’

  Ahmed turned a moment later. Johara kept walking, no sign of their conversation on her face. ‘A crowd has gathered outside. Would you prefer a back entrance?’

  Johara looked towards Amir. ‘The purpose of my being here is to be seen,’ she reminded him. ‘We should show a united front.’

  He hesitated for some unknown reason, and then nodded. ‘Yes. Fine.’

  Johara was effortless. He watched as she moved down the stairs, a smile on her face that disguised how she might have felt at being in the heartland of Ishkana so soon after the war had ended. If she held any anger towards his people, she hid it completely.

  A woman was calling to her. He watched as she moved closer, but too close! Why didn’t she stay back a little? He made a motion to Ahmed, who caught it and signalled to a security guard to intervene, to put some more space between the Princess and the crowd.

  But it was too late.

  A projectile left the hand of a man near the front of the group. Amir stood frozen to the spot as whatever it was sailed through the air, heading straight for Johara. He swore, began to run, but there wasn’t time.

  When he reached her, it had hit her square in the chest. The smell was unmistakable. Coffee. Warm, dark coffee was spreading over her white clothing, soaking the fabric, revealing the outline of her breasts. Fury slashed him.

  The man was already running but Amir was quick. He reached into the crowd and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him towards through the rope line.

  ‘Your Highness.’ Johara’s voice was urgent. ‘I’m fine. It doesn’t matter.’

  But Amir barely heard her. He was not a violent man but as he held this person in his grip, he found his other hand forming a fist, and he badly wanted to use it.

  ‘We will take him away,’ Ahmed said, moving between Amir and the culprit. The man, to his credit, had the sense to look terrified.

  ‘If you are going to act in this manner, at least stand and face your consequences. Coward,’ Amir said angrily, but Ahmed was already pulling the man away, and two security guards had intervened to move Johara into the back of a waiting car.

  He followed behind, sliding into the empty seat. Only once they started moving did he turn to her. Her skin was pale, her fingertips were shaking slightly but she was otherwise unharmed.

  If there weren’t two guards sitting opposite them in the limousine he would have reached across and put a hand over hers. Hell, he would have pulled her onto his lap and kissed her until she forgot anything about such an assault.

  ‘I apologise, Your Highness.’

  Her eyes met and held his. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ She reminded him of what he’d said the night before.

  ‘I assure you, the man will be punished—’

  ‘Don’t do that either.’ She sighed. ‘You said it yourself. You can tell people we are at peace but you can’t make them feel it in their hearts. Why should he be punished for doing something that six months ago he would have been lauded for?’

  Amir ground his teeth. ‘For the simple reason I have said it is wrong.’

  She laughed. ‘You are powerful, but not that powerful.’

  ‘You are here as my guest,’ he muttered. ‘And your safety is my complete responsibility.’

  ‘And?’ She fixed him with a level gaze. ‘I’m safe, aren’t I?’

  ‘It could have been—’

  She shook her head. ‘It wasn’t.’ She looked down her front. ‘At worst, I’m embarrassed.’

  Her phone began to vibrate. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out. Her brother’s face stared back at her. She looked at Amir; it was obvious that he’d seen the screen.

  She angled away from him a little.

  ‘Mal? This isn’t a good...’ She frowned. ‘That was quick. Yes, I’m fine.’

  She was conscious of Amir stiffening in the car beside her.

  ‘As I was just saying to His Majesty Sheikh Amir, it was only a cup of coffee.’

  ‘I don’t care.’ Malik’s voice showed the strength of his feelings. ‘What the hell were you doing standing so close to a crowd of wild Ishkani—?’

  She glowered at the window. ‘How do you know where I was standing?’

  ‘It’s already on YouTube.’

  ‘Geez,’ she said again, with the shake of her head. ‘Thank you, Internet.’

  ‘I want you to come back here.’

  Her heart stammered. She looked at Amir unconsciously. ‘Nonsense. Because of a bit of coffee?’

  ‘It could have been a bomb. A gun.’

  ‘It wasn’t. That wasn’t the point the man wanted to make. He’s angry. There’s anger on both sides. We can’t deny people their right to feel those things.’

  ‘Nor should you suffer because of it,’ Malik said firmly.

  ‘I’m not suffering.’

  ‘But it—’

  ‘Stop!’ She looked at Amir but addressed Malik. ‘An inch is as good as a mile, right? It was a coffee. I believe it was a spontaneous act from a man who’s suffered through the war. That’s all. There’s no sense making a mountain out of it.’ Her PR mind was spinning over what had happened. ‘In fact, if anything, we should make light—include a visit to a coffee house in tomorrow’s schedule or something. Show that we have a sense of humour. And under no circumstances will I accept there being any consequences for this man.’ She glared at Amir.

  ‘But he—’

  She interrupted Malik, waving a hand through the air so the collection of delicate bracelets she wore jangled prettily. ‘Yes, yes, he threw a warm coffee cup at me. My clothes will be ruined, and an embarrassing clip is now on the Internet, but so what? Do you know what will happen if we respond too strongly to this?’

  Amir was leaning forward a little, captivated by her, wanting to hear what she said—aware that her perspective was one he needed to have.

  ‘We will make the thousands of people who feel that same anger in their hearts want to rise in defence of this poor man. Let’s treat his actions with kindness and compassion. No on
e will expect that, and it will make the forgiveness all the more powerful.’

  Amir’s eyes drifted to the security guards. They were well trained, not looking at Johara or Amir, but he could see the shift in their faces, the obvious surprise and admiration.

  ‘Now calm down.’ She was speaking to her brother but her eyes were on Amir again, and he knew the words were meant for him, too. ‘Put your feelings aside, and your concerns for me. I’m fine. Let’s speak no more of this.’

  ‘It is unforgivable.’

  Ahmed nodded. ‘I’m aware of this. I’ll have the police bring charges immediately; he should pay for this.’

  Amir was tempted. So tempted. But Johara’s words and wisdom were impossible to ignore. He expelled a breath. ‘No.’ He frowned. ‘Have him brought to me here.’ Amir thought a moment longer. ‘I want to speak to him.’

  ‘To...speak to him?’

  Amir flicked his gaze to Ahmed. ‘Her Highness has advocated mercy. I’m interested to see if the man deserves such kindness. Bring him here.’

  ‘Your parents were right.’

  It was the first thing he said to her when she arrived at the forest, several hours later, a little after seven. They were the words he’d been aching to speak but couldn’t until they were alone. Instead, he’d gone back to ignoring her in the limousine, as befitted their perceived relationship.

  He drew her towards him, clasping his hands behind her back, his eyes running over her features possessively.

  ‘About what?’ The question was breathless. He held her tight.

  ‘You have a gift with people.’

  She lowered her lashes, as if embarrassed by the praise.

  ‘I mean it.’ He caught her chin, lifting her eyes to his. Something shifted through him, something powerful and elemental. He kissed her; he couldn’t help it. ‘Were you hurt?’

  She shook her head. ‘It was just coffee.’

  ‘Hot coffee, and a plastic cup.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, lifting her shoulders. And then, because it was just the two of them, and they were alone, he saw her mask drop, just a fraction. ‘I was surprised, and I suppose my feelings were hurt. I was too confident. Everything on this trip has been so easy to date. Your people have been overwhelmingly welcoming, given the circumstances...’

  ‘They’ve also been accusatory and frosty,’ he remarked, pulling away from her, taking her hand and guiding her deeper into the forest.

  Her smile was enigmatic. ‘Well, yes, at times. But of course they see things from their perspective. Here, I’m the bad guy. In Taquul, that’s you.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘It’s just a matter of perspective.’

  ‘More wisdom.’ He squeezed her hand. They moved quickly, both impatient to get to wherever they were going, to be alone.

  ‘I thought you were going to hit him.’

  ‘I wanted to.’ He looked down at her.

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t.’

  ‘I saw him this afternoon.’

  ‘The man who threw the coffee?’ Her brows lifted.

  ‘Yes. Ahmed brought him here, at my request.’

  He could feel concern emanating from her in waves. ‘Why?’

  ‘To see if you were right.’

  ‘And was I?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She expelled a breath. ‘People don’t generally lash out without cause.’

  ‘No.’ He held a vine aloft, waiting for Johara to walk ahead of him. ‘His twin brother died in the war. Right at the end.’

  Johara’s eyes closed in sympathy. ‘So recently?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And if peace had been agreed months earlier...’

  ‘He wouldn’t have died.’ Amir nodded crisply. ‘That’s why this matters so much. We have to make this work.’

  ‘You will.’ She stopped walking to look at him. ‘I know Mal is as committed to this as you are. How can peace efforts fail if you’re both determined to have this succeed?’

  He didn’t need to answer. They both knew there were many things that could unravel the fragile accord. Their relationship was at the top of that list for him. If today had shown him anything it was how close to the surface his people’s hostility was.

  But he’d looked into the eyes of a man who’d lost so much, who was grieving, and instead of bringing the wrath of his position down on him, he’d spent thirty minutes talking with him. Amir understood grief; he knew it first-hand. He’d listened to the other man and when it became apparent that there had been difficulties accessing his brother’s estate—a task he had undertaken for the widow and children—Amir had personally called the parliamentarian who oversaw such matters to ensure it moved smoothly going forward.

  Johara had been, in every way, correct. Her wisdom was enviable, so too her grace under literal fire. She would have made an excellent queen.

  The thought rocked him to the core. He stopped walking for a second, his eyes fixed straight ahead. They were nearing the edge of the forest, where it gave way to the end of the river. Here, there was a small lake, surrounded on all sides by rock. It was private, held by the palace, the last watercourse between here and the desert.

  ‘What is it, Amir?’

  He shook his head, clearing the thought. Johara was intelligent and worldly, but she was certainly not a candidate for the position of his wife. The very idea sent panic along his spine. Anything approaching that would certainly lead to all-out war. Besides, she was the opposite of what he wanted in a wife. When he married, it would be to a woman who was...what? Why couldn’t he see that future now? He frowned. Because he was here with Johara—it would be the epitome of rudeness to be thinking of some hypothetical future wife when his lover was at his side.

  ‘I was thinking of Paris,’ he substituted, for lack of anything else to say.

  ‘Really?’ She frowned. ‘Why?’

  He began to walk again, forcing a smile to his face. ‘I was wondering why your brother is so keen for you to marry him.’

  ‘They’ve been friends a long time,’ she said simply.

  ‘And?’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s not really an answer.’ She tilted her head to the side, considering the question. ‘He’s a nice guy.’

  ‘The only nice guy in Taquul?’

  She flashed him a withering look; he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips.

  ‘Neither of those responses is particularly enlightening.’

  ‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘Mal is very protective of me.’

  Amir didn’t want to answer that. He knew that if he said what he felt—that he was glad—she would become defensive. I don’t need him to protect me! Yet an ancient fibre that ran through Amir liked the idea of someone playing that role in Johara’s life, even though he knew she was right—she didn’t need it.

  ‘For any reason?’ he said instead, and as soon as he’d asked the question, he knew there was more to it.

  Her lips pursed, her eyes skittered away. ‘You’ve probably read about it.’

  ‘About what?’

  Another sigh. ‘Come on, Amir. It was a long time ago.’

  ‘I’m not protecting your feelings, inti qamar. I have no idea what you mean.’ She looked at him, the term of endearment slipping easily into the sentence. It was what he’d called her in the maze. My moon. Appropriate tonight, when it was glowing overhead, beautiful and enchanting.

  ‘Oh.’ She frowned. ‘I was with someone before. I was younger, and completely unguarded. I thought I’d fallen head over heels in love with the guy—so why hide how I felt, right?’

  He ignored the prickle of something like jealousy shifting through him. ‘Go on.’

  Johara nodded. ‘We dated for just over a year. It ended badly. The papers got a lot of mileage out of it.’

  Another burst of emotion,
this time one of darkness. ‘Newspapers will do that.’

  But her expression showed she was lost in thought. ‘It was truly terrible. I was twenty-one, and I’d been so sheltered. Worse than that, I honestly thought I loved him. I trusted him.’

  Amir’s chest tightened. ‘He wasn’t trustworthy?’

  Her laugh lacked humour. ‘Not even a little.’

  He waited, but not patiently.

  ‘Oh, he didn’t cheat on me or anything. But I found out, about six months after our break up, that he’d been selling stories to the gutter press. So many little lies and falsehoods: that we’d had a threesome in Rome—a lie—that I’d secretly fallen pregnant—another lie! All for money!’ She shook her head bitterly. ‘I would have paid him off, if I’d known money was his motivation.’

  Amir reached above them and snapped a twig with more force than was necessary.

  ‘Except I think he also wanted to hurt me, and, honestly, I think he liked the limelight. When he was my boyfriend, he was followed around by paparazzi, blogs did articles on him.’ She shook her head. ‘Italian Vogue used him as a cover model. But once we broke up, he must have begun to feel irrelevant.’

  Amir swore under his breath. ‘What a poor excuse for a man.’

  She laughed. ‘That’s pretty much what Mal said.’

  ‘Your brother knew about this?’

  ‘He’s the one who discovered the truth.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘He had the stories investigated.’

  ‘How did he act?’

  ‘He paid Matthew to shut him up.’ She grimaced. ‘Last I heard, he’s living in Australia somewhere.’

  ‘Good riddance.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She pressed her teeth to her lower lip. ‘So for Malik, he doesn’t ever want me to get hurt like that again. And Paris is a great guy, and a good friend of his. Malik trusts him implicitly.’

  Something inside Amir bristled. ‘But that doesn’t mean you should marry him.’

  ‘No,’ she agreed softly. ‘And yet...’

  Amir held his breath.

  ‘This is something we shouldn’t discuss.’

  He forced himself to sound normal. ‘Why not?’