by Maisey Yates
Isabella looked away from the scenery, flying by in a red blur out the window of the Hummer, and down at her bare hand. “What does it matter?”
“It matters a great deal. You are my fiancée. It is expected for you to wear my ring.”
She took a deep breath, pain lancing her. “But it isn’t your ring. It’s Hassan’s. And it isn’t my ring. There’s nothing about it that has any personal meaning or value to me.”
“You’re being petulant.”
“Maybe.” She wasn’t, though. He was just being too obtuse to see it. Because the engagement meant nothing to him. It meant nothing to him that her ring had been a part of an entirely different engagement, that it had been given to her by a delivery man.
It mattered to her, though. It would matter to any woman. It wasn’t as though Adham hadn’t had relationships before. He should know enough about women to figure that out. Or maybe his affairs had been so detached that he really didn’t have a clue what something like a ring could really mean to a woman.
That thought made her feel both relief and heartrending sadness. Relief because she didn’t like the idea of Adham’s heart having belonged to any other woman, but sadness because the thought of him involving himself in such a soulless, purely physical affair made her almost sick. He was worth so much more than that.
He took one hand off the steering wheel and gripped her wrist, holding her arm up as if he was examining it. “You aren’t putting it on.”
“I left it back at the palace. I took it off when things were ended with Hassan.”
“The engagement, the original arrangement, is still in place.”
“Only the fiancé has changed. An incidental, I guess?”
He didn’t respond to that. He set her hand gently in her lap, the touch sending a shockwave through her as it always did, and turned his focus back to the road.
“The people at the Bedouin encampment might wonder,” he said tightly.
“Then they can wonder. I think it’s safe to say that everyone in Umarah knows we have an unusual situation. They know I was promised to Hassan, and they know he’s now chosen someone else and that I am marrying his brother. I highly doubt anyone expects our relationship to appear conventional.”
“The faster we can erase the scandal from the minds of the people, the better. I see no point in drawing it out. It will all be forgotten eventually. The more we are seen together, the more natural all of this will seem. Then there will be the wedding, and children. None of this will matter.”
“So we’re putting on a show for the nation? Hoping they’ll forget the truth?”
“What does it benefit our people to see tension between us? We’re building an alliance between nations through our marriage. Our union must appear strong, so that they will believe the alliance is strong.”
“Much easier that it appear strong than actually have it be strong,” she muttered, turning her focus back to the arid desert.
“The situation is what it is, Bella. It is not ideal, but we must make the best of it.”
Pain shot through her. Not ideal. Well, maybe that was true for him. She knew it was true for him. But what did he think it was like for her? Did he really think she would rather be with Hassan? Did he believe that she had given herself to him that night in the desert out of rebellion? How could he be dense enough to miss how much she felt for him?
It came back to the way he saw relationships. The way he saw sex. Sex was recreation for him, affairs a simple diversion in between assignments or work in the oil fields. While for her … it had been life-altering. Being with him like that. Even now it sent a thrill through her body and caused tears to form in her eyes.
Shimmering waves of heat parted in the distance, and Isabella could see oil rigs against the backdrop of the faded blue sky.
Adham gestured to the right, to a mountainous stretch beyond the flat portion where the rigs were stationed. “The encampment is back there. Many of the men work on the fields, adding new joints, checking core samples, measuring depth.”
“And the drilling projects were your doing?”
“We were already drilling, but I made the move to invest more in the operation. It’s provided good jobs for our people, and a very valuable export. The benefits for the economy have been exponential.”
“Really, Adham, is there anything you can’t do?”
She turned to look at him, saw his jaw clench, his shoulders roll forward slightly as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I don’t know that I have you figured out.”
It was such an honest, frustrated admission, one that shocked her. “I can’t wear Hassan’s ring,” she blurted.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s a beautiful ring. It’s not my style, but it is beautiful. I can’t wear it because I’m not marrying Hassan. It’s linked to him, not to you, and as long as I wear it I feel … I feel like I’m still engaged to him.”
“Why couldn’t you just say that?” He sounded even more exasperated now.
“Because if I say it, it doesn’t mean as much as if you just … figure it out.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It isn’t,” she insisted. “It’s like having to ask for flowers.”
“Which isn’t good either?”
“No. You want the other person to think of it, otherwise it has no meaning.”
They were getting close to the rigs now. The sound of drilling filled the air, overpowering the sound of the car’s motor, the scent of the crude oil coming through the air vents. The road they were on wound around the rigs, taking them behind the mountains, which did a good job of absorbing the bulk of the noise.
“Life would be simpler if you would just ask for things,” he muttered.
“That’s very male of you,” she said stiffly. The pragmatic side of him reminded her of her brother, and her brother’s pragmatic side irritated her.
“Well, amira, I am very male.” That last comment hung between them as silence filled up the car.
She swallowed, her throat dry. “Yes.” She knew that. She knew that so very well.
That one time together, though … had it only been two days ago? … hadn’t been enough. She hadn’t gotten to see enough of his body, hadn’t had enough opportunity to simply admire his physique, to enjoy the feel of his hot skin against hers.
Her face flamed.
It was strange to think she’d actually slept with him. She’d imagined, when she’d even let herself think about it, that sex would bring people closer together, not make everything so … complicated.
Maybe it wasn’t really complicated. She knew how she felt about him, and he’d made it clear how he felt about her. So it was just sad, then.
A row of low, dark tents came into view, and Isabella could see smoke rising from campfires, children running around with their mothers close behind them. Out here in the middle of the desert, with all of the sand so still, there was life.
“I can’t believe they live out here. There’s nothing for so many miles.”
“It’s their way of life. They’ve lived this way for centuries. We do the best we can to provide mobile medical service.”
“What about emergencies?” she asked, looking at the children.
“We do the best we can. Many of the Bedouin encampments have satellite phones and generators now that enable them to call, and we can have helicopters sent if necessary.”
“And schools?”
“Something that hasn’t been handled to my satisfaction yet,” he said, bringing the car to a halt on the outskirts of the camp.
She unbuckled quickly and let herself out of the vehicle, meeting him halfway around the other side. “Do you have any ideas? “
“Not any that are feasible at the moment, but it’s something that Hassan was working on, and I’m happy to continue that work and see it through.”
“Definitely. Education is so important.”
“I didn’t know you were so passionate about it
.”
“I am. Without the schooling I had.” She tried to think of a way to explain it. “It was my escape. I learned about what I couldn’t do, places I couldn’t go. It added so much to my life. Every child … every person … should have that.”
Adham looked at Isabella, at the passion in her blue eyes as she spoke, and his respect for her grew. She was much more complex than he’d given her credit for when he’d first met her. He’d thought she was simply spoiled and immature, but that wasn’t it. She was naive, but she was smart. Innocent in the ways of the world, but savvy in social situations.
And having his ring meant something to her. That was an intriguing thing. He hadn’t imagined it would matter to her. It was still an arranged marriage—a marriage she didn’t want but was willing to go through with for the sake of her country, just as he was.
Now that he knew, he wanted to ensure she had a ring she would love. A ring that fit her. He had no idea why it suddenly mattered, except that it mattered to her. Isabella should have some happiness, should have something she wanted.
The wind blowing through the camp was hot, and they got a blast of it when they moved away from the car and began walking toward the camp. Isabella licked her lips, and he felt the impact of it hard in his gut. He wanted her—wanted her with a ferocity that nearly drove him to grab her and haul her back to the Hummer, so he could take her in the back seat, feel the tight, wet heat of her body around him again.
His hands shook with his need. This … this desire that was so all-consuming it was like a weed. It had taken root, and now it had gone so deep he couldn’t extract it.
No. He would. She was to be his wife, and wanting her was expected—welcome. But he could not allow it to control him.
The leader of the Bedouin tribe walked out to greet them, children clustering around him, their eyes round with awe over meeting such a powerful man. Isabella imagined they had no real idea that Adham was the king, but they didn’t really need to. Adham projected power effortlessly. In a group, he would be the one others would turn to for guidance automatically, even without a title connected to him.
A rush of pride filled her as she watched him—the man she loved, the man she was going to marry—walk with the other man over to the fire and sit with all the men, talking with them, treating them like equals, listening to their concerns. She knew Adham hadn’t been comfortable at the big, formal event that had been held at the palace, but here he was in his element. Connected to his people.
One of the women ushered her into the tent where they were sitting, talking and laughing, sewing in the lantern light. She loved talking to them, finding out about their customs, hearing stories about their children.
They had so little, and yet they had so much love. It was how Isabella wanted to treat her children—the children she would have with Adham. She wanted them to have more than nannies and tutors. She wanted them to have this. Love. Acceptance. For them to know she was proud of them. She wanted them to have everything her parents had denied her.
When Adham came into the tent a couple of hours later Isabella’s heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him. He made sure he greeted all the women, even taking time to ask for each of their names.
Then he turned to her. “It is time for us to go, Isabella.”
She nodded and stood, and he placed his hand on the small of her back. The gesture was intended as a casual maneuver, and she knew that, but it still sent reckless heat blazing through her, made her feel as though she was on fire with her desire for him. Even in front of people it was like that. And he, as always, was a statue, never betraying a moment’s discomfort, not affected in the least.
When they were back in the car, Isabella leaned toward the passenger door, trying to put some distance between the two of them.
“Did you enjoy making conversation with the women?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes. We had some time to discuss the difficulties with schooling out here …” She hesitated. “I think … I think I have an idea.”
“Do you?” He didn’t sound condescending, as her father would have, he actually sounded interested. That bolstered her confidence.
“Yes. I was thinking that we could do a simple ‘six weeks on, six weeks off’ schedule and bring teachers in on rotation. That way the children would get the education they need, but a teacher who isn’t accustomed to living out here won’t burn out from living in the desert for so long at a time.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. We had thought of boarding schools, but the more traditional people want their children home, so that they can also educate them according to their customs. But having the teachers here, on a schedule that would allow them breaks, would probably be the best solution. I’ll talk to the teachers we have out in the field and work at tailoring a schedule with them.”
Isabella couldn’t hold back her smile. She liked that she had been able to at least offer one solution to Adham. Especially since she was the cause of so many of his problems.
That thought made her smile fade again.
“We have more tribal leaders coming to the palace tomorrow. They are less … modern than some of the men we’ve met so far. They will not wish you to be present when we meet.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say to that.
“I have always been proud of my father’s legacy, of Hassan’s, of what they have done to champion women’s rights in our country, but these people … they live in the heart of the desert, untouched by technology or many other things from the modern world.”
“I see.” It hurt her feelings to be told she wasn’t wanted. Of course it did. Even if it was silly. It wasn’t as though Adham had said he didn’t want her around.
But he didn’t. That was why it bothered her. Because she felt as if he was using the wishes of the tribal leaders to get rid of her.
It would help if she could tell what he was thinking. But she couldn’t. She never could.
“I wish I could read your mind,” she said, not really intending to say it out loud, but not sorry she had.
“No,” he said, his voice rough suddenly. “You don’t wish that.”
“Yes. I do. You said to ask for what I wanted. I wish I could understand you. We’re going to get married. I think it would be helpful if we at least reached some sort of understanding.”
He applied the brakes, stopping the car in the middle of the desert road and turning to her, his eyes glittering in the dim light. “If you could read my thoughts you would be scandalized.”
“Maybe I’d like to be scandalized.”
“I think you and I have caused enough scandal.”
“We can’t dwell on that forever. What happened that night happened. There’s nothing that can be done about it now.”
He extended his hand, cupped her cheek, and she realized that he was shaking. His eyes were intense on hers, his mouth set into a hard line, his jaw locked tight. He stroked the line of her jaw with his thumb.
When he kissed her, it was hot and hard, fierce but short, his lips burning her, searing her soul.
Adham reveled in the touch of her soft lips, enjoyed the velvet feel of the inside of her mouth against his tongue, her taste, her smell, everything uniquely and wholly Isabella. His heart was slamming hard against his chest, all of his blood rushing south of his belt, making him hard, making him ache.
He wanted her—wanted to peel her modest dress off and reveal her breasts to his gaze, to taste those hardened tips, suck them between his lips. He wanted to see all of her, touch all of her, sink into her tight body and lose himself in her, give up the battle he was waging against his own desire.
He wrenched his mouth away from hers, his hands unsteady, his stomach tight, his heart beating in a chest that felt too small to accommodate it.
This was a madness that could not be endured. If he were another man—a man with less responsibility, a man who didn’t have two nations of peopl
e depending on him—he would take Isabella away and spend however long it took—weeks, months—exorcising her from his system. As it was, he didn’t have that time. He was a man who could not afford to have any weakness in him, a man who needed to be strong, who needed to have dominion over his every fleshly need.
And that meant he couldn’t afford to give in. Not to any desire that had the power to control him, that had the power to overshadow his good sense. That had the power to make him forget his loyalty to his brother, the only family he had left. Family he had betrayed so easily.
If he could break those bonds of loyalty with his brother, what would prevent him from breaking his vows to Isabella? Breaking the vows of service he’d made to his country?
He had to find his strength again. Find his control.
“This will not happen again until after the wedding,” he ground out, satisfied that he had made a decree, that he had set a timeline. One he would follow. One she would follow.
She settled back into her seat, her head tilted back, exposing the smooth line of her elegant throat. Lust gripped him hard, challenged him. He squashed it ruthlessly, shutting off all feeling, all thoughts of anything except for the passing desert.
He was the High Sheikh of Umarah. Ultimate control belonged to him. He would not give in to temptation. She was only a woman—one in a long line of many. He would not allow her to get beneath his defenses again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ADHAM was a cold stranger the next morning at breakfast, although the servants and aides were still moving around, talking. It would die down, she supposed. It wasn’t so chaotic at the Turani palace, but then, unless it was a formal occasion her father didn’t often eat meals with the family. Perhaps if he had there would have been more activity in the dining room.
She wondered if Adham would always take meals in here, with her. With their children. She could be pregnant. It was unlikely, but possible. She wanted Adham’s child, but she hoped she hadn’t conceived yet. They had way too many issues to work through before adding a child into the mix.
Adham was either hot or cold with her. That was an understatement; he was either blazing or completely frozen. As he was this morning.