by Trish Morey
Relief filled her. At least the answer to that was easy. “Because Rakin introduced me to a business associate of his. He’s a cotton importer and Rakin has convinced him he’d be better off buying in Charleston and using TKG for shipping. I wanted to warn you that he’d be calling soon.”
“You get married and that’s what you call to tell me? That your new husband may have sourced us new business?”
Matt sounded mad.
But why?
And why did men have to make it so difficult to understand them? She’d thought Matt would be thrilled—both at the news of her marriage and at the idea of the contacts she was making for TKG.
Finally Laurel settled for, “Yes.”
“Since when did business become the most important thing in your life, Laurel?”
“What do you mean?” Bewilderment flooded her, quickly followed by a tide of sisterly annoyance. “For months all we’ve talked about is what’s going to happen to The Kincaid Group. And sure, the position is a lot easier since Susannah’s grandfather came on board with Larrimore Industries, but we’re not out of the woods yet, Matt. The last thing I heard at the wedding before I left for Vegas with Rakin was that Jack Sinclair was causing trouble again—and that you were worried. I might not be there, but I can still do my best to help.”
“Laurel, calm down.”
“No, listen—”
“Calm down! No one is doubting that you do everything for this family—it’s the reason everyone was so keen for you to take a break. You’ve been carrying a lot of stress—”
“So has everyone else!”
“I’m not arguing, but one of the things I realized when Flynn became ill, when I reconnected with Susannah is that there is more to life than business.” His voice softened. “You’ve gotten married, so you’ve discovered that, too. The news of your marriage to a man you’ve fallen for is way more important than a new business contact.”
Laurel couldn’t come up with a single argument against what Matt was saying. Every word he spoke twisted deep in her chest. Her baby brother had become a romantic.
But what Matt didn’t understand was that she and Rakin hadn’t married for the same reasons as he and Susannah.
“Okay, I take your point,” she said slowly. “But before I call Mom, RJ and Lily, you need to know that you might also get a call from Zafar ibn Ahmeer Al-Abdellah. He’s interested in investing in the battery development. Look after him, he’s Rakin’s cousin.”
“Family always comes first.”
Laurel was still smiling when she set the phone down, Matt’s words ringing in her ears.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE rest of the week passed in a haze of engagements.
Rakin kept his word. He’d introduced Laurel to a host of his business contacts. In return, she made sure that the fiction of their loving marriage was firmly in place whenever his family or the extended network of relations—was present.
There had been no repeat of that steamy night in Las Vegas.
And Laurel wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed about it. Despite her inner tension about her increasing awareness of him, her respect and even affection for Rakin was growing in leaps and bounds. Yet there was still a part of him that she couldn’t reach, a part that was closed away and tightly controlled.
They had been watching the sunset from one of the many balconies of the palace, when she took the plunge and asked Rakin, “Will we get a chance to see the desert any time soon?”
It was something she’d been hoping he would show her. In part, because the presence of the vast Diyafan Desert surrounded them in Rashad, but also because she had the strong sense that Rakin had been defined by the harsh beauty of the world beyond the city. It was part of his psyche. By understanding his relationship to the ancient desert, she hoped to learn more about what made him tick.
Understanding Rakin had become increasingly important to her. Laurel was beginning to realize that he would forever be more than a stranger who had introduced to her to a world beyond her imaginings. Yet she could not yet put a name to the complex emotions he roused. There was liking… and laughter… and desire.
And something more.
Something that hovered maddeningly out of reach, defying her need to capture it… contain it… name it. It was something that had crept into her soul by small degrees until it was part of her.
“We could go any time you want.” Rakin rose from the carved olive wood chair where he’d been seated and, moving past her, he leaned against the stone balustrade, his back to the sunset. From this angle he formed a dark silhouette against the flaming sky. “You are eager to visit the desert?”
“Absolutely!” She nodded enthusiastically.
“Then we will go tomorrow.”
“But only if it suits,” she said quickly. “Only if your grandfather—”
The interruption was immediate. “I have done everything my grandfather could expect of me—and more.” There was pent-up frustration in his voice.
He’d even married her for his grandfather.
Rakin might not have said that, but the truth of it lay between them, a silent divide.
She glanced away before he glimpsed her thoughts.
The palace gardens were cloaked in falling darkness. Only the distinctive outlines of palms stood out against the pale gold of the desert sky. The first star had appeared, and a longing to explore the world that lay beyond the city walls once more overtook Laurel.
“It will be my pleasure to show you our desert. I didn’t offer to play tour guide back at your sister’s wedding out of politeness.” Humor filled his voice, and it warmed Laurel as he drew her gaze back to his dark shape. “I wish to see it through your eyes—it will be a fresh glimpse. My own personal retreat is near Dahab, a settlement in the heart of the desert,” he added. “We will go there.”
“Another adventure!”
He inclined his head. “Of course. And I promise you it will be far more authentic than a black-glass pyramid fronted by a crouching sphinx.”
She gave him an amused look. “You didn’t find that exotic?”
Rakin shifted, and the sinking sun caught the movement as his mouth tugged into a smile. “Exotic maybe. Authentic, no.”
Gratitude for the experiences that he had already offered flooded her. Laurel found herself on her feet, in front of him. And, before she could consider her actions, she was saying, “Thank you.”
An eyebrow raised. “For what?”
“For giving me the opportunity to break free.”
“If it was important enough, you would’ve done it anyway.”
Laurel was shaking her head. “I’m not so sure I would ever have found the courage.”
“Because your family needs you?”
She looked down and didn’t answer.
Rakin could understand the pull of duty. It had dominated much of his life. “What about what you need?” he asked quietly, above her bowed head.
Her shoulders hunched up. “My needs…?”
“Yes. You have needs, too.”
The words reverberated through his head, assuming a double-edged meaning Rakin had not intended. A wild, sensual glimpse of needs very different from those he’d been alluding to taunted him. The memory of her face alight with excitement after the roller coaster ride flashed through his mind. The wild sounds she’d made when they made love…
She’d been animated in a way he’d never seen her. Alive. Held in a thrall that turned her beauty into something far more primal and caused want to leap through him.
“My needs are not important.” She spoke with a finality that told him she considered the topic closed.
Letting out the breath he’d unconsciously been holding, Rakin placed a hand beneath her chin and tilted her head up. Her eyes were turbulent with emotion. He forced himself to ignore the want that flared, and concentrate on the yearning in her eyes. “Your needs are very important. It’s time you start to put yourself first.”
“I think you know.” The evening sun had turned her hair to a nimbus of auburn flame, and she looked breathtakingly lovely. But Rakin couldn’t allow himself to be sidetracked. “Eli said kindness is one of your best traits, but it may also be one of your greatest shortcomings, too.”
“That’s contradictory.”
Despite the dismissive words, all her attention remained fixed on him.
“No, it’s not. You’ve always done what everyone else wanted—even when it wasn’t best for you.” He heard her breath catch. “You haven’t been very kind to yourself.”
“It would be selfish to think of my own needs at a time my family should come first.”
“Only you can decide whether it would be selfish— because only you know what you really want. Staying in Charleston, going through the motions of a life that isn’t what you dream of would’ve been condemning you to a half life.” His fingers still rested against her chin, and her lips parted. He ached to capture the softness of that sweet mouth. He thrust his desire down. Relentlessly he pressed on. “You need to be true to yourself.”
There was a pause. Finally she said in a low voice, “You’re saying that by doing what’s best for my family I’ve been dishonest.”
“I think that all your life you’ve done what you think others want—rather than what you truly desire.”
“I love my family—I love my job,” she protested.
“I’m sure you do. I’m not saying that you don’t,” he said gently, his fingers straying along her jawline in a caress. He wondered if she’d realized yet that she’d allowed that love to become a trap that was draining her of her vitality and life force. “But what you’ve proved to me is that you feel a need to escape from everyone’s perception of who Laurel Kincaid is. That can only be because you have a different vision of the real Laurel Kincaid. Don’t forget it’s your vision that matters.” Rakin knew she was still defined in terms of the Kincaid name. He bit back the urge to tell her she was an Abdellah now. His wife. And that he placed no constraints on whomever she chose to be. “Your vision. Not your mother’s. Not Eli’s. Not mine. Only yours.”
This time he watched her throat bob as she swallowed.
But what she said next startled him. “And you, Rakin? Are you loyal to the vision of what you most want?”
The helicopter descended to the desert below.
Rakin had wasted no time in putting the plan for them to visit Dahab into action. Through the bubble windows the gold expanse of the sand rose up to meet them. What from the air had appeared as a barren stretch of nothing, now rearranged itself into a myriad of colors. Rocky outcrops with bent tamarind trees nestling at the base. Ahead, stone battlements clawed their way up against the outcrop.
Laurel spoke into the microphone built into the headphones that had muffled the noise of their journey. “This is your retreat? Good heavens, it looks like a fortress.”
“It was originally a fort.”
The helicopter cleared the high walls surrounding the edifice and dropped onto a helipad. Minutes later, the pilot came around and opened the door, and Laurel clambered out, keeping her head down until she’d cleared the slowing rotor blades.
Outside, the desert heat was dry and dusty.
She gazed about with interest.
Closer to the house—fort, she amended—water cascaded over rocks into pools adorned with lush plantings.
“It looks like an oasis.”
“It is an oasis. Come.” Rakin placed his hand under her elbow. “It will be cooler inside.”
“What’s that?” Laurel pointed to a building jutting out in the distance.
“That’s the stable block.”
“Stables?” Laurel came to a standstill. The face that tilted up to him was radiant. “There are horses? Or are the stables empty?”
“There are horses. Not many—the royal stud is located closer to Rashad. But I like to ride when I am home so there are always horses.”
“Can we ride?”
Rakin nodded.
Joy exploded in her eyes. “Tomorrow?” At his nod, she said, “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve ridden a horse?”
That startled him. “You can ride?”
“All Winthrops can ride—we were taken for our first lesson before we were five.” Her beatific smile told him she’d clearly loved every moment.
“Then why stop?”
“So much else to do. My brothers carried on—they still play polo. But, as the eldest daughter, mother insisted I learn to play tennis and do ballet and piano so that my sisters would follow in my ballet slippers.” She grinned, but Rakin detected a forced gaiety. “And Winthrops fish and shoot and hunt, too, so there was little time left for the demands of horse-riding lessons.”
“You shoot and hunt?”
“I don’t hunt myself, but I’m a crack shot.”
Rakin knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Yet he couldn’t help it. Laurel was so intensely feminine and ladylike he didn’t expect the more physical side of her. Then he remembered what she was like in bed. More tiger than lady. Instantly desire stirred.
He overrode it.
“We will take the horses out tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Now, let me show you my home.”
The ride surpassed everything Laurel had expected.
They rode out of the dark stable yard while it was still cool. It was the only way to escape the relentless heat of the day, Rakin told her, his stirrup chinking against hers as they rode abreast.
The mare she was riding, a gray with small pricked ears and the delicate dish face so characteristic of an Arabian horse, had an easy gait. By contrast, Rakin was mounted on Pasha, a strong stallion with a high-held tail and long mane.
For a while they rode in utter silence, the clip of the horses’ hooves muffled by the desert sand. Laurel shifted in the saddle and inhaled the dry, already hot air. To the east, the first bright slivers of dawn had cracked the jet-black sky. All around them the desert was coming to life.
To Laurel’s right a dark outcrop had taken shape, and now the first rays of the sun struck the rockface.
“What is that?”
“Jabal Al Tair. The mountain of the birds,” Rakin translated. “We will make our way up as far as we can and watch the sun rise from a higher vantage point.”
The stony path climbed steeply until they came to a place where the rise leveled out between two imposing rock faces.
Rakin dismounted first, then came to hold her mare’s head as Laurel swung her leg over the back of the saddle and slid down to the ground. Handing the reins to Rakin, she watched as he tethered the two horses. Then she followed him along a winding, narrow path between the cliffs.
Once through the fissure, the path opened up into a broad rock platform.
“Oh, wow!”
They stood on the edge of the world.
In front of them the gold desert sands stretched to meet the rising sun.
“Dahab means gold. You can see where the name comes from.”
“Yes.” Laurel didn’t even want to breathe to break the awe of the moment.
“Look,” Rakin pointed.
She followed his arm. A hawk circled in wide swoops. “He’s hunting.”
“Yes,” Rakin agreed, his eyes narrowed as he watched the bird swoop down to the desert below. “See that blur of movement? That’s a hare he’s after.”
The hawk rose, a silhouette against the rosy sky, the hare clutched between hooked talons. Ascending to the sheer walls above them, the big bird disappeared from sight.
Gesturing to the vista spread out in front of them, Laurel said, “It looks so empty, yet it’s an entire ecosystem. It just took the sun coming up to reveal it.” She shot Rakin a look that caused him to want to pull her into his arms and seal her smiling mouth with his. “Apollo driving his fiery chariot into the sky to meet the new day,” she murmured.
Before he could turn thought to action, one of the horses whickered behind them. Laurel started to laugh. “You want to be up there, too?”
“It would be hard, hot work galloping that course every day,” replied Rakin, leashing the rush of raw desire that she’d evoked. “Only an Arabian could keep up.”
“Apollo himself would have to be pretty fit.” Laurel let her gaze drift down Rakin’s lean length. “A horseman with years of skill.”
Rakin grew still.
“I want you,” he said roughly. “Now.”
“Now?” Laurel could feel herself flushing. “Here?”
“Yes.”
The bald statement caused her to blink. Twice.
His cheekbones jutted out in hard angles from his rigid face.
“But it’s morning.” She heard herself, and shuddered. She sounded like a naive virgin. Both of them knew she was not that.
“It makes you shy to make love in the daylight?” he asked, and touched her. One finger trailed down her cheek. “Still? Despite what we shared that night in Las Vegas?”
Her heart contracted at his mention of love.
This marriage had never been about love… yet Laurel was starting to think increasingly about love. It wasn’t something she had ever discovered. Her lashes sank hiding her eyes from his all-too-perceptive gaze. What she shared with Rakin had a depth and intensity beyond what she’d felt for men in the past.
This was different.
Could it be love?
She started as his hands closed on her shoulders.
“Laurel…?”
The husky sound of his voice caused her look up. Taut tension radiated from him. A rush of desire bolted through her veins. She knew he was going to kiss her… and she did nothing to stop him. Instead, she waited… and welcomed the surge of heat as his mouth opened over hers.
His tongue sank in. Hungry. Possessive. Laurel’s hands came up to grasp his forearms and she held on tight, her response desperate with pent-up passion. At least she hoped it was passion. Not—
Or was this… hunger… this desperation… this powerful emotion possibly… love?
Fear of the answer finally made her break away.