Desert Princes Bundle

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘Okay!’

  She waited until he had run out of the room before she rounded on Giovanni. It was as much as she could do not to beat her fists on his chest—but she wasn’t naïve enough to risk something as provocative as that. ‘How dare you?’ she breathed. ‘How dare you?’

  ‘What, in particular, are you objecting to?’ he drawled.

  ‘Parading around with no clothes on!’ she choked.

  ‘What’s the matter—has he never seen a naked man before?’

  ‘Of course he hasn’t!’

  ‘Ah!’ He bit back a smile of unmistakable satisfaction. ‘He hasn’t?’

  She had walked straight into a trick question, and Alexa glared at him. She knew it was perverse—but some misunderstood demon inside her wanted to tell him that, yes, Paolo had seen a thousand naked men pass through her bedroom. That she entertained lovers with all the unembarrassed ease of an ancient courtesan!

  ‘Of course he hasn’t!’ she said again crossly. ‘Not that you’re likely to believe that, of course—you just believe what happens to suit you at the time, don’t you, Giovanni? So therefore a woman who’s not a virgin must be a slut—because there’s never any room for grey in your world, is there? Only black and white! Always bending reality to suit your vision of it!’

  He thought how magnificent she looked. How, if it weren’t for a list of royal engagements and their young son waiting for them nearby, she would be writhing beneath him by now. Cursing the fact that he had slept right through the night without taking advantage of the opportunity for more sex with her, he spread the palms of his hands out in a gesture of admission. ‘You may have a point,’ he said softly.

  Alexa stilled, not sure if she’d heard him properly. ‘Let me get this straight. I no longer top your list of sexual predators? You’re agreeing with me?’ she questioned suspiciously.

  Giovanni was astute enough to recognise that more accusation would work against him. Last night had been a one-off—an undeniably powerful coupling, driven by hurt and anger and bitter memories of the past as well as by sexual hunger. But in a way the act had been cathartic—washing everything away—and if he wanted a repeat performance, then he was going to have to employ a completely different strategy towards her.

  ‘I am saying that you have a point,’ he conceded, as careful with his words as any lawyer.

  Once, the acknowledgement might have filled her with a sense of victory—but it was far too late for that. It didn’t matter that he might have misjudged her and been harsh on her—all that was irrelevant now, and only their son counted. ‘But all of that is completely beside the point. What about Paolo walking in like that, to see—?’

  ‘Two grown adults doing what comes completely naturally?’

  ‘Don’t wilfully misunderstand me, Giovanni!’ Alexa clenched her fists. ‘I can understand that you weren’t going to be satisfied until you got what you wanted—’

  ‘Whereas you didn’t want it at all, I suppose?’ he enquired sardonically. ‘I really had to fight to get you to submit to my wicked way, didn’t I?’

  She ignored the interruption and its wounding accuracy. ‘But you could have had the decency to creep away before it got light and sleep on one of the divans. At least that way Paolo wouldn’t have had to witness—’

  ‘To witness what? A husband and wife waking up in bed together?’ he queried silkily. ‘You think that is such a terrible crime, cara?’

  ‘Yes, I do—in our case!’ She darted a look towards the bathroom door, but thankfully there was still no sign of Paolo. Alexa pulled on the dark silk kimono and knotted it tightly at her waist, raking her hand through her tumble of hair and thinking what a sight she must look. ‘We aren’t even supposed to be married any more—just in case you’d forgotten!’

  ‘I am having trouble remembering anything right now—especially with the golden silk of your hair tumbling down over your breasts like that,’ he said huskily.

  She would have had to be made of ice not to respond to the sensual compliment, and she had already proved beyond reasonable doubt that being glacial was not in her nature—not around Giovanni. Alexa drew in a deep breath. ‘Can you please put some clothes on?’

  He shot her a mocking look. ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever been asked that particular question.’

  He walked into the bathroom and returned wearing a white towel knotted around his narrow hips, but even that could not disguise the unmistakable outline of his rapidly growing desire. He saw her eyes drawn to it convulsively, and then dart away again before they fixed themselves on his face. ‘Frustrating, isn’t it, bella?’ he murmured.

  ‘What the hell are we going to do?’

  ‘About the frustration, or about the day’s plans?’

  ‘Gio!’

  He touched his fingers to the rough rasp of new growth at his jaw, thinking that he needed a shave and feeling—uncharacteristically—that he was out of his depth. He was a man who considered that he knew all the rules of sexual behaviour—yet this was entirely new territory for him.

  For a start, he didn’t usually bed women who had children—not unless they were older and safely out of the way. In fact, he didn’t involve himself with anything which threatened to cramp his style—and that included jealous husbands or mothers-on-the-make who wanted an assurance that he would marry their daughters if he happened to conduct an affair with them.

  In all these matters he was obdurate and determined—never allowing himself to be swayed, no matter what the provocation. And if that was considered selfish, then so be it—at least Giovanni was honest; he never promised something he couldn’t deliver. Pleasure without strings. If the woman didn’t like it, then duro—tough—there was always another, just as beautiful, waiting to be given whatever Giovanni da Verrazzano was prepared to offer.

  But with Alexa…the child in question was their child—and that put an entirely different perspective on the situation. He found he didn’t want to demand coldly that she hire in a babysitter. He wanted to share breakfast with their son. Yet wouldn’t admitting that show him as vulnerable—expose a side of himself which she might use against him in any future battle for their son?

  His hard, dark face gave away nothing of his conflicting thoughts. ‘We are presenting our son to the Sheikh, and then going to the wedding of Xavier and Laura, as planned.’ He gave her an icy smile. ‘Nothing has changed, cara—did you really expect it to?’

  Alexa stared at him. ‘Nothing?’ She had asked him to stop making allusions to sex, but she had not expected all the vigour to suddenly drain from his face, leaving the eyes cold and the mouth cruel. ‘Are you saying that last night isn’t going to impact on us one way or another?’ she questioned slowly.

  He raised his dark brows. ‘That is up to you,’ he said. ‘It can impact on us any time you like—you have only to say the word and we’ll enjoy an action replay.’ Black eyes danced a sensual message. ‘Satisfaction guaranteed.’

  ‘You arrogant—’

  ‘But it’s the truth,’ he murmured sardonically. ‘You know it and I know it.’

  ‘Bastard!’ she hissed.

  ‘Keep your voice down, Lex—I don’t want Paolo growing up around bad language.’

  Rarely had Alexa felt so frustrated or so angry, but presumably that was his intention. Not trusting herself to reply and give him the satisfaction of knowing that, she turned on her heel and went to persuade Paolo to wear the outfit she’d brought for him.

  He submitted fairly peacefully to her ministrations, and afterwards, while he was being served with fresh fruit and pastries on a terrace already warm from the sun—though it was not yet high in the sky—Alexa pulled out her own wedding outfit. She tried to be enthusiastic about the accessories which Teri had recommended to match the full-length sheath dress coloured an unusual shade of cobalt green.

  Large dangly green earrings and a clutch of bangles clattering at her wrist brought the whole outfit together, and when she looked in the mirror it was
with the satisfaction of knowing she looked her best. That the reflection which stared back at her was of a young and attractive woman in her prime—not a hard-up shop girl for whom every penny counted.

  But above the unusual garb Alexa’s face was drained, and she sighed. What on earth was she going to say to Giovanni’s father, the Sheikh?

  ‘Lex?’ came a voice from behind her.

  She turned round to see Giovanni, looking as if he was born to live in a palace—his dark skin and black eyes standing out in stark relief against the pale, fluid robes he wore.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  Like he cared! ‘Oh, you know.’ Affecting nonchalance, she shrugged. ‘Someone should write an etiquette book along the lines of: How To Cope When the Father of Your Child Announces He’s Royal!’ And, of course, the follow-up volume: Meeting His Father For the First Time!

  The merest glimmer of a smile curved the corners of a mouth more habitually seen set in a forbidding line. ‘You’re nervous?’

  ‘What do you think? That I meet sheikhs every day of the week?’

  ‘I think you look beautiful and that you are a good mother. That’s what I think,’ he said unexpectedly.

  The compliment took her by surprise, and warmed her far more than it should have done. Was that because he hadn’t paid her one for such a long time? She blushed, and then hated herself for blushing. Just because he’s stopped being nasty to you for a split second, it doesn’t mean you should read anything into it.

  She stared instead at his white robes and headdress, the purity of the garments broken only by the splash of colour on his headdress and sash. ‘I thought only the bride was supposed to wear white.’

  ‘Not in Kharastan. Apparently she’s in red and gold—lavish embroidery and lots of jewels. Are you and Paolo ready to see Zahir now?’

  Alexa knew she couldn’t put it off for ever.

  ‘Yes,’ she answered quietly.

  ‘And have you told Paolo?’

  Again, she nodded. ‘I have.’ Her expression was wry. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from all this, it’s that total honesty is best where children are concerned.’

  ‘Only children?’ he mocked softly. ‘You mean that lies are acceptable when you’re dealing with adults?’

  She looked at him, wondering how the face she had touched with such rapture under the concealing darkness of the night should now seem so distant and remote. ‘I’ll never lie to you again, Giovanni,’ she vowed.

  He turned away. Words were so easy. They could be plucked from out of nowhere at will. And he had no need of her reassurances. ‘Let us go and find our son,’ he said harshly, hardening his heart against the faint look of disappointment on her face.

  The three of them went off to the Sheikh’s private quarters. The rooms were large and cool, and there were treasures here more stunning than anything else she’d seen in the palace, but in a way Alexa was oblivious to everything other than the significance of the occasion.

  The Sheikh was very old, and was seated on a beautiful cushion-scattered seat by a window overlooking a rose garden. He beckoned to them to approach. Paolo’s hand slipped quietly into hers, and when they grew closer Alexa surprised herself by dropping a deep curtsey she hadn’t been aware she knew how to do.

  ‘Please.’ The Sheikh smiled and patted the space on the divan beside him as he looked at the boy. ‘Do you want to sit down beside me?’ he asked Paolo.

  To Alexa’s astonishment, Paolo went immediately, hopping up easily and swinging his little legs as if he was sitting on the wall outside school! Was that because he had been starved of extended family from the word go? Only a grandmother in Canada whom he saw maybe once every couple of years, if he was lucky?

  For a moment she felt stricken with a heavy kind of guilt and turned her head to see Giovanni’s gaze, expecting to find accusation firing from his black eyes. But, no. Instead, she was startled by a brief glimmer of admiration in their ebony depths—or was she imagining it? But no, he had told her that he thought her a good mother, and there was no reason for him to tell lies about that—especially not when he had been so brutally honest about everything else.

  The Sheikh began to talk softly to Paolo, telling him about what it had been like growing up in Kharastan, and Alexa thought that the tale was as much for his son as his grandson. He talked about the desert, where flowers bloomed only once in a century and where camels walked for unimaginable amounts of time, and he described the ancient art of keeping falcons—the wild, savage beauty of these birds of prey. With an expression of unmistakable pride, he described the fine racehorses he kept in his stables. ‘Do you ride, Paolo?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Would you like to?’

  ‘Oh, yes, please, sir!’

  Afterwards, they all took sweet mint tea and the ordeal was nothing remotely as terrifying as Alexa had feared. But when they were about to leave, the Sheikh summoned for her to remain behind.

  She looked beseechingly at Giovanni, but his black eyes glittered unperturbed as he placed his hand on Paolo’s shoulder.

  ‘Want to go and see all the acrobats practising?’

  ‘Acrobats?’ squeaked Paolo.

  The Sheikh gave a smile. ‘Indeed, there are acrobats,’ he said gravely. ‘And magicians, musicians and dancers—for in Kharastan a royal wedding is rare, and something to be truly celebrated!’

  After they’d gone, there was silence for a moment. Alexa wasn’t experienced in handling royals, but she knew that you were never supposed to initiate conversation—especially so in a country where it seemed that women were submissive. Remembering something else she had read, she dropped her gaze so that her eyes were downcast.

  ‘You have a fine boy,’ said the Sheikh at last.

  His words made her look up and, inspired by surprise as much as relief, Alexa’s face broke into a wreath of a smile. ‘Why, thank you.’

  The Sheikh nodded, and there was a pause. ‘But he has had a hard life, I understand?’

  Alexa stilled. ‘Hard? I’m not sure that I understand, your Imperial Highness.’

  ‘Giovanni tells me that you live in a small cottage and that you work in a shop.’

  Oh, did he? Never considered particularly tall, Alexa now instinctively drew herself up to her full height, and sucked in a breath of angry air through her nostrils. ‘We may not have much in the material sense,’ she said, with quiet dignity, ‘but Paolo has never gone short on the things that matter. He’s always had sustenance, play and comfort—but more importantly than anything he’s always had love. An abundance of love. So I don’t think his life has been at all hard, Your Highness—I must disagree with your son.’

  The Sheikh’s eyes narrowed with a glint of humour. ‘From what I understand, there are many disagreements between the two of you—but your relationship with Giovanni is not my concern. My grandson, however, is. The sentiment that money cannot not buy love has always been true—but money can buy you comfort,’ he said.

  ‘It can buy material comfort,’ Alexa emphasised. ‘Emotional comfort is far more elusive.’

  ‘Only women place importance on such things,’ he said dismissively.

  But Alexa was not one of his servants—there to be banished because her views didn’t happen to coincide with his. Yes, he was all-powerful within his kingdom—but surely it was morally wrong to agree with him just because of that?

  ‘Women are usually the ones left caring for the family,’ she argued. ‘And we recognise the importance of emotion.’

  He stared at her. ‘You are stubborn,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘No. I’m passionate about the things I believe in, Your Majesty.’

  ‘We sometimes have to live without the things we believe in,’ he said softly, and then shut his eyes and leaned back, suddenly weary. ‘Thank you for talking to me. Now, go and enjoy the wedding.’

  Was he sending her a silent message? Telling her that she was wasting her time if she was hoping for a show of em
otion from Giovanni? Well, you needn’t worry, Your Imperial Highness, she thought—I’m under no illusions where Giovanni is concerned.

  A servant took her to where Paolo was standing, down in the courtyard, being given a private performance by a set of jugglers. Giovanni was standing a short distance away, beside an orange tree which bore both fruit and flower.

  He looked up with a questioning stare as she approached. ‘Your meeting with the Sheikh went well?’

  ‘Surprisingly well, considering.’

  ‘Considering what?’ His voice was cool.

  Alexa narrowed her eyes. ‘Did you describe Paolo’s life as hard?’

  There was a pause. ‘Of course.’

  Count to ten. Keep calm. Don’t lose it. But it wasn’t easy when she wanted to scream her outrage to the rooftops. ‘How could you say that? It’s not hard,’ she defended breathlessly. ‘Your son is loved and wanted. Even the Sheikh acknowledged that much.’

  ‘My son does not have a father,’ he said coldly. ‘Nor all the advantages that my wealth could bring him—’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Hear me out, Alexa!’ His words cut through her objections like a knife through a ripe peach. ‘I had not intended to bring this up until after the wedding, but since you seem determined to have the discussion I have no choice.’

  ‘Choice? What are you talking about?’

  ‘Considering all the odds which have been stacked against Paolo—’

  ‘What odds?’ she questioned, in a dangerous voice.

  ‘The fact that you are a single working mother and that you cannot afford to buy your own home.’ He saw her look of objection and shook his dark head. ‘These are not things that I am simply making up, cara,’ he intoned fiercely. ‘They are known obstacles to a child’s proper development. You know that. I know that.’

  She jerked her head in the direction of their son, who seemed to be giggling and having a whale of a time, despite the fact that he didn’t speak more than a word or two of Kharastani. ‘You think he looks deprived?’