To Tempt a Sheikh

by Olivia Gates

  Suddenly Harres took her hand and spooled her away then back into his arms, all while moving as one with the beat. “Dance, ya nadda jannati. Celebrate being alive and being in paradise.”

  And being with you, she wanted to shout.

  She didn’t, let her eyes shout it for her. Then she danced, as if she’d been released from shackles that had kept her immobile all her life, riding the compelling rhythm, moving with him to the primal beat, her heart keeping the same fiery tempo.

  Somehow, they wound up in the middle of a dancing circle that he’d either led her to or had formed around them.

  The young tribe members swirled around them in intricate routines, the males swooping like birds of prey, bounding and stomping in energetic courtship and persistent demand, the females twirling around like huge flowers, gesturing and tapping in practiced coquetry and eager acceptance.

  Harres led her in emulating them, then in improvising their own dance of intimacy and delight in each other.

  And for an indeterminate stretch, she felt she’d been transported to another realm where nothing existed but him. She felt him, and only him, as his eyes and touch lured her, inflamed her, shared with her, joined with her, as he moved with her as if they were connected on all levels, as if the same impulses coursed in their nerves, the same drive powered their wills and limbs.

  She surfaced from the magical realm to everyone singing. In moments she found herself repeating the distinctive, catchy melody and lyrics, without understanding a word.

  Suddenly Harres pulled her to him, turning the energy of their dance into a slow burn of seduction, his lips at her ear shooting more bolts of stimulation through her. And that was before she heard what he whispered.

  “Everything before you passed and went to waste.”

  Her whole frame jerked with the shock, the emotions that surged too fast, too vast to comprehend, to contain.

  He pressed her nearer, his voice deeper, darker, the only thing she heard anymore. “Koll shai gablek addaw daa.”

  That was what she was singing along.

  Harres was just translating.

  But no. He wasn’t. He meant it. Even if the magic of those moments, of their situation and surroundings was amplifying his emotions…

  The music came to an abrupt end. The silence that exploded in the next moment felt like a freezing splash, dousing her fire.

  No. She wanted this time out of time to continue, to last.

  But she knew it wouldn’t. None of it would.

  She could only cherish every second, waste none on despondency.

  She looked up at Harres, found him looking back at her with eyes still storming with stimulation. She teetered from his intensity, from the drain of energy. He bent and lifted her into his arms.

  People ran ahead, indicating the place of honor they should occupy. She tried to regain her footing, but he only tightened his hold on her. She struggled not to bury her face in his shoulder in embarrassment, to be carried like that, and after the whole tribe saw her dancing like a demon, too.

  At their place, he set her on the cushions, sat down beside her and fetched her water and maward—rose essence. Then he began peeling ripened dates and feeding them to her.

  She fought the urge to do something to be really embarrassed about. Grabbing his hand and suckling the sticky sweetness off his fingers. Then traveling downward…

  Going lightheaded with the fantasies, with holding back, she mumbled around the last mouthful, “You do know I’m fully recharged and in no need of coddling, right?”

  He shook his head. “You used up your battery with that marathon jig.”

  She waved her hand. “I’m just saving up for the next one.”

  He smiled down at her, poured her some mouthwatering cardamom coffee in a tiny, handblown, greenish glass and brought it to her lips. “A sip with each bite of dates is the recommended dose.”

  She did as instructed, her eyes snapping wider at the incredible blend of aromas and flavors, of bitterness and sweetness, at the graininess of the dates dissolving in the rich heat and smoothness of the coffee.

  She sighed, gulped the rest. Sinking deeper in contentment, she turned to adjust her cushions. He jumped to do it himself.

  She leaned back on them, quirking her lips at him. “When will you believe you don’t have to keep doing stuff for me, that I’ve never been in better shape? No emergency doctor could have done a better job on me.”

  “I know, my invincible dew droplet, but would you be so cruel as to deprive me of the pleasure of pampering you?”

  Now what could a woman say to that?

  Nothing but unintelligible sighs, evidently. That was all that issued from her as the oasis elder rose to deliver a word of welcome before waiters with huge trays holding dozens of plates streamed out to serve dinner.

  More sighs accompanied the fantastic meal. The food at the oasis was the best she’d ever had. Tonight it rose to ambrosia level.

  Harres fed her, cut the assortment of grilled meats, told her the names and recipes of the baked and grilled breads and the vegetable stews. He introduced her to date wine, which she proclaimed should replace nectar as the drink of the gods. But it was logmet al gadee that was truly out of this world. The golden spheres of fried dough, crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside and dipped in thick syrup were so good there should be—and probably there was—a penalty for it.

  After dinner they danced again, then she shook hands with hundreds of people, thanked them all for the best night of her life. On their stroll back to the cottage, she decided something.

  Everything in this place was pure magic.

  But she knew that wasn’t an accurate assessment. Had she been with anyone else, she wouldn’t have enjoyed it a fraction as much. She’d been to idyllic places for vacations before, but had never enjoyed one after her parents died, had stopped trying to years ago….

  “What are you thinking, ya talyeti?”

  She shook off the surge of melancholy, smiled up at him. “This means my Talia, right?”

  He nodded, sweeping a soothing hand over her hair, now supple and sparkling from a miraculous blend of local oils. “Your Arabic is getting better every day.”

  “I find it fascinating, so rich and expressive in ways so different from English. I’d love to learn more.”

  “Then you shall.”

  It was always like that. She wished for something, and he insisted she’d have it. She knew he would give her anything, if at all possible.

  Feeling her skin getting tighter with emotion, she answered his previous question. “I was thinking of my parents.”

  His eyes grew softer. “You told me they died. I didn’t want to probe. Not a good idea bringing up death and that of loved ones in our situation back then.”

  “But you want to know now.”

  “Only if it doesn’t pain you to talk about them.”

  “No, no. I love to talk about them. I hate it that people avoid bringing them up, as if it will remind me of their loss. As if I need to be reminded. It’s actually not mentioning them that makes me feel their absence even more acutely.”

  His eyebrows knotted. “People can be misguided in their good intentions.” His brow cleared, his lips quirking. “What I find amazing is that you didn’t set them straight.”

  “Oh, I did.”

  He chuckled before gentle seriousness descended over his face. “Were their deaths recent?”

  “It feels like yesterday. And like a few lifetimes ago.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Her heart kicked. “You’ve lost loved ones, too?”

  He shook his head, his gaze heating. “I meant knowing you. It’s so vivid it feels perpetually new, yet so powerful it feels as if you have been there all my life, a part of my being.” Now what could she say to something so—indescribable? And worse, that sounded so spontaneous and sincere? Good thing he didn’t let her struggle for a comment, but went on. “But I don’t have a comparable exper
ience when it comes to losing someone that dear. My mother died when I was five, so I hardly remember her. So tell me, ya talyeti, talk to me about your loved ones.”

  “I feel I lost them simultaneously, even though they died seven years apart. Okay, let me start at the beginning.” She let out a shuddering exhalation, let him draw her closer into him, then began. “I never knew my biological father. I knew of him, but he didn’t want a wife and a kid, let alone two. We had our mother’s family name until she married the man I consider my father when Todd and I were two. As I grew up and learned the whole story, I thought my mother the luckiest woman on earth and my father—the man whose name I carry now—the best man in existence. I never saw anyone more in love or right for each other than they were.

  “The only problem was, my father was almost thirty years older than my mom. He’d never been married before, always said he’d been waiting for her. For all of us. When I was in my second year in med school, right before his eightieth birthday, he passed away in his sleep, beside my mom. She never recovered. Seven years later, she overdosed on a concoction of the prescription meds I’d been begging her for years not to take. I could have saved her if I was there, but only Todd was home. By the time the ambulance arrived, it was too late.”

  For long moments after she fell silent, Harres said nothing. Then they entered their cottage, and he pulled her into his embrace, pressed her head against his endless chest.

  They stood like that, sharing, savoring, her body throbbing to the tempo of the powerful heart beating below her ear.

  Then he kissed the top of her head. “Ana aassef, ya nadda jannati. I’m sorry.”

  He said nothing more. Then they went about their bedtime routine. Once in bed, hearing him moving in the other room, she had a sudden realization. Why she’d always given up on any attempt at a relationship so early, so easily.

  With her parents’ example, she’d set her own bar high. Every connection she’d attempted had fallen miles below it. She’d soon given up on trying, had been resigned that she’d never have anything like they’d had, and that if she couldn’t, she’d rather be alone. She’d become content with a life full of activity and purpose.

  Now there was Harres.

  “It’s…huge.”

  At Talia’s exclamation, Harres pressed his hard body to her back, murmured in her ear, “Yes, it is.”

  She nestled back against him, cast her gaze over the depression of el waha—the oasis that sprawled below them.

  It had taken the past four days to cover the place on horse back. Now, on top of Reeh—or Wind, the white horse Harres had ridden on his charge back to save her—she had the best vantage point yet to appreciate it all from.

  It seemed the explosion of life among the barrenness of the desert fed the conditions that fueled its proliferation in an endless cycle of balance and symbiosis. Date palms and olive trees numbered in the hundreds of thousands. Wildflowers and cacti were impossible in beauty and abundance. Farmed fruits and vegetables, especially figs, apricots, berries and corn, were astounding in size and taste. And besides horses, camels, sheep, goats, cats and dogs, there were innumerable representatives of the animal kingdom, all like the residents, unstressed and unthreatened. Deer and foxes let her walk up to them, a few let her pet them. Even reptiles and birds humored her when she cooed to them and presumed to offer them food and seek their acquaintance.

  She sighed her pleasure again. “Scratch huge. It’s endless. It goes on forever.”

  Harres chuckled as he unwrapped her from his arms, jumped off the horse and reached up to carry her down. His effortless strength and the cherishing in his glance and touch as she slid down his body sent a current through her heart.

  “We can see about three miles to the horizon if we’re on the ground, farther the higher up we go. Since we’re three hundred feet up, we can see for about twenty miles. And since the oasis measures more than that on its narrowest side, you can’t see its end from any point, making it look endless.”

  She whooped, loving his explanations. “You should consider a career as a tour guide, if ever princes are no longer in demand….” She bit her tongue. Not something to joke about with a dethroning conspiracy going on in his kingdom. He only grinned at her, showing her he knew she’d meant nothing, enjoyed her joke. Grinning back in relief, she said, “I can now see how this place earned its mystical reputation.”

  “So it’s worth the ordeal I put you through coming here, eh?”

  “I would have welcomed a trash dump if it had water and shelter. But it isn’t because this place meant life to us that I find it amazing. It is a paradise, like you said. Mostly because of its inhabitants. Everyone is so kind and bright and wise.”

  She left out the main reason why she found this place enchanting. The present company.

  For minutes, as sunset expanded its dominion over the oasis, boosting the beauty to its most mind-boggling, he guided her to a spring of crystalline water enclosed within a canopy of palms. The air was laden with sweet plant scents and heady earth aromas, its temperature seeming to be calibrated for perfect comfort, all year round as he’d told her.

  As they stopped by the spring, she said, “It would be so easy to live here forever.”

  If Todd was with her, she amended inwardly, or at least out of prison.

  Harres spread a rug at her feet, looked up. “Wouldn’t you go out of your mind without modern conveniences?”

  She sank down on the rug, reached for their food basket. “Sure, I’d miss a few things. Hot showers for one. And the internet. Uh…I’m sure there’s more I’d miss, but I’m drawing a blank right now.”

  He got out glasses. “How about medicine?”

  “Oh, I’d practice it here like I have been so far. I’d probably do far more good in the long run than I do patching up people who go out and drive recklessly or OD again.”

  He raised a slice of apricot to her lips. “But you’re a very complex being, ya nadda jannati, a product of dozens of centuries of human evolution. I am best qualified to judge how sturdy and tenacious you are, but beyond the comforts you’d substitute with the pleasures of healthy living and labor, you’d itch for what the people here can’t conceive, need challenges they can’t provide.”

  He knew her too well. And she could say the exact same of him. She nodded. “Probably. It’s just the simplicity, the contentment and tranquility that breathes in this place is enchanting. If I had my way, this would be normal life and the bustle of the twenty-first century would be the vacation.”

  “Then you will have your way.”

  It felt like a pledge. As if he never meant this to end.

  Yet she had no illusions, no hopes. Oceans of harsh realities, mountains of obstacles existed between them.

  She was a commoner from another country and culture and he was a prince with a binding duty to his people. Then there was Todd’s ordeal. She had no idea what securing his freedom would mean, to Harres, to his family. Even if there could be a solution that didn’t end up harming them and making her Harres’s enemy, he was probably—like that woman her brother had fallen in love with—intended to marry for king and kingdom.

  Not that she’d ever put Harres and marriage together in a linear thought where she was concerned.

  She now watched as he braided palm leaves into an ingenious basket for her fruits. Then she said, “You know, I came here thinking all of you Aal Shalaans were pampered perverts, mired in excess, useless at best, and helpless without your guards and gadgets, that all there was to you was unearned wealth and inherited status.”

  His nimble hands had stopped midway through weaving his own basket, his eyes becoming somber, contemplative. Then he inhaled. “So what did you think of me specifically?”

  She owed him the truth, no matter how ugly it was. Feeling shame surge into her cheeks, she said, “When I first heard the tales of your valor and victories? I thought you were the most obnoxious of the lot, playing at being a hero, taking credit for the achie
vements of the true but faceless heroes, or at best relying on the safety net of your men’s lives and your endless resources to play the role of Zohayd’s Guardian Prince. I thought you’d show your true colors when you were stripped of your force field of assets.”

  He put a palm over his heart. “Ouch. And now you think all that plus a few more choice put-downs and denigrations?”

  She cast him a reproachful glance. “You know what I think now.”

  “Tell me.”

  The way he’d said that. The way he looked at her. As if he couldn’t live without this vital knowledge.

  Breath left her. “You know what you are. You have a whole kingdom who revere the dirt beneath your feet.”

  He sat up slowly. “Reverence doesn’t matter to me. I never do anything in anticipation of anyone’s thanks or admiration. I surely don’t expect either, or care if I get them.”

  Her lips twitched. “Too bad. You’ll just have to keep your chin up and take shiploads of both like the worshipped prince you are. Judging by the way the oasis inhabitants treat you, you’re far more than that to them. And it is only you, not the whole royal family. You personally have done so much for them.”

  “I only do what I am in a position to do. I don’t deserve credit or gratitude for doing my duty, but I would have earned disrespect and disrepute if I didn’t.”

  “As you say around here, ‘squeeze a lemon on it,’” she teased.

  “So I can stomach the queasiness of adulation? Do you at least believe I never expect, let alone crave, any of it?”

  “Oh, yes. I saw you squirming when they told tales of your glories last night. You sure don’t crave anyone’s adulation.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Her heart punched her ribs. “You…crave mine?”

  His nod was solemn. “I crave your acceptance, your approval.”

  “Uh…you have been around the past two weeks, right?”

  He rose until he was on his knees, towering over her. “I need to hear it, ya nadda jannati, in your inimitable words. What you think of me is the only validation I have ever craved.”