Bound to Her Desert Captor

by Michelle Conder

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘It is true.’ He leant against the table beside her. ‘You didn’t even realise how much danger you were in that night at the shisha bar, or walking around a strange city alone. Anything could have happened to you.’

  ‘It didn’t,’ she said, feeling the need to defend herself.

  ‘All evidence to the contrary,’ he said, bringing a slice of peach to his mouth. His eyes held hers and the air in the room grew unbearably hot.

  ‘How is it you can eat that and not spill a drop?’ she began on a rushed breath. ‘Did you go to a special etiquette school for royals or is it something you’re born knowing how to do?’

  ‘I’m careful.’

  ‘Well, if I was eating that I’d have juice all over me by now. When I was younger my mother used to secure a tea towel around my neck whenever I sat down to a meal.’ Aware that she was babbling because he made her so nervous, and he was so close, she stopped when he deftly sliced a sliver of peach and held it out to her. ‘Open,’ he ordered softly.

  Open?

  Without thinking she parted her lips and the sweet, fragrant fruit slipped inside. Regan’s tongue came out to capture it and her heart beat a primal warning through every cell in her body as his eyes lingered on her sticky lips.

  Kiss me, she thought. Please, please, just kiss me before I die.

  ‘Your Majesty?’ A male voice interrupted the awareness sparking between them as brightly as the Christmas lights at Macy’s.

  Tarik walked into the room, bowing formally. ‘Excuse me,’ he murmured, seeming to sense that he had interrupted something he shouldn’t have. ‘You asked me to brief you here and... I did knock.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ The King recovered from the moment a lot quicker than she did and yet again Regan got the impression that he affected her a lot more than she affected him. ‘You didn’t interrupt anything important.’ He moved away from the table and sat in the seat opposite her. ‘What have you got for me?’

  ‘The agenda for the day.’ Tarik handed them each a one-page document. ‘There have been a few amendments made to yours, sir, that I need to run through with you.’

  Jag poured himself a short black coffee and held the pot aloft in question to Regan. She shook her head, hoping that she wasn’t blushing in the process. She really had to stop letting him feed her.

  ‘Okay, Tarik, tell me what I need to know.’

  The older man ran through a list of morning meetings Jag was required to attend that made Regan feel exhausted just listening to it. ‘After the round-table meeting on international banking reform, you’re supposed to open the new sports complex at the local primary school followed by a tour of the facilities to drive more economic investment in the area. Unfortunately we’ve had to reschedule the meeting on foreign policy and counter-terrorism, which you shouldn’t miss either, and there’s no chance you can do both.’

  Jag paused and poured himself another coffee. By the sound of his schedule he’d need to have a jug of the stuff on standby. Regan glanced at her own schedule, which consisted of another day of pampering in preparation for another dinner that evening. She frowned. ‘Excuse me, I don’t like to interrupt but is there any way I can help out?’

  Both men looked at her as if she’d grown an extra head.

  Regan rolled her eyes. ‘Surely, as your supposed fiancée, I can be of more use to you than window dressing and keeping other men’s wives at bay.’

  His lips quirked at her attempted joke. ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘Well, I am a teacher. Is there any way I can do the school tour so that you’re free to attend the other meeting? I mean, I would offer to attend the counter-terrorism meeting but other than just tell everyone to love each other I’m not sure what I can offer.’

  He shook his head at the incongruity of her comment, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

  ‘What do you think, Tarik?’ he surprised her by asking the older man. ‘I broke with protocol last night. Would this be stretching it?’

  ‘Not really,’ Tarik said slowly. ‘I mean, if Miss James were really your fiancée it would be highly acceptable, even delightful, for her to take on a task such as this. It’s not as if she needs to contribute anything specific. And her presence would add credence to your pet project, given that you’re unable to attend.’

  The morning sun glinted off the King’s tanned face and made his blue eyes seem impossibly bright. ‘Are you sure you want to do this, habiba? You know if I’m not there all the attention will be on you and you alone.’

  Regan shook her head. ‘Pretty much all the attention was on me last night anyway—as you knew it would be. But, as you can’t be in two places at once, I’m happy to do it. Seriously, there are only so many times you can get your nails and hair done, and I’m not used to having so much time on my hands. It doesn’t sit well with me.’

  ‘If you’re sure, then...thank you.’ Something sparked behind his eyes, some emotion that Regan couldn’t identify but then he blinked and it was gone. ‘Tarik will accompany you. If at any time you think it’s too much for you, tell him and he will return you immediately to the palace.’

  * * *

  Jag paced around his room and checked his watch for the hundredth time in half an hour. Regan should have been back an hour ago. Tarik had sent him a text saying they were on their way. So what was keeping them?

  About to contact the security detail he had sent along with them, he heard quick footsteps racing down the marble hallway and knew immediately who it was.

  Regan burst into the room, her cheeks rosy with exertion, Tarik hot on her heels. They were both laughing at some shared joke and his eyes narrowed. ‘Is either one of you aware of the time? We are expected downstairs at the dinner in thirty minutes.’

  Immediately Regan stopped smiling. ‘It’s my fault,’ she assured him. ‘Tarik told me that I had to finish up earlier but it was really hard to leave.’

  ‘Miss James was magnificent, Your Majesty.’

  Jag watched her roll her eyes at his aide in mocking rebuke. ‘That’s not true. If anyone’s magnificent this man is. I can’t believe he’s seventy years old. He was kicking a soccer ball around with ten-year-olds.’

  ‘As were you, my lady.’

  ‘I’m just glad I wore flat shoes for the occasion,’ she said, pulling the band from her ponytail and letting her glorious mane of hair swirl around her shoulders. ‘I’m dead on my feet after today.’

  ‘You’re hardly going to be any use to me dead on your feet, Miss James.’

  Stark silence greeted his blunt statement and, as Jag became aware that he was experiencing an unexpected jolt of...jealousy...at the obvious camaraderie between his aide and his temporary fiancée, his agitation levels rose. ‘I don’t remember seeing soccer on the itinerary.’

  ‘It wasn’t,’ she said demurely. ‘Again, that was my fault. We were touring the new gymnasium and sports grounds, which are incredible by the way—hats off to you because I know it was your vision to provide such an amazing space for the kids—and one of the boys rolled the ball my way. I returned it and noticed that the girls were sitting on the sidelines and I encouraged them to join in. Before we knew it we were all playing.’

  Tarik was looking at him oddly and Jag drew in a deep breath. ‘It’s fine. Regan, you need to go and get ready for the dinner. We have...’ he consulted his watch ‘...twenty-five minutes before it’s due to commence.’

  ‘Oh, right, of course.’ She ran a hand through her hair, tousling it more. ‘Oh, Tarik, if it’s not too much of a bother, do you mind providing me with the postal address of the school? I have a lot on my mind but I don’t want to forget.’

  ‘Of course, my lady.’

  ‘Hold on,’ Jag said, feeling his irritation levels rise even higher at their unexpected mutual-appreciation society. ‘Why would you need
the postal address of the school?’

  Regan gave him a faint smile. ‘It’s nothing. I promised one of the teachers I’d send them some art supplies because it’s the one area in the school that isn’t flourishing and it’s really important.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Jag was finding it hard to keep up with her.

  ‘The curriculum is really strong on maths, science and English, which can be a bit limiting, particularly for really young kids. They need music and art and lots of time to play so that their love of learning doesn’t wither and die in the later years.’

  ‘The reason the curriculum is set up that way is because when I took over as King the school system was in an appalling state.’

  ‘I heard. All the teachers, and local dignitaries, were singing your praises. Apparently ten years ago Santara was in the bottom three percent for literacy and now it’s only in the bottom twenty-five percent.’

  Jag winced. That was mainly due to the remote country schools that were slow to keep pace with changes made in the cities, but he’d have liked things to be further along than they currently were. The problem was that he couldn’t be on top of everything, as Tarik was wont to tell him.

  As if reading his mind, his loyal aide raised a brow, seeming to remind him that he wasn’t an island, and he scowled.

  ‘Anyway, I said I would send some specialist supplies I know my kids back home love to use.’

  Jag shook his head. He should be used to women taking advantage of his position and thinking they could spend his money out of hand. Just because she was spending it on kids didn’t make him feel any more generous towards her. In fact, the disappointment that she was like so many other women, who couldn’t wait to get their hands on a man’s money, made his tone harsh.

  ‘Next time you think to abuse my generosity and allocate palace funds you might care to run it by me.’ His eyes were cool as they held hers. ‘I will, of course, honour your promise this time, but next time I won’t.’

  A heavy silence filled the air and just when he was feeling that he had everything in hand Tarik moved to correct him.

  ‘Your Maj—’

  ‘Tarik, please don’t.’

  Surprisingly Tarik did as Regan requested and Jag stared from one to the other. ‘What were you going to tell me, Tarik?’

  Before his aide could speak Regan lifted her eyes to his. ‘He was going to tell you that I was planning to pay for the art supplies myself.’

  Another silence followed her statement. This time a fulminating one. Jag dragged a hand through his hair. ‘How is it that you always seem to wrong-foot me, Miss James?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you’re always looking for the worst in people.’

  ‘That would be because I’ve seen the worst in people.’ He sighed. ‘And you will not be spending your money on supplies for the school.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘The palace will provide whatever is needed. Education is of vital importance to our nation. Write up a list of what you want and give it to Tarik.’

  ‘Really?’ Her face lit up and she gave him a smile that stopped his heart. ‘You don’t know how happy that makes me to hear a world leader speaking that way about education. Too often governments just pay lip service to education issues and it’s completely debilitating for those who work in the industry. Do you have enough funds set aside for musical instruments too? From what I could tell, they’re woefully under-represented as well.’

  At the term ‘lip service’ Jag’s gaze dropped to her sexy mouth and he reminded himself that he was not an untried fifteen-year-old boy but a grown man in full control of his faculties. ‘Don’t push your luck, habiba.’ If she did he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. ‘And now you only have fifteen minutes to get ready. Should I tell them to hold dinner?’

  ‘No, no.’ Regan pivoted on her light feet and raced towards the connecting door to her room. ‘Give me ten minutes. And thank you. You’ve made me really happy.’

  Swamped by emotions he couldn’t pin down, Jag immediately poured himself a stiff drink.

  ‘Everyone loved her today, Your Majesty; she’s—’

  ‘Here temporarily,’ Jag reminded Tarik, cutting off what was sure to be an enthusiastic diatribe as to Regan’s virtues. ‘Or have you forgotten that?’

  ‘No, Your Majesty, it’s just—’

  ‘I think you’re needed elsewhere, Tarik,’ Jag informed him, not at all in the mood to hear any more. ‘I’m quite sure I can await my fiancée’s reappearance on my own.’

  ‘Of course, Your Majesty.’

  As soon as the older man departed the room Jag felt like a heel. It wasn’t Tarik’s fault that the woman was tying him up in knots.

  And where the hell was his sister? If she was putting him through this for nothing he’d be furious.

  ‘Okay.’ A breathless Regan appeared in the doorway in record time. ‘I hope I look all right. Since you’re only wearing a suit and tie, I opted for something less formal than last night.’ Her hands brushed over the waist of her sleeveless all-in-one trouser suit that faithfully followed the feminine curves of her body, accentuating her toned arms. Her face looked as if it was almost bare of make-up, and her hair fell around her shoulders in a silky russet cloud. ‘I didn’t have time to put my hair up,’ she said, raising a hand to self-consciously pat it into place. ‘If you think I should then I can—’

  ‘It’s fine.’ He cut off her chatter, aware that this was something she did when she was really nervous. ‘You look...’ incredible. Stunning. Beddable ‘...very elegant.’

  Sexual chemistry arced in the space between them, pulling him towards her as if by an invisible pulley system.

  She fiddled with her engagement ring and Jag had to forcibly stop himself from reaching for her and wrapping those slender fingers around another part of his anatomy. A stranger to fighting desires as strong as this, Jag found himself growing increasingly frustrated. ‘Let’s go,’ he growled, appalled at how she could arouse him without even trying.

  ‘Okay. Oh, wait.’ She stopped beside him at the door and smiled up at him. ‘In all the rush before, I forgot to ask—how was your day?’

  How was his day?

  Shock made him go so still he could have been nailed to the spot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been asked that question. Usually people were too busy reeling off a litany of complaints, or asking him to solve problems, to even consider asking him how his day had been.

  A lengthy silence filled the room. How was it that this woman managed to uncover weaknesses in him he thought he’d long got over. ‘My day was fine.’

  ‘Sorry.’ She gave him a faint smile. ‘I’ve upset you again. I always seem to say the wrong thing around you.’

  ‘I’m not upset,’ he denied, ‘I was just...’ He took a deep breath. Let it out. ‘Actually my day went very well.’

  ‘Great, then we both had a good day, only...’ Her brow scrunched and she paused to look up at him. ‘Are you sure everything’s okay? You’ve gone a little pale.’

  No, everything was not okay. He was fighting with a very strong instinct to lock her up and throw away the key. And not in the palace this time but some distant location he couldn’t get to.

  He thought about last night. The roundness of her bottom against his palms, her arms locked around his neck. The chemistry between them had been explosive but he’d possessed enough sanity at the time to know that doing anything about it would produce a list of regrets that would rival his inbox.

  He felt his insides coil tight as the need to have her tried to edge out logic and reason.

  As if she sensed the direction of his thoughts her throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes wary. As they should be. Because nothing good could come of constantly thinking about how much he wanted her and so he ruthlessly clamped down on emotions that he didn’t want to
feel, and needs he didn’t want to have, and focused on his duties for the night. ‘Everything’s fine,’ he finally said, directing her towards the door. ‘Let’s not keep my chef waiting any longer. His retribution isn’t worth it.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  STANDING ON THE back steps of the palace balcony as the last of the summit delegates boarded a helicopter, Regan let out a long sigh. Presumably her duties as the king’s escort would be over now that the four days were up, and she wondered why she didn’t feel better about that.

  For the past two days she had barely seen Jaeger. They had crossed paths only at social functions when he required her company, but always he seemed distantly polite and at the end of the evening he had done little more than bid her goodnight before heading to his office to do even more work.

  She couldn’t escape the feeling that he had been avoiding her a little, which had suited her fine. Spending time with him only gave her a false sense of connection with him that she didn’t want to feel. Already all he had to do was look at her to make her burn, and she hated the fact that her senses had been awakened by a man who couldn’t make it any plainer that he didn’t want her. And why would he want her when she was merely a means to an end for him?

  Wondering what would happen next given that their missing siblings had not yet returned she steeled her spine when he detached himself from the small party he was speaking with to approach her, his expression serious.

  ‘I know the summit is officially over,’ he began, ‘and that our deal only extended to today, however there is one more obligation that is required of you.’

  ‘Obligation?’ She forced herself to sound as composed as he did. ‘Is this to do with Milena and Chad? Have you located them?’

  Yesterday the security detail searching for Milena had reported that there might have been a sighting of her and Chad in a hiking store in Bhutan five days ago. It had eased Regan’s mind because Chad was an avid hiker, but it still begged the question that if the two of them were merely hiking why hadn’t they been more open about the whole thing?