“But medical care is far more advanced,” she said. “In fact, your brother is building a brand-new hospital to expand the current clinic. Surely the mortality rate is much lower now.”
“Indeed. But there’s still the matter of tradition. Each of us is still expected to produce children.”
“And you have done your duty.”
“Just so,” he agreed. “There is no need for me to marry again, and I have no intention of ever doing so.”
“Why?”
His face turned dark, angry almost as his eyes narrowed. His voice was like tempered steel when he spoke. “I have no wish to bring up a distasteful past. It is dead. Just be assured that your virtue will not be compromised by me.”
“So you wouldn’t take advantage of the fact that we’re stuck here for the duration? And unchaperoned?”
He shifted uncomfortably on the soft cushions of the sofa. “It stretches the boundaries of my personal principles to be here alone with a woman. But as you say—we’re stuck. The law does not forbid enjoying each other’s company as long as the man does not press his advantage. Since I refuse to ever marry again, you have nothing to fear from me.”
So the mighty had fallen once upon a time. A woman had hurt him. She knew it as surely as she knew her name was Crystal Marie Rawlins, and anger simmered at the edges of her consciousness. The protective instincts she’d only experienced with his children widened to include him. She wanted to smooth away the frown lines between his brows and the angry scowl from his mouth. It had been soft and seductive when he’d kissed her. Would he feel that way again?
She had no right to such thoughts. She was nothing more than nanny to his children. And thinking that way was dangerous to her employment. She needed to focus on the big picture.
The wind howled outside, and pebbles battered the sturdy material roof over them. In an instinctive, reflexive response, she flinched and pressed a hand to her pounding heart.
Fariq took her fingers into his own. “Your hand is cold. You are still afraid.”
“No, I—”
“Do not lie,” he warned. “You are not good at it.”
That was unfortunate. “Okay. You’re right. I’m still afraid.”
His smile was reassuring with a dash of arrogance around the edges. “I know. But there is no reason to be.”
“The wind makes me nervous. Any second I expect the walls to blow in. I have this image of being buried alive under tons of sand. A thousand years from now an archaeologist will find my bones and not know what to make of me.”
“I’m sure that won’t happen,” he said, his mouth twitching.
“Which part? The walls blowing in or the archaeologist?”
“Both. I assure you, I have endured storms far more intense than this one.” He rubbed his thumb back and forth across her knuckles in an erotic, arousing, mesmerizing motion. “How can I help? Name it and I will take your mind off the wind outside. Tell me how I can calm your fears.”
“Kiss me.”
Oh, Lord, she’d actually said it. Because she’d just been thinking about his mouth. And how soft and wonderful his kiss had been, once upon a time.
He looked momentarily taken aback by the request. Then, he smiled. Before she could say “gotcha” and weasel out of the humiliation her mouth had landed her in, he slid his arm around her shoulders and cupped her cheek in his other palm.
“As you wish,” he whispered, lowering his head toward her.
Her eyes drifted shut, but the rest of her senses waited in a heightened state of awareness. When his lips took hers, a small sigh of satisfaction escaped. She felt the cushions dip as he moved closer, urging her against him as the heat of their bodies joined and fused them together. With her breasts pressed to the formidable wall of his chest, she could feel his heart hammering. The discovery made her smile. So much for playing it cool. He talked the talk, but he sure didn’t walk the walk.
He slid his hand to the back of her head, then applied gentle pressure to make the contact of their mouths more firm. She cupped his cheek in her palm and was instantly aware that he hadn’t shaved in hours. The stubble scraped the sensitive skin of her hand and made it tingle. Her chest tightened as the feelings grew inside her. The tip of his tongue glided across the seam of her lips, back and forth, urging her to open.
Her jaw dropped enough to admit him and he filled her, capturing the moist interior like the conquering hero she’d pictured him to be. Her breath caught, then jump-started and grew faster. Liquid heat flowed through her, settling in her belly, then lower, between her thighs. As pressure built within her, she squirmed against him trying to get closer.
He groaned and raised his head, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his own labored breathing. Before she could form a coherent thought, let alone words, he put his hands at her waist. With head-spinning swiftness, he lifted her onto his lap and urged her back, his forearm cushioning her at the same time holding her to him.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“As you requested. Taking your mind off the storm.” He lifted her hand and raised her palm to his lips.
“What storm?” she whispered as sensation started at the point of contact and zinged through her.
He met her gaze, his own dark and intense. “You are no longer cold.”
Hot and cold, maybe, from the flash fire his touch had started. “I’m not cold,” she agreed.
“Are your fears forgotten, as well?”
He was talking about her anxiety regarding the storm, and the answer was yes. He couldn’t possibly know her fears about him went off the chart the moment he’d appeared in her doorway. The violent commotion outside was nothing compared to what was going on inside. Especially inside her.
“My fears forgotten?” she repeated breathlessly.
She’d kissed men before. She’d even met some who tempted her to go all the way, tantalized her into throwing caution to the wind. Outside, there was more than enough wind to throw caution to. And the temptation he presented was so much more than she’d ever experienced before. She’d never met a man like Fariq Hassan, mysterious, sexy and a great kisser. He made her want to forget everything, including the fact that she was nanny to his children.
Nanny.
The word made her sit up. He’d replaced the last nanny because the woman had fallen in love with a sheik and made a fool of herself. Crystal didn’t want to be another nanny-notch on the collective royal belt. She didn’t want to be another employee who lost her head over a handsome prince. More important, she couldn’t afford to lose this job for purely practical, financial reasons. And she couldn’t even blame Fariq. She’d asked for it.
“I’m sorry, Fariq. That was stupid of me.”
“On the contrary. As kisses go, it was brilliant.”
She shook her head. “I think you know what I meant. In my defense I can only say the storm has me rattled.”
“Trust me when I say you have nothing to apologize for.”
“It’s late,” she said.
“Yes.” He slid one arm behind her knees and the other along her lower back and lifted her off his lap onto the sofa. “Will you sleep now?”
Probably not. But she nodded. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
He stood and moved to the doorway. “If you cannot—”
“Don’t worry about me.”
He ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. “Very well. I will see you in the morning.”
She nodded and then he was gone. But the heat remained. She dragged in air, a deep, unsteady breath as she tried to pull her wayward thoughts into some coherent order. Sanity returned slowly, but one fact stood out like a beacon in a moonless night.
She was more curious than ever about Fariq. About the woman who had turned him against marriage. He had a story and she was determined to find out what it was. Even if she had to pry it out of him. For the children, of course. And in spite of that kiss.
Would he have done it
if he hadn’t wanted to? Even to take her mind off her fears? Was he really that nice? She shook her head. It was probably just a guy thing. He’d no doubt already forgotten about it. There could be any number of reasons. Realistically, two people kissing in the desert didn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. But the children did matter.
If he didn’t come to terms with whatever trauma he’d suffered, he would pass the fallout on to his kids. She was too fond of them to see that happen. Any baggage they carried through life shouldn’t come from their father. And wouldn’t.
Not if she could help it. Not on her watch.
Chapter Seven
Restlessly Fariq prowled the rooms of his palace suite. A vision of Crystal instantly came to mind, her beautiful hair cascading around her shoulders and caressing her waist. The memory of her soft curves pressed against him made him ache. Was it only twenty-four hours since he’d held her in his arms?
That morning, the sandstorm had blown itself out, replaced by rain that continued all day. He’d sent for a car to take them back to the palace and personnel to see to the horses. But the previous night’s events had left his senses in turmoil and him in a state of confusion.
He’d found being alone with Crystal most pleasant and almost wished for 999 more storms to keep them trapped together. So she wasn’t as safe for him as he’d assumed her to be.
Even after their conversation had conjured memories of his wife’s betrayal—her seduction to trap him into their sham of a marriage—even those recollections hadn’t been enough to keep him from kissing Crystal. Or prevent him from wanting to again. In spite of his assurances to her that her virtue was safe with him. Fortunately she’d said good-night or he would have been lost. It had been a bitter pill to swallow when he’d realized if she hadn’t asked, he would have kissed her anyway.
Their journey back to the palace hadn’t presented an opportunity to discuss this mysterious fascination sizzling between them. His personal assistant had accompanied the driver and brought Fariq up-to-date on business dealings in his absence.
But perhaps that was for the best. Crystal was his employee. Her living quarters were under his own roof. He could afford no weakness where she was concerned.
Fariq smiled as he recalled her words that he could afford anything. Would her face, figure and philosophies crowd his thoughts forever?
Perhaps it would be best to talk to her about what had happened. He set his scotch on the coffee table and turned down the hall. He peeked in on his children as he passed their rooms, then continued to Crystal’s, which was situated off the balcony with French doors and a view of the sea.
As he neared her door, voices drifted to him. Who could she be talking to? Anger surged through him, tying him in knots. Instantly he went back to a time when he’d discovered his wife had been faithless. She had chosen politically high-profile partners who would bring scandal to the royal family if revealed. What chafed most was how well she knew him. She used his love for his children. She’d known he would do nothing to harm their mother.
Stopping outside the partially opened door, he listened. He heard Crystal’s voice, calm and confident. Just the sweet sound generated a yearning that rippled through him but he pushed it away as he strained to hear and identify her visitor. When he recognized Johara’s voice, relief coursed through him.
“I’ve met him many times,” she said.
“Alone?” Crystal asked.
“Yes. I love him and he loves me. My father and brothers would never approve. But that does not worry me. You see, it is easy to avoid discovery. No one pays attention to what I do.”
“But it’s dangerous. Don’t you see that, Johara?”
He could stand by no longer. “Crystal?”
“Fariq?” She opened the door wide. Late as it was, she was still dressed.
“I heard voices.” He stared at his sister.
Johara stood at the foot of the carved, four-poster bed with her shoes in her hand, clothes dripping water and dark hair plastered to her head. Crystal handed her a towel.
“What is going on?” he asked.
The girl stared back at him, her eyes huge and dark. “I was caught in the rain and—”
“Do not lie,” he growled. The idea enraged him. “I heard you. You’ve been sneaking out to meet someone.”
“Fariq,” Crystal said. “Calm down.”
“I wish to hear about the man your father and brothers would not approve of.”
Johara rubbed the towel over her face. She pulled her long black hair over her shoulder and used the cloth to blot the excessive moisture from the dripping ends. Her dark eyes were fearful, but her small chin rose slightly. “He is of no interest to you.”
“I will be the judge of that. Tell me his name.”
Crystal toyed with the belt of her skirt. “Fariq, getting angry won’t accomplish anything. We need to hear what Johara has to say.”
He glared at her. “I wish only to know who this jackal is.”
“That is something I will never tell you,” the girl cried.
“We’ll see about that. Go to your room. Father will wish to speak with you.”
“Really? How novel.”
He pointed to the door. “Go. And don’t even think about sneaking away. I will notify security to stop you.”
“I’ve been a prisoner in this palace for seventeen years. Now you have merely made it official.” She looked at Crystal. “I am sorry to involve you in this trouble.” Then she glared at him before walking out of the room.
The outer door slammed as he followed Johara into the living room and picked up the phone, punching in the extension number for security. When there was an answer, he said, “This is Prince Fariq. My sister is confined to her room. Post someone outside her door and on the balcony.”
He hung up and turned to find Crystal staring at him, her mouth pulled into an angry line. “What?”
“I…I—” She huffed out a breath as she shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Since when?”
“Everything that comes to mind is completely inappropriate.”
“I will not hold it against you.”
“You know what? At this point, I’m not sure I care if you do.”
“You are angry.”
She laughed, but the sound lacked its customary warmth and joy. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“Why?”
“How could you do that?”
“I will do more than confine her to her room.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I was trying to talk to her. I guess you heard enough to know she’s been meeting someone.”
“Yes.”
“Well, thanks to you, now I can’t find out how long it’s been going on and what, if anything, she’s done with him. You’re the one who told me El Zafirian law makes mandatory a marriage between a woman and the man who takes her virginity.” She cocked her thumb at the door where the girl had just disappeared. “Even if she wanted to marry him, you just humiliated her. Do you think she’s going to tell you anything now?”
“Of course.” He ran his fingers through his hair.
She laughed again. “I think she can outstubborn even you.”
“She will give me the information or suffer the consequences.” He hoped she would not call his bluff and inquire what the consequences would be. “She is behaving like a willful, disobedient child and the behavior is not to be encouraged.”
Crystal put her hands on her hips. “Has anyone ever told you determination is a positive quality in an adult? Channeled properly, it makes a person capable of achieving whatever they set their mind to. I don’t think it’s especially helpful to stifle the tendency.”
“Unless it results in defiance, insubordination and rebellion.”
She walked over to the French doors and stared outside at the rain for several moments. When she turned to look at him again, her struggle to subdue her own anger was visible in the ri
gid set of her shoulders and pinched line of her mouth.
“Fariq,” she began, “Johara is a teenager—not a girl and not quite a woman. She’s a normal kid with normal needs who must come to terms with her life.”
“She has her family.”
“Does she? My first dinner with the family gave me a pretty clear impression of what she’s been dealing with. No one listened to her. Everyone simply orders her around, tells her she’s silly or finds another way to invalidate her feelings.”
“That is untrue.”
“No, it’s quite true. And I’ll tell you something else. She feels isolated and wants friends her own age. That’s normal.”
“Johara is a princess.”
“Whether you live in a palace or a pigsty, if you can’t find love at home, you’ll look for it elsewhere. And she found it. But thanks to you, I didn’t have a chance to find out his name.”
“She is a member of the royal family,” he said stubbornly.
“If you believe an accident of birth sets her apart from the average, everyday feelings and hormones of growing up, then you’re the prince of fantasy land.” She sighed. “You need to cut her some slack.”
He let out a long breath. “I concede that what you say has merit. But you must understand that the accident of birth that brought her into this family means that she is held to a higher standard. With wealth and privilege comes responsibility. It is a standard we all had to learn.”
“It’s not a perfect standard. The royal family isn’t flawless. You admitted that you hide your weakness. But I’d bet everything I own that when you’re cut you bleed—physically and emotionally.”
“No,” he ground out. Fury flashed through him. “My beautiful, faithless wife cured me of emotional weakness.”
“Oh, Fariq. I…I—”
“I forbid you to say you are sorry. I do not need pity. The past no longer matters.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I am never wrong.”
She sighed. “I think we need to agree to disagree about that. But don’t make your sister pay for someone else’s sins. Until you can discuss this rationally, we’re wasting our breath.”
To Kiss a Sheik Page 9