Their regrettable meeting four years ago only reminded him too vividly of all he’d missed in the intervening years.
“An open body of water would have been pretty unlikely in the old settlement, so we racked our brains about whether to go for a natural free-form shape, or a more traditional rectangular form like a courtyard fountain. Right now we’re thinking that a perfectly round pool would be an interesting combination of the two. Formal in its geometry, yet soft and natural in its outline so people can gather around it like a natural lake.”
She marched briskly around its imagined shores. “It will be zero entry on one side so that small children can splash in the shallow water and the other side will have a gentle waterfall to circulate the water and provide filtration.”
The setting sun made the rocky sand glow like candle lit amber. The workers had vanished for the day, leaving their excavator baking in the sun, and the oasis hung suspended in time. Celia stood on the shores of her imaginary lake, golden hair burnished by the rich light.
Salim cursed the ripple of thick sensation that surged through his body.
He was in control here.
It irked him that Celia could be so cool and businesslike.
He’d brought her here in the first place to remind him that she was just an ordinary woman, not the goddess of his fevered imagination.
Unfortunately, spending time with her had further unearthed the past he hoped to bury. Surely he wasn’t the only one suddenly pricked by shards of memory?
“We must leave before it gets dark.” His gruff tone seemed to startle her out of deep reverie. “You will have dinner with me.”
Celia hovered in front of the mirror for a second.
Yes, it was her. She still had that little freckle next to her nose. Otherwise she might not have been so sure.
Her hair lay coiled about her neck in shimmering gold ringlets, arranged in her room by one of the hotel’s hairdressers.
Her usual T-shirt had been replaced by a fitted tunic of peacock-blue silk, shot through with emerald-green.
She looked quite silly, but she hadn’t wanted to be rude. She was now fit to be seen in the hotel’s most exclusive dining room—at least according to the friendly staff member who’d bedecked her. Apparently, she and Salim were going to eat Elan’s yellowfin tuna there, under the prying eyes of the hotel’s wealthiest and snootiest guests. Fun.
Especially since she still hadn’t told Salim about Kira.
It seemed wrong to interrupt their work at the lost city with the news. The driver had invaded their privacy all the way back to the hotel. Now she had to smile and fake her way through a formal dinner, with the secret throbbing inside her like Edgar Allan Poe’s telltale heart.
Her shoulders shook a little under the peacock silk covering. The dress was modest, Omani style, with embroidered gold trim at the neckline and cuffs, and matching pants underneath. The thick bangles on her wrists looked disturbingly like pure twenty-four-carat gold.
Naturally, she’d return them right after dinner.
She jumped when the phone on the bedside table beeped. She shuffled across the floor in her gold-and-blue slippers and snatched up the receiver.
“I’m on my way to your room.” Salim’s bold tones sent a surge of adrenaline to her embroidered toes.
“Great. I’m all ready.”
She plastered on her best fake smile.
Maybe tonight would present the perfect time to tell him.
Kira was the center of her universe. She spoke to her every day on the phone, sometimes several times. Twice now Kira had wondered aloud where her “Dada” was. She’d noticed that other kids in day care had one, and she didn’t.
Celia was painfully reminded that two people who were father and daughter weren’t even aware of each other’s existence. The entire future of their relationship, possibly the whole direction of the rest of their lives, lay on her shoulders.
The door flung open and Salim stood framed in the soft glow from the hallway. His strong features had an expression of strange intensity, which deepened as he stared at her.
“Where did you get those clothes?”
“Aliyah brought them for me. From the gift shop. She said you’d…”
“I told her to find you whatever you needed. I didn’t tell her to dress you up like an Omani.” He himself had changed into Western clothes. A white shirt open at the collar and crisp dark pants.
Celia laughed, mostly out of nerves. “Kind of funny, isn’t it? I look Omani and you look American.”
Salim’s gaze swept over her, heating her skin under the elaborate dress. A frown furrowed his forehead.
He hated it.
Her bangles jangled as she reached up to brush an imagined hair from her rapidly heating face. “If you think I should change I’m sure I can find something in my closet.”
“No. You’re fine. Let’s eat.”
He hesitated in the doorway then thrust his arm out for her to take.
Her stomach leaped as she slipped her arm in his. His thick muscle held rigid, unyielding, like he was steeling himself against something.
Celia drew a deep breath down into her lungs and tried not to trip over her embroidered slippers.
“Your work at the site,” said Salim gruffly. “I’m very pleased with it.”
“I’m amazed at how well it’s coming together. Your team are magicians. I tell them what I want and they wave their magic wands overnight and make it happen.”
“I’ve built and opened a lot of hotels.”
She struggled to keep up as he strode along the hotel corridor, polished marble shimmering under their feet and lights glimmering in arched alcoves along the walls.
“Do you have a favorite, or is each new one the best and brightest?”
Salim frowned and his stride hesitated. “They’re like children to me. I value each one for different reasons.”
Celia faltered, tripping over her own feet as terror froze her blood at the word children.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m not used to wearing such a long dress,” she stammered. “I spend too much time in jeans.”
“You look different dressed up.” His dark gaze flickered over her face and body, leaving a trail of heat like a comet’s tail.
Celia swallowed. “I guess almost anything is an improvement.” She tried to walk gracefully, as the blue silk swished about her calves.
“I suppose that depends on the eye of the beholder.”
Heat snapped between them, heating her arm where it lay inside his. Her skin tingled and she could feel her face, flushed like a schoolgirl on her first date.
It’s not a date.
Why did it feel like one?
The hallway led into the hotel’s main lobby, a well-lit atrium framed on all sides by the curved white arches characteristic of Omani architecture. Inlaid floor tiles glittered at their feet and hotel staff moved silently about, working their magic.
Celia’s arm tingled inside Salim’s as he guided her toward the restaurant. Her hand rested on his wrist, which she noticed was dusted with fine black hairs. His hand was broad and strong, more so than she remembered, but no surprise given all those hands had accomplished in the last decade.
She kept expecting him to withdraw his arm and push her politely away as they entered the restaurant, but he kept a firm hold as he nodded to his maitre d’ and led her to the table.
Of course he probably behaved this way with business partners all the time. He was simply being polite. Nothing to get worked up about.
He pulled back her chair and she lowered herself into her seat as gracefully as possible. Glances darted to her from around the room, and she hoped it wasn’t because she looked foolish in her getup. At least Aliyah hadn’t suggested she wear a traditional gold headdress.
Salim frowned again. “You look beautiful.”
His unexpected compliment left her speechless. It seemed at odds with his harsh demeanor. Almost like he was m
ad at her for looking nice.
“Thanks, I think.” She grasped her water glass and took a sip. “You’re not so hard on the eyes, yourself.”
She wasn’t sure whether Salim looked more breathtaking in Western clothes or in the traditional dishdasha. The truth was, it didn’t matter what he wore. His strong features and proud bearing made any getup look downright majestic.
His stern expression only enhanced the handsome lines of his face. But he wasn’t the boy she’d once loved. Something was different, changed forever.
What was it? A playfulness she remembered. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
Every now and then she thought she saw a shadow of it, but maybe she was just imagining things.
Something had died in her, too, the day he’d told her their relationship was over—because he’d married another woman. Just like that, over Christmas break, while she was sitting at home penning dreamy letters and looking forward to seeing him again.
“How come you never married again?” The question formed in her mind and emerged from her mouth at the same time.
She regretted it instantly, and waited for his brow to lower. But it didn’t.
He picked up his glass and held it, clear liquid sparkling in the candlelight for a moment. “I never met anyone…”
“As wonderful as me?” She spoke it on a laugh, sure he’d respond with a jab.
But now he frowned. Stared at her with those impenetrable onyx eyes. “We did have something, you and I.”
Her belly contracted. “I thought so, at the time.” Her voice had gone strangely quiet, like the life force had been sucked out of her.
“The marriage wasn’t my idea, you know.” He put down his glass and wove his fingers together. “My father sprang the whole thing on me without warning.”
“You could have said no.”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t.” That odd look in his eyes again. A flash of…something. “Not then, anyway. I was still the eldest son, the dutiful one, my father’s heir.”
“So you had to do what he said, regardless of what you wanted.” She frowned as a strange thought occurred to her. “Perhaps your marriage was doomed from the start because of the abrupt way you were forced into it.”
“You mean, because I hadn’t gotten over you?” Again, a gleam in those normally lightless depths.
What was she thinking? She’d never seen anyone so totally over her as the man who’d told her there would be no further contact between them—ever.
She waved her hand, dismissive. “Oh, I’m just rambling. As you said, you always knew your father would pick your bride, so it wasn’t a surprise to you.”
“You’re right, though.” His voice had an edge to it, almost as if his own thoughts took him by surprise. “I wasn’t over you. I had to end our…relationship…” The word seemed to stick in his throat. “The way one snaps the shoot off a growing plant. Maybe it stunted the way I grew after that. I couldn’t be the husband my wife needed.”
He leaned forward, frowning as he stared into her eyes with breath-stealing intensity. “Because I couldn’t forget you.”
Four
C elia almost fell off her chair. Except she couldn’t move at all, because the blood drained from her body, leaving her brain empty, sputtering.
“I’ve shocked you.” Salim sat back in his chair. “With the wisdom of hindsight I can now admit I couldn’t love my wife. Maybe we could have grown into it slowly, as many people do, but she couldn’t stand that I wasn’t…romantic.”
He inhaled deeply, chest rising beneath his shirt. “How could I be, when my heart still belonged to someone else?”
Two steaming plates of grilled yellowfin tuna materialized in front of them. Celia blinked at hers.
“Come on, eat. The past is the past and there’s nothing we can do about it.” Salim picked up a fork and speared his fish.
Celia managed to pick up her knife and fork and slice a piece of the tender flesh. She struggled for a way to turn his stunning revelation back into a normal conversation. “Does that happen a lot here, where arranged marriages are common? You know, people having romantic relationships with someone they can’t marry, then having to go marry someone else?”
“Sure.” Salim nodded and chewed. “All the time. But it’s usually restricted to a quiet flirtation at a coffee shop, or in the poetry section of a bookstore, not the full-on, sleeping together kind of arrangement we had. That’s simply not possible here.”
“Do you think that’s better?” She kept her eyes carefully on her plate.
“It certainly would have been in my case. I might have been a happily married father of four by now.”
“You could still marry again.” She spoke casually, as if to reassure him that she didn’t care one way or the other.
“I intend to.”
Celia’s eyes widened. Salim simply took a bite of fish.
Why had he invited her to dinner and brought up the past? Her breathing was shallow. What did he want from her?
“The thing is—” he lifted his glass “—I’m honor-bound to continue the family name. I don’t have a choice but to marry again.”
“You’d marry just to have a child?” Celia worked hard to keep her voice even.
He nodded, his dark gaze unwavering.
You already have a child.
If there was a perfect moment to tell him, this was it. She glanced around. Several tables were within easy earshot, and Salim’s staff hovered all around.
No way could she drop a bomb like that here. She had no idea how he’d react.
“You think me old-fashioned.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “But the failure of my marriage is my one big regret. I spend my days building a hotel empire, but if I died tomorrow, there’d be no one to hand it to.”
“Hardly a big worry.” She concentrated on her food, afraid to show him the panic in her eyes. “I’m sure you have a long life ahead of you. You’ll have the heir you hope for.”
She frowned. Would he consider a girl—illegitimate and American born—to be his heir? Probably not.
“Your confidence in me is inspiring. But then it always was.” His soft gaze made her belly shiver. “Shame I didn’t live up to it.”
The confession—his admittance of guilt—touched her deeply. She had a sudden, typically feminine urge to smooth any ruffled feathers and reassure him. “What nonsense. You’re one of the most successful men on the planet.”
“You did say I’d succeed in business. I wasn’t at all sure. I didn’t speak English nearly as well as my brothers since I was educated at home while they went to school abroad. I wasn’t comfortable around strangers.” He rested his elbows on the table and studied her face. “But I grew very comfortable with you.”
His voice lowered with what might be mistaken for a hint of suggestion.
She racked her brain for something to diffuse the tension thickening in the air. “I’ll take some of the credit for improving your English. We used to stay up half the night talking.”
“We had a lot to talk about.” A hint of suggestion flickered across his striking features.
“True. I’d never met someone who read the entire New York Times from cover to cover every day. That’s a lot of material.”
“And you showed me that there’s more to life than what you can read in the papers.” A smile lit his eyes. “Do you remember the time you took me to the circus?”
She laughed. “How could I forget? You said the camels reminded you of home.”
Salim’s eyes narrowed. “They did. And when I was with you I forgot my home. I didn’t think about where I came from. I was busy discovering new worlds and exploring them with you.”
Celia blushed. “We were both virgins. Funny, isn’t it?”
“Not really. I don’t suppose that was as outrageous as we were led to believe. It did mean the first time was special for both of us.”
His soft voice and tender words pulled at old chords of emotion. “Ve
ry special. And funny, too, considering that we’d approached it like explorers, armed with an illustrated Kama Sutra and a list of suitable positions.”
Salim chuckled. “We did have a tendency to over intellectualize everything.”
“We thought we were so darn smart, and that we could understand everything if we just thought about it and talked about it long enough.”
“So true!” A smile tugged at his bold, sensual mouth. “No topic was off-limits.”
“Well, except that you were going to take off and marry someone else.”
The words fell from her lips, the accusation she’d never been bold enough to make. She was so shocked and hurt, at first. When they met again she was so surprised and delighted by their renewed connection that she didn’t want to bring up the painful past.
Salim frowned. “You’re right. I did avoid the subject of my future. I didn’t like to think about it myself.” His gaze drifted over her face, to her neck, which flushed under his attention. “And why would I, when it meant losing you?”
They hadn’t talked much about his family at all. She’d assumed he didn’t want to be reminded of the home that was so far away he only saw it once or twice a year.
He’d spent several weekends at her mom and dad’s house and stayed with them once over spring break. Her parents had thought him sweet and funny. Being professors they were used to international students, many of whom stayed and settled in the States. They didn’t think anything of her boyfriend being from another country.
It hadn’t occurred to any of them that he had an entirely different life mapped out for him, thousands of miles away.
One that didn’t, and never would, include Celia.
Salim’s penetrating gaze locked onto hers. The flush rose over her face, and she let out a quick breath. “It might have been easier if I was prepared.”
“How do you prepare to end a relationship?” He frowned. “I couldn’t prepare for it myself.”
“At least you knew it was coming.”
Salim closed his eyes for a split second. When he opened them they were dark as a starless night. “It wasn’t easy for me.”
The Desert Prince Page 4