The Desert Prince

by Jennifer Lewis

  He hadn’t arrived at his point yet.

  “I have a daughter now. I believe it is important—in fact, I feel it is essential—that she is provided with a proper family. To that end I have decided that we must marry.”

  His words hung in the air above his polished desk.

  All thoughts deserted Celia’s brain. Had he just said what she thought he said?

  And who exactly did he mean by we?

  Salim’s frown deepened. “As my wife you will no longer have the burden of supporting yourself and Kira. You will not need to travel, or to be away from her for long periods of time, as you are now. You can stay at home and take care of our daughter, which, I’m sure you will agree, is the most sensible course of action.”

  Celia stared at him, unable to form a coherent idea, let alone speak a sentence.

  “Naturally we must be married as soon as possible. The wedding can take place here at the hotel. I have a full staff of wedding planners and caterers who can take care of all the arrangements. Is there any particular day you prefer?”

  “No.”

  Salim frowned. Celia had been silent while he made his proposal. Not the reaction he’d expected. He was sure she’d be thrilled. “Do you mean, no, you don’t have a particular day in mind?”

  “No.” She sat up straight in her chair, blue eyes flashing. “I mean no to all of it. No, I won’t marry you.”

  Her response hit him like a punch to the gut and he found himself braced against his chair. “What?”

  “How can you reduce our whole lives to a business arrangement?” Her hands shook as she gripped the arms of her chair. “You want to marry me entirely out of a sense of duty or some old-fashioned, wrongheaded idea of responsibility. You don’t want to marry me. You’re just offering because you feel you have to.” Her voice rose to a high pitch and color flushed her neck. “I don’t need to marry you. I can support myself and my daughter and I don’t want to marry you.”

  Her words crashed over him, smashing his plans and his vision of their happy family life.

  Adrenaline surged through him. “But why not? Surely you can see it’s for the best?”

  “Best for who? Best for Kira? Best for you? It surely isn’t best for me.”

  “It could be. I know you’ll have to leave friends behind to come live here, but you’ll make new ones. You can see we have a busy, friendly environment with people from all over the world here at the hotel, and the new property will bring even more visitors.”

  “I don’t want to be a hotel guest in your life.” She tossed her head, and gold hair flew around her face. “Can’t you see that? It’s not enough for me.”

  Salim frowned. Why wouldn’t she see sense? Panic crept over him. “We don’t have to live at the hotel. We can build a house, together. You can design the grounds exactly how you like.”

  “Design the grounds?” Her voice rang with incredulity. “You don’t understand me at all.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I don’t want my life to be a project, organized according to deadlines and budgets, with all the limits carefully set out from the start. I don’t want my marriage to be a carefully orchestrated contractual agreement.” Her voice started to crack. “I can’t live like that, and I won’t have Kira live like that.”

  She rose from the chair, which screeched on the marble floor.

  Salim stood, horror exploding in his chest.

  How could she reject him? That would ruin everything. Didn’t she see that all of their futures depended on this?

  She was totally irrational. Was she reacting emotionally because he’d rejected her in the past? “I know I’ve hurt you. I wish I could turn back the clock and handle things differently—”

  “How?” Celia cocked her head to one side, steel glinting in her blue eyes. “By never getting involved with me in the first place? That would have been the sensible thing to do. No mess, no fuss, no broken promises. No disappointed brides or illegitimate children.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, that would have been much easier. You could have married your suitable bride and lived with her happily ever after.”

  I didn’t want to marry a suitable bride. I wanted to marry you.

  The truth of it crashed across his brain. But he didn’t say the words.

  He’d asked her to marry him—and she’d said no.

  His pride smarted and stung. Maybe she took pleasure in causing him the pain he’d once given her.

  Except this was far worse, because she had the power to keep his own daughter from him.

  His heart ached, too full to express the hopes and fears now lying crushed inside it.

  Celia turned and strode across the room. “And you think I should stop working and stay home. Where would I be if I’d done that when Kira was born?” She wheeled around and stared at him. “After I’d called you to tell you about her, and you brushed me off?”

  “I didn’t know about her or naturally I would have paid all your expenses.”

  “Oh, how gracious of you.” Fury flashed in her eyes. “I do hope I would have been suitably grateful. Perhaps you could have paid to have us hidden away somewhere. Your secret second family. The one no one knows about, except you.”

  “That’s ridiculous, and you know it. I’m not asking you to be a second wife.” He paused and frowned. “Well, I suppose technically you would be my second wife, but I’m long divorced from the first. You would be my only wife.”

  “I don’t think I could ever be appropriate enough for your needs.” She lifted her chin. “I want my daughter to be raised seeing women support themselves and fulfill their ambitions. I want her to know that she can shape her own life however she pleases.”

  She shoved a stray lock of hair off her forehead. “My parents take excellent care of her when I travel. She’s surrounded by friends and family at all times. As you’ve seen with your own eyes, she’s happy and well-adjusted.” Her eyes, still blazing like the sea in the noonday sun, defied him to argue.

  “She should grow up knowing her father.” His voice emerged as a low growl he hardly recognized. Words were so inadequate to express his feelings.

  “I agree.” She paused and frowned.

  Hope unfurled in his chest.

  Celia put her hands on her slim hips. “She should grow up knowing her father. And I’m sure we can come up with some mutually acceptable contract…” She spat the word. “To provide for that.”

  She inhaled and he watched her chest rise, cursing the lust that licked at him, even now. “But there is no need for either of us to commit to a loveless marriage that will diminish us both.” Her voice rang, clear and resolute, across the wide space of his office.

  She turned and walked to the door.

  Salim sprang from his chair.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be discreet,” she said, her expression stony. “I won’t tell anyone that I turned down your generous proposal. I’ve all but fulfilled the terms of our original contract, the one that brought me here. There are just a few small details to take care of. Then Kira and I will return to the States, as planned.”

  Her golden hair flew out behind her as she swung the door open and stepped out. It closed behind her with a decisive slam.

  Salim rushed for the door. Then stopped.

  He couldn’t make her stay. Which was an unfamiliar sensation, since there was so little in his life that he didn’t have total control over.

  He didn’t have any control—or any influence at all—over Celia.

  A mix of indignation and frustration pricked his muscles. Could she simply leave and take his daughter with her?

  Of course she could. He’d signed that stupid contract agreeing to let her.

  He wasn’t sure what hurt more. The prospect of losing Kira, his bright-eyed and affectionate daughter who’d already crept into his heart.

  Or the prospect of losing Celia—again.

  No matter how hard he’d tried to shove her out of his mind, there she was, lingering somewhere in the dark net
her regions of his consciousness, an eternal temptation.

  He could never resist his attraction to her. It was gut level, visceral and raw in a way that pushed reason and sense aside.

  All his carefully cultivated plans fell into disarray as soon as she walked into the room. He could never marry Nabilah now. Celia had ruined him for any other woman.

  She was all wrong—foreign, outspoken, bold and driven. She didn’t even seem to notice convention, let alone conform to it. She never had.

  And the way she dressed…

  She was all wrong for him.

  But tradition be damned, he loved her. And she was the only wife he wanted.

  Eleven

  C elia jogged across the hotel complex, heart pounding and breath coming in unsteady gasps.

  Salim had just asked her to marry him.

  And she’d turned him down.

  A proposal from Salim was something she’d once dreamed of and hoped for. But not one like this, a crude business arrangement to suit his idea of propriety.

  A sob caught in her throat.

  He didn’t love her.

  He didn’t even care about her. Not if he thought she’d be happy to give up her career to sit quietly at his feet in some blond-haired, blue-eyed imitation of a “suitable wife.”

  The cruelty of the situation choked her with anger and sadness. The man she loved had asked her to be his wife—in a way that made it impossible for her to accept.

  She had to get Kira. Who knew what orders Salim might issue to his staff. Here in the hotel compound he was surrounded by his friends and allies, his loyal family members. All of them might gang up against her and try to convince her to leave Kira here.

  Even to force her, contract be damned.

  Fear pricked her nerves as she hurried past the plate-glass windows of the beauty salon and the store selling local arts and crafts. She scanned the signs for the Kids’ Club and was relieved to see it just past the massage parlor.

  Breathless and sweating, she pushed open the door, her whole body pulsing with terror. She scanned the interior, decorated with elaborate fairy-tale murals and painted furniture.

  Where was Kira?

  She needed to leave now, today.

  And she intended to keep Kira at her side until she did.

  Kira burst through a door in the middle of a Little Bo Peep mural and ran to her. “Mama!”

  Relief washed over her in a tidal wave. Kira’s bright eyes sparkled. “It’s so fun here!” Celia hugged her, and clutched her to her chest, careful to conceal her own trepidation.

  “They read stories and I learned a new song.”

  “That’s great, sweetie, but we have to go now.” She wiped her palms on the back of her pants. “We’ll grab some lunch and I’ll take you out to the site. Remember how I told you about the old city?”

  “With the castles and everything?”

  “Exactly. We’re going to see it right now.” She needed to wrap up a few final details, and leave some last instructions for planting and maintenance with the crew. Then she’d fulfilled her obligations and could leave with a clear conscience.

  At least as clear as it ever would be.

  “Come on, sweetie.”

  Kira pouted. “Can’t I stay for nap time? I didn’t get to try the cradle.”

  “Another time, okay?”

  Would there be another time? She couldn’t keep Kira from Salim. She didn’t want to, but maybe he wouldn’t want a relationship on any terms other than his own. Sooner or later he’d take his “suitable” bride, who probably wouldn’t want anything to do with the illegitimate child of a former liaison.

  “Okay.” Kira’s glum face sent a stab of guilt to her chest. Was she doing the right thing for Kira?

  On the other hand, she couldn’t be a good mother to Kira if she was living a lie, married to a man who saw her as nothing but an obligation.

  Celia helped Kira into her pink ballet flats and picked her up. Her baby was obviously ready for a nap. “You can sleep in the car, so you’ll be awake to see the ancient city.”

  “Okay, Mama.”

  Kira trusted her completely. In her innocence she still saw her mom as her protector and savior and someone who always did the right thing. Celia inhaled deeply, and wondered how long she’d inhabit that role in her daughter’s imagination.

  “I love you, sweetie,” she whispered into Kira’s dark hair.

  She thanked the nursery staff and left the well-appointed facilities with mingled feelings of relief and sadness. What a lovely place for Kira to play and interact with other children.

  If only her father hadn’t issued his impossible demand.

  She rushed to their hotel room and threw their few belongings into her duffel bag. She hurried down the outside staircase, anxious to avoid the staff. At first Kira protested, wanting to go to the beach, but perhaps something in her mom’s tone let her know that this was no time for play. She held Celia’s hand as they hurried along the palm-shaded path to the car park, where Celia bundled her into the back of her rented Mercedes and strapped her into the car seat she’d borrowed from the rental agency.

  “If you stay awake a little while, you’ll see the Fog Mountains.”

  “Okay, Mama.” Kira must be really sleepy. What had happened to the feisty terror who resisted her car seat with energy and persuasive arguments? Maybe all the action and events of the last few days had sucked the chutzpah out of her, too.

  Too many ups and downs. Too many high hopes and foolish fantasies.

  She started the engine and pulled out of the hotel complex. She’d miss the bright, white walls of Salalah, and the backdrop of blue sea shining in the background. She’d miss the tall, graceful palms and the friendly people.

  She’d miss Salim.

  But she’d missed him—and survived—most of her adult life. She should be used to that by now.

  Her heart ached with longing for everything that could never be.

  She and Salim just weren’t destined to be together. The gulf between them was wide and windswept as the Rub’ Al Khali. That desert wilderness was once crisscrossed by caravans of brave and hopeful traders who visited the lost city on their journey. Now it was virtually impassible, and even the Bedouin no longer walked its sand-choked passes.

  Things changed, and there was no going back.

  The mystical environment of the Fog Mountains engulfed her like a hug as she drove through their now-familiar passes. Then the desert floor welcomed her again, with its austere mysteries and quiet beauty.

  The lost city rose, majestic, through the haze of midday heat that shimmered over the sands. Bright walls enclosed the lush oasis that would soon welcome visitors back to its ancient streets.

  Already she’d seen it come alive again as a crossroads of cultures and peoples. She rolled down the window as she pulled up alongside one of her crews, mulching freshly planted date palms. “Faisal, do you have a few minutes? I need to go over some final details. Turns out I have to leave…very soon.” She gulped. The crew chief frowned and nodded.

  She parked and spent a few minutes in her makeshift site office—soon to become a luxurious bedroom—going over maintenance details. Plants didn’t survive long in rainless desert conditions without carefully planned care.

  Celia kept her voice steady while she gave instructions for watering and fertilizing. Kira slept quietly on a soft pillow nearby. Would either of them see the majestic date palms in maturity, heavy with rich fruit?

  Or would the rebuilt lost city live on only in her imagination? Suspended in time just the way it was when she last saw it.

  Which might well be today. She intended to drive her rental car directly to the airport in Muscat and get on the next available flight to the States.

  Her stomach clenched at the thought of leaving all this behind. Of tearing Kira from the new surroundings she’d grown to enjoy. But it was better to make the break now, so they could start rebuilding their lives.

  She left
Kira sleeping and took Faisal outside to go over instructions for fertilizing a new ground cover. As he typed the name of it into his PDA, a car engine roared into earshot.

  “I can’t get used to the way people drive around here,” she exclaimed. “In the U.S. pedestrians have the right of way. Here they have the right to get out of the way—and fast.”

  She stepped back off the road as the car squealed around the corner. Salim’s sedan.

  It screeched to a dramatic and noisy halt, sending a cloud of dust into the air around it.

  “I’ve got to go.” Instinct fired her veins with adrenaline, and she turned to run toward the building where Kira slept.

  She wouldn’t let him talk her around. She wouldn’t let herself fall for his fatal charms.

  He’d caused her too much pain already.

  “Celia.” His voice rang out behind her as he leaped from the car. “Stop.” His command boomed through the air.

  She ignored it and kept marching. She was done being told what to do by Salim Al Mansur.

  Footsteps on the path behind her made her heart pound harder.

  “Celia, wait.” His words stuck her like a knife and every muscle in her body yearned to respond.

  How did he have such power over her?

  Still, she kept walking, steeling herself against whatever appeal he might be ready to launch.

  A hand grabbed her upper arm, jerking her to a halt.

  “Let go!” She spun around.

  “No.” He grabbed her other arm and held her, facing him. Her first instinct was to fight—

  Then their eyes met.

  His were blacker than she’d ever seen them, piercing and intense. His gaze locked onto hers, fierce and pleading. “I won’t let you go.”

  Breath fled her lungs.

  “I love you.” His eyes narrowed, their fierce stare penetrating to her core. “I love you and I need you.” His voice cracked as raw emotion spilled out.

  His words crashed over her, draining the strength from her muscles. She struggled to resist them. “You don’t,” she whispered.