Desert Justice

by Valerie Parv

  At present the odds were against the need arising, but she didn’t say so. “Probably, but I’ll also tell them it’s only a story.” Disturbingly, a picture popped into her mind of her sitting on the edge of a bed, telling bedtime tales to a smaller reflection of herself. The thought brought an unexpected jolt.

  He picked up something of her thoughts. “You do not wish to be a mother?”

  “For that, you need a father.”

  “Is there no man likely to fill the role?”

  One, she thought and instantly quashed the thought. Women were hardwired to regard strong male specimens as potential husbands and fathers, regardless of suitability. And it was hard to picture a less suitable match for her than Markaz.

  “None,” she said firmly. Before he could pursue the question she changed the subject. “By most standards, ours is a small family. During my visit, I hope to locate one of my father’s relatives. In Raisa when I made inquiries, I was told that he might be a member of your household guard.”

  “Al Hasa is a common enough name, but I can think of none in my employ.”

  Surely even the sheikh of sheikhs couldn’t know every one of hundreds of staff by name, she thought. But thinking of the phone call to Australia earlier, Simone couldn’t give up. If finding her mother’s lost family member could give Sara the peace of mind she needed, Simone would find him.

  “This liqueur is delicious,” she said, changing the subject. “Although I am surprised…”

  “That alcohol is openly enjoyed in Nazaar? My father abolished many prohibitions including that one. He passed laws ensuring moderation, but some rebels want us to return to total abstinence. Even though this very drink is said to be a gift from the Creator.”

  A crystal bowl shaped like a full-blown rose held a selection of handmade chocolates and he offered one to her. When she bit into it, an unexpected mix of chocolate and chili burst on her tongue. Unusual, but delicious. “Are there many rebels left?” she asked.

  Selecting a chocolate, he took a moment to answer. “Many fewer than there used to be in your father’s day. They have also splintered into smaller groups. Some make their point peacefully through the ballot box, and have been elected to the ruling council where they provide me with, shall we say, lively opposition.”

  Her spirits rose. If Markaz tolerated rebel candidates in his government, perhaps he wouldn’t be angry if he found out Yusef had concealed his past. She realized she was staking a lot on locating her half uncle at the palace, but she had little else to go on for now.

  “Of course, there are always the hotheads,” he went on.

  She shuddered. “Like the man pursuing me at Al-Qasr this morning.”

  “Yes. A few rebels still choose bloodshed over reason.”

  This made no sense. “Why, if they already have a voice in your government?”

  He finished his drink and set the glass down with a crash. “This particular group doesn’t want a voice. They want control. Our people see that moving with the times isn’t the end of the world. Forcing them back into the old ways can only be done at the cost of lives, but a small group of rebels are prepared to kill to impose their will. They won’t stop until they take over the government.”

  Simone thought of Natalie’s warning. “Doesn’t it worry you to be their prime target?”

  “I sleep well enough at night.” He sat forward. “The ruler who pleases everybody, achieves nothing.”

  She didn’t know whether to be impressed by his courage or frustrated by his light tone. “An old Arab saying?”

  “One I made up only a few seconds ago.”

  “You need a secretary on hand to record these pearls of wisdom.”

  “Most wisdom is only common sense in fancy words,” he pointed out, then lowered his voice. “Besides, not everything said tonight should be for the record.”

  The ground shifted under her feet. He didn’t elaborate, but his message was clear. He still wanted the evening to become personal. What did she want?

  Since that soul-searing moment when their eyes met across the barrier at Al-Qasr—was it only hours ago?—she’d felt a connection between them. Like an invisible link, it pulsed with heat and energy. At will, he could reel her in along it like a fish on a line, she suspected. He wasn’t doing it now, only watching her and waiting for her reaction. Should she remain aloof, or let herself be reeled in?

  Before she could make up her mind, a tall, ascetic-looking man with a black beard bowed himself in and Markaz greeted him. “This is Hamal al Nawi, chief of royal security,” Markaz informed her.

  The man bowed to her. “Forgive the intrusion, madam. I have urgent news for His Highness.”

  Hamal looked from her to the sheikh, and she saw Markaz give a slight nod of his head. Indicating that Hamal could speak freely in front of her, or advising him against it? The two men began to converse softly in Arabic.

  “For goodness’sake, tell me what you have to say, preferably in English,” she burst out, too worried to risk any misunderstanding. Protocol be damned. She had not only seen Natalie abducted, the same man had come after Simone, forcing Markaz to offer her refuge. How much worse could the news get?

  Chapter 5

  A lot worse, she soon learned. Switching to English, Hamal told them that Natalie’s body had been found in the desert. She had been poisoned and her body dumped some distance off the main highway. Her car had been found several miles farther along the road, wiped clean of any useful evidence. The police were checking it over thoroughly, but the man Simone thought of as Business Suit had vanished and there were no witnesses.

  After Hamal bowed and left the room, the sheikh returned his attention to her. “There are no witnesses except you.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “I can’t let Natalie’s death count for nothing. When we met she must have known she’d been poisoned, but all she wanted was to get a message to you.”

  The sheikh’s breath gusted out and his voice was cold as he said, “Completing her mission was always the most important thing to her.”

  Simone felt her eyebrows lift. “Her mission?”

  “She worked for her government as a specialist in Middle Eastern affairs.”

  “A spy?”

  “She preferred the term government agent,” he said. “I didn’t know it when we met, but she’d been recruited as a student. Getting to know me was her first assignment.”

  No wonder he sounded so cold, Simone thought. What he’d taken for mutual attraction had been based on expedience. “Was that why things didn’t work out between you?”

  “The truth about her work didn’t emerge until much later. She had been assigned to befriend me and sound me out about an alliance between our countries. At the time, I wasn’t expected to succeed to the throne, but her bosses were thinking ahead, with good reason as it turned out. Then she did the unthinkable and fell in love. Marrying me was her idea, not her boss’s.”

  Did he truly believe that? Simone wondered. “She must have cared a great deal to try and get a message to you, knowing she hadn’t long to live.”

  “It would be like her to fight to her last breath to do what she believed was right. She loved what she did and being at the center of power. I suspect my attraction had as much to do with my position, as with love. When I became ruler and we left America to live in Nazaar, she couldn’t continue working for her government. She hated the restrictions on her life here and missed her work so much that she asked me to end our marriage. Our parting was less than amicable.”

  “Her message must have been serious to bring her back here,” Simone suggested. “Why didn’t she just call you?”

  His mouth hardened into a grim line. “She had identified a traitor within the palace, and feared her message being intercepted.”

  Simone drank the last of her liqueur like medicine. “If only she’d had more time, you’d know the traitor’s name.”

  “She didn’t offer any clues? Anywhere for my people to start?”


  “Only the ring. I’m sorry.”

  “You did all you could. More than I have a right to expect.”

  Because unlike Natalie, Simone had no personal involvement. Her only reason for passing on the incomplete message was because she also believed in doing what was right. She hoped it wasn’t going to get one or both of them killed. “What will you do now?”

  “Report Natalie’s death and the failure of her mission to her people. As soon as our police complete their investigation, her remains will be returned to her family in America. In the meantime, I shall carry on my duties.”

  “You won’t take any steps to protect yourself?”

  “The rebel faction that killed her has wanted to be rid of my line for a long time. Without knowing the traitor’s identity, I’d be hiding from shadows. Drawing out my enemies might put an end to this futile struggle.”

  “It might also put an end to your life.”

  He seared her with a look. “Don’t start caring about me, Simone. That was Natalie’s mistake, and ultimately she paid for it with her life.”

  Vehemently Simone shook her head. “Natalie’s work was her undoing. If she’d stayed here, this wouldn’t have happened. From what you’ve told me, if she believed she was right, she’d have gone ahead regardless of the risk.”

  “You and she have a lot in common. Both women of high principles and moral certainty.”

  Thinking of what she hadn’t told him about Yusef, Simone felt chilled. She was also guilty of deceiving him. “You can’t say that about me, you hardly know me.”

  “I know enough to want you out of here tomorrow. Fayed will take you to your room and post a guard through the night. Tomorrow you will be on the first plane back to Australia.”

  “This isn’t about getting me to safety, is it?” she demanded as light dawned. “It’s about getting me away from you, because you believe you’re the real target.”

  “We’re playing with words. You’re leaving tomorrow.”

  She jumped to her feet. “Your ex-wife died because she wanted to help you. You can’t betray her by abandoning democratic principles whenever they don’t serve your will.”

  His expression took on a dangerous hardness. “Are you telling me how to run my country?”

  Refusing to flinch, she stood, meeting his gaze as evenly as she could. “I’m telling you what you need to hear, Your Highness. I’m not stupid. I don’t want to die. But I’m the only one who knows Natalie’s killer on sight. Until he and his cohorts are stopped, I’m not safe anywhere. At least here, I have Fayed and your guards as protection.”

  “And one of them could be a murderous traitor,” he ground out. “But you’re right about Natalie’s killer. Very well, you may remain here under royal protection until he is identified, then you will leave. In the meantime, you will not challenge my authority again. Understood?”

  “Perfectly, Your Highness.” Understanding and complying were two different things.

  He began to tick points off on his fingers. “Your best protection will be to conceal yourself among the women of my household. From this moment you will dress and act as they do. Amal will be your tutor.”

  She opened her mouth to remind him that Amal had more than enough to do already, then remembered her promise not to challenge him.

  “Whenever you leave the palace, you will be veiled. Your blond hair stands out like a beacon.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “You will speak only Arabic in public.” His mouth tilted. “You wanted to practice your language skills. Consider this your opportunity.”

  “Agreed? Anything else?”

  “Yes. You will kiss me.”

  Stopped in her tracks, she couldn’t think of a thing to say in any language except “What?”

  “You heard me. I have been curious to taste your mouth all evening. You have willingly placed yourself under my authority. Now learn what that means.”

  Hearing that he had thought of kissing her, even as she’d imagined herself in his arms shocked her. Oh, she’d known the attraction was far from one-sided, but had never expected such a blatant admission. Or a command to fulfill his fantasy.

  “Now listen, Your Highness…Markaz, I know we said no challenges, but that doesn’t mean…didn’t include…I’m not part of the package.”

  Unbending steel met her resistance. “You are the package, the one person Natalie’s killer wants.”

  Evidently he wasn’t the only one. “I don’t see what that has to do with being commanded to kiss you.”

  His expression turned wintry. “You don’t see, and there’s the problem. With my experience of the rebels’ ways, I could become aware of a danger that you fail to see, but by the time you’ve decided whether or not to do as I command, you’re likely to be dead.”

  Rocked to her core, she stared at him, not willing to admit to feeling betrayed. “The order to kiss you was a test?”

  He spread his hands wide. “One you failed. Ma’alish, it does not matter. You will go home tomorrow. My government has friends among the Australian authorities. Through them I will arrange for your protection once you are back on your own soil.”

  Her father had often said her need to question his every edict would one day get her into trouble. Now it seemed he was right. And perhaps Markaz was also right to send her packing before she got herself in any deeper. But it was unclear whether she was afraid of Natalie’s killer or her feelings for the sheikh. Both reasons were valid. So why did the idea of leaving stick in her throat so?

  Before she had the thought fully formed, she had stepped close to Markaz and linked her arms around his neck. She only had to tilt her head back a little to meet his startled gaze. Then before he could react, she fastened her mouth over his.

  Fairly sure that no one had ever kissed the sheikh of sheikhs so impetuously, she had expected him to untangle himself from her arms and thrust her away. If he had done, she would have returned to her room and started packing.

  Instead his arms clamped around her and she was pulled closer, swamped by the heat and strength pouring into her from him. She may as well have lit a fuse.

  His exotic scent enveloped her like a cloud of pure desire. On his lips was the bittersweet Ayn Zakat they’d drunk, the taste more heady than before, spinning her senses into a vortex. He was leaner, harder than she’d thought possible, rocklike as he braced her. Under his protection, the only thing any woman would have to fear was him.

  Yet fear was the last thing she felt. Excitement, yes. A rapt kind of passion that was so new and powerful, addiction seemed inevitable.

  With his arms locked around her, his response was all too apparent through the folds of his clothing. This, too, made her feel exhilarated, giddy with her power to affect him. She parted her lips, inviting him to take more, still more.

  Her knees gave as he pressed her back until she lay across the sofa with his body angled over hers. “Open your eyes,” he growled.

  She hadn’t been aware of closing them, losing herself in sensation. Now she let her eyes flutter open, her breath snagging at the sight of his carved features as he lowered his head to her throat. A low moan emerged as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin there.

  Kneeling above Simone, Markaz felt wild with desire. How long had it been since he’d wanted a woman so much? Needed them, yes. Satisfied himself as a man must do. But without this urgency to know and possess.

  Ordering her to kiss him had been a test, but of himself as much as her. If she’d obeyed, he would have sent her away anyway, knowing he couldn’t trust himself to keep her safe—at least not from him.

  This was what he had feared. This was what he had wanted.

  Now she was in his arms of her own accord, her lips as eager and giving as he’d imagined since his first sight of her at Al-Qasr. Was it only this morning? He felt as if he’d waited a lifetime for her. For this.

  The muted cries in her throat and her bowed body told him he was giving as much pleasure as he was taking.
And by his oath, there was pleasure here. Pleasure and the promise of ecstasy. His body quaked with anticipation. The blood throbbed through him, pooling in his loins, making him ready to explode.

  Dragging the neckline of her galabia down, he heard the delicate fabric give but paid it no heed, wanting only to glory in her revealed beauty. Later he would clothe her in the finest garments in the kingdom, cloth of gold and silver, the most precious jewels. For now he needed to see, to taste, to touch all she was.

  Overwhelmed by sensation, Simone wanted the experience to go on and on. Wanted Markaz to take her, as she would take him. Here in this room, its very existence the embodiment of one man’s love for a woman. On this sofa cradling her as luxuriously as any bed.

  Braced with one knee between hers, Markaz leaned over her, his mouth hot and hungry as it skimmed over the tops of her breasts. She moved restively, frustrated by the amount of clothing coming between them. Wanting it gone. Placing her hands on his broad chest, she pushed him away intending to shrug off the voluminous garment.

  And stopped.

  Seeing him above her, really seeing him, and realizing what she was contemplating sent a shock wave through her. “No,” she insisted. “No, we have to stop.”

  Like a man surfacing from a dream, he levered himself away and dragged his fingers through his hair. His voice sounded smoky as he said, “It’s what you invited. What we both want.”

  What she still wanted, she thought in the part of her mind refusing to listen to reason. Hearing the confusion in his voice and seeing in his face the wild desire she’d ignited, she wondered if she was mad to stop him. They were both free agents. Both adults. Where was the harm?

  Honesty forced her to say, “I know, but it’s too soon. For me, anyway.”

  His mouth thinned. “You’d insult me by suggesting I make a habit of this?”

  “I’ve no doubt that the reputation of Nazaari men as great lovers is deserved.” After this how could she doubt? And the experience had barely begun. “Growing up, I had enough of my father ruling my life because he felt his gender gave him the right. Other men have tried since, and I’ve left them high and dry.”