Strangers in the Desert

by Lynn Raye Harris

  “It’s a labyrinth,” Adan said, tugging her forward. “The Butterfly Queen had it built centuries ago. The original hedge didn’t survive, but this one follows the path she had laid out.”

  They stopped at the entrance to the labyrinth. She could see the path meandering back and forth.

  “You can see all the way to the center,” she said. “I didn’t think that’s how it worked.”

  He grinned, and for the second—third?—time today, her heart went into free fall. “You’re thinking of a maze,” he said. “Two different things. A labyrinth is for meditation, among other things. The idea is to walk it and see what the path shows you. It’s a personal journey, and it means something different for everyone.”

  She’d have never thought he was the meditating type. “Do you walk it?”

  “I have.”

  “And?”

  Again, with the smile. “Truthfully, I didn’t get it the first time. I was impatient and wanted to reach the end. And then I realized that impatience is one of my faults, and the labyrinth could perhaps teach me something after all.”

  “Nooo,” Isabella said disbelievingly. “Don’t tell me you have faults. I can’t imagine that to be true.”

  He laughed. “It’s possible I have one or two.”

  Isabella grinned back at him. “Careful, Adan, or I might have to start liking you after all.”

  “I’ll be sure to do something evil just to keep you on your toes,” he replied.

  She looked out over the labyrinth and the garden beyond and sighed. The sun was setting now, and everything was bathed in a soft ocher glow. It was peaceful.

  So much quieter than Port Jahfar—or even Maui, with the tourists and the parties taking place so frequently along the beach.

  “Did we talk like this before?” she asked. “Or did I merely bow my head and do or say whatever I thought you wanted?”

  His fingers ghosted along her cheek, pushed her riot of golden hair away from her face. Her heart raced at the soft touch of his skin on hers. She had to stop this. Because every time he touched her or smiled at her, her heart opened just a little bit wider for him.

  “You already know what the answer is, Isabella, even if you cannot remember it.”

  She looked up at him. His dark eyes regarded her with something that she thought might be appreciation. Not sexual appreciation, though there was that, too, but an intellectual approval that she was certain she’d not had from him when they were first married.

  “Yes, I do. I did what I’d been raised to do, Adan. What my father expected from me. What you expected from me. I tried to be a good Jahfaran wife. I know that, even if I have no memory of it.”

  “And what would you do now?” he asked. “If the clock was rewound and you went into our marriage as the person you are at this moment?”

  She bit her lip. Why was he asking her this? Was he fishing for an answer, trying to gauge her suitability to be his wife? If she said the right thing, did it mean she could stay with Rafiq forever?

  She opened her mouth to say what she thought he wanted to hear.

  And then she stopped.

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t say what she thought the correct answer was, because it wasn’t what she knew to be true for herself. Was she still that girl who’d tried so desperately to please her feuding parents? Who’d said whatever they’d wanted to hear if only it would make them happy with her?

  She wasn’t, and she couldn’t ever be again.

  Isabella took a deep breath. It was filled with the fragrance of bougainvillea and the spicy scent of the man standing so near.

  “I would be me, regardless of whether it pleased you or not,” she said.

  His smile was as sudden and unexpected as diamonds raining down from heaven. “I am very glad to hear it.”

  Dinner was served picnic-style, on a big mat under the stars in the garden with gas lanterns to light the night. There was tabbouleh salad, fresh hummus, roasted lamb with lemon and garlic, rice, and a variety of olives, cheeses, mangoes, figs and fresh hot flat bread that tasted amazing with everything.

  Isabella sighed as she popped a bite of bread in her mouth. Rafiq sat beside her, his little head tilted up to watch her eat.

  “Very good,” she said. “Yummm. Does Rafi want a bite?”

  He shook his head—but then he nodded, and Isabella laughed as she tore off a small piece of bread and fed it to him. He chewed so seriously, then got up to toddle toward his father on the other side of the mat. They’d long ago learned to make a path down the center. Dishes were arrayed to either end of the mat with a big swath in the middle for Rafiq to hold court.

  Kalila sat in a chair beside them. She’d insisted on joining them on the mat, but Adan had told her no. At first, Isabella had thought he meant to send her away, but he pulled a chair from nearby and perched it there for her.

  Isabella’s heart did that melty thing again when she watched him help the old woman into the chair. He truly cared for Kalila.

  Now, Rafiq climbed into Adan’s lap and began babbling something. Adan’s forehead wrinkled as he listened intently. Then he picked Rafiq up and hugged him tight, tickling him as the little boy laughed and squirmed.

  Isabella bit her lip. Emotion swirled through her in sharp currents. She was happy—and sad.

  She was confused—and frustrated. Hopeful—and hopeless. So many emotions, so many possibilities.

  “Sing, Papa!” Rafiq exclaimed through his giggles.

  “Ah, you want Isabella to sing? Perhaps you should ask her.”

  Rafiq turned his head to look at her. He stuck a finger in his mouth, chewing on it while he watched her with dark eyes. His father’s eyes. Both sets of eyes stared at her now, waiting.

  “Ask her,” Adan urged.

  “Bell sing?”

  Isabella’s heart swelled with love. It was the first time he’d called her anything besides ‘lady.’ It was progress, and she was ridiculously pleased.

  “Of course I’ll sing for you, sweetheart,” she said.

  “Go sit with Isabella,” Adan said, and Rafiq toddled his way to Isabella’s side. Then he plopped down in front of her and fixed those sweet eyes on her.

  She started with a soft, slow island tune she’d learned on Maui, then sang a couple of Jahfaran songs. Rafiq watched her, mesmerized, until eventually his eyes began to droop. Isabella smiled, but she didn’t stop singing. As he tottered, she pulled him close and he settled against her lap. When she looked across at Adan, he was watching her intently. His eyes were as dark and hot as always, but for once she wasn’t thinking of how he despised her so much as she was thinking of how it had felt to kiss him in the car today.

  Of how he’d caressed her body and told her that he wanted her. Was it possible they could work their way through this? It seemed odd to be thinking it, when she’d so recently sworn to one of the waitresses at Ka Nui’s that she would never spend her life with a man who didn’t love her—

  But that was before she’d realized she was already married and had a child with this man.

  Her fingers combed through Rafiq’s soft curls. She would do anything, sacrifice anything, for this child. It was the oddest sensation, and yet it was the absolute truth. She knew it to the bottom of her soul.

  She sang more quietly now, as Rafiq’s eyes remained closed and his breathing evened out. A few more minutes and Adan nodded at her. She let the last note taper off and then it was quiet, except for the sound of the gas flames in the lanterns and the night sounds of locusts. Occasionally, there was a distant howl from a lonely jaguar hunting the dunes.

  Isabella glanced at Kalila, who was shifting in her chair, and realized that the woman was probably uncomfortable by now. As much as she would love to continue to sit here with Rafiq asleep on her lap, she couldn’t let Kalila be stiff from sitting too long.

  “Perhaps we should take him to bed,” she suggested, glancing at Kalila when Adan looked at her.

  “Yes, I think you are r
ight.” Then he got up and came to take Rafiq from her. They progressed into the house while a servant began to clean up the dishes. This time, Isabella followed Adan all the way to Rafiq’s room. It was packed with toys, of course, and decorated in cool blues and white. Connected to his room was another, and this was where Kalila stayed. Adan told her to go ahead to bed, his voice full of concern and gentleness. She curtseyed before going into the room and shutting the door.

  Isabella thought that Adan stiffened, but then she decided she must have imagined it because he turned and laid Rafiq so gently into his crib. His hand ghosted over Rafiq’s curls, and then he bent and placed a kiss on his son’s forehead.

  Isabella’s eyes filled with tears. Every man, no matter how hard, could be brought to his knees by something. For Adan, it was love for his son that made him human.

  Adan stood and turned to her. “If you want to …”

  She shook her head. She desperately wanted to kiss Rafiq goodnight, but she was afraid to disturb him. She didn’t know how to do all the things she wanted to do just yet. It saddened and infuriated her all at once, but she had to be patient.

  Adan took her hand and led her from the room and back out onto the terrace where coffee had been set at a small table for two. He pulled her chair out and she sank onto it, her pulse pounding in her throat and temples as he stood so close.

  And then he was sitting across from her and lifting his coffee to his lips as he turned to gaze out at the darkened garden.

  “It is very peaceful here,” he said after a few moments of silence. “I would stay for weeks if it were possible.”

  “I imagine it’s been very hectic since your uncle died.”

  “I have been the heir for over a year now, but yes, it has still been quite an adjustment. There is much to do when one is responsible for an entire nation.”

  “But we have a parliament now. Surely that helps.”

  “I think it does, yes. But there is still much work to be done. Fortunately, wherever I am, I am connected. Imagine the days before we had computers and cell phones.”

  “A trip out here would have been a true vacation then.”

  “Yes. Now, it is simply another stop. A different location, but the world does not truly go away.”

  It occurred to her that she didn’t really know anything about him. “I’m sure I must have known this before, but how many siblings do you have?”

  “Three brothers and one sister, who came much later in life. She is ten now.”

  “I always wanted a sister. Or a brother,” Isabella added. She’d been so lonely, with her books and tutors and no other children to play with.

  Adan seemed to know without asking what she meant. “I would like siblings for Rafiq, as well. He would enjoy having other children to play with.”

  Isabella studied the steaming liquid in her cup. “I’m surprised you didn’t remarry by now.”

  He shrugged. “Time passed faster than I thought. I don’t think I realized it had been two years until very recently.”

  “Do your brothers have children?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “Only one of them has married. The other two seem to think playing the carefree bachelor in Europe to be more fun.” His eyes narrowed. “What about you, Isabella? Did you find playing the bachelorette fun?”

  A shiver crept over her, not only because the sun had gone down and the desert was cooling. “I didn’t date, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Why not? You are a beautiful woman. And you must have got lonely.”

  Her heart throbbed. “Did you?”

  His eyes glittered in the half-light of the torches. “Ah, answering a question with a question. Classic avoidance. And yes, I did get lonely.”

  “So did I. But I didn’t date.” She sighed and told him the truth. “It didn’t feel right somehow. But I did let a man kiss me once.”

  He looked as if he could bite a nail in two. A fresh wave of irritation flooded her.

  “It’s not like I knew about you,” she said. “And it was only a kiss. I’ll bet you can’t say the same,” she added defiantly.

  “I’ll bet I can,” he replied coolly. “I’ve kissed no one but you since the day we were married.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t believe it.”

  He set the coffee down. “Believe it, Isabella. I’ve had a child to raise and a business to run—and then I had a throne to prepare for. There’s been no one but you.”

  She blinked in surprise. “But you were getting married again!”

  “Jasmine is an old friend.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say.” She really didn’t. A man like him … celibate?

  “There is nothing to say.” He stood abruptly. “Perhaps it’s time we called it a night, yes? It’s been a long journey and it’s getting late.”

  She got to her feet, too. “What’s the point in getting angry with me? It’s not my fault.”

  “Nothing is, is it?”

  She clenched her fists at her side. “What do you want from me, Adan? I’m trying.”

  “And I’m not?” he asked dangerously.

  Isabella blew out a breath. “That’s not what I meant. I meant this is hard, for both of us, and there’s not a lot we can do about the past now.”

  “I’m beginning to think this was a bad idea after all,” he said softly, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before spearing her again.

  “We just got here. You promised me two weeks.”

  “Promises, as you very well know, are easily broken,” he said. And then he stalked into the house, leaving her lonely once more.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ADAN couldn’t believe he’d told her. He’d confessed to her that he’d had no lover since she’d gone away. It hadn’t been intentional. After she’d been declared dead, he’d grieved her loss. But he hadn’t been heartbroken because of it. He’d grieved because she was Rafiq’s mother, because he’d been fond of her.

  He’d taken her presence in his life for granted, and he’d regretted that immensely. But that wasn’t what had stopped him from attending to the sexual part of his life after she was gone.

  He’d always intended to take a mistress. Or another wife. It had just never happened. He truly had been busy, first with taking care of Rafiq and finding a decent nanny for him. Adan had fired three nannies before he’d finally begged Kalila to come raise his son.

  After that, he’d been busy with his business interests and then with the aftermath of his cousin’s death and becoming the heir to the throne. There’d been no time in his life for casual affairs. He’d missed sex, missed women, but he’d had little time to worry about it.

  Now that he’d brought Isabella out here, all he could think of was sex. He’d intended to stay busy and stay away from her as much as possible. But then she’d told him in the car about her memory of their wedding night, and he’d realized the futility of that plan.

  He wanted her. And as he’d sat with her tonight and listened to her sing, as Rafiq had fallen asleep on her lap, he’d realized that his intention was to take her to his bed at the end of the evening. He’d pushed everything from his mind but her.

  Then she’d told him she’d kissed another man. Until then, he’d purposely avoided thinking about what she’d been up to for the past two years as a lounge singer.

  Hearing it had made him crazy. It was ridiculous, because it was nothing really, and yet the knowledge of that kiss had sliced into him with the utter unfairness of it. He’d been celibate, and she’d been kissing another man.

  It was nothing, and everything.

  He’d wanted to pick her up and carry her to his room that very minute. He’d wanted to make her his. Irrevocably.

  But it was wrong—wanting her was wrong—because in two weeks, when this was all over, he would wed Jasmine.

  It was late when he shoved the covers aside and got out of bed. His body was heated and his brain wouldn’t settle down. He was restless, like a caged lion. He padded
naked to the en suite bathroom, then pulled on a pair of shorts, not really certain what he intended to do other than leave the bedroom.

  Outside the window, movement in the garden caught his eye. And then he realized what it was: Isabella walking the labyrinth by moonlight.

  The path was dark, but the moon gave enough light to make out the pattern. Isabella moved slowly through the labyrinth, wondering when illumination was supposed to happen. She walked closer to the inside, and then farther away again. Just when she thought she was almost there, another twist in the pattern took her to the outside of the circle.

  She didn’t know why she was doing this. She lifted her head to look at the dark walls of the small palace. A light burned in an upper window, but that was all. The torches had been turned out hours ago, and the garden was dark and still.

  She’d gone to bed and slept fitfully, her dreams filled with Adan and Rafiq—but mostly Adan. She’d dreamed of lying in bed with him, of telling him she loved him and of him stiffening beside her. Then she’d dreamed of waiting for him to come to her bed and falling asleep in tears when she realized he wasn’t coming after all.

  The dreams had disturbed her. She’d wanted to know their meaning. It was silly to think that walking a dark path in the moonlight was going to teach her anything, but she’d been drawn out here by the idea that it would calm her.

  She wasn’t feeling calm so much as frustrated, however.

  “This is ridiculous,” she muttered as another turn took her away from the center. Then she stopped in the pathway. This wasn’t working. It would be better simply to go inside.

  She turned to leave, intending to step over the knee-high hedges, but gasped at the sight of a man standing at the edge of the labyrinth, watching her.

  Adan.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said.

  He stepped over the first hedge. “Neither could I.”

  Then he stepped over another one. “You aren’t giving up, are you, Isabella?”

  He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Dear God in heaven. His torso gleamed in the moonlight, all hard planes and ridges where muscle and bone melded to create something damn near to perfection.