The Sheikha’s Unexpected Protector: Desert Sheikhs Book Two

by North, Leslie

  “Smart.” Kalif looked her up and down, noticing the tempting slope of her breast as the breeze moved the robe around her. “Is there anything else you can remember? If he made it in, he won’t make it out.”

  She bought a hand to her forehead. “He said…‘You should have never come back.’”

  Kalif’s face fell. Before he could respond, Zatar came rushing over.

  “Salari! What happened?”

  Zatar pulled Salari into an embrace. The air felt cold in her absence. Kalif stepped away, clasping his hands behind his back.

  As Salari recounted the brief attack, Kalif wracked his mind for possibilities and next steps. Clearly, whoever this person was had slipped by the night guard. Kalif would double the watch, especially if Salari was the target. With all the guards on high alert now, at the very least Kalif could hope they’d intercept the asshole, make sure he never came around here again.

  “Oh, sister. How horrible. And on your first night back!” Zatar looked genuinely distraught, shaking his head.

  A guard stopped by as he returned from checking out the maze. “Your highness, there’s no trace of an intruder.”

  “No trace?” Zatar looked back at the guard, a younger one named Tarek. “Well, she said there was someone here. Do you think she’d make this up? We must find him!”

  Kalif winced at the words, and Salari’s hand drifted up to the scratches on her cheek. That Salari had made it up hadn’t even crossed his mind. She was never one to be dishonest. Kalif had been dishonest once, and his lie cost Salari ten years of life by her family’s side.

  And now she was in danger. Again. Because of him.

  “I will personally stand guard until sunrise,” Kalif said as Zatar looked more exasperated. It was the least he could do, not only in the name of his job, but for Salari personally. “Salari will be safe. That, at least, I can promise.”

  Zatar nodded, looking back at his sister. She had turned away, face shrouded by the long waves of her hair. “Good. Now let’s all get some sleep.”

  As Salari disappeared inside her room, Zatar squeezed Kalif’s shoulder and then headed back to bed. Kalif crossed his arms, taking up his post in front of her door.

  And he waited.

  4

  When the sun rose the next morning, Salari’s eyes were already open. She hadn’t slept a wink the night before. Knowing Kalif was outside soothed as much as it provoked. While she truly felt better with his beefy, rock hard body outside the door, she was kept awake with curiosity and desire.

  It didn’t seem right. Being sexually attracted to the man who had singlehandedly ruined her life wasn’t allowed. Part of her wished Kalif had opted to stay in her bed instead of outside the door.

  She sat up in bed, looking around the bedroom. Streaks of light made it past the thick mauve curtains. A fountain burbled softly in the corner. Sleep was impossible, it seemed, and she didn’t know who was the bigger culprit: the attacker or Kalif.

  She tugged open the curtains, and bright sunlight filled the room. She ran a hand through her tresses, pausing in the mirror to tousle them just so. Her silk nightie was sexy enough, but she slipped down one strap. Perfect.

  She pulled open the door, peering outside. Birds twittered from the gardens just beyond the covered walkway.

  Kalif appeared a moment later, his eyes tired and shirt rumpled. He offered a small smile. “Good morning.”

  Knowing that it was him out there, she swung the door open all the way. Let him get a good glimpse of what he was missing. The chance at a life with her he ruined. “Morning. You can go now.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, his jaw flexing. Then his eyes dipped downward, stealing a glance at her body. Her skin sizzled with the attention. “Did you sleep well?”

  “No. But thanks for standing guard.” She swung the door shut, her heart racing just like it had all those years ago. Kalif had been the first man she’d ever wanted. At age nineteen, he’d been ganglier but still just as dark and brooding; what he had in intensity back then now shone through his muscles. It had started innocently enough—stolen glances, secret smiles, occasional flirting that was so thrilling she could have lived for years off the energy surges alone.

  But once Kalif told her she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, that he’d been wanting her for years, Salari knew it was over. Looking back, she realized that was the moment she’d given her heart to him. The moment she knew that Kalif might be the man to spend her forever with.

  They hadn’t said “I love you” until some months later. Their meetups had been infrequent and painfully short, always leaving them wanting more. But they could never have more, because their relationship had been a closely guarded secret. If it had gotten out that she’d been seeing the captain of the guard’s eldest son without their fathers’ blessings, then they’d have been in big trouble.

  Their plan had been to wait until Salari turned nineteen. That was the age she could legally begin courting, according to her father’s rules. But then Kalif had betrayed her, mere months before her birthday, during a visit from the Prince of Asodonia.

  She still didn’t understand how someone could profess love in one breath and then accuse her of sleeping with a foreign prince in another. It still didn’t make sense, even all these years later. And though her heart was desperate to heal this wound, her pride wouldn’t let her bring it up.

  She needed to show him that she couldn’t care less. About him, about his stupidly good looks, about his warmth and protection that the soft side of her gobbled up as if she’d been starved for years.

  A knock at her door startled her out of her thoughts. She tugged it open an inch, peering outside. Zatar stood, still in his bedclothes. She pushed up the strap of her nightie before pulling the door open all the way.

  “Good morning, brother.”

  “Good morning, sister.” She breezed toward the walk-in closet to retrieve her robe, noting that Kalif had entered with her brother. “Good lord, put some clothes on. We’re in mixed company.”

  “I’m getting my robe.” She sighed, tugging it closed, knotting the twisted rope around her waist.

  “I came to check on you. Kalif says there were no reports of an intruder leaving last night. All else appears to be calm on the grounds.”

  Salari sniffed, casting a suspicious look between the two of them. “So, what? No reports means I made it up?”

  “No,” Zatar said carefully, “It simply means we’ll need to heighten our security.”

  The insinuation, however distant, about her trustworthiness grated on her. She sat on the edge of the bed. “Well, don’t bother. I’ve decided to leave.”

  The ridge Kalif’s eyebrows made inspired a particular type of satisfaction. He was upset, and he was trying to hide it. Let him suffer, then. Even if she suffered too.

  “Salari,” Zatar said, shaking his head. “You can’t go. Not so soon. Don’t you want to stay for a while? Get to know Alex, reacquaint yourself with your country?”

  “My country doesn’t want me here,” she spat, turning her head. “Even this palace is not safe for me.”

  “But it will be,” Zatar insisted. He turned to Kalif. “You’ll personally watch over her, won’t you?”

  * * *

  Kalif’s body was rigid with tension. He couldn’t rip his eyes off Salari, not even if the king had held a gun to his head.

  “Of course,” Kalif said, straightening. He would rather die than see her injured or assaulted by this intruder. And proving this to her would be his new life mission. “I would do it even if you hadn’t asked me.”

  Salari rolled her eyes as she looked away. So she wouldn’t be an easy nut to crack. But it didn’t matter. This might be the only way to fully right the wrongs of the past.

  “Well, that’s so gracious of you.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “But trust me, I’d rather leave than be subjected to being watched like a child.”

  “A child?” Zatar said. “You are a member of th
e royal family. Maybe you’ve forgotten what it’s like, but we are all looked after and protected to the highest possible degree. You will be no different. And honestly, I’d be shocked if you let a little dissent dissuade you from staying.”

  Salari’s brow perked up. “Dissent? This was something stronger than dissent, brother. Someone tried to hurt me.”

  “And as unfortunate as that is, it is part of being a public, royal figure.” Zatar’s eyes blazed. “People will disagree with your actions, they will create their own version of reality, and they will hold it against you forever. Will you bow to that story?”

  Salari was silent for so long that Kalif almost wilted waiting for her response. She finally brought a hand to her forehead, eyes pinched shut.

  “You’re right,” she said at long last.

  “I know,” Zatar said. He went over to her, kneeling to look her in the eye. “Be strong for me. We will figure out what went wrong, and we will fix it. Until then, you have your bodyguard.”

  Zatar kissed the back of her hand and excused himself. Kalif moved to follow him but paused, sensing a window of opportunity. Which he might not have again for some time. His own words knocked against his chest, begging to be spoken.

  “Salari.” He spoke softly, not wanting to anger her. She snapped her head up to meet his gaze. “I meant what I said. Your safety is my only priority.”

  A laugh escaped through her nose, but she didn’t smile. “Your only priority. How dreary your life must be.”

  “I wouldn’t call it dreary,” he blurted, almost without thinking. Surprise moved slowly across her face. “Not anymore. It’s nice to have you back. You make it less dreary.”

  Her face hardened into an impassive mask, one that made his chest ache. He longed to make her walls crumble, but how could he? She was determined to keep him out. His only chance to be near her would be in protecting her.

  “So it was dreary in my absence?” Her eyes narrowed, but the bite was missing from her words. “That’s the least one could hope for in this interminably hot country.” She fanned herself with her robe, allowing tantalizing glimpses of the caramel flesh beneath. A body he used to know better than his own. “If you’re insisting on being my bodyguard, then you should know I plan to go to the market today.”

  Kalif stiffened. “For what purpose?”

  Her eyes turned into slits. “Does it truly matter?”

  “Of course. The market is the last place you should be. Nothing could be so important as to risk your life in such an enormous way.”

  She held her head up. Sweat shone on her upper chest, even though the heat of day wasn’t at full intensity. He fought to look away from the sheen. “I need to get cooler clothes. I didn’t pack enough for this heat.”

  “I can go for you, or we can call the royal seamstress. But you can’t go there.”

  Salari scoffed, tugging her robe off. She draped it over her bed as she strutted toward the walk-in closet. His gaze soldered on the thickness of her thighs peeking out from that nightie. He’d fantasized about the warmth between her legs too many times to count over the past ten years.

  “Then why do I have a bodyguard if I’m not allowed to do anything?”

  “You can do things—” he began, but she cut him off with a sharp tone.

  “I’m not going to be a prisoner just because someone has a problem with me. If you’re going to protect me, then you can do it anywhere.” She sent him a duh look and then disappeared into the closet.

  Kalif scrubbed at his jaw. Her tone left no room for argument. It wasn’t ideal, but he could make it work. “Fine. When you’re ready, we’ll leave. But you’ll stay at my side. No matter what.”

  Her voice rang out sugary sweet from the closet. “Oh, but of course, Kalif. No place I’d rather be.”

  The sarcasm nearly burned him, but he’d take it. After all, a little vitriol from Salari was better than nothing. Better than the long, painful absence or the not knowing where she was, how she was doing.

  Kalif let himself out of her room and stood guard by the door. Even though he’d pulled an all-nighter, he was more alert than if he’d just drunk a gallon of coffee. When Salari was around, there was no room for sleepiness. He had a job to do, and more than that, he needed to make amends.

  5

  Salari drifted at Kalif’s side, protected behind oversized sunglasses and long, emerald robes that tickled the ground as she walked. The market was hot and noisy, dust kicking up at every step. Bright canopies held together tightly packed stalls selling everything from cookware to underwear.

  But Salari couldn’t focus on any of it. Not when Kalif’s heat was inches from her, his bulky manliness always just a glance or breath away.

  Their elbows brushed as they pressed together to make it through a tight aisle between dried chilis and baby toys. She stiffened at the unexpected contact.

  Every part of her prickled with anticipation, wanting more, wanting him. It wasn’t the effect of too much time without sexual satisfaction. She knew very well the ins and outs of pleasuring herself with any type of toy available. She’d dated a few men in France, but none had ever made the leap to her bed. Kalif was the only man who made her burn.

  But the worst part of it all was how wrong it was to want him. Wanting him felt like the final nail in the coffin; desire confirmed her failure. She was not only the victim of a lie, she also still wanted to sleep with the liar. And if that wasn’t a textbook example of weakness, she didn’t know what was.

  She paused in front of a stall, fingering a tiny bauble that said “Kattahar” in a curlicue font. A grizzled vendor beamed at her, one tooth missing.

  “If you like it, it can be yours. Half off because you’re beautiful,” he said.

  Salari laughed, digging through her hand purse for some bills. “Sold. This will be a lovely souvenir for when I go home.”

  The vendor wrapped the bauble in tissue paper before she and Kalif continued walking. As she tucked it into the bags holding her earlier purchases, she could feel something heavy in the air between them.

  “Do you really intend to leave?”

  Kalif’s voice sent a shiver down her spine. Strange how she could still feel his thoughts. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “But you told your brother you’d be staying.”

  She thought she detected some sadness in his voice. Truth was, she didn’t know what the hell she was doing. But she wanted to milk Kalif for every last hurt in him. “I know. But if staying here means I have to be watched over by you constantly, I’d rather return to France.”

  The air stretched tense between them. She wanted to look up and see the expression on his face, to see if she’d gotten him where it hurt. But all her thoughts dissolved when Kalif’s big, warm hand pressed against her lower back.

  “You will never be as safe as you are with me.” His voice sounded at her ear, the heat of his breath tickling her neck. She inhaled sharply. His touch shouldn’t feel so good. Not after so much confusion and betrayal.

  “I guess we’ll see about that.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but her entire body was alive with vibration. Kalif kept his hand on her lower back as they navigated through a thick crowd. People shouted around them, and the scent of lamb hung in the air.

  “Stay close to me.” His hand moved toward her side, his fingers digging into the swell of her hip. “You’re attracting a lot of attention.”

  She huffed. “And why’s that?”

  Kalif shook his head, his jaw flexing. “You never did like to admit how beautiful you are.”

  The slight nod to the past sent warmth spiraling through her. She brushed back some hair that had fallen from behind her ear. It was best not to respond to that. If she did, she risked destroying the rock-solid façade she’d constructed.

  They walked on for a few more moments, Kalif’s touch sizzling through the thin fabric. Surely there would be burn marks the shape of fingerprints across her hip later.

  “Do you remember th
e first time we came here?”

  She swallowed a knot in her throat. She’d been thinking of it more than she wanted to admit. They’d snuck out of the palace at age thirteen and visited a fortune teller. She hated that he’d brought this up.

  “Of course,” she replied. “Lady Zanzibar and her spectacularly incorrect predictions.”

  “She said we’d be married by age eighteen,” Kalif said. “Did you ever believe her?”

  Salair smiled despite herself. “Maybe for a moment. After all, at that age anything seems possible. Even the most ludicrous fantasies.”

  “I believed her,” Kalif said. “All the way up until the day you left.”

  Salari tensed. “Interesting, then, that you would lie about the woman you thought to marry.”

  Kalif’s silence went stony. They paused as a slow-moving family crossed in front of them.

  “Did the letters not explain everything to you?” Kalif’s voice wavered slightly.

  “What letters?”

  His grip around her waist tightened. He had a vice grip, one that made her feel steady as much as it sent her spinning off balance, all the way into outer space. She drew a shaky breath, steeling herself against his touch.

  “I sent you letters in France,” he said quietly. “For nearly two years.”

  She blinked slowly, her gaze stuck to the ground as they moved forward. The world around her shrank, until it blinked out of existence. All she could do was repeat his words in her head.

  If he’d sent her letters, she’d never received a single one. Her father must have ordered that any letters to her be stopped; that would be just like him. What had Kalif said? Could it have possibly made a difference? Part of her was relieved to know that he’d tried. That he’d wasted even a fraction of as much time in her absence as she had wasted abroad.

  The crowd swelled around them; shouting pierced the air. An argument. All she could hear was “Thief!” The shouts increased, and Kalif’s arm crept further around her waist.