Demanding His Desert Queen

Those meetings had been formal affairs. Abbas hadn’t been one to cuddle his son, or play games. He’d said that was how royal heirs were raised. They weren’t supposed to cling to their parents. And besides, as Sheikh he’d had other things to keep him busy. He’d assured Safiyah that when Tarek was old enough he’d take him in hand and teach him what he needed to know to rule Assara.

That was never going to happen now.

Tarek would grow up without knowing his father.

Nor would he become Sheikh.

A pang of fear pierced her chest. Would her son be allowed to grow up in safety? What would happen if Karim didn’t take the crown? He’d looked anything but happy about the idea. But if he didn’t and Hassan Shakroun became Sheikh—

‘Safiyah? Are you still there?’

‘Sorry, Rana. I got distracted.’

‘Things didn’t go well?’

‘I’m sure it will work out just fine.’ Safiyah was so used to putting a positive spin on things, protecting her sister as much as possible, that the words emerged automatically.

‘Reading between the lines, it doesn’t sound like it.’ Rana paused, then, ‘You can talk to me, you know, Safiyah. I’m not as fragile as I used to be.’

‘I know that.’

These days Rana seemed a different person entirely from the severely depressed young woman she’d once been. It was habit rather than need that fed Safiyah’s protectiveness, yet old ways died hard.

‘But there’s no news yet—nothing to share.’

Other than the fact Karim had asked her to be his wife.

No, not asked. Demanded. Made it a condition of him even considering accepting the sheikhdom.

She couldn’t share that fact. Not till she’d worked out what answer she was going to give.

Marrying Karim seemed impossible. Especially as there’d been not even a hint of warmth when he spoke of it. Instead he’d looked so cold, so brooding…

She couldn’t say yes. The very thought of accepting another marriage of convenience when she’d just escaped one sent shivers scudding down her spine.

Naturally they were shivers of distaste. They couldn’t be anything else.

But if she said no what would happen to Tarek? She’d do whatever it took to see him safe. Of course she would. Yet surely there was some other way. Surely marriage wasn’t essential.

‘Well, if you need to talk I’m just here.’

It struck Safiyah how far Rana had come from the troubled girl she’d been. ‘Thank you, Rana. I’m so lucky to have you.’ Especially as a few short years ago Safiyah had almost lost her. ‘To be honest, I—’

A knock on the door interrupted her. ‘Sorry, there’s someone here. I’ll just see who it is.’

Safiyah swung her bare feet off the bed, retying the belt of her long robe. She glanced at the time. Nine o’clock. Too late for a casual visitor, even if she’d known anyone else in Switzerland. And the special envoy who’d accompanied her from Assara would never dream of simply turning up at her door. He’d ring first.

‘That’s fine. I need to go anyway.’

In the background Safiyah heard yapping. She grinned as she crossed the bedroom and entered the suite’s sitting room, flicking on a lamp as she went.

‘Okay. Give Tarek a hug and kiss from me and tell him I’ll be home soon.’

‘I will. And good luck!’

More yapping, this time more frenzied, and Rana hung up.

Safiyah reached the entrance of her suite and peered through the peephole. Her vision was obscured by a large fist, raised to knock. When it lowered she was looking at a broad chest, straight shoulders and the dark gold flesh of a masculine neck and jaw.

Karim!

Safiyah’s pulse catapulted against her ribs, taking up a rackety, uneven beat. They’d agreed to meet tomorrow morning. Not tonight. She wasn’t prepared.

She glanced down at the silk robe of deep rose-pink. It covered her to her ankles, but abruptly Safiyah became aware that beneath it she wore nothing but an equally thin nightgown.

That hand rose to knock again, and she knew she had no choice but to answer.

She cracked the door open, keeping out of view behind it as much as possible.

‘Karim. This is a surprise.’ Despite her efforts her voice sounded husky, betraying her lack of calm.

‘Safiyah.’ He nodded and stepped forward, clearly expecting her to admit him.

She held the door firmly, not budging. ‘It’s late. I’m afraid it’s not convenient to talk now.’ Not when she was barefoot and wearing next to nothing. ‘Can this wait till the morning?’

By then she’d have some idea of what she was going to say. Hopefully. Plus she’d be dressed. Definitely. Dressed in something that didn’t make her feel appallingly feminine and vulnerable just standing close to Karim.

Was she entertaining a lover? The idea flashed into his brain, splintering thoughts of sheikhdoms and politics.

Her cheeks were pink and her hair was a messy dark cloud drifting over her shoulders, as if she’d just climbed out of bed. Her eyes shone like gems and he saw the pulse jitter at the base of her throat, drawing attention both to her elegant neck and her agitation.

Karim’s pulse revved as he propped the door open with his shoulder. He heard no noise in the room behind her but that meant nothing.

‘I’m afraid this can’t wait.’

Wide eyes looked up at him. Still she didn’t move. He watched her swallow, the movement convulsive. Karim felt a stab of hunger. He fought the urge to stroke that pale skin and discover if it was as soft as he remembered.

Such weakness only fired his annoyance. Bad enough that his every attempt to think logically about this situation and his future kept swinging back to thoughts of Safiyah. Karim chafed at his unwanted weakness for this woman.

‘Surely tomorrow—’