Midnight at the Oasis: His Majesty's Mistake

“How refreshing. You usually dread your time in the desert, saying Raha reminds you too much of your ranch in Texas.”

Emmeline valiantly tried to play along. “But I love the ranch. It’s where I grew up.”

“Maybe. But in Nadir you have friends, your own apartment in the palace, and numerous social activities, and when you’re here, you’re very much alone. Or alone with me.”

The “alone with him” part sent a tremor of anxiety through her. She couldn’t imagine spending another hour alone with him, much less days. She had to get Hannah here. Immediately.

His eyes suddenly gleamed, his full sensual mouth lifting in a mocking smile, and she could have sworn he knew exactly what she was thinking. She blushed, cheeks heating, skin prickling, even as she told herself it was impossible. He wasn’t a mind reader. He couldn’t possibly know how much he unsettled her.

And yet his gray eyes with those bright silver flecks were so direct, so perceptive she felt a quiver race through her, a quiver of dread and anticipation. He was so different from anyone she knew. So much more.

Makin’s long legs stretched carelessly into the aisle and his broad shoulders filled his chair. He was at least six feet two. While Alejandro was handsome, Makin Al-Koury exuded power.

“Fortunately, this time here you’ll be too busy assisting and entertaining my guests to feel isolated,” he added. “I trust that everything’s in place for their arrival?”

“Of course.” She smiled to hide the fact that she didn’t have a clue. But she’d soon find someone on his staff who would fill her in.

“Good. Because last night I seriously questioned your ability to pull this weekend off. But you slept most of the flight and appear more rested.”

“I am,” she answered, thinking that it was he who looked utterly fresh despite the fact that they’d been traveling for so long.

“Did you take something to help you sleep?”

“No. Why?”

“You aren’t usually able to fall asleep on flights.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that as she’d learned to sleep on planes at a very young age. She’d grown up traveling. There were always royal functions and goodwill tours and appearances, first with her family and then on her own.

She’d been a shy little girl, and even a timid teenager, but the media never knew that. All they saw was her face and how photogenic she was. By the time she was fifteen, the paparazzi had singled her out, crowning her as the great beauty of her generation. Since then she’d lived in the spotlight, with camera lenses constantly focused on her and journalists’ pens poised to praise or critique, and she never knew which until the article was published.

“I think I was too worn out not to sleep,” she said, and it was true. All she wanted to do lately was sleep, and apparently that was another side effect of pregnancy. “And you? Did you get any rest?”

“Less than I wanted,” he said, lashes dropping over his eyes, concealing his expression. “It was hard to sleep. I was—am—worried about you.”

She heard something in his deep voice that made her insides flip-flop.

Genuine emotion. True concern.

He might hate Emmeline but he adored Hannah.

Emmeline felt a sharp stab of envy. What she wouldn’t give to be the brilliant, efficient Hannah—a woman worthy of love and respect.

Awash in hot emotion, Emmeline looked away, out the jet’s oval window. They’d finally come to a full stop in this vast desert. Uniformed personnel appeared on the tarmac. A fleet of shining black vehicles waited just off to the side of the runway, sunlight glinting off the windows and polished surfaces. Even though it was early, heat shimmered in iridescent waves off the black tarmac and surrounding sand.

This vast hot shimmering desert was Sheikh Al-Koury’s world and now that she was here, Emmeline sensed her life would never be the same.

Makin stretched his legs out in the back seat of his custom car, a large, powerful sedan with tinted windows and reinforced panels to make it virtually bulletproof.

There hadn’t been an uprising in Kadar in over three hundred years, and it was unlikely there would be in the next three hundred, but trouble could come from outside his country. The fact that he controlled so much oil had put a target on his back years ago. Fortunately, he wasn’t a worrier, nor overly preoccupied with his own mortality. Instead he chose to live his life as his father had—without fear.

Makin relaxed a little, glad to be home.

His family had palaces all over Kadar but the rustic tribal kasbah in Raha had always been his favorite. Even the name Kasbah Raha—Palace of Rest—symbolized peace. Peace and calm. And it was. Here in the desert he was able to think clearly and focus without the noise and chaos of modern city life to distract him.

“Let’s go over today’s schedule,” he said to Hannah, as his driver accelerated, leaving the tarmac and the sleek white jet behind. She was sitting to his left, pale but composed. He was glad to see her so calm. It gave him hope that all the personal drama was now behind them. “Which of my guests arrive first? And when?”

He waited for Hannah to reach for her briefcase or her phone but she did nothing. Had nothing. Instead she looked at him, her expression slightly baffled. “I don’t … know.”

He hesitated, thinking she was joking, not that she normally teased about things like that. But after a beat and a moment of awkward silence, he realized she was serious.

His jaw tightened, lips compressing as he understood that Hannah’s personal problems were far from over.

Makin’s frown deepened, eyebrows flattening above his eyes. “It’s your job to know.”

She took a quick breath. “It seems I’ve lost my calendar.”

“But your calendar is backed up on your laptop. Where is your laptop computer?”

Her shoulders lifted and fell. “I don’t know.”

Makin had to turn away, look at something else other than Hannah. Her helplessness was getting to him. He didn’t want to be angry with her, but he found everything about her provoking right now.

He focused on the desert beyond the car’s tinted window, soothed by the familiar landscape. To someone else the desert might look monotonous with miles of red-gold sand in every direction, but he knew this desert like the back of his hand and it centered him now.

“You’ve lost your computer?” he asked finally, gaze fixed on the undulating dunes in the distance.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I think I must have left it somewhere when I wasn’t … well.”

“In South Beach?”

“Before that.”

He turned his head sharply toward her. Her lavender-blue eyes appeared enormous in her pale face.

“It must have been Palm Beach,” she added softly, fingers lacing together. “Just after the polo tournament. I had it for the tournament, but then it was gone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I should have. I’m sorry.”

She looked so nervous and desperate that he bit back his criticism and took a deep breath instead. She’d just had her heart broken. She wasn’t herself. Surely, he could try to be patient with her. At least for today.

He fought to keep his voice even. “Everything should be backed up on your desktop. When we get to the palace, you can go to your office and print off your calendar and update me later this afternoon.”