Destined For The Desert King

Someone she no longer wanted to spend any more time with, even if all the cells in her body still burned from the contact that had seared through her.

‘Sir.’

It was all she could manage through lips that were as stiff as wood. She’d turned it into a sort of acknowledgement of his command, but she couldn’t make her body move away from him, or force her rubbery legs to walk away, as the arrogant lift of his hand, the snap of his fingers, had indicated.

But she didn’t need to. Nabil, it seemed, had had enough of this situation. He had no intention of lingering any longer. Instead he had turned on his heel and was marching towards the doors away from the balcony, this time with her tossed from his mind without a second thought, his attention firmly on the gathering back inside the palace. He didn’t even spare her a single backward glance.

And for that she could only be thankful. She had fought to keep her composure and just about managed it, but now she didn’t want Nabil to see the other darker battle she was having with her innermost self.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes and clogged her throat, stinging brutally. But she would not let them fall. Not until Nabil had gone. Not until he had disappeared back into the lighted room in a swish of silken robes, letting the glazed doors swing to behind him as they closed against her.

Then at last she bowed her head and gave in to her feelings, acknowledging the moment of misery as she admitted the way she felt now. This was not the Nabil she had adored on sight. Now he was someone else entirely. Another man, a harder, colder being and one she could never imagine ever wanting to get close to. The bitter sense of loss was almost more than she could bear.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_09ab967b-7c36-5d68-9acc-cb3fafa80e37)

‘LET IT BE DONE.’

Nabil’s own words echoed inside his head as he acknowledged the sweeping bow that his chancellor made before him.

Just four short words and he had set in motion the process that would change his life—and hopefully his country’s future—for ever.

Things had moved faster than he had anticipated. He had never thought that he would be here today, ready to take the final step in selecting an arranged bride for himself, less than a month after the tenth anniversary celebrations for Karim and Clemmie. But of course, the traditions and procedures for such an event had been written into the constitution of Rhastaan since the beginnings of time, it seemed, and all he had to do was to speak those four formal words and the whole process swung into action, largely without his involvement.

Until now.

Now it seemed that everyone needed him and his part in the ceremony had suddenly become vital; his opinion, his choice, the only thing that was needed before the process of turning his bride of convenience into the Sheikha of Rhastaan was ready to be finalised.

To be honest, he really didn’t give a damn about this part. After all, hadn’t he shown himself to be all sorts of a fool—and a blind fool at that—when it came to choosing women, let alone living with them for the rest of his life, having children...? The much-needed heirs for the kingdom.

Clemmie had talked with him about that just before she’d left.

‘Find someone who can take Sharmila’s place,’ she had said, looking deep into his eyes. ‘Someone who can make you happy—give you a family.’

How like Clemmie it was to say it that way. ‘A family’ was so very different from a woman he married only to provide him and Rhastaan with heirs. A family was what she had with Karim. What he had once thought he had found with Sharmila.

Memory burned as Nabil made himself face the way he had turned away from Clementina Savaneski because she was the bride his parents had chosen for him when he’d been just a child. He had been besotted with Sharmila, believing that in her he had found someone to fill the emptiness in his life. Someone who had wanted him for himself and not on the orders of his dictatorial father. So he had snatched at the excuse offered by the reports of the night Clemmie had spent alone with Karim when the then Crown Prince had been sent to fetch her from where she had fled to England.

Those reports had been slanted by enemies of the state to look far worse than the truth, but he hadn’t cared. He’d barely blinked when Clemmie herself had told him that she was in love with someone else. He’d lost a potentially perfect wife—but in doing so he had gained a wonderful friend.

But even to this wonderful friend he had never spoken of the truth of his affair with Sharmila. If he had, then she would never have urged him to find someone who could make him happy. That was certainly not the emotion the woman who had once been his Queen now roused in him.

‘Sire?’ The chancellor had obviously asked some question, was waiting for his reply.

With an effort Nabil dragged his thoughts back to the present and gave a sharp, curt nod of agreement.

‘Go ahead,’ he declared. ‘Put this in motion.’

Another low, sweeping bow and the man left his presence, and Nabil was alone once more. He should be used to it by now. His parents had trained him well, barely sparing more than a moment’s attention in their days. It was because of that that Sharmila had had such a pull for him. If only he had known that with her he’d be more alone than at any point in the past ten years. Now, it was how he preferred to be.

Pushing himself to his feet, Nabil walked down to one end, turning to stare down the length of the room towards the raised dais where two heavily carved chairs—two thrones—stood, polished and ornate.

It was a woman to fill one of those thrones, to sit beside him as his Queen, that he was looking for. All he hoped for from this process was a woman who was tolerably attractive and tolerably comfortable to be with.

And fertile.

That was all that he asked his ministers to find for him. And in return he would give her the sort of life most women would dream of. A life of comfort and luxury, jewels, clothing and anything else she asked for. He was sure that one of the women of noble birth his chancellor would deliver to him as arranged would find that acceptable. He was no tyrant. He would give her everything she asked for—within reason. The only thing he couldn’t offer was anything that could conceivably be described as love.

He couldn’t offer love. That demanded that he also offered his heart. And he didn’t have a heart to offer.

So why did his thoughts go to the young woman he had met on the balcony on the night of Karim and Clemmie’s anniversary celebrations? His memory filled with images of dark, glistening eyes, black silky hair, a soft voice and that entrancing perfume that had swirled around his senses.

After all that happened—all you went through.

Her words echoed in his thoughts. Her words and the softness of the mouth they fell from—the faint gleam of moisture along her skin where her tongue had slicked over the lower lip. Something raw and needy clawed at his insides, forcing him out of the room and down the corridor at a pace that made his robes sweep against the wall as he moved.

He hadn’t seen the woman again that night, though the truth was that he hadn’t really tried to find her. He’d had little inclination to seek out the El Afarim clan. He knew, as everyone did, that Farouk El Afarim currently held the balance of power between the crown and the scheming of the rebel leader. If he took his loyalty and that of his own tiny principality to side with Ankhara, then hard-won peace would once again be threatened dangerously.

He knew only too well just how precariously balanced that peace was, and he would do anything to strengthen it. So he knew that El Afaraim’s daughter must inevitably be on the list of suitable, acceptable brides for him. To risk seeing Zia in the company of Farouk had been a risk too far, no matter how much the temptation had tugged on his senses.

‘No!’

Entering his room, he slammed the door behind him, hearing the heavy thud of the wood with a raw satisfaction at the way it closed off the rest of the world, giving him back the privacy he sought. The only problem was that it would not shut out the thoughts of the girl he had met on the night of the anniversary celebration. Her essence seemed like some sort of persistent shadow, following him wherever he went, whispering in his thoughts at night as he tried to sleep.

He needed to find a wife, as everyone said. No matter if it was the sort of arranged marriage he had rebelled against last time. And look where that had got him. Older, and hopefully wiser, he had decided that this was the only path to follow.

He would do his duty by his country. He would take a wife to be his Queen, to give the kingdom the much-needed heir who would secure the dynasty and guard the peace.

And that was all.

He would be a dutiful king, a faithful husband, surely a caring father. He might not have learned how to be a father from his own coldly distant parents, but surely that meant he knew what not to do? And there was Karim’s example to follow.

He needed a wife and he would treat her like a queen. But he would never, ever let her in. If he did she would see that all there was inside him where his heart should be was a cold, empty cavern.

There are hundreds of people out there—thousands. Husbands and wives, families and children, all of whom are enjoying the evening—the peace—because of you.

Zia’s voice, low, slightly breathless, sounded so closely in his ear that he almost turned, expecting to see that she had come to stand beside him. But it was nothing but imagination and the forceful impact of the memory of that night.

If he had been able to track her down, then what would have followed? A night of heated passion where he tried to sate this restless hunger in the warmth and softness of her body? Was he really brought so far down that he would have considered using her in this way because she had stirred senses he had thought were dead?

‘No!’

She deserved better than that. Better than him.

If nothing else then at least he could tell himself that he had shown a degree of honour when he had turned his back on her even though it was obvious that she had felt that same dangerous tug of attraction. He had spared her the moment when he would have had to walk away from her after one night. Because one night was all they could have had. He had already decided that he would speak those words and set in motion the search for a suitable wife and Queen.

‘Let it be done.’

And now things were moving forward. The news the chancellor had brought to him today was that matters had been set in hand. Prospective brides had been chosen, their families approached. All that mattered now was for him to see them. To make his choice.