Midnight on the Sands: Hajar's Hidden Legacy / To Touch a Sheikh / Her Sheikh Protector

“Fine,” she said stiffly.

She turned and strode out of his office, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. He slammed the door behind her and she jumped.

Wretched man. Wretched, wicked, beastly man.

She hadn’t counted on this. Obviously there was a possibility he would say no but … she was right. There was no question. She had thought he would see it. That he would understand what had to be done. Instead, he had … growled at her.

Katharine stood in the middle of the empty hall, arms crossed, trying desperately to hold in the body heat that was leaching from her in spite of the hot desert air. She didn’t quite know what to do next. Where to go. Not home. She wouldn’t be welcome anyway, not with the news of such a massive failure.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor behind her and Katharine turned. There was an older woman walking toward her. She recognized her. She’d been the Sheikha’s personal servant, and had accompanied the S’ad al Din family to Austrich.

She searched her brain for a name. “Kahlah?”

The older woman turned and treated Katharine to a slight bow and a warm smile. There was no surprise visible in her lined face, but Katharine imagined she’d been trained to keep her emotions buried all of her life. She knew the feeling.

“Princess Katharine, it has been too long. Do you have business in Hajar?”

“I …” Technically speaking, she did, even though she’d already dealt with it, and been met with a resounding no. “Yes, I do.”

Katharine’s mind started working overtime. Zahir didn’t want her here, that much was clear, but she needed to be here. Because she wasn’t going home having failed her objective. That was an impossibility.

“I will be staying here at the palace for the duration of my time in Hajar.”

“This is very welcome news, Princess Katharine. We have not had guests in … It has been a long time.” That statement had brought a flicker of emotion to the older woman’s eyes.

Katharine was certain there hadn’t been guests since the attack. Everything in the palace was different than her last visit. Darker. Quieter. An echo with every footstep. It felt empty.

“Well, in that case I am honored to be the first guest in so long.” She felt a slight prickle of guilt. But only a slight one. Zahir was being unreasonable and she needed time to come up with another angle. She just needed some time.

“Can you send some men out to the main entrance?” Katharine asked. “My driver is still there and my luggage is in the car. If you could have them install me in the same quarters I stayed in last time that would be satisfactory.”

She put on her best regal princess voice. She was a terrible liar. Always had been. Her eyes gave her away. Fortunately Kahlah didn’t seem to be paying attention to her eyes.

Kahlah looked unsure, but Katharine knew that the other woman wouldn’t dare question her word, not in front of her. Katharine felt like a first-class heel taking advantage of her as she was, but it was for the greater good.

Certainly not for my good, which must mean I’m not being selfish at least.

“Would you like me to direct you to your quarters, Princess?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. But don’t worry about my luggage. Have my things sent at the convenience of the staff. I don’t wish to throw off anyone’s schedules.”

She’d brought enough clothing and essentials for an indefinite stay, because one thing she’d known for certain when she left home that morning: she was going to succeed. No matter what it took.

She was a princess who couldn’t rule. One who had resigned herself to having little value beyond the light charity work she’d thrown herself into over the past couple of years. But this, this was big. This was her chance to change the course of things.

To be something more than beauty and a royal lineage.

“But of course, it is no trouble.”

“I very much appreciate it.” Katharine caught herself twisting the large sapphire ring on her right hand, nerves and guilt making her twitchy. She put her hands resolutely back at her sides. Princesses did not twitch.

Kahlah extended her arm. “This way, Princess.”

Katharine walked next to Kahlah, looking everywhere but at the other woman. She busied herself with memorizing her surroundings, the route they were taking.

There was no matching the palace in the capital city of Kadim for opulence. Every surface made from glimmering marble, trimmed in brushed gold, the floor a glossy mosaic of jasper, jade and obsidian.

It didn’t glitter in the same way it had five years ago. But it was still a testament of wealth and craftsmanship, the finest the country had to offer, she was certain.

A good thing. Because if the she was going to tempt the Beast of Hajar’s wrath, she might as well do it while surrounded in luxury.

“What the hell is going on?” Zahir growled when he walked into the main area of the palace to discover a procession of suitcases being brought in.

There were trunks as tall as he was, large square cases and small leather bags.

The porter stopped in his tracks and looked in Zahir’s direction, though not at him. They never did. “We’re bringing in Princess Katharine’s belongings, as directed, Sheikh Zahir.”

“Directed by who?” he asked, ignoring the strange sort of cold feeling that accompanied a breach of his personal space. A loss of control.

The man edged away from Zahir, his nerves palpable. “By Princess Katharine.”

Zahir didn’t let the man finish his sentence before he turned and stormed out of the entry chamber and went toward the women’s quarters. Of course, for all he knew she had gone and installed herself in his room.

In his bed.

His body tightened at the thought. A near alien sensation, one that was only half-remembered at this point in time. No, she wouldn’t do that. Not even she was so bold. Or so perverse. As a woman would have to be to pursue a night in his bed.

He saw one of the maids slipping out of one of the bedchambers, closing the door behind her before she rushed off in the opposite direction, acting as though she hadn’t seen him. She probably had. But even the staff tried to avoid him when possible.

He approached that door and pushed it open. And there she was, standing in the center of the room, her pale strawberry-gold hair loose around her shoulders now. Her simple blue dress, belted at the waist, was demure enough, and yet, the way it skimmed her lush curves easily set fire to a man’s imagination.

Especially when that man’s imagination had been left to dry up for so many years.

“What exactly are you doing here, latifa?” he asked, the word beauty escaping his lips before he had a chance to think better of it. Because, as simple as that, she was beauty. She embodied it. It was a shame that the desert withered beauty, the intensity too much for anything so delicate and soft.

She turned to look at him, green eyes icy. Perhaps she was not soft. Though she looked as though she would be to the touch. Her skin pale like cream, her curves lush.

His body stirred. His gut tightened. It had been a long time since a woman had affected his body like this. Since he had been affected in almost any way. Any way beyond the endless loop of torment that seemed to play on repeat inside of him.

“I’m staying,” she said, her neck craned, her expression haughty.

“I told you to get out.”

“Of your office.”

“Of the country. And you knew what I meant.”

She folded her arms. “I’m afraid that’s not acceptable.”