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

Yes, last night she’d spoken to him about avoidance. And then he’d tried to intimidate her by reminding her whose country she was in. But she wasn’t easily intimidated. She’d spent her life surrounded by strong men, holding her own against a father who expected the worst and never praised her for her best. She always had to show strength.

She would never inherit the throne of Austrich. She was a woman, and for some reason, her lack of male member made her ineligible. But she was involved in the politics of her country, and she did not have a reputation as a shrinking violet. She didn’t avoid conflict. She faced them head-on. And right now, she was looking for the tall, muscular conflict she’d tangled with the night before.

She looked into a couple of empty rooms before pushing open a door that revealed what could have been a modern, state-of-the-art gym. A lap pool, every sort of exercise equipment anyone could ever want.

And there was Zahir. Flat on his back on a weight bench, his breath hissing between his teeth as he pressed two massive dumbbells up over his chest.

She crossed the room tentatively, her mouth dropping open slightly at the sight of his body. Every muscle was chiseled, as though it were carved into rock, the only sign it could possibly be part of a real man, and not a statue, was the bunching and shifting that happened with each breath and movement.

Golden skin, some smooth and perfect, some ravaged by injuries, all of it fascinating. Unlike any man she’d ever seen.

She blinked and took a sharp breath. “Aren’t you supposed to have a spotter or … something?”

He stopped midmotion and swung his legs over the side of the bench, sitting up quickly, his ab muscles putting on a show with the swift motion. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you.”

“What made you think that would be well received?”

“I didn’t really think it would be,” she said, fighting to keep her eyes on his face. She traced the scars on his cheek with her eyes, hoping it would keep her mind off his naked chest. “It didn’t really bother me.”

The tendons in his neck stood out, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “It wouldn’t.”

Her eyes drifted lower. “No … I … well, that’s not really the point … I … “

“Seen enough?” He voiced the question in a near growl.

Her eyes flew back to his face. His expression was cold. Closed. His lip curled into a sneer.

“Yes,” she said, feeling heat creep into her face. It wasn’t that she’d never ogled a man before. But they weren’t usually this naked, and she’d never been caught. Or at least, the men in question had been too polite to say, because she was a princess after all. Zahir didn’t seem to care.

He bent over and picked up a white T-shirt from the floor, his fingers trembling slightly as he held it out. And then her eyes were drawn to an intricate web of scar tissue, places where she knew he’d been hit with shrapnel, burned by fire, and her stomach tightened.

He pulled the shirt on and covered her guilty pleasure and the pain that was threatening to steal every last rational thought from her head.

“I thought you might show me around a little bit today,” she said. She hadn’t thought any such thing but now she had to say something because it was awkward.

“You thought wrong, latifa. I have work to do.”

“What sort of work?”

“The kind rulers do—you must know something of that.”

“Truly, not so much. The royal family makes appearances, and gives speeches.” It was a lie. She did a lot. Organized charities, budgets, fundraisers, and yet, it was what he seemed to think of her.

“Ignorance isn’t your color,” he said.

“Got me there,” she shot back.

“I thought I might.”

“I think we need to go over the original agreement drawn up by our fathers and make any alterations we see fit,” she said.

“Do you?”

“Better now than after the vows, don’t you think?”

“Are you always like this?” he asked.

“Yes. I’ve been told I’m impossible to deal with. I’m okay with that, actually, because I usually get my way.” In some circles anyway.

He made a sound, short and harsh, that might have been a laugh. “I imagine you have your ways of making sure your needs are met.”

She frowned. “If you’re implying what I think you were, don’t. I don’t use my body to get what I want. I use my mind. Or were you not aware that women were capable of that?”

“I wasn’t making a commentary on women, only on you.”

“Well, I don’t like the commentary.”

“I’ve been told I’m impossible to deal with,” he said, repeating her earlier words back.

“I’m imagining that’s very true.”

“I always get my way,” he said, turning away from her.

He was so broad. His shoulders, his back. All the better to carry the weight of the world on them. And he did. She sensed that. Mostly because she felt like she did, too, sometimes.

“I promise you can get back to the business of ignoring me … after we go over the agreement. And after you give me a tour of the grounds because I’m tired of feeling like I’m lost.”

He wanted her gone. That much was clear. But she was committed. To seeing this through, to doing the best she could.

To proving she could do this.

“I’ll go shower and I’ll meet you in my office.” He strode across the gym, headed to the shower, she supposed. He would uncover that amazing body again. For a moment she let herself envision it. Just for a moment.

“I’ll see you there,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice just how delayed her response was.

The woman didn’t take hints well. When he walked into his office, she was there, perched in the chair adjacent to his desk, her posture perfect, her legs crossed at those dainty ankles of hers. She didn’t wear nylons, though. Her legs were bare.

That stuck out to him. Mostly because it was rare for a woman in her position. But then, it was much hotter here than it was in Austrich. It could also account for what seemed to be a wardrobe entirely populated by brief, fitted dresses. All very modest in the technical sense, but showing just enough to light his imagination on fire.

It would almost have been better if she’d been dressed in something completely transparent. At least then the mysteries would be solved. If she was as pale and smooth all over as she looked, how full and round her breasts were without the aid of undergarments … important questions that were now overtaking his brain.

If he had known that all it would take was the presence of a woman to reawaken his hibernating sex drive he might have brought one in a long time ago.

To what end? To treat her to a front row show of your inner demons? To watch her run away screaming?

Like Amarah had done.