Her Desert Prince

Confounded by the situation, he pocketed the chain with the medallion, then turned to the doctor whose shrewd gaze told its own story. There were few secrets between the two of them. “You were right to tell me about this, but say nothing to anyone else.”

“My lips are closed tighter than the eye of the needle, Your Highness. My nurse wasn’t allowed to undress and bathe the patient until I’d safely removed the medallion.”

In the past the doctor had saved Rashad’s life on more than one occasion, and Rashad trusted him completely. “I owe you a great deal. Thank you for taking care of her.”

The doctor nodded. “I’m going home. Call if you need me. I’ll look in on her later.”

As soon as he left, Rashad went through the suitcases left by the maids. He did a thorough search of both, looking for a clue that would help explain this mystery, but he turned up nothing.

To his surprise the woman had packed with no frills. Unlike most females, her underwear and nightgowns were modest. Two dresses for evening, one a simple black, the other cream. A pair of high heels, some sandals and a sweater. The rest, practical clothing for the desert. A small kit with few cosmetics or makeup. She packed like a person used to traveling light.

Rashad knew better than to prolong his stay at the woman’s bedside. His thoughts would wander down different paths, distracting him from his mission to unmask her. Like the fragrant white moonflower, she held her secret within her petals, only revealing it in full moonlight when no one was watching.

For the good of the family he’d sworn a holy oath to protect, he would wait until daylight to learn how she’d come by the medallion.

Once he’d said goodnight to the nurse, he strode down a long hallway to his own second-floor suite on the other side of the palace and dismissed his staff. He needed to be alone. After pouring himself a cup of hot black coffee, he wandered through to his bedroom. Reaching for the woman’s passport, he sat down in a chair to study it.

Lauren Viret. Twenty-six. Few people looked good in a passport photo, but she was one woman who couldn’t take a bad picture. Even lying there unconscious, her beauty had reached out to him, stirring him on some deeper level.

Address: Montreux, Switzerland.

Montreux. The town where the Shafeeq family did their banking. When he had stayed there in order to do business, he had sometimes skied at Porte du Soleil, only a half hour from the Swiss town with its exuberant night life. Rashad had no use for casinos or partying. On the other hand, his forty-year-old cousin Faisal, the ambitious son of his father’s younger brother Sabeer, frequented the place on a regular basis, mostly for pleasure.

Rashad liked the snow, but he much preferred flying to Montreux in summer. The sight of Lake Geneva from the bedroom balcony of the family apartment mesmerized him. So much blue water to be seen, with steamers and sailboats, when he’d been born in a land with so little of the precious element above ground. Below the Arabian desert there was a vast amount of water, more than the uninformed person knew.

For years he’d been working to find a way to channel more of it to the surface to water flocks and irrigate crops. A fertile land for the growing population of his people. That was his next project in the years to come, but for the moment he was keeping his plans a secret from his uncle’s family living nearby. There’d been enough jealousy from that sector to last a lifetime.

Rashad took a deep breath before studying the street address listed in the passport. It was in the wealthiest area of the town bordering the lake. Who was paying for Lauren Viret to live among the pieds-a-terre of royals in Montreux?

Where and how had she come by the medallion? There were only eight in existence.

Reaching the limit of his patience, Rashad closed the passport and tossed it on the nearest table, a beauty inlaid with mother of pearl. It was late. He had no answers to this riddle and needed sleep. Tomorrow he’d get to the bottom of it by drawing close to her. It was a task he found himself looking forward to with uncommon anticipation.

CHAPTER TWO

“MADEMOISELLE? ARE YOU AWAKE?”

The same gentle female voice Lauren thought she’d heard during the night broke through soporific waves to reach her consciousness. She felt something being removed from her nostrils.

“Can you hear me, mademoiselle?”

Lauren tried to communicate, but it was difficult because her mouth and throat felt too dry to talk. As she tried to sit up, her head reeled and she realized the back of her hand had something in it. What on earth?

“Lie back and drink,” the woman urged. She spoke English, but with an accent. Lauren felt a straw being inserted between her lips and she began sucking on it. Cool water trickled down her throat.

“Heaven,” she murmured and continued to drink. Suddenly every nerve ending in her body seemed to come alive, like a drooping plant whose roots took in the moisture that worked its way to the leaves.

Her eyelids fluttered open, but she had trouble focusing because she could see three women with the same dark hair and lab coat standing over her. “Are you a doctor?” she questioned.

“No. I’m Dr. Tamam’s nurse. How do you feel?”

Lauren started to shake her head, but that only made her feel worse. “I—I don’t know,” she stammered.

While the nurse removed the IV from her hand, Lauren tried to get her bearings. The hospital room wasn’t like any she’d ever seen before. It was huge with sumptuous green and aqua accoutrements, bringing the apartment of a harem to mind. As her head continued to whirl, she realized she could be dreaming all this and wished she could wake up.

A remembered feeling of suffocation took over. Panic gripped her. “Help me—I can’t breathe—” she cried, unable to stem the tears gushing down her cheeks.

She heard voices in the background. Then just one. A male voice. Deep and resonant. She felt it snake right into her body and travel through her nervous system. A man’s hand gripped hers. Solid, masterful.

“Don’t be afraid. You’re safe now.” His accented English spoken in a commanding tone was so reassuring, her anxiety lessened and she slept.

When next she came awake, she discovered the same hand holding hers. This time when she opened her eyes, she saw only one figure seated at her bedside. A powerfully built male, probably mid-thirties. The nurse had disappeared.

A white shirt covered his broad shoulders and well-defined chest. A dusting of black hair showed above the opening. The color of the fabric brought out his beautiful olive skin tone. He had the blackest eyes and hair she’d ever seen at such close range. She noticed he wore it longer than some men, slicked it back from his forehead as though he’d been in a hurry.

His widow’s peak suited his aquiline features. There was a magnificence about him. She’d never met a truly gorgeous man before, and he was much more than that. Her heart thundered in her chest as though she’d suddenly been given a drug to bring her to life.

Though he studied her as she imagined an eagle would do before swooping to catch its prey unaware, she glimpsed banked fires in the recesses of those eyes. He was dark and dangerous. Her body gave off a shiver of excitement she couldn’t repress. Something was wrong with her to be this aware of a total stranger.

“What am I doing here?”

His eyelids lowered, exposing long black lashes that shielded part of his penetrating gaze from her. “You don’t remember what happened to you?” He asked the question in a low, silky tone, almost as if he didn’t trust what she’d just asked him.

Growing more nervous under his unrelenting scrutiny, she unconsciously moved her hand to her throat. Suddenly it occurred to her she couldn’t feel her grandmother’s medallion.

In a frantic gesture, she raised up and moved the pillow to see if it had fallen on to the mattress, but it wasn’t there. Neither was the chain.

“Did the nurse remove it?” she cried. By now she was sitting straight up, staring at the man beside her bed.

“Remove what?” he asked in such a calm tone, it got under her skin.

She fought not to let her panic show. Now that the sheet had fallen to her waist, the man’s eyes were appraising her. The white shift she wore her was modest enough, but still those black orbs burned like hot coals as he looked at her. But maybe she was being too paranoid because she’d awakened feeling as though she was in a strange dream.

“My medallion is missing. I have to find it.”

He clasped his bronzed hands beneath a chin so solid, a lesser-blessed male would sell his soul to have been created like this god in earthly form.

A god. That’s what her grandmother had called her lover. Lauren had smiled at Celia’s description, allowing her that flight of fantasy. But she wasn’t laughing now. Maybe Lauren had lost her mind. Fear crept over her once more. She closed her eyes and lay back.

“Perhaps if you gave me a description, mademoiselle.”

She bit her lip, discovering it was cracked and dry. Just how long had she been in this condition? Her eyes opened again. “It’s a gold circle about the size and thickness of an American quarter. Maybe a little thicker.”

She didn’t dare give the full details. Her relationship to her grandfather was a secret and had to remain one, even down to a piece of jewelry he’d given her grandmother. “Have you ever seen a quarter?” He nodded slowly. “I kept it on a gold chain. It has little monetary value, but it’s my most prized possession.” More hot tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes.

“Then I’ll ask my staff to look for it.”

“Thank you.” She dashed the moisture from her cheeks with her free hand. “How sick am I?”