Chapter 10
“Ah, here comes our esteemed leader and his nameless whore.” The man spit his contempt into the sand.
Although the thick white smoke and dancing flames of the campfire shadowed their faces, the men hunkered deeper into the murky blackness. Instinctively they drew their hoods closer around their faces, obscuring everything but their eyes as Jane and Malik’s caravan pulled to a stop.
“But she is not nameless to you, Your Excellency, is she?”
A villainous smile spread across the man’s lips. Yes, it was true; he had a secret His Highness would give anything to know. “No, she is not! But like the deadly scorpion, I will keep my little secret until it’s time to strike. And strike I will, ridding this land permanently of the last remnants of the royal family!”
The men laughed in unison.
All the men in his group turned their heads to watch the elaborate entourage unloading supplies. In unison they rose, their secret meeting interrupted. For the next few days, he would watch and wait for his chance to eliminate the woman. To terminate the biggest mistake he’d ever made. He would not compile his troubles by letting her live. She knew too much. If she regained her memory, his entire struggle to rid the country of the last Hajjah would be compromised. Compromised, hell, His Highness would skewer him with a scimitar!
Waving his hands, he regrouped the men. “There is one advantage at our fingertips. His Highness has a fatal weakness.” The men moved closer, waiting for their leader to impart his newfound knowledge, leaning forward as they listened with great intensity. “He is obsessed with the woman. He ogles her like a starving dog guards a juicy bone. The fool adjusts his schedule to placate her needs. My spies at the palace inform me that he comes to her nightly.” There were angry grunts all around the circle. “They say that he leaves his duties to seek her out for the purpose of sex.” Once again, they tugged at their hoods. Hiding their identity was paramount.
“Our esteemed leader,” the man sneered the word, “covets this woman above all else. Interminable lust rules his world.” The hooded man glanced at his followers, all of whom were nodding their agreement. Soon they would do his bidding. A pleased smile drifted across his face. “If I get the opportunity, I will end his obsession. Then I will kill her parents, mopping up behind me. This blood oath I swear to you, my brothers. Soon we will rule this desert with an iron fist and return it to the proper ways of our ancestors.”
Instantly, the other men snorted their agreement. Convinced he had the backing to continue his push for the throne, a mercurial smile slid onto his lips. Gazing over his shoulder, he spied the king, who was coming toward him. He dismissed the men with a tilt of his head, and they blended into the night.
He bowed before Malik, touching his hand to his chest, mouth, and forehead in obeisance.
“My lord, I welcome you to our humble camp.”
Clasping him in a hug, Malik held the man to him for a moment. “It is I who am honored to be here among my people. I have spent too long away from the desert.”
Slapping Malik on the back, he agreed, “Yes, you have.”
“Well, now that I am here, I wish to get started as soon as possible. We have much to cover. Will you gather the elders in your tent? I will see to it that Jane is settled and then meet you there.”
“Of course, Your Highness, by all means go and see to Jane’s comfort.” He didn’t attempt to hide the sarcasm in his voice, which drew Malik’s stern attention.
“Do you have a problem with that?” Malik asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a threatening manner.
Normally he wouldn’t back down, but he wasn’t prepared to do combat at the moment. He’d wait for a more opportune time, when his followers were close by, to strike the deadly blow. Besides, Nazem was already moving toward them, and that man was too smart for his own good.
“Not at all, Your Highness. I am happy to serve.”
~ ~ ~
Leaving the modern world behind, she stepped into the sensuous universe of Malik’s desert tent. He’d already explained that the Bedouins kept this tent for him and only him. Lanterns lining the walls bathed the opulent interior in candlelight. Thick, plush Persian carpets, their mosaic patterns crisp and inviting, covered the floor, and cream-and sapphire-colored satin draped the walls. Adding to the ambience, decorative cobalt floor pillows lined the interior, offering seating for Malik’s subjects. The scent of myrrh hung richly in the air. How could this lavish room exist within a canvas dwelling?
Impossible.
The sheer size of it was beyond comprehension. Astonished, she shook herself before moving farther into the luxurious room. When she reached a silken partition at the far end, she drew it back. Letting out a little gasp of surprise, she moved toward the enormous platform bed dominating the enclosure. A royal blue silk duvet was piled high with pillows. Gigantic floor pillows in the exact hue were scattered around a copper table set for Turkish tea. Yards and yards of silk lined the walls, fluttering with the movement of the air conditioning, giving the impression of a desert night breeze. Following the movement across the ceiling, her eyes anchored on an enormous lantern centered above the bed. A magnificent concoction of black metal, it dangled from a chain, spilling soft light through the royal crest pattern cut into its side. The hawk’s shape was cast against the silken walls by the glow, giving the impression of the looming bird of prey in flight.
It was like something straight out of a Valentino movie. She just needed a roaring twenties flapper dress to complete the illusion. Exhausted from the long trip, the bed beckoned to her. Smoothing a hand across the slick material of the duvet, she contemplated slipping into its plushy depths.
“I see you’ve found the bedroom.”
She jumped, startled by Malik standing just inside the tent’s main flap. His husky voice boomed across the cozy space, filling the room with a sensuality as intimate as physical contact. Startled out of her reverie, her hand covered her mouth in surprise.
“You scared me!” she exclaimed.
He’d changed out of his street clothes. Inch by inch, her eyes roved over him. Adorned in the black robes and headdress of the desert, he was every woman’s fantasy image of a desert sheik. Knee-high, gleaming black boots covered his calves. A curved, jeweled dagger dangled from his belt. Dark stubble lined his jaw, adding to his savage appearance. Her heart stalled. He looked majestic . . . 100 percent male. A desert warrior. A thrill shot though her body.
He stepped farther into the room, letting the flap fall into place, sealing her in his sensual microcosm. Walking up to the bed, he trailed a jeweled hand over the silky duvet. Who was this man? The pure force of his potent virility made her back up a step. And what has he done with the doctor?
“I can’t wait to make love to you in this bed.”
She forgot to breathe. Oh, yeah, she’d definitely slipped into one of the desert sheik movies—an X-rated version.
“Come here,” he commanded, and even the cadence of his voice was different. It had dropped into a velvety octave that was sending shivers up and down her spine. Carnal electricity charged the atmosphere around them. She held her breath as he prowled closer.
In one strong motion, he whipped the covers back, exposing the cream-colored satin sheets. “Yes, here I will please my temptress.” The mixture of his cologne and the scent of myrrh was an erotic combination. Her head spun, and her mouth went dry, all because of this new person in front of her. And then the ante was raised even higher when a hotter-than-hell smile crossed his lips.
The blood drained from her brain, centering in the lower portion of her body. Everything about him screamed trenchant male. Her knees knocked together, her hands visibly shook. Barely able to remain standing, she grabbed the side of the bed for support.
He picked her up, and in one swift movement, she was beneath him, captive between the softness of the bed and the hardness of his rugged body. One hand snared and dragged her arms above her head while the other trailed a line of heat up to the waistband of her pants. Somehow, using one hand, he managed to shimmy them down her legs and toss them across the room. Then, his fingers blazed a trail up her bare leg to the lace band of her panties. Continuing its ascent, he slid his fingers beneath the silk, inching it higher. She was unable to think . . . to breathe . . . as anticipation escalated into blinding need. He stopped to claim her lips in an exhilarating kiss. Yes. Never, never, had she been so in sync with a man—his body, his needs. The entire length of his arousal pressed against her thigh and she melted into him. Short puffs of breath escaped her lungs as his fingers breezed across her core.
Sensing her mounting passion, a devilish smile graced his lips. “Every time I’m with you, it feels like the first time,” he teased. “I’m anxious to be inside you.”
Her hands splayed across his chest, tearing at the robes, needing to feel his naked skin against her fingers. A large hand captured hers, stilling her motion. “This will have to wait. I have a meeting with the elders.”
No, no, no! He couldn’t leave her now. Not like this!
Ignoring her silent wish, he moved to the edge of the bed. Immediately regretting the loss of his heat, she bounded up on her knees behind him, throwing her arms around his neck. Swiping the headdress from his head, she pushed the thick hair at his nape aside, placing a sweet kiss against his neck. He groaned in frustration, the sound as mournful as the blowing desert wind outside the tent.
Smiling, she leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “Leave if you must, but remember all through your meeting that I am here at your beck and call.”
His robust chuckle rattled his body. “I’m becoming more and more enthralled by your choice of reading material.”
Rising, he lumbered away from her, her eyes still glued to his back.
“I understand your commitment. Hopefully we’ll be able to share some private time later?”
Turning, he reached her in two powerful strides. His hands cupped her face as he leaned down toward her. “I’ll make sure of it. Until then, you should get some rest.”
He paused, his lips a mere millimeter from hers. Seconds stretched into light years, and yet he still refrained from kissing her. Something strange flared within the depths of his eyes, her brows drew together. What? Their breaths mingled, their hearts beat in unison. It was the most arousing moment she’d ever experienced, except for the fact that he was hiding something.
Why did he linger? What doubts held him captive?
An avalanche of sexual hunger swept over her.
His eyes dipped to the opening of her blouse, the first button left undone in the heat. They lingered . . . scorching her with their intensity. Then, with a groan that sounded pained, he crushed her lips beneath his. His kiss savage . . . raw ardor . . . and it branded her as his. His hands pulled her against the rock of his chest. He’d never been this aggressive before. It thrilled her, teased her, and made her tremble for more.
When he finally raised his head, he gazed down into her eyes. “You steal my ability to reason.” His top lip curled into a steal-your-heart smile, and she let out a deep sigh.
It thrilled her to know she was capable of ruffling this imperial man who controlled a country. She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his again, fanning the fire, craving the sexual heat of him against her. Reluctantly, he set her away from him.
“I must go,” he said. “I’ll return in a couple of hours.”
Turning on booted heels, he was gone like the mist in a morning light.
“Later,” she repeated, smiling.
He had only been gone for a few minutes when a group of young women about her age appeared. One of the girls stepped forward, and in English, introduced herself as Lesha. She was carrying a beautiful dress on a hanger. It looked like it had been spun to drape an ancient Greek goddess. Clasped together at the shoulders with golden lotus flowers, the body of the teal dress was lined with purple ribbon, from which hung hundreds of gold coins. Sliding her fingers beneath the soft material, Jane gasped as the skin of her hand shone through the soft, sheer material. Transparent and indecent, it was still the most beautiful garment she’d ever seen.
“The sheik has picked this for you to wear tonight,” Lesha explained.
“It is the dress of our ancestors. You must wear it for him,” one of the other ladies added.
“Wear it!” She shook her head. “I couldn’t!” Embarrassment stained her cheeks. She’d be . . .
“You must!” Lesha insisted. “It is a time-honored tradition.” Several of the other young women nodded in agreement. She mustn’t. It was one thing to stand in front of Malik in this garment, but to have these women dress her? No, no, and no. Even she was not that bold. The whole idea of playing at being in his harem took a new turn. It’s not that she objected to pleasing him—she certainly wanted to do that—the entire outfit was so . . . so . . . carnal, far sexier than anything that could be bought at Victoria’s Secret.
“This dress will look sensational on you with your golden hair. The sheik will not be able to keep his hands off you.”
Now her face flashed as red as a bright harvest apple.
They stepped aside as a huge bathtub was brought in by no less than four men, and then the procession of buckets of steaming water followed. The woman, Lesha—reached for her and begun undressing her. The other young women helped. She gave up trying to stop their expert ministrations. It was useless; they were determined to help her bathe.
Disrobed, she sank into the huge brass tub. As the soothing heat and the scent of mandarin oranges filled her consciousness, she closed her eyes, letting her body revel in the luxury. Matching oils were massaged into her body, their fruity essence intoxicating. Lesha told her the special oils were from the coast of Morocco.
When she got out of the bath, her skin resembled a newly minted coin, but it was the way her hair looked that impressed her the most. Brushed to a glowing mass, it swirled around her shoulders like a golden mist. Soft and shiny, it bounced with body and curl. Next, they started on to her makeup, lining her eyes with kohl and dusting her cheekbones with blush. When they finally let her look at herself in the mirror, an exotic creature stared back. She looked like she’d stepped out of a history book, a beguiling temptress designed for the sheik’s pleasure. An honored member of his harem.
She had always worried her eyes were too small, but they appeared large as saucers now, and her lips were stained a dark crimson, an open invitation for a kiss.
As the giggling women admired their handiwork, Malik walked in.
“Allah save me!” he exclaimed.
Their eyes met, fused, and the world stopped spinning on its axis.
~ ~ ~
Her appearance stunned him; she’d been beautiful before, but now, now she stole his breath. He straightened to his full height of well over six feet. She was dressed in the traditional clothing of a woman chosen by the sheik for a night of pleasure. He’d thought the practice of dressing a woman this way was barbaric, outmoded. He’d been wrong. So damn wrong. Harems had been banned since his father’s ascent to the throne. Now he knew why. A man couldn’t function as a leader with this type of distraction waiting for him in his bed. Official business would slow to a standstill. Hell, he’d never leave this tent . . . his bed. A flash-fire of heat consumed him as he continued to stare. He rubbed one long finger against his lower lip as he let his mind have full reign. It was going to be one hell of a night. With a clap of his hands, he dismissed the group of giggling girls. They scurried past him like a herd of clucking hens.
Nazem’s voice from outside the tent cut into the spell that held him so entranced. “Your Highness, I require a word with you.”
Malik ignored him for a full five minutes, unable to drag his eyes away from the vision before him. The booming of his heart was audible to his ears. Finally, he yelled over his shoulder, “In the morning!”
Nothing was going to keep him from her tonight. Not a sandstorm, a meteor falling from outer space . . . not even Nazem. She was his for the taking, and take her he would.
“But Your Highness, this is a grave matter requiring your immediate attention.”
Completely ensnared, he didn’t breathe, blink, or shift his body.
He couldn’t.
“In. The. Morning.”
Her beauty resembled the proud and unrivaled allure of Helen of Troy. Certainly, her face could launch a thousand ships. He understood the need to go to battle for such a prize. Personally, he’d kill any other man who dared to touch her.
His eyes traced her body again, taking in the way the teal-colored gossamer fabric clung to her curves. His blood pounding in his veins rivaled the thunder of a thousand horses’ hooves. As his eyes slid down her body, they zoned in on the deep rose-colored nipples that stood erect under his gaze. A shadow of her sex at the apex of her legs compelled him to take a step forward, a step closer to what he so greedily coveted. But her eyes were what completely did him in. Lined with kohl as in ancient times, they drew him in like a siren’s plea.
He felt as though his whole life had come down to this one defining moment. His hands trembled as he fought for a composure he didn’t possess.
“You look like a tasty morsel to be devoured.”
“I am at your command.” A smile spread across her face. Her eyes glistened in the candlelight, beckoning him to her.
“At first I mistook you for a mirage, come to tease me out of my sanity. I’m still not convinced you are real and standing before me. Come here.”
She obeyed, and a quiver of anticipation coursed through him. If she noticed the trembling of his hands as he pulled her into his arms, she kept his secret. He nuzzled her hair, the scent so exotic that he closed his eyes to savor the mandarin bouquet.
“Ahh, you are real, I can feel your heart beating like a frightened deer.”
Lowering his head, he kissed her half-opened cherry lips. Unlike all the great leaders of his kingdom before him, he was conquered by a woman, this woman.
Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the bed, impatient to be naked beside her, in her.
“Malik, make love to me.”
His hands found the two clasps at her shoulders and released them. “My pleasure.”
~ ~ ~
They’d made love all night with the lullaby of the desert wind tapping at the tent canvas. Now Jane was snuggled against his bare chest, asleep. Fingering a lock of her burnished hair, he smoothed it away from her face. For just a second, he felt remorse for exhausting her so completely. A smile curved his lips. He was well sated, more so than he’d ever been in his life. So why was he still awake?
He rubbed a hand over his face. Hell, he knew exactly why. Suspicions were starting to multiply in the back of his brain. His lust for her kept suppressing them, kept making him avoid the inevitable. Well, it was time to face facts. Something strange was going on. First, the Touffian’s had said they’d captured an assassin who had been assigned to kill him. The only person whose hands had been tied in those cars was Jane. Then there had been the profound discovery that she spoke Arabic. American women didn’t go around learning that language unless there was a specific need for it. That whole farce about her friend teaching her was unconvincing as hell. No, he would have to be blind to ignore such coincidences—blind and stupid. His eyes narrowed into slits. Could someone have hired her to seduce him? Well, if so, she’d succeeded masterfully at her mission. But what could be the purpose for such a plan? Did she hope to use something against him, entrap him in some way? His head was spinning with possibilities, none of them pleasant.
Her memory loss was another oddity. She’d recovered at least part of it by now, but why was she keeping it secret? Was she really that clever? Apparently, she had her own agenda, an agenda centering on him. He shook his head. Damn it! The possibility of her treachery left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d have to stick to his wait-and-see policy. Until more information came to light, until she did something condemning, he needed to stay close to her, even if it meant bedding her every night. The corners of his lips tipped into a smile. Not that it would be a hardship. He liked Jane. . . Okay, he loved her. But was he a fool?
As dawn leached its way across the sky, his eyes finally slid shut. He awakened a few moments later by the sound of Jane being sick in the trashcan. He jumped out of bed and rushed to her side, holding back the strands of her hair as she emptied the contents of her stomach. As she heaved again, he strode over to the bureau and grabbed a towel, soaked it in cool water and held it to her head. “Here, use this.”
When she took it from him, he got up and rummaged around until he found his medical bag.
“Has your stomach settled for the moment?” He inquired, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Yes,” she murmured.
Pulling her up, he carried her to the bed. Placing her in a sitting position, he tied a rubber tube around her upper arm and used a needle to draw her blood, filling several test tubes. Pressing a glob of cotton to the incision site, he bent her arm forward.
“Keep some pressure on this,” he advised, before turning away. Scribbling out his notes, he wrapped his orders around the tube. Picking up his satellite phone, he called for a helicopter.
“I should have the results from the tests by this afternoon.”
“I’ll get you some more crackers, but I want you to take it easy today and stay in bed, okay?” He shook out a couple of Tylenol and handed them to her with a glass of water. She stared up into his eyes. The question of what is wrong with me was clearly etched on her face, yet she said nothing.
Tucking her in, he shrugged back into his robes and headed for the opening of the tent. “I’ll be back in a little while to check on you, and I’ll send in a woman to care for you. Remember, I want you to stay in bed until we get the lab results back. Okay?”
She nodded.