Chapter 9
Nausea woke her. Heaving like a ship tossed on a stormy sea, she opened her eyes and waited for her stomach to settle. It didn’t. It had been weeks since their horrendous fight at the gala, and at times she swore Malik still didn’t trust her. At least this morning he appeared to be back to his old self. She would just have to regain his trust. She was snuggled up next to him in the front of his car. He had refused a driver so that they could be alone, but his entourage was spread out around them. She could see the caravan of cars outside her window. They’d been driving in the coolness of the pre-dawn desert for hours, and until a few minutes ago she’d felt fine. Now . . .
She stayed motionless, praying she wouldn’t lose the contents of her stomach in Malik’s car. It didn’t work—if anything, the sensation mounted. Oh, God, she was going to be sick. She sat up, her head spinning, hot bile spilling into her throat. Scooting across the plush interior, she pushed the button and lowered the window, letting the suffocating heat rush in. Malik glanced over at her. “What are you doing?”
With no time to answer, her hand flew to her mouth as she leaned out the window. Her insides shook violently as she lost the contents of her stomach. Malik slammed on the brakes, the car shaking as it came to a sudden stop, the left side sinking into a dune. Again, she heaved out the window, fighting to get the damn car door open. Malik reached behind him, grabbed a towel, and soaked it with bottled water. When he tapped her on the shoulder, she reached back and took the cloth from him, afraid to turn her head for fear she’d soil his car.
“What’s the matter?” His voice was full of concern.
She couldn’t answer. Wave after wave of nausea continued to wash over her, and she vomited until she was spewing yellow bile.
Malik got out of the car, walked around it, and opened her door. He placed a hand against her forehead, not like a doctor but like a concerned lover. The clean scent of his freshly laundered shirt nearly sent her heaving again.
“You’re not feverish.”
He hunkered down in front of her, took the cloth from her and wiped her face with slow, gentle strokes.
“Thank you,” she murmured, grateful she hadn’t stained his shirt.
For a moment, concern clouded his eyes. When he spoke, his voice dropped into a lower, sexier octave. “Did you perhaps eat something that upset your stomach??”
She looked up at him, feeling weak, sleepy, and still sick. “I don’t believe so.” She pulled at her T-shirt, which now clung to her sweat-soaked body. Why was she pouring sweat when his pastel blue oxford shirt was bone dry?
He switched into doctor mode—the change obvious. “When did the symptoms begin?”
She shook her head. “Just a few minutes ago. I felt fine until then.”
His eyebrows drew together as he studied her like a specimen under the microscope. He reached for her wrist, his fingers judging her pulse as he consulted his Rolex watch.
“What?” she questioned, the intensity in his sapphire eyes alarming her.
“When we get to Diijaii, I want to draw some blood and send it to the hospital lab.”
Fear played havoc with her insides. She gripped his forearms in desperation where his shirtsleeves had been rolled back. “Why? What do you think it could be?”
Even though he was trying to reassure her, he wasn’t smiling. Something about this episode concerned him, but he shook his head anyhow. “Probably nothing, but I want to make sure it isn’t some sort of residual complication from your surgery or the snake bite.”
By now his men were driving up, surrounding them. She heard doors opening and closing all around them, guns being drawn. Embarrassed, she wanted to bury her face in her hands.
“I feel bad making all these people wait while I . . .”
“Nonsense,” he interrupted, giving her ponytail a quick, playful tug. “You can’t help being sick.”
Just his nearness settled her. Drawing in a deep breath, she reached for the saltines he offered, chewing slowly. She sat back in her seat as her stomach quieted. He leaned into the car. Framing her face with his hands, his skin cool, she turned her cheek into his hand, seeking comfort there. His scent surrounded her, all spicy and ridiculously male. She drew his scent in, testing the condition of her stomach. She wanted him to take her in his arms and hold her, but his men were all around them.
“Jane, look at me. Do you feel well enough to continue, or should I call a chopper to take you back to the palace?”
Using her hands as a shield, she waved them across her chest. “No, no, I’ll be fine in a moment. The nausea is subsiding now. The saltines helped.”
“Here.” He produced a bottle of water, dripping with condensation from an ice-chest. “Take small sips, we don’t want it to come right back up.”
He stood and jammed his hands into his jean pockets before walking to the back of the SUV. Opening the hatch, he rummaged through the bags.
A few seconds later, he was standing at the open passenger door, shaking out a couple of pills and handing them to her. “These should help, though they may make you a little sleepy.” He kissed her forehead, his lips gentle and warm. Awareness fluttered through her. She loved this kind and gentle man beyond all limits.
“Do you want to stretch your legs for a moment?” he asked, taking her hand and helping her from the car.
She washed the pills down with ice-cold water, whispering a silent prayer they would work some magic. She hurt all over from vomiting. She blinked back tears. She never got sick. Never. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did. Something was wrong. She felt different, one minute sick, the next weepy.
He walked to the back of the Range Rover, where he had a hushed conversation with a few of his men. She heard him suggest that the caravan move on without them, but at that moment, Nazem walked up, an automatic weapon draped over his shoulder. After the events of the past weeks, he was being cautious.
His voice matched the firepower of the weapon on his shoulder. “Not a chance,” he said.
As the sun rode the edge of the horizon, changing the sky into layer upon layer of tangerine and lavender, she waited for the medicine to tranquilize her stomach. Malik continued his hushed conversation with his entourage. Within minutes, she began to feel the effects of the medicine. Thank God. Getting out of the car, she circled over to him. “I’m feeling better now. We should continue.”
He ended the meeting with a tilt of his head. He handed her another pack of saltine crackers, “Here, eat these.”
Malik continued to keep a vigilant eye on her, “You sure you’re okay? There’s no hurry. We can wait for as long as you need to.” Her heart melted, touched that he would delay the whole journey for her.
Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him close. “I’m ready now.”
Holding her at arm’s length, he looked into her eyes. “If you’re sure you’re up to it.”
“I am.” Was she? She wished she was half as confident as she sounded—her legs felt like cooked spaghetti, and her throat was scratchy and sore from vomiting.
Sliding his aviator sunglasses into place, he tucked her back into the car, fastening her seatbelt before walking around to the other side, signaling his men to get back into their cars. He pulled her close once they were both inside. “If you feel sick at any time, just let me know. We’ll stop.”
She nodded her agreement.
As they drove on, the anti-nausea medicine and the crackers continued to work their magic. Her stomach quieted, but as Malik had warned, her eyes began to droop. Blinking rapidly, she finally gave into her body’s call for sleep.
When she awoke, the sun was at its zenith. Even though the car’s air-conditioner blasted at full force, sweat trickled between her breasts and beaded on her forehead. Surprised by the late hour, her gaze shot over to Malik.
Pulling out the ear buds, he said, “Good afternoon, sleepy head, how are you feeling?” He took a bottle of water from the console and handed it to her. “Here, you need to drink. You’re dehydrated from being sick.”
She rubbed the kink out of the back of her neck as she pressed the cool bottle of water against her forehead, rolling it back and forth, the condensation cooling her. “Ah, I’m much better, thank you.”
He reached over and touched her forehead, laying his hand flat against her skin. Although the touch was purely medicinal, a hot spark of desire shot low in her belly. She closed her eyes and savored the moment. She must be feeling better if she wanted to engage him in a sexual tryst. Lately that was all she thought about. The two of them making love. His long fingers tracing over her skin. His lips, full and inviting, turning mercenary when they took hers. But doubt continued to plague her. She didn’t know this man. A king, a sheik . . . a lover. Until she regained her memory, she was at the mercy of so many factors. She shook her head and erased all thoughts of doubt. For the moment at least, she’d allowed herself to be wrapped in his love. But what happened when her memory came back?
The sun reflected off his raven hair. It glistened in the light, a soft lock falling across his forehead. Reaching over, she gently smoothed it back into place. He caught her hand and kissed her fingertips, sucking one into his hot, moist mouth. A small gasp escaped her lips. She drew in a deep, unsettled breath. His intense, penetrating gaze raked her. Her stomach flipped as it always did when he studied her like he was about to devour her. Holy moly . . . the way he observed her. Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs like a jackhammer. Could he hear it? Did he know what he did to her just by smiling at her?
She smiled back at him. “Really, I’m fine.”
He cocked his head slightly to the left, a minuscule frown marring those gorgeous plump lips of his. He wasn’t buying it. Not for a single moment. She tore her gaze away and stared out the window, amazed by the height of the sand dunes towering before them. They rose and fell like an ocean for as far as she could see. The sand blew across their path like a tawny, gritty fog.
“We’ll be stopping at an oasis in a few minutes. You can bathe and change your clothes. That ought to make you feel a little better. We have about a four-hour drive left until we reach the camp.”
Her insides heaved with the delicious thought of stealing a few minutes alone with him.
She placed her hand on his forearm, the hard muscles contracting under the pads of her fingers, “I need to brush my teeth.”
“And brush your teeth.” He chuckled in a husky purr that put her body on high alert. The virile sound wrapped around her heart like a straitjacket. Returning to his driving, those strong capable hands of his gripped the wheel. Her thirst wasn’t for water, but for him. When they got to that desert camp of his uncle, he’d be tied up with council matters, and she feared there would be little time for anything else. For them. She would have to share him then, but they weren’t there yet. If they were lucky enough to find a few minutes alone at the oasis, she’d make sure they used those moments wisely. Very wisely.
Paradise awaited them at the oasis. The caravan came to a halt in a grove of palm, lemon, and lime trees. The scent of citrus drifted on the breeze, its sharp, refreshing aroma calming her heaving stomach. In the distance, she watched as a dust devil stirred up a whirlwind, swirling across the golden dunes. The hot, dry wind ruffled her hair. Colorful parrots, their red and yellow feathers burnished by the desert sun, flirted in the trees, their mating caws floating like a mist on the soft zephyr.
A shimmering pool glistened a few feet away, the sun’s reflection off its waves a blinding silver. She held up a hand to shade her eyes. On the far side, a mountain of boulders formed a barrier from the open desert. Kneeling next to the inviting pool, she dunked the cloth Malik had given her into the water. Ringing out the excess, she rolled it up and placed it against her neck. The shock of the water against her heated skin made her sigh as her body temperature dropped. She’d retrieved her bag from the car and brushed her teeth, erasing the last hint of sickness. Standing, she spied the quiet shade of a palm tree. She sat beneath it, leaning her back against its rugged trunk. Fatigue claimed her, and she fought to keep her eyes open. Why was she so tired after sleeping since dawn? Had she been infected with some rare desert disease?
She’d just closed her eyes when a hand shook her awake. She jumped with alarm.
Malik apologized, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Would you like to bathe now?” She noticed the stack of fluffy towels in his arms.
Glancing around, she noticed that the entourage of men was setting up some sort of makeshift camp for the noon meal. Her eyes flew from them to his face.
“This pool has a private alcove,” he explained. “You’ll be safe from all prying eyes.” A smile spread across his handsome face, spreading instant heat through her veins. A hot breeze ruffled his black hair. “I can’t, however, promise you’ll be safe from me.”
He reached down and offered her his hand, helping her to her feet. “How’s your stomach? Has the nausea receded?”
Dizzy from his close proximity, she stumbled over a rock. He caught her in his arms and gave her a quick squeeze.
“Really, are you okay?” he inquired.
Was she? She certainly didn’t feel like herself. “I’m fine, just a little tired.”
He frowned, and his lips tightened into a compact line. Concern darkened his irises to a rich azure. His eyes were mesmerizing, the hunger there staggering. “Still? You slept a good five hours. How’s your appetite? Do you think you could eat something?” He tightened his arms into a possessive hug. What kind of plans did her handsome sheik have for her? She couldn’t wait. This man had, in just a few weeks, become her reason to continue the fight to retrieve her memory. She wanted to hear her name—her real name—roll off his lips a second before those ultra-male lips closed over hers. She sighed, a deep, full-bodied sigh that caught his attention. He flicked a finger under her chin and brought her eyes up to his. “Are you hungry?” he asked again.
Her mind flew back to his all-but-forgotten question. Was she hungry? God no! The thought of food sent her stomach into a free fall. “Not for food.”
“Then what can I get for you?”
What a loaded question. “I want you,” she simply stated, watching as those startling blue eyes of his dilated.
“I’m at your command.” He tunneled his hands through his hair, the motion disheveling the sexy layers even more. Her gaze followed the motion, hypnotized by his masculine fingers sliding over his silken strands. He was enchanting, and sexy, and virile, and a thousand more things that she could list. Heat flamed within her, compelling her to touch those glossy locks of his. She did. Her fingers curled around the strands, gripping, pulling his head and lips down to hers. Seconds before his lips captured hers, her breath stalled in her lungs. She wanted him. Wanted him with a hunger she couldn’t control. What would happen when her memory returned? Would all this, this whiff of a fairy tale, go up in a puff of bewitching smoke? She gripped him tighter, hanging on to his solid body as long as she could. God help her, she loved him.
Releasing her from his embrace but continuing to hold her hand, he pulled her along until they rounded the far end of the huge boulders. It was as if they’d walked through heaven’s back door. Out of sight of the camp, the pool opened to a waterfall soaring to around fifty feet high. The slight chop of the effervescent water created small waves breaking against a flaxen sandy shore, their rhythm soothing. At the base of the waterfall, a sparkling rainbow stretched across the entire pool. The spray of water moistened her face, dampening her hair, blouse, and pants—the feeling heavenly, cooling and refreshing. Her sluggish brain snapped to attention.
A multitude of colorful lizards were sunning themselves on the rocks. They scurried off when Malik set the towels down. He pointed to a cave behind the dense veil of the falls. “You can change behind there and slip right into the pool,” he said.
The thunder of the water crushing over the rocks made it almost impossible to hear him. Anticipation rising, she couldn’t wait to submerge herself in the refreshing water. After the morning she had, she needed this. Swimming would be great exercise after being cramped in the car for hours. Snatching a towel from the fluffy stack, she headed for the falls, thinking back to the first time they’d made love in his sunken bath. Since then, their sexual chemistry had only improved, but she would always treasure that first time.
“Be careful. The water makes the stones treacherous. Watch your step,” he called out.
She waved a hand over her head, signaling that she’d heard him, but she was so focused on getting into the water that she didn’t turn around.
~ ~ ~
Nothing felt as wonderful as water caressing your body, especially when you were hot for a woman. And Malik burned with a fever to possess her. A shudder of acute desire passed through him. But his concern over her sickness worried him. Interfered with his medical proficiency. Had he missed something? It wasn’t like he practiced medicine as much as he used to. He re-ran the whole scenario in his mind from the moment he’d found her in that car, through the surgery, and every moment until this morning. No, he’d used all his medical expertise. He’d done every procedure by the book. Checked all the boxes. So why did he have this nagging idea something was wrong?
As he dove beneath the waves, her image floated before him—her eyes, her breasts, her hands touching him, stroking him. He blew out the air left in his lungs, the bubbles escaping to the surface. He pushed off the sandy bottom, propelling himself to the surface. When he emerged, she was standing next to him—naked. In a matter of seconds, he was hard as steel. Long blond hair hung in wet strands that dipped below her shoulders. The pallor of her cheeks enhanced the brilliance of her green eyes, making them appear like oversized emeralds. Those eyes . . . a man could lose his mind in the verdant depths of those captivating eyes.
He already had.
She moved toward him and placed her palms flush against his chest, nearly causing a four-letter expletive to explode from his lips. The water’s current forced her delicious body against him and a white-hot flash of blinding desperation overruled his self-control. He’d sell his soul to make love to her. The depth of his passion scared him. He was absolutely deranged with lust . . . or was he hopelessly in love with this woman? Crushing her in his arms, he kissed her with a fierceness that surprised him, his tongue devouring the inside of her sweet, sweet mouth. He needed this. Needed to convince himself that she was in love with him, not some mysterious assassin waiting to pounce.
His hands cupped her face as her breathless moan of complicity amped up his excitement. He stepped closer, wedging his knee between her legs, which brought him right up against her core. Molten heat exploded along his limbs, knotting deep in his belly. His hands dropped to her hips, steadying her. His body shook with the knowledge that he’d soon be inside her. The underflow of the water expedited the act by nudging her even closer.
He was lost.
No, he corrected, he’d been lost from the moment he walked out onto the palace terrace in pursuit of her. The more he sampled her charms, the stronger his obsession to have her over and over again mounted. He was in deep.
Unable to wait even one moment longer, he slid into her heated depths. “Habib albi,” he whispered, as he nibbled her ear. For a brief second, her eyes focused on him, and with her head flung back, she resembled Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Their pace quickened, each stroke bringing him deeper within her delicious heat, the movement creating a series of small crests in the water around them. She clung to him, her nails digging into his back, dragging across his muscles. His breath hissed between his teeth, but he rejoiced in the pain of having her mark him. Letting the world know he was her man.
Their frantic pace spiked. His mind ceased to function. He operated on an instinct as old as time. Hard as steel, he pounded into her heated flesh, the friction unbearable but oh-so-stimulating. A sweet little sound escaped her lips, so honeyed, so sexual, that he immediately climaxed, pushing deeper into her with a primal moan. Seconds turned to eons and still his body claimed hers. Joined, united . . . at peace.
He knew the exact moment when his heart swelled with happiness. Never had he experienced this type of joy with a woman. Love? In the back of his mind, he remembered the threat.
Oh, so gently, her fingers etched the features of his face. “Malik . . . dear, dear, Malik.”
His name, repeated like a litany, sent a fresh wave of longing shooting down his spine.
Losing restraint, he took her lips hard, his tongue demanding access, re-igniting the flame that burned only for her. His fingers intercepted the shiver that spilled down her body.
“You’re cold,” he said. “We need to get you dried off.”
Without waiting for her protest, he picked her up, carrying her out of the pool. Wrapping a towel around her body, he rubbed the fluffy material over her to generate some warmth. He wrapped another around her head, ruffling it back and forth to dry her hair. He knotted the last one around his own waist, the soft material outlining his erection. Her eyes followed his actions, sending a wave of heat blasting through him. He shook his head.
“What?” she asked, continuing to dry off.
“Apparently, I want you again.”
Her eyes lowered to where the towel on his waist tented.
“Any chance it can wait until after lunch?”
“After lunch, we will be back on the road to my uncle’s encampment.”
“Well, in that case . . .” She dropped her towel and then pulled his off, too.