The Desert Kings: Duty, Desire and the Desert King / The Desert King's Bejewelled Bride / The Desert King. Jane Porter
the butler spoke quietly to Zayed, Rou swayed on the pillow, definitely not in control. She heard Zayed ask a question but she had no idea what he or the butler were saying. It wasn’t until the butler retreated that Zayed turned back to her. “I have to go,” he said bluntly.
Rou forced herself to focus on Zayed’s chin and then his mouth and then finally his eyes. “Okay.”
Zayed reached out, touched her cheek, before frowning and drawing his hand away. “My mother’s collapsed. She’s been taken to the hospital.”
Rou blinked, and little by little everything was slipping back into place, everything except her blood, which still raced hot and sweet in her veins. “Will she be all right?”
“I’m sure she will be. It’s just shock. She took the news badly about Sharif’s plane.”
“Of course she would.” Rou expected Zayed to leave, but he hadn’t moved yet.
Instead he sat where he was, his expression brooding as he studied her flushed face. He seemed to be choosing his next words with care. “That e-mail … those things I wrote … they were not meant for you.”
She knew that. But that didn’t make them any less hurtful. “I know.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She felt an ache inside her chest. She didn’t want his apology, not now. She just wished things were different. That she was different. That she was more beautiful, more vivacious, more appealing. “The e-mail wasn’t meant for me. I know.”
“But it must have hurt.”
Her lips parted but she couldn’t make a sound. The e-mail had hurt, terribly. She’d liked him, had imagined he’d liked her, had imagined ridiculous romantic things, but that was three years ago. A long time ago. It didn’t matter anymore. “It’s in the past. I’ve moved on.”
“I think we should talk about it, but now isn’t the time—”
“I don’t want to talk about it, and you need to go. Your mother needs you, and I have much to do.” Rou struggled to her feet, aware that she couldn’t do anything gracefully if she tried. “I’ll go back to my room and contact the three women I’ve selected, and will work on arranging for them to meet you.”
He, too, rose but his movements were fluid, elegant, powerful. “I’ll come see you when I return from the hospital.”
“Not necessary. You’ve much to do, and I have my work. I’m not here on vacation, I do have a job to do.”
He didn’t look happy. “I’ll have dinner sent to your suite.”
“I’m the last one you need to worry about. Just go.”
He gave her a long look and then walked out, white robes flowing, broad shoulders very straight. Rou watched him a moment and then, trying not to think of the kiss, or the strange tenderness of her lips, or of the way her blood still felt thick and hot in her veins, gathered her notebooks and profiles and headed back to her room.
CHAPTER FIVE
AS THE limousine pulled away from the hospital, Zayed tipped his head against the leather seat and closed his eyes. Now that he knew his mother was fine, that she’d only collapsed to force him to her side, he could turn his attention to other matters. Like the coronation ceremony. And the wife he still needed—a wife his mother said she could conjure tomorrow if need be. And Rou.
Rou.
Why did he kiss her? What on earth possessed him to kiss Rou Tornell? Dr. Tornell?
She wasn’t a woman he’d ever found particularly attractive. He hadn’t ever wanted to kiss her, and yet the kiss …
The kiss surprised him. It was hot.
Explosive.
Nothing like he’d imagined. But then she wasn’t quite what he’d imagined, either.
And she’d known about his e-mail to Sharif following Pippa’s wedding. She knew he’d rejected her, and while he didn’t recall the exact words he’d used, he knew the tone of his e-mail had probably been sarcastic, if not mocking.
Zayed winced in the darkness. He shouldn’t have behaved so unkindly. He certainly hadn’t meant to hurt her. If anything, he’d been making a dig at Sharif. Sharif and his geeky little protégée. Sharif and all his lost causes.
Zayed briefly closed his eyes, ashamed of himself. But this was nothing new. He lived with shame. He’d brought the curse on himself. It was his actions that had cursed them all.
The guilt was often unbearable and for the past fifteen years he’d tried to destroy himself, make dust out of dust but nothing he did, nothing he took, nothing he tried worked. He failed at failing. God wouldn’t let him die.
But God didn’t let him live, either.
Instead, his world was one of jaded material pleasures—fast cars, fast times, fast women. He indulged every whim, partook of every vice, and enjoyed none of it.
But now he was back in Isi, Sarq’s capital city, back in the place he’d grown up. He was here to take the place of his brother. Here to make amends. If he could make amends.
If only he could break the curse. Save what was left of his family.
If only.
Ten minutes later, the limousine turned down the long drive leading to the palace gates. Zayed shifted restlessly.
He’d have to go see Rou. He’d told her he’d stop by when he returned. If only he hadn’t kissed her.
If only he’d kept his distance he wouldn’t have discovered that her icy scientist image was just a facade.
Slim, blond Rou Tornell wasn’t a cold-blooded scientist. She was a woman. A woman he’d very much enjoyed kissing.
Back at the palace, Zayed headed straight to Rou’s suite. The lights were still on and, descending the steps into her sunken living room, he saw the living room was empty but a series of heavy silver trays covered the low table. He lifted the lids on the dishes, discovering little pots of aromatic rice; plates of grilled, skewered meats; a copper bowl of sizzling, sautéed prawns; platters of steamed, seasoned fish; cooked vegetable dishes of potatoes, peas and artichoke hearts. All untouched. Had she eaten nothing?
He was just about to walk out when he heard a rustle of paper. Turning, he spotted her at her desk. She’d fallen asleep while working, her right hand still on the keyboard, her left arm and cheek resting on her stack of notebooks.
Zayed took a step toward her and then another. She still wore that hideous gray suit, but her hair was unpinned and it spilled over her arm in a sheet of silver and pale gold. Asleep, her face was soft, her lips full and curved. Asleep, she looked alarmingly vulnerable.
He never took advantage of vulnerable women. He never took advantage of any woman.
Why had he kissed her?
Perplexed, he nearly left her as she was, but then guilt battered his conscience. She was here because he’d asked for her help. The least he could do was send her to bed.
He placed a light hand on her shoulder. “Dr. Tornell, wake up. You need to go to bed.”
She barely stirred and didn’t waken. He touched her shoulder again, shook her gently. “Rou.”
This time his voice registered and she sleepily lifted her head to look at him. “Hi.”
Hi. So American, so informal, so unlike who he thought Rou Tornell was.
His gaze skimmed her bare face, with the soft, full mouth and the long eyelashes that were surprisingly dark and thick. Without thinking he brushed the side of his hand across her cheek. Her skin was as warm and soft as it looked. “It’s after midnight. Time for you to go to bed.”