Royal Affairs: Desert Princes & Defiant Virgins: The Sheikh's Virgin Princess / The Sheikh and the Virgin Secretary / Desert Prince, Defiant Virgin. Sarah Morgan
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Is that truly a life that can make you happy?’
Alexa smiled at the thought. Life in a fortress. With her uncle on the outside. ‘It’s what I want.’
‘You want to be closeted behind high stone-walls with a man you have never even met? It seems a strange choice.’
‘That’s because you know nothing about my life.’
‘Then tell me.’ He leaned towards her, his gaze compelling and his voice surprisingly gentle. ‘Tell me about your life, Alexa. What is it that makes this match so appealing? We are alone, now, just the two of us. Talk to me.’
Alexa stared at him. She’d lived her entire life alone, devoid of love and friendship, and the sudden flicker of warmth in his eyes was enough to draw her out in much the same way as a starving animal would tiptoe towards the promise of a morsel of food.
‘I’ve never told anyone.’
‘Then it is time to confide in someone,’ he urged. ‘Because such introverted behaviour is not natural for a woman.’
Most women hadn’t lived her life.
The past oozed into her brain like a deadly cloud, souring the atmosphere, and she scrambled to her feet quickly. She was doing it again! The urge to confide in him was becoming stronger and stronger despite the fact that she knew the dangers of speaking to the wrong person. ‘The meal was lovely. Please thank them for me. If we have an early start, then I think it’s best if I go to bed now.’
CHAPTER SIX
SHE’D been on the verge of telling him something. The question was, what?
And why was he so interested?
Simmering with frustration at her abrupt departure, Karim stood outside the tent, giving her time to prepare herself for bed before joining her. What confession had been clinging to her lips?
Regret for the life she’d led?
Second thoughts about marrying a man just for status and money?
Wondering if her conscience was keeping her awake, he pushed aside the flap of the tent and strode inside.
One glance told him that she was already asleep, apparently oblivious to the hard, simple bed, the spartan surroundings or the nagging of her conscience.
Her luxurious red-gold hair was spread haphazardly over the pillow like sand blown by the wind, and her mouth was the colour of ripe strawberries. Strawberries just waiting to be devoured.
Even in the depth of sleep she looked like every man’s hottest fantasy, and Karim experienced a monumental surge of desire as he stood watching her. The ache in his loins grew to agonizing levels, and he uttered a soft curse and strode to the far side of the room, vowing to stay as far away from her as possible.
Why had he imposed this ridiculous rule that she was to stay by his side for the entire journey? Just who was suffering most?
He lay down and waited for sleep to claim him, but it was asking the impossible, and he was still staring grimly upwards when the princess gave a frightened moan.
Karim was on his feet with the speed and grace of a panther, the hilt of the knife in his hand as he prepared to defend her.
‘Alexa?’ The fading light of the hurricane lamp was enough to show him that no one had entered the tent without his knowledge, which meant that her distress was caused by something different.
Spider? Scorpion?
His senses on alert, Karim prowled silently over to the large bed and stared down at the princess who was now sprawled on her back, one arm flung upwards, her cheeks flushed.
Evidently she was still asleep, which meant that her distress was caused by nothing more than a bad dream. So perhaps her conscience was pricking her, after all.
Slowly he returned the knife to his belt, his attention held by the expanse of creamy bare shoulder revealed by crumpled bed-sheet. Forcing his gaze upwards, he noticed the faint sheen of sweat on her brow, and then she cried out again and this time he saw the trickle of tears on her cheeks.
Shocked by the sight of those tears, Karim froze.
Completely out of his comfort zone, he then took an involuntary step backwards, retreating from such a visible display of emotion as he would a wild beast.
In fact, he would have been far more comfortable rescuing her from the jaws of a lethal predator. He hated tears. In early childhood he’d been given endless opportunity to observe the many uses of female tears, but even he had never before witnessed a woman cry in her sleep.
Reluctantly, he was forced to acknowledge that these were real emotions, not those constructed specifically to extract something from a man, and he stood frozen with indecision as those silent tears ripped holes through his iron-clad defences in a way that no physical weapon would have done. Suddenly he felt raw and exposed as long-forgotten images settled over his brain like a toxic cloud.
His natural aversion to emotional scenes stifled his ability to think clearly, and he stood paralyzed. What was he supposed to do? He knew nothing about dealing with a woman whose tears were genuine.
And then he realised that he didn’t have to do anything.
She was asleep, wasn’t she?
No action was required on his part.
Relieved to have reached that conclusion, Karim was about to return to his bed when she gave another cry, and this time the sound was so tortured that he sat down next to her.
What was he doing?
What did he know about comforting anyone? It was far more usual for him to be the cause of female tears.
Deciding that by far the simplest and safest solution would be to wake her up so that she could solve the problem herself, he reached out a hand and gave her shoulder a firm shake.
She awoke instantly with a horrified gasp, her eyes wide and terrified.
‘Go away!’ She sat bolt upright, her expression stricken. ‘Don’t touch me!’ Her fist powered into his stomach with surprising force, and the breath hissed through his teeth as pain radiated across his abdomen.
‘It’s me,’ he grunted, closing his fingers over her fist before she could do any more damage, ‘Karim. You were dreaming.’
As he waited for the blankness in her eyes to fade and the pain in his muscles to settle, he reflected on the fact that the princess hadn’t been exaggerating her claim that she could manage perfectly well without a bodyguard. No one could have described her as defenceless.
So how could a woman who could deliver a punch like that appear vulnerable?
Her breathing was rapid and she gave a little shake of her head, her cheeks still wet with tears. ‘Sorry. I—I had a dream.’
‘Yes.’ Relieved that the problem appeared to be solved, Karim released her hand and started to stand up, but she grabbed his arm.
‘Wait a minute. Don’t go. Please don’t leave me.’
Her request was so unexpected that he simply stared at her. What did she expect him to do? ‘You’re awake now.’
‘It’s all still in my head. It was so clear …’ Her fingers tightened on his arm and he had little choice but to sit down again.
‘Think about something else,’ he advised swiftly, and she made a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh, fully awake now.
‘Sorry. This isn’t what you signed up for, is it? Go back to bed, I’ll be fine.’ With obvious reluctance, she released her desperate grip on his arm and bent her knees up to her chest, cuddling them like a child. ‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you.’ She was shaking so badly that Karim could feel the movement on the mattress,