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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by the direction of the conversation, Karim made a mental note never to wake a distressed woman from sleep again. Suddenly the atmosphere in the tent seemed dangerously intimate and filled with shadows of the past that her words had inadvertently released. ‘The Sultan’s mother died when he was little more than a toddler. He was sent away by his stepmother.’
‘Oh. That’s terrible,’ she breathed softly. ‘Then it’s no wonder that he isn’t interested in emotional relationships, is it? He’s probably had no experience of love.’
‘I thought you didn’t believe in love.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ She smothered a yawn and her eyes drifted shut, her thick, dark lashes forming two perfect crescents on her pale cheeks. ‘I said that this marriage isn’t about love. That doesn’t mean I don’t think love exists. Actually, I do believe that love exists. For the lucky few. It’s finding it that’s the problem.’
Deciding that the conversation had progressed far beyond his comfort zone, Karim rose to his feet. ‘You should rest.’
She didn’t even answer and he realized that she was already asleep, her breathing even and peaceful, the tears on her cheeks now dry.
Karim stared down at her with exasperation and then strode back to his corner of the tent, aware that, while she’d drifted back into the welcome oblivion of sleep, he now had to deal with all the uncomfortable and unfamiliar emotions that their conversation had aroused.
And one thing he knew for sure—sleep would be a long time in coming.
Alexa woke to find herself alone in the tent.
Then she heard Karim’s voice just outside and knew that he hadn’t gone far. Not that she would have blamed him if he had. After being subjected to the torrent of her emotions the night before, a man like Karim must be stifling the urge to sprint fast in the opposite direction.
She closed her eyes, feeling washed out and weedy. It was a recurring nightmare and it always had the same effect on her.
But it was the first time that she’d shared the experience with anyone. And not just anyone, but a man who epitomized everything it meant to be tough and strong. A man, to whom the mere concept of being frightened by something so intangible as a dream, must have been unfathomable.
Alexa covered her face with her hands and gave a groan of embarrassment.
What must he have thought? Even in the depths of her distress, she’d sensed his discomfort. The only reason he’d remained seated on the bed was because she’d gripped his arm and begged him not to leave her.
But he hadn’t left her, had he?
Despite being dramatically out of his comfort zone, he’d stayed by her side until she’d fallen asleep. And, because she knew that it hadn’t been an easy thing for him to do, it somehow made the gesture all the more touching. He’d stayed, and that was what mattered. Clearly an upset woman wasn’t his favourite challenge, but he’d remained by her side until she’d fallen asleep.
No one had ever done that for her before. Not one person.
Pondering on that thought, Alexa slid out of bed, dressed swiftly in her trousers and combat boots, twisted her long hair into a coil and secured it on top of her head. Dressed, she felt more in control. Or did she feel more in control because she’d shared her darkest moment with Karim?
For the first time in her life, she hadn’t felt alone.
Feeling pathetically grateful towards him, Alexa left the tent and was immediately confronted by his powerful shoulders and lean, long legs. He was in conversation with several men from the camp, but he turned as he heard her emerge from the tent. Their eyes met and held.
He said nothing, and yet the moment felt intensely personal—a silent acknowledgement of a secret shared. Then he gave a brief nod and Alexa felt her insides tumble. Suddenly she felt ridiculously nervous and had absolutely no idea why.
‘Good morning.’
He dismissed the man he was talking to with an abrupt wave of his hand. ‘You are feeling all right?’
She dug her hands in her pockets. How was she supposed to reply to that? No, she wasn’t feeling all right. Suddenly she felt as vulnerable as she’d felt when she was eight years old, clinging to the desperate hope that someone, somewhere would care for her and take the pain away if only she could find them.
But at least at the age of eight, she’d had childhood on her side as a decent excuse for such foolish fantasies.
What excuse was she using now?
Her eyes slid to Karim.
What was it about the dark and the dreams that had turned her into a child again? Why was she longing to trust him, when she’d long since discovered that the only person she could trust was herself?
Was it because, for the first time in sixteen years, she’d shared her past? She hadn’t had to cope with it alone, and that had felt good. And, now that she’d experienced the warmth of human comfort, it no longer seemed easy to shut her emotions away. She wanted more, and the power of that need terrified her more than the nightmare itself.
She wanted to feel his touch again. She wanted to reach out and touch him.
But that wasn’t allowed, was it? Although his gaze held hers, he held himself slightly apart—distant and unapproachable, as if warning her that the intimacy that they’d shared during the hours of darkness could not be extended into the daylight.
She was alone again.
A little masculine comfort in the darkness of the night had changed nothing, except perhaps to make everything seem just that little bit worse. Because that taste of human comfort had left her thirsty for so much more.
‘I’m fine, Karim.’ Too confused about her own feelings to hold his gaze a moment longer, she glanced away. ‘I’m sorry about last night. Not your favourite scenario, I’m sure.’
He didn’t reply, and she wished she’d had the sense not to raise the subject. Even though they weren’t touching she could feel the tension in his powerful frame, and sensed that he had every intention of avoiding any reference to the conversation that they’d had in the dark recesses of the night. She sucked in a breath. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. You were—kind.’ It seemed a completely inappropriate word for this man, who was the complete antithesis of the word kind, and perhaps he thought so, too, because his dark eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her face in brooding silence.
Finally he spoke. ‘No apology is needed. You had a long and tiring day. Enough to trigger bad dreams in the most robust personality.’
‘Yes.’ There was no need to tell him that the dreams had nothing to do with the day they’d had and everything to do with her dark and tangled past. He didn’t need to hear that. He didn’t want to hear it. The loneliness of her situation rose up inside her and threatened to swallow her whole.
Karim took a step backwards, his tone cool and lacking in encouragement. ‘We should leave. Eat something.’ He waved a hand towards a rug that had been spread out in front of the tent. ‘I’ll meet you by the car when you’re ready.’
Alexa watched him stride off and dropped onto her knees on the rug, not at all feeling like eating. She nibbled a few dates and some pita bread and took a few sips of water, before returning to the tent to pack her things. Keep moving forward. Never look back.
Karim was already loading the four-wheel drive. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes.’ She handed him her small case and he stowed it in the back. ‘How far are we going today?’
‘We should reach the next oasis. It’s much bigger than this place. More of a tourist resort. From there it is less than two days’ drive to the Citadel. You should be in plenty of time for your wedding.’
‘Wedding.’