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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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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and exasperated in equal measure, Karim turned the key, watching as she relaxed. The rebel princess was afraid of a locked door? It was so incredibly unlikely that he almost laughed. If she was that easy to frighten then it should take very little to persuade her that life in the harsh climate of Zangrar, in the company of a ruthless Sultan, was definitely not for her.

      ‘I don’t fight women, Your Highness.’

      She stilled and then gave a tiny shrug, some of her defiance returning. ‘You do now.’ With a single, graceful movement of her shoulders, she removed her jacket. ‘And, anyway, you won. Your ego is still intact.’

      ‘My ego requires no protection.’ He dragged his eyes away from her hair with difficulty, his brain and body fighting a vicious battle for supremacy. Intellect warred with basic masculine instinct, and the sudden tightening of his body reminded him that the power of basic masculine instinct was never to be underestimated. ‘I could have hurt you.’

      Only now, when she stood without the thick, protective padding of the fencing jacket, could he see how fine-boned and delicately built she was. Her exquisitely perfect face revealed centuries of breeding, and Karim studied her closely, trying to reconcile the innocence of that face with her debauched reputation. And she studied him back, her gaze fearless and unfaltering.

      Then she turned and hung her jacket in the cupboard. ‘You’re good. But you’ve had a wasted journey. I don’t want a bodyguard.’

      ‘Your wishes in the matter are irrelevant, Your Highness.’ Whether she wanted him or not, she was getting him. His mission was to persuade her to change her mind about marrying the Sultan, and he needed to be with her on the journey if he was to achieve that goal.

      Her glance was curious. ‘Do you guard the Sultan himself?’

      It wasn’t a question he’d anticipated, and it took him a moment to formulate an acceptable answer. ‘I have ultimate responsibility for the Sultan’s safety, yes.’

      ‘In that case, I’m sure he’s missing you. Go home.’ With a swift movement of her fingers, she removed the plastron, the half-jacket that protected her fencing arm. ‘Use your talents elsewhere. I don’t need them.’

      ‘You are no longer planning to marry the Sultan?’

      ‘Of course I’m marrying the Sultan. But I don’t need anyone with me on the journey. I prefer to arrange my own protection.’

      ‘And who have you selected to provide this service?’

      ‘Me.’ Her tone suggested that she considered the answer obvious. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that, when it comes to safety issues, the only person you can really depend on is yourself.’

      ‘You plan to travel through the desert alone and unaccompanied?’

      ‘Absolutely. And I hope no one threatens me, because I’m lethal when I’m threatened.’ As if determined to convince him of that fact, she fixed him with her cool, blue stare, and Karim lifted an eyebrow.

      ‘Clearly you are unaware of the fact that many men find a woman’s vulnerability to be one of her greatest charms.’

      ‘Those same men undoubtedly have miniscule egos and need to slay dragons in order to demonstrate their masculinity.’ She stooped to put her mask and glove in the cupboard. ‘I refuse to put my safety at risk in order to pander to a man’s need to flex his muscles in public. I slay my own dragons.’

      For the first time in his adult life, Karim found himself speechless. He’d never met a woman like her before. ‘You cannot seriously be intending to make the journey to Zangrar alone? You have no knowledge of the route.’

      ‘I can read a map, use satellite navigation and I can talk on the phone. Princesses have a multitude of skills these days. We’re a very versatile breed. Haven’t you heard?’

      What he’d heard was that the Princess Alexandra was a real rebel, and he could see that the rumours had foundation. There was a fire in her eyes and defiance in her stance, and even after five minutes in her company he could see that she was no man’s idea of a gentle, compliant wife.

      She was a handful.

      Even while contemplating the disaster that would ensue if this woman ever arrived in Zangrar, Karim was reflecting on the fact that this next battle between them might be every bit as stimulating as the fencing. Removing his own jacket, he stretched out a hand and dropped it onto the nearest chair. ‘Clearly you’ve never aspired to be like the princesses in the fairy stories.’

      ‘Passive victims, you mean?’ A thoughtful frown touched her forehead and then she gave a careless shrug. ‘I wouldn’t be stupid enough to take a poisoned apple from a stepmother who hates me, and I’ve always hated sewing, so there’s no way I’d prick my finger on a spinning wheel.’

      ‘But you are planning to marry a sultan,’ Karim pointed out silkily, and she smiled, showing no signs of trepidation at the prospect.

      ‘That’s right. I am.’

      ‘And the Sultan insists that you are escorted on the journey, Your Highness.’

      The princess turned to face him, and their eyes locked in a battle of wills.

      Supremely confident that there was only one possible outcome, Karim crossed his arms and waited.

      And waited.

      ‘Fine.’ Her gaze slid from his, and she toed off her fencing shoes with a graceful movement. ‘If you want to come along then I suppose I can’t stop you. I just hope you don’t regret it. Who is guarding the Sultan while you are watching over me?’

      Surprised by the speed with which success had been achieved, Karim felt a flash of suspicion. What was she up to? ‘His Excellency is presently on an important and most secret mission that relates to the future stability of Zangrar. His security is being handled—elsewhere.’

      She put her shoes in the cupboard. ‘You haven’t told me your name.’

      Distracted by the thrust of her breasts under the simple white tee-shirt, it took him a moment to answer. ‘You may call me Karim, Your Highness.’

      ‘And you may call me Alexa. I’m not big on protocol.’

      Remembering everything he’d read about her lifestyle, Karim had little trouble believing that statement. ‘It would not be appropriate for me to call you by your first name.’

      ‘You weren’t worrying about what was appropriate when you dragged me into this room.’ Her gaze was speculative.

      ‘Clearly you’re a man accustomed to acting on your own initiative.’

      ‘You want a bodyguard who waits for permission before saving you?’

      ‘I don’t want a bodyguard at all.’ Tucking the last of her clothes into the cupboard, she slammed the door shut. ‘If there’s any saving to be done, then I prefer to do it myself. Let’s get that straight before we leave this room.’

      Karim clenched his jaw in order to refrain from pointing out that the only thing she needed saving from was herself. Only the month before she’d been removed unconscious from a nightclub, and he knew that she’d had at least two car crashes and a boating accident in the past year, and from all of them she’d narrowly escaped with her life. The Princess Alexandra was clearly as reckless as she was bold.

      ‘The desert is full of dangers, many of which are concealed from all but those who were born and bred there.’

      ‘I have lived with danger all my life. I have a question for you, Karim.’ Without glancing in his direction, she slipped on a slim-fitting jumper in a deep shade of green. She still wore her fencing breeches, and he saw that her legs were long and slim.

      ‘Ask your question.’

      ‘How do you feel about the Sultan? Would you


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