Heart of a Desert Warrior. Lucy Monroe
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to do it.
He hadn’t been concerned about her six years ago when they had been lovers; it was too far a stretch to think he was worried about her now, when they were little more than strangers with a briefly shared past.
Asad did not offer his arm again, but turned and began walking in the direction she’d been going to begin with.
So she had guessed right in this instance.
Go her. Sometimes her intuitive thoughts were on target, at least when it didn’t come to people.
“So Asad tells us you went to the same university.” Catherine smiled without malice, genuine interest shining in her gentian-blue eyes.
Nevertheless, the memories her words evoked were not happy ones for Iris. Iris forced something that resembled a smile and a nod. “Yes.”
“It’s funny you should have met.”
At the time Iris had believed it destiny. She’d been studying Arabic as her second language, a common practice for those in her field, but it had felt like more. Studying the language of his birth had felt like a common bond between them, as if they were meant to be together.
She had believed him to be an incredible blessing after nineteen years of feeling like she never really belonged to, or with, anyone. She’d thought she’d belonged to Asad; she’d been convinced he belonged to her.
She’d been spectacularly wrong. He didn’t want her, not for a lifetime, or even beyond their few months together. And he was not hers, not in any sense.
“It was one of those things….” Asad had come on to her in the Student Union. He’d flirted, charmed and when he asked her out, she hadn’t even considered saying no.
“The Student Union building knew no class distinctions,” Asad added when it was clear Iris wasn’t going to say anything else.
“Not in age or social standing,” Russell agreed. “I met a billionaire’s daughter in the Student Union at my university.”
And Iris had met a sheikh. Not that she’d known it. Back then, he’d just been plain Asad Hanif to her. Another foreign student availing himself of an American university education.
“She was sweet,” Russell continued, “but she doesn’t know the difference between sedimentary and igneous rock.”
“So, not a friendship destined to prosper,” Sheikh Hakim observed, his tone tinged with undeniable humor.
“Our friendship prospered.” Asad gave her a look as if expecting Iris to agree, even after the way their friendship had ended. “Though I knew little of geology and Iris had no more interest in business management.”
“The friendship didn’t last, which would indicate our differences were a lot more important than they seemed at first.” She’d managed to say it without a trace of bitterness or accusation.
Iris had never really considered herself much of an actress, but she was channeling Kate Winslet with her performance tonight. She’d managed to get through predinner drinks and the first course of their meal without giving away the turmoil roiling inside her to her hosts, the Sheikh of Kadar and his wife, just Catherine please.
Asad laid his fork across his empty salad plate. “Youth often lacks wisdom.”
“You were five years older than me.” And worlds wiser and more experienced.
He shrugged, that movement of his shoulders she knew so well. It was his response to anything for which there was no good, or easy to articulate, answer.
“Anyway, I hope my words haven’t made it seem I’m looking to renew any old friendships.” Chills of horror rolled down her spine at the thought. “I’m not. I’m here to work.” It was her turn to shrug, though it was more a jerk of one shoulder.
She’d never done casual well when it came to Asad, but it didn’t matter. She was in Kadar to work and then she would be out of his life once again, just as fully and completely as before. As she was sure he would prefer.
And she was never returning to Kadar. Not ever. No matter how lucrative a promotion depended on it.
“It would be a shame to travel so far from your home and spend no time experiencing the local culture.” Asad’s gaze bored into hers with predatory intent.
She remembered that look and her heart tightened at receiving it here, in this place, after everything that had passed between them and in his life particularly since their breakup.
“I’m sure living amidst your tribe will give both Iris and Russell the perfect opportunity to experience much of our culture,” Catherine said with a smile aimed first at Asad and then Iris. “I love staying with the Bedouin. It’s such a different way of life. Though why it always seems there’s more trouble for our children to get into in the city of tents than at home, I don’t know.”
She winked at her husband and Sheikh Hakim gave her such a look of love and adoration, it was both wonderful and painful to see. Here was a couple who loved each other every bit as much as Iris’s parents, but who adored their offspring with equal, if different, intensity.
Then the full import of Catherine’s words hit Iris. “We’re staying with Sheikh Asad’s tribe?” she asked in shock. “But I thought this would be our home base.”
The beautiful Middle Eastern palace that still managed to feel like a home for all its glamour and size.
“Our current encampment is far closer to the mountainous region you will be surveying,” Asad said, an inexplicable tone of satisfaction lacing his words.
CHAPTER TWO
“STAYING WITH the Sha’b Al’najid will save you a lot of time in travel,” Sheikh Hakim added.
“But …”
“You’ll love it, trust me,” Catherine said. “While Asad has taken the tribe in a different direction than Hakim’s grandfather did, their way of life has much in common with that found millennia ago. It will be an amazing experience, believe me.”
Iris would be in purgatory, but at least the encampment would only be their home base, she tried to tell herself. “I’m sure I will enjoy it very much,” she lied through her teeth. “What time we spend there, at any rate.”
Catherine looked inquiringly. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“When we’re in the field doing the type of survey Kadar has requested of CC&B, a team spends most of its time in a portable camp,” Iris explained. “It really wouldn’t make much of a difference if we maintained a home base here, or in the Bedouin encampment.”
“You are not staying alone in a camp with nothing but this pup for company.” Asad’s voice, laced with possessive bossiness, brooked no argument.
And shocked Iris to the core. She didn’t understand why it mattered to him. And that possessiveness was completely at odds with a man already taken himself. She must have imagined it.
The first to admit that reading people was not her strong suit, she nevertheless felt a shiver of apprehension skate along her spine.
“It’s not as if we share a cot, just a tent,” Russell said, no doubt trying to assuage any conservative sensibilities.
And doing a really bad job of it, Iris thought.
Asad’s features set in a mask she was sure had more in common with his warrior ancestors than modern man. He gave Russell a look that made her self-defined intrepid field assistant shrink into his chair.
“Not acceptable.” Just two words, but spoken with absolute authority in a tone she’d heard only once from Asad.
When he was telling her they had no future in words that could not be denied.
Russell