Mills & Boon New Voices: Foreword by Katie Fforde. Ann Lethbridge
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is beneath you, Zafir,” she said, as coldly as possible.
One dark eyebrow arched. My God, how could the man still be so absolutely breathtaking—especially when he was being so arrogant? And how could she want him as much as she ever had?
“Beneath me? Interesting choice of words, habiba.”
She folded her arms over her chest. There wasn’t much she could control here, but she had to insist on that which she could. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
He laughed. “Does it bring up bad memories?”
“No,” she said automatically. And then, realizing what she’d admitted, followed it with an emphatic, “Yes.”
“Interesting. I do not remember you objecting when you screamed my name in pleasure, or afterward when I held you close and called you habiba.”
A sliver of desire sizzled to life inside her. She’d been with a few men in the last ten years, but none had ever affected her the way Zafir had. The way he was affecting her now.
But she’d never seen him like this either. Surely that was what had her blood pumping into her veins like a runaway train? Though she’d known he was a desert prince, he’d never dressed in the tradition of his home when they were together.
He was truly magnificent in the white dishdasha. A gold igal held his headdress in place, and at his waist was a curved ceremonial dagger with a jeweled hilt.
He was exotic and forbidden in a way he never had been when he’d worn jeans and button-down shirts. When he’d simply been handsome and sexy and she hadn’t been able to believe he was hers. That she was the one he spent time with when there were so many gorgeous women he could have chosen instead.
Except he hadn’t really been hers, had he?
“That’s in the past,” she forced out. A past that had never really stopped haunting her.
He turned away in a swirl of robes. “I did not say, by the way, that I would never let you return to your dig.”
Genie shook her head. “I don’t understand, Zafir. What do you want from me?”
“The short answer is that my father had trouble with warring tribes in this region. I am here because I intend to put a stop to it once and for all. Since you were a gift from the chieftain of one of the tribes, I can hardly let you leave.”
Genie’s jaw went slack. “A gift? Like a goat or a camel or a jeweled dagger?”
“Precisely. And until I conclude this meeting I require your presence.”
For the moment, she could only focus on the fact that she’d been given to him. “How can someone give away a human being? What kind of king are you to allow such a thing to happen?”
His jaw was firm. “I am the king of a very old and traditional nation. The ways of the desert are ancient and cannot be changed overnight.”
“But you could have refused.”
He crossed his arms, one eyebrow arching. “Indeed I could have. And you would now likely be back in Sheikh Abu Bakr’s harem, awaiting his attentions.”
She thought of the old man who’d been speaking earlier and shivered. “That’s barbaric.”
“It is the custom.”
“You have a lot of customs, don’t you?” she said bitterly. Like keeping mistresses while marrying another woman and having children with her.
“Indeed—which is why you will remain.”
“And what if I don’t want to stay?”
His dark eyes glittered. “You do not have a choice.”
“You would force me to stay here against my will?”
He inclined his head. “To prove I am not such a barbarian, I will compensate you in the end. This is not a bad deal, Genie.”
For who? Staying here for even a minute longer than she had to was dangerous. Because in spite of everything—all the hurt and pain and agony of the past—her heart was soaring with every minute she stood near him.
“I don’t want money.”
He looked skeptical. “Really? Aren’t archaeological digs expensive?”
“I have funding for my projects.” Not as much as she’d like, but she wasn’t admitting that to him.
“Then I will give you something better than money, Genie. Something you want very much.”
Genie’s knees felt suddenly weak. She had a vision of him naked, of his beautiful mouth on her flesh, taking her to heaven. No. “How could you possibly know what I want?”
His smile was so self-assured she itched to slap him.
“I will give you permission to excavate in Al-Shahar.”
Her heart nearly stopped. “The old temples?”
No one had ever been given permission to excavate the Temples of Al-Shahar. It would be a coup, a crowning achievement. Her career would never be the same.
And he knew it. His smile was predatory, as if he knew she would not refuse. Just as he’d believed she wouldn’t refuse his proposition ten years ago because he’d been rich and handsome and she’d loved him desperately.
Did she have the strength to turn him down this time? The strength to walk away from the Temples of Al-Shahar? But how could she accept? Staying with him now, even for something so wonderful as those temples, would test her in ways she wasn’t sure she was prepared to endure.
But he would keep her here regardless, wouldn’t he? He had the power to do it, and the will.
“I would not refuse this, were I you,” he said softly. “Don’t be a fool because of your wounded pride, Genie.”
She stiffened. “You are quite mistaken if you still think that affects me, Zafir. It was ten years ago.”
“Then what will it be?” Again that predatory gleam. “Because turning down the jewel in the crown of your precious career would be extremely foolish. And you know it quite well.”
She hated that he had her right where he wanted her. Because he was right, and she wasn’t going to refuse. No matter how dangerous staying with him would be to her heart, she had to do it. It was only temporary. It would take weeks to gather what she needed to excavate in Al-Shahar, so she would have time to recover from this experience. And she need not see him when she returned. He was a king now, and she was an archaeologist who would be on a dig in his city. She had a team who would coordinate with whomever in his government handled these things.
They would not meet again. And, even if none of that were the case, she couldn’t let him see that, contrary to what she said, she was still very much affected by the past.
“Very well,” she said, holding out her hand. “I accept.”
Zafir took her hand in his. Instead of giving a firm shake, he turned her palm up and brought it to his lips. A shiver trickled across her nerve-endings on tiny feet, bringing goosebumps to the surface.
“A wise decision,” he said softly.
And then he tugged her into his arms and kissed her.
In the space of a few moments he’d decided he was going to have her again. This need buffeting him was stronger than he remembered. He’d always been enchanted with her body, but had he always felt this reckless desire to possess her no matter the cost?
Surely not. Because right now he wanted to rip the turquoise abaya from her body and lower her onto the furs in his tent. He wanted to lose himself in her, and he wanted to remember what it had been like between them.
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