The Royal House of Karedes: The Desert Throne. Annie West
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barely eighteen, the king’s eldest nephew, slender and tall and fine. She’d been the bookish eldest daughter of the king’s adviser; he’d been a wild, reckless horse racer with a vulnerable heart and joyful laugh.
But he’d changed since then. He was no longer a boy; he’d become a man. A dangerous one.
His once-friendly blue eyes were now ruthless; the formerly vibrant expression on his handsome, rugged face had become tightly controlled. His once-lanky frame had gained strength. Even the muscle of his body proclaimed him a king. He could probably pick up someone like Umar and toss him through the air like a javelin. She’d never seen any man on earth with shoulders like Kareef’s.
But the biggest change was the grim darkness she now saw beneath his gaze. She could sense the cold warrior hidden beneath his deeply tanned skin. He had only the thinnest veneer of civilization left. The danger both attracted her…and frightened her.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself desperately. In a few days she would become Umar’s wife and she would never have to see Kareef again. If she could just make it to her wedding…
“So you’ll join me?” he said coldly.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Come anyway. We have…something to discuss.”
“No,” she said desperately. “We don’t.”
He lowered a dark eyebrow. “Do I really have to say it?”
She swallowed. No. She knew exactly what he was talking about. She’d just told herself many times that it didn’t matter, that it didn’t count, that it had just been a few whispered words between kisses.
The pillow dropped from her hands. She wrapped her arms around her body, glancing toward the deepening shadows of the garden. She whispered, “It’s all in the past.”
“The past is always with us.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him take a single step toward her. “You know you cannot marry him.”
Oh my God, Kareef was going to touch her! If he did—if he reached out and took her hand—she was afraid of how her body would react. Only her anger was keeping her hands wrapped around her own waist, when some uncivilized part of her longed to stroke the dark curl of his hair, the roughness of his jawline, to touch the hard muscles and discover the man he had become…
With a harsh intake of breath, she held up her hand sharply, keeping him at a distance.
“All right!” she bit out. “I’ll join you for your fancy dinner if you’ll just leave!”
His blue eyes held hers. “It won’t be fancy. Simple and quiet.”
“Right.” She didn’t believe him for a second. She’d never seen any Al’Ramiz king dine with fewer than fifty people and ten courses of meat and fish and fruit.
“The blue room.” He looked her over, and she felt that same flush of heat as his gaze touched her naked skin. “Ten minutes.”
The blue room? Now she knew he was lying. The blue room was for entertaining heads of state! But she’d worry about that later—when she wasn’t naked and confined with him in such a small space! Unwillingly, her eyes fell on the tiny bed between them.
He followed her gaze.
Suddenly, her heart was pounding so loud she could almost hear it. Then he turned toward the door.
“See you at dinner.”
“Yes.” She could suddenly breathe again.
He paused, as his large frame filled the doorway. “It’s good to see you, Jasmine.” And he closed the door behind him.
Good to see her?
As soon as he was gone, she dug frantically through her suitcase and found nothing at all to wear. She lifted up the crumpled green chiffon dress from the floor only to discover a stain on the bodice.
Why was Kareef doing this to her? Why couldn’t they just ignore the past? Why couldn’t they just pretend it did not exist?
You know you cannot marry him.
She took a deep breath. They’d share one meal. He would speak a few careful words, and it would be done. They could both go on with their lives.
She grabbed a white sundress, fresh and pretty with a modest neckline. It wasn’t nearly fancy enough for a fifty-person banquet in the blue room with the king, but it would just have to do. She added sandals and a string of pearls. All sweet and simple, and hers. Not selected for her by Umar from a designer boutique. She brushed her long hair, and looked at herself in the mirror.
Bewildered brown eyes looked back at her. She looked young and insecure, nothing like the powerful woman she’d become in New York. Being close to Kareef made her feel vulnerable again. As if she were sixteen.
Her feet dragged as she left her room and headed toward the east wing. The hallways were oddly quiet but she passed two women as she made her way to the blue room—the Sheikha, Kareef’s mother, and her much younger companion trailing behind in her black abaya. The Sheikha saw Jasmine and her wrinkled, kindly face lifted into a vague, benevolent smile. She probably didn’t remember who Jasmine was. Jasmine bowed deeply.
When she looked up, she saw the Sheikha’s companion smiling down at her. It was Sera, her childhood friend! But the Sheikha was in a hurry. Sera had only time to whisper, “Glad you’re back,” before she had to quickly follow her employer down the hall.
A surprised smile rose on Jasmine’s face as she stared after her old friend. Sera still remembered her after all these years? A surge of happiness went through Jasmine, then she turned back to hurry down the hall. The palace seemed strangely silent, almost desolate. Had the big fancy dinner been canceled? Was she late? With a deep breath, Jasmine pushed open the double doors.
The long dining table, big enough to seat forty-eight, was lit by long-tapered candles. Only one person was seated there.
“Jasmine.” Kareef rose to his feet with a short, formal bow. He moved to the place beside his at the table, standing behind her chair. “Please.”
Shocked, she looked right and left. “Where is everyone else?”
“There is no one else.”
“Oh.”
“I told you. Simple and quiet.”
She was having dinner with Kareef…alone? Feeling like she was in a surreal dream, she walked toward the table. The candles flickered light and shadow upon the white wainscoting and pale blue walls of the cavernous room. She swallowed, then lowered herself into her chair. He pushed it forward for her. As if they were on a date.
No—she couldn’t think that way! This was the opposite of a date!
Kareef sat down in the chair beside her, then nodded regally at two servants who appeared from the shadows. She jumped as they took silver lids off trays to serve two exquisite meals of cool salad, cucumbers, exquisite fruits, bread and cheeses. They opened a bottle of sparkling water, then a bottle of expensive French wine. After serving the trays, they backed away with a bow and disappeared, closing the double doors softly behind them.
They were alone. And Jasmine felt it. She licked her lips nervously. “What is all this?”
Kareef leaned forward to pour her a glass of wine. “You didn’t eat at your engagement party. You must be hungry.” His sensual lips quirked. “I allow no one to starve while under my protection.”
She watched him, involuntarily noticing the way the candlelight cast shadows across the astonishing masculine beauty of his face.
He looked up, and his blue eyes sizzled through hers with the intensity of his gaze. “Are you?”
“Am I what?” she stammered.
“Are.