HE WAS awake. She caught a glimpse of his eyes, glinting like sunlight on the ocean. Her heart gave an awkward thump then settled into something like a steady beat, albeit far too rapid.
‘I’ve made you breakfast.’ She knelt beside him, eyes lowered, wishing she had the nerve to reach out and touch him as she had last night. But in the bright morning light she felt shy. It would be easier soon, when he smiled, caressed her. Maybe even tugged her down to him.
Heat sizzled in her stomach.
She wasn’t sorry it had happened. Stunned, yes. Amazed at how beautiful it had been. But not regretful. It had been the single most wonderful experience of her life.
Tahir had been exquisitely tender and generous. She’d heard enough matrons gossiping about wedding nights to know not all women enjoyed their first time with a man.
Annalisa had done more than enjoy. Tahir had given her ecstasy. Warmth and connection and unbelievable pleasure. More, he’d bestowed something she couldn’t name. Something glowing and positive that countered the pain of these last months. Something that made the future look sunny and wondrous.
‘Not sweet tea again.’ There was a petulance in his voice she’d never heard. ‘Is that all you have?’
Her head jerked up and she met his frowning stare. His eyes were hard, almost febrile, his expression tight and unfamiliar. The grooves around his mouth had deepened and his lips were pursed in a disgruntled line.
‘Are you in pain?’ What had she done, demanding so much last night? He was still far from recovered. Guilt slashed her and she reached out to him.
A sinewy forearm blocked her move. His eyes glittered and his nostrils pinched as if in displeasure.
‘Of course I’m in pain. Having sex with these injuries was a fool’s game.’
‘I know. I’ve been wondering how you are.’
She waited for him to smile and say their night together had been worth the pain. That they’d shared something momentous and special.
The silence grew.
Tahir’s gaze was unreadable. Something about his raised eyebrows and tight mouth made her sink back on her heels, her certainty suddenly on shaky foundations.
He had enjoyed it, hadn’t he?
Of course he had. There’d been no mistaking his pleasure.
But maybe…maybe what had been a special, out of the world experience for her had been something else for him?
She clasped her hands, fighting the doubt roiling in her stomach. How she wished she understood.
Had he nothing to say about their night together? Even simply lying in his arms, tucked up against his large, powerful body had been bliss.
‘I feel like you’d expect me to feel after a chopper crash, dehydration and over-exertion. I feel like death. Far worse than yesterday.’
Over-exertion? Annalisa frowned. That was what he called their lovemaking?
Over-exertion?
The churning in her stomach intensified even as a shaft of indignation hit her.
She tried to ignore it. Tahir was ill. By the look of him far worse than he’d been last night, and that was her fault. If she hadn’t been so needy…
‘I’ll just…’ She paused, his words sinking in. ‘Chopper crash? You remember an accident?’
His mouth curved in a smile that held none of the rakish charm she’d grown used to. Instead he looked sarcastic.
‘I wouldn’t have said so if I hadn’t remembered.’
‘Were there others? On the helicopter?’ The thought of people lost in the desert had haunted her for days.
‘No. No one else to practise your precious nursing skills on.’ The way he spoke made it sound as if she’d done more harm than good. Hurt and bewilderment curled inside her. Even as she heard his cutting words and saw his supercilious expression she didn’t believe it. Tahir would never speak to her like that.
‘But—’
‘But nothing.’ He paused. ‘I had an important cargo, just not people. Crates of the finest champagne and the best caviar money can buy. I was bringing it here for the coronation, but I’ve missed the party now.’ He lifted his shoulders in a stiff movement that confirmed his pain had worsened. ‘A pity. If there’s one thing I enjoy it’s a good party.’
The way he said it, and his leer, implied something seedy and distasteful. No doubt he meant the kind of celebration no well brought up Qusani woman should know anything about.
She blinked, staring in disbelief at the changeling before her. Where was the stoic, witty, sociable man she’d cared for these past days? The one who’d been engaging and friendly, compassionate and even…loving?
He reached out an unsteady hand for the tea she’d brought. The way he clenched his jaw and the white line around his mouth told her his pain was extreme. Automatically she reached to help him, blaming herself for being so weak as to beg for sex from an injured man.
‘Don’t!’ The single syllable was a harsh command. ‘Don’t touch me.’
Wide-eyed, Annalisa stared at the stranger before her.
Even in the extremity of his pain, even delirious, Tahir had never spoken to her in that tone of voice. As if she weren’t worthy to breathe the same air as him.
Her heart squeezed in a spasm of acute distress. Pain, sharp as her grandfather’s treasured sword, transfixed her.
‘You’ve done enough.’ His gaze slid from hers and he lifted the cup to his lips, grimacing in distaste. ‘Let’s hope they can at least make decent coffee in the palace.’
‘In the palace?’ Annalisa sank away from the mattress, lifting her knees and looping her arms around them, suddenly desperate for warmth, despite the hot shafts of sunlight illuminating this corner of the tent. She was cold on the inside. She felt as if she would never be warm again.
‘Didn’t I say I was heading to the palace?’ He rolled his eyes as if in disgust at her ignorance. ‘I’m a relative of the new king, Kareef. That’s why I’m back in this god-forsaken country. To see him crowned, enjoy the celebration, then head back.’
‘Back?’ Annalisa felt absurdly like a parrot, repeating what he said. But her brain didn’t work properly. She was still coming to terms with this shocking stranger.
It was as if, with the return of his memory, Tahir had undergone a personality transplant. From charming companion to the rear end of a camel in the blink of an eye.
The thought of her little cousin’s favourite insult normally made her grin. Not this time. She tightened her grip on her legs, rocking slightly, as if seeking comfort.
There was no comfort to be found today.
If the pain lacerating her was any indication, she was bleeding internally—from the shattering of foolish, barely formed hopes.
How had she ever imagined she had anything in common with a man from another world? Who wore a tuxedo as if born to it? A man of obvious education and wealth and power?
A man, moreover, who had all the arrogance and none of the generosity that riches could breed.
She blinked hard, telling herself it was a speck of grit that made her eyes water.
‘Back to civilisation,’ he murmured. ‘To the bright lights of the city. To business and sophisticated entertainment.’ He lingered lovingly on the final words and bile rose in Annalisa’s throat. She saw the glint in his eyes. There was no mistaking his meaning. Sophisticated women, he meant. With his looks and apparent wealth he’d have his fill.
The notion cramped her stomach.
What had she been? A passing whim? A novelty?
‘No doubt you’re eager to return to your friends,’ she said, as brightly as she could. Unfortunately the words tumbled out rushed and uneven.
‘You can’t imagine how much.’ He didn’t even look at her, just picked at the carefully prepared food on the plate.
Annalisa’s scalp prickled as nausea rose.
How had she been naïve enough to mistake last night for anything like tenderness or caring? She couldn’t blame Tahir for taking what she’d offered—no, what she’d begged for so blatantly.
Shame suffused her, burning her cheeks and every place he’d touched last night.
But she couldn’t forgive him for treating her with disdain. Did he think her lack of sophistication and experience a reason to view her with contempt? Was this her first taste of life in the big wide world?
Abruptly she raised her head, surprised to find him watching her.
She skewered him with a glare and lifted her chin, refusing to let him think she was humbled by his presence. Carefully she rose, ignoring the protest of aching muscles, then pinned on her best bright bedside smile.
‘I’ll leave you in peace. You’ll want to make plans for your return to civilisation.’
When Annalisa’s transport out of the desert arrived before noon, Tahir was ready to leave. He’d made himself thoroughly obnoxious all morning and could no longer stomach watching the effect on Annalisa.
At first she’d looked on in dazed bewilderment, her soft brown eyes brimming with disbelief. His conscience had smitten him like a hot branding iron across his already burning ribs.
Then, when she’d taken her measure of the ‘new’ Tahir, scorn and pride had made her lift her head and meet his jibes levelly. She’d looked regal and aloof and utterly lovely, confirming his belief that this was for the best.
But that hadn’t stopped him craving her, like an addict needing just a little more. A smile, a touch, a caress. It had been hell, drawing her displeasure instead of her embraces with his arrogant nonsense.
Yet it was no more than he deserved.
He hadn’t even thought of protection! Of pregnancy.
At the last moment, as the camel driver announced he was ready to go, Tahir cornered her. She’d decided to stay another few days. To study the skies, she’d said.
To lick her wounds, he was sure.
This was his last chance to talk to her.
‘Annalisa.’ Her head jerked up. She’d already said her goodbye, brief and stilted.
Her eyes widened and a flash of emotion warmed them for a moment. Her lips trembled open. In surprise or doubt?
Tahir clamped his hands behind him, battling the urge to reach for her. To soothe the hurt he’d inflicted. His voice when he found it was rougher than he’d intended.
‘If there are consequences from last night…’ His words petered out as the shocking image of Annalisa, blooming with good health and ripe with his child, blasted his mind.
‘Impossible.’ She shook her head. ‘There won’t be consequences.’
Tahir hadn’t been born yesterday. If she tried to convince him she’d been taking contraceptives on the off-chance she’d let a stranger seduce her, she’d never succeed.
‘If you’re pregnant…’ his voice dropped on the word ‘…I want you to tell me.’ He held her defiant gaze so long that eventually she looked away. ‘You can reach me via the palace.’
Silence. He cupped her chin, pulling her round to face him. The contact sizzled and he could almost swear he heard electricity crackle and spark as her eyes clashed with his.
How he wanted her! Even now, on the brink of farewell, his body swayed forward and his hand tightened on her soft skin. Hunger gnawed at his belly, eclipsing even the burning pain that encircled his torso at every breath.
The temptation was almost too strong. Just one taste.
He dropped his hand as if burned. Took a step away.
‘Promise me you’ll let me know if—’
‘So you can fund an abortion?’ This time there was only scorn in her flashing eyes. She looked proud and dismissive as she eyed him up and down. ‘There won’t be any consequences. But if there were,’ she hurried on before he could speak, ‘I’d tell you.’
He nodded and turned away.
Minutes later he was seated on a camel. Its extreme motion, rocking perilously forwards then back as it rose to its feet, seemed expressly designed to torture a man with damaged ribs and a pounding head.
At least it took his mind off the contempt he’d seen in Annalisa’s eyes.
The camels swayed out of the oasis, each step sending pain screaming through him. Even so, he mustered the willpower to turn and see Annalisa for the last time.
He needn’t have bothered. She hadn’t waited to watch him go. She’d already disappeared from view.
By the time they reached the coast Tahir was barely clinging on. Travelling through the heat of the day hadn’t been sensible. If he’d been fit, perhaps, but with his injuries each kilometre was torture. The pain wrapping round his torso worsened and his head swam.
But he’d needed to get away while his determination held good. Before he did anything stupid like scooping her close and kissing her senseless.
He was surprised and grateful when his guide called a halt in a small fertile valley. They were still several hours from the capital, but Tahir could feel the last of his stamina draining away and he had no wish to slide off the camel in an ignominious heap.
It was only as they stopped in a pool of blessed shade that he realised the grove wasn’t empty. A four-wheel drive and an ambulance were parked there.
He shot a questioning glance at his guide, already standing beside his mount.
For the first time his dour companion met his gaze directly, watching as Tahir’s camel settled, lurching him sickeningly first one way then another.
‘I called for assistance when we got within mobile phone range,’ he said. ‘Annalisa insisted.’ His unblinking stare radiated disapproval. If he was a friend of Annalisa’s he wouldn’t have missed the undercurrents between her and Tahir.
Did he have a personal interest in Annalisa?
Tahir stiffened. His fists clenched and hot, scathing words hovered on his lips, ready to scare off this upstart.
Till he remembered he had no rights where she was concerned.
The realisation slammed into him so hard he reeled, and almost toppled over as nausea rose.
Finally, summoning the last of his strength, he lifted one leg over the saddle and slithered off. He stood, swaying drunkenly on ground that seemed to roll beneath him. His companion merely watched, arms folded.
‘Your Highness?’ A voice made Tahir turn, frowning.
‘No. I—’
An older man, vaguely familiar, moved forward with a formal bow. For the life of him Tahir couldn’t reciprocate. It was all he could do to stay upright on legs that shook mercilessly.
‘Your Highness, let me express our heartfelt thanks that you’ve been delivered to us safely. We thought your helicopter went down over the coast and we’ve been searching the sea for days.’
At his nod two ambulance officers hurried forward with a stretcher.
Tahir opened his mouth to say he wasn’t anyone’s highness, then realised perhaps he was. With Kareef as king, that made him and their brother Rafiq princes.
The ludicrous notion of the black sheep of the family scoring a royal title pulled him up short. It was so outrageous, so bizarre, he barely noticed when his surroundings blurred around him.
He heard a shout, saw serious faces shift in and out of focus, then the world faded into oblivion.
He had to stop making a habit of passing out. He didn’t have the patience for being sick. There was no amusement in it.
Even the soothing stroke of a soft, feminine hand at his brow lost its attraction when he came to enough to realise he’d dreamed it. What woman would sit patiently worrying at his bedside?
He’d had enough motor racing accidents to know nurses didn’t caress their patients. And Annalisa, the only woman whose touch he desired, wasn’t here. On the contrary, she’d be thanking her lucky stars she’d seen the last of him.
Still foggy from dreaming she was here, still weak enough to be plagued by regret that she wasn’t, Tahir was in a sour mood when he woke.
He wasn’t used to being dependent on anyone. Yet as he stirred he knew a craving for her by his side. He who’d never craved any woman! Who’d been alone so long he couldn’t remember what it was like to wake up with the same woman twice.
He was in no mood to find himself hooked up to all sorts of machines. He was disengaging himself when the doctor arrived.
‘No, sire. Please!’
Tahir ignored his protests. ‘I don’t need all this. I just need to get out of here.’ Not that there was anywhere he wanted to go—unless it was an isolated oasis inhabited by the dark-eyed beauty he couldn’t get out of his head.
The thought made him even more impatient.
There must be somewhere he should be. Something he should be doing. Something to keep him busy.
‘I need to see my brother. I have business at the palace.’ Tahir looked down in disgust at the hospital robe he wore. ‘If you want to be useful, bring me clothes.’
‘But, sire, you can’t—’
Tahir waved aside his protests, ignoring the sharp stab of pain through his chest at the movement. ‘Of course I can.’
‘You don’t understand, sire.’ The doctor stood his ground and reluctantly Tahir focused on him. ‘You need treatment and further observation. I can’t take responsibility for releasing you yet.’
‘I’ll take responsibility. Just hurry up with those clothes.’ Tahir forced himself to sit up and not sink back into the tempting comfort of the pillows. He felt absurdly weak.
‘But, si—’
‘And don’t call me sire,’ he snapped, ignoring the other man’s hand-wringing. ‘Just get me something to wear; that’s all I ask.’
‘Practising your fabled charm on the medical staff, little brother?’ A deep drawl from the doorway drew Tahir’s attention. He stiffened warily.
A tall man stood inside the door, his big frame suave in a hand-made Italian suit. His short black hair was brushed back severely and familiar ice-blue eyes surveyed Tahir.
After a moment Tahir saw the gleam of humour in his expression and the tension cramping his shoulders eased a fraction.
‘Rafiq!’ He hadn’t seen his family in eleven years. Not since his father had banished him. The potent shot of delight that surged through him was a complete surprise.
He’d been so busy getting on with life, pursuing pleasure and business in equal measure, he hadn’t let himself think about family. About resurrecting old ties. Even flying here he’d concentrated on the need to support his eldest brother, Kareef, as he ascended the throne, rather than on reviving personal relationships.
But the feel of Rafiq’s solid hand gripping his, his other palm at Tahir’s shoulder, as if to make sure he was actually there, evoked a blast of unexpected emotions.
‘You’re really here,’ Rafiq said, his sombre expression transforming with a grin of real pleasure. ‘Air control got your mayday, but there was interference and they misheard your coordinates and identification. They’d been searching the sea.’ He shook his head. ‘Why am I not surprised to hear you came out of the desert instead?’
Tahir felt an answering smile tug at his lips. He hadn’t allowed himself to think what sort of welcome the family would extend to the prodigal son, but he hadn’t expected genuine warmth.
He returned Rafiq’s grip with his own.
When he was a kid Rafiq and Kareef had been his role models. He’d striven to be as quick and as strong and as clever as they were. Particularly Rafiq, their father’s favourite. But where Rafiq had been able to do little wrong in Yazan Al’Ramiz’s eyes, Tahir had done nothing right. The unfairness of it had haunted him.
For a while Tahir had resented Rafiq bitterly, until he’d realised his brother had nothing to do with their father’s favouritism. Or his frightening rages. In fact Rafiq had done his best to protect his little brother.
‘You know I was always the contrary one,’ Tahir murmured.
Rafiq shook his head. ‘You were always a survivor. And I’m glad.’ He nodded a dismissal to the hovering doctor, then pulled up a chair and sat, surveying Tahir with mingled amusement and consternation. ‘You’ve been incredibly lucky, you know.’
‘I know.’ Even now, after days drinking all the fluids Annalisa had insisted on, he could taste the desert sand in his mouth. The flavour of death.
He’d been far luckier than he deserved.
Rafiq’s grin faded. ‘Do us all a favour, Tahir, and stay here. You need to recuperate.’ He shook his head. ‘You’ve got broken ribs and severe bruising, possible concussion, plus what the doctors warn is a severe chest infection. They say you’re not in a good way. In fact they seem to think you’re not as fit as you should be even without the injuries from the accident.’
Tahir shrugged. ‘I’ve never cosseted myself.’ And lately, as the darkness had closed around him more often and more swiftly, he’d pushed himself to the limits, seeking new thrills. He’d been careless of his health.
‘Well, for pity’s sake do it now. Just this once. Our mother has been frantic.’
Tahir’s eyes widened. ‘Our mother?’
Of all the people he’d left behind in Qusay she was the one who’d weighed heavily on his conscience. Before his exile he’d tried to convince her to leave with him, lest Yazan Al’Ramiz turn his violence on her once he didn’t have his scapegoat son to vent his anger on.
But she’d refused to see him, refused to take his calls. At first he’d thought it was fear of her husband that prompted her. But even after he’d left the country she’d wanted nothing to do with him. His calls and e-mails had gone unanswered. He’d assumed he’d alienated her too.
‘You must be mistaken.’
Rafiq looked at him keenly. ‘No mistake. She’s been here since you were admitted, sitting by your bedside. She’s only just left.’
Tahir remembered the comfort of a feminine hand soothing his brow and stroking his hand. He’d dreamed it was Annalisa.
Was it possible his mother, the woman who’d cut off all ties with him, was the one whose touch he’d felt?
It seemed preposterous. Yet Rafiq’s concerned expression was real. Tahir frowned, trying to make sense of the impossible.
‘I’m not imagining you, am I?’ He’d suffered enough delirium in the last few days.
Rafiq huffed with laughter and settled more easily in his chair. ‘Am I that ugly?’
Tahir’s mouth pulled in a one-sided smile. ‘You expect me to answer that?’ He waved a hand in a gesture that encompassed the hospital room. ‘This is just a bit much to absorb. And what’s with these royal titles? “Sire” and “Your Highness” and so on?’
‘Ah. I’m glad you mentioned that.’ Rafiq leaned forward in his chair, his face suddenly serious. ‘There’s been a complication.’
‘That’s what Kareef said when he told me our cousin is no longer King of Qusay and that he would be taking the crown.’ He watched Rafiq steeple his fingers and felt premonition spider its way down his spine. Something was wrong.
‘Kareef has renounced the throne.’
‘He’s done what?’
‘He and Jasmine… You remember Jasmine?’
Tahir nodded. His eldest brother had been besotted by her when he was eighteen.
‘He’s given up the throne to marry her and they’ve gone back to Qais to live.’ At Tahir’s stare he continued. ‘Jasmine can’t have children, and Kareef knows it’s the King’s duty to produce an heir.’ He shrugged. ‘You know how seriously he takes matters of duty.’
Tahir sank back against his pillows, absorbing this astonishing news. ‘Looks like you’ve got a change of lifestyle ahead of you, big brother.’ He’d seen a few articles about Rafiq’s phenomenal business success in Australia. ‘You’ll have to move back here permanently. When do you take up the role of monarch?’
Rafiq paused before replying. He paused long enough to make Tahir frown again. That inkling of something wrong was back again, stronger than ever.
‘That’s one of the things I need to talk to you about.’ There was no laughter lurking in his eyes now. ‘I’m refusing the crown too, and moving back to Australia. Giving up the crown for love seems to be a family trait.’
‘I don’t believe it.’ What sort of mess had he walked into?
‘Believe it, Tahir. And as for the reason the doctor keeps calling you sire…? That would be because you’re now King of Qusay.’