Kept for the Sheikh's Pleasure Page 5

  “Will you let me excavate the temples now?” she threw into the air between them. Because he’d won, hadn’t he? Because she was an idiot, and because she still loved him in spite of everything, and because she was suddenly so insecure that she had to lash out to protect herself.

  His shoulders stiffened, and she wished with all her heart she could take it back. But words once spoken were out there, hanging in the air, and she could no more call them back than she could undo what they’d just done together.

  Zafir turned, his trousers zipped again, his gaze as hard and cold as marble. He let his eyes wander over her lazily, insultingly. She pushed herself to a sitting position and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “You were good, Genie. But not that good.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  HE’D lied. Zafir lay in bed, staring up at the ornately carved wooden canopy, and listened to the soft breathing of the woman beside him. He’d told her she wasn’t that good, but the truth was he’d been so hot for her that he’d been unable to make the trek to the bedroom the first time.

  He’d wanted her so much that having her then and there, in the courtyard, had seemed the only way to assuage the heat boiling inside him.

  Except that it hadn’t. It had only made the need worse.

  She might have had sex with him for the temples, but he’d done it because he could not do otherwise.

  But Genie Gray had certainly not lost sight of what she wanted, and that made him angry.

  He had no right to be angry with her. He was the one, after all, who’d suggested that the only way to win the commission was to sleep with him. He’d wanted to punish her, and he’d ended up punishing himself.

  She’d pretended to be insulted, but she hadn’t resisted when he’d carried her into the bedroom and made love to her again. No, she’d melted beneath him, her body as soft and welcoming as it had always been. Her body was paradise, and he lost himself in it.

  They’d fallen asleep much later, exhausted, but now that he’d awakened again he couldn’t get back to sleep.

  What was it about her that made him so crazy? That made him feel as if he’d come home after a very long time away?

  It had to be the connection to the past, to a simpler life. But this need was only temporary. Though he wanted Genie more than he could remember wanting any woman he’d ever been with, there was no future in it.

  Soon he would have to let her go.

  *

  The light slanting through the curtains and across the bed was not the light of early morning. Genie blinked and sat up. Muscles she’d forgotten she had ached. Zafir had been intense last night, making love to her as if it was the first and last night he would ever do so.

  The thought gave her a chill. She’d loved every moment of it, even if he had told her she wasn’t that good. She’d been hurt at first, but she’d quickly recognized that he was lashing out at her. Just as she’d done when she’d asked if he would now give her the commission.

  They’d gotten past that very quickly—at least physically. But now Zafir was gone and she wasn’t certain what to do. Even if she did manage to find the dress and put it back on, she wasn’t sure she would remember how to find the harem. And she definitely didn’t want to run into anyone in the passageways.

  “As-saalamu ’alaykum, madam.”

  Genie’s head snapped up to find Yusuf patiently standing in the entry. He didn’t seem at all flustered by her appearance in his king’s bed, though she could feel the heat of a blush all the way to the roots of her hair. The problem with being a fair-skinned redhead was the ease with which she turned pink, she thought.

  She returned the ritual greeting and waited.

  “His Majesty bade me bring you clothing, madam. You will find a selection of items in His Majesty’s bath chamber. If you would care to dress, I will bring you something to eat in half an hour.”

  “Thank you,” Genie said, and the old man bowed and disappeared again. She waited a full five minutes before she got out of bed—stark naked—and raced into the bathroom.

  When she emerged again, showered and dressed in a silk pantsuit and ballet flats, she didn’t expect to find Zafir waiting for her. Her heart did a little flip at the sight of him. He was once again dressed in traditional robes and headdress, and the sight of him literally took her breath away.

  “You slept well?” he asked.

  “Yes. And you?”

  His grin was sudden. Wicked. “I was quite exhausted, I assure you. Thank you for a most pleasurable evening.”

  A most pleasurable evening.

  She didn’t like the way that sounded—as if she were someone who got paid to provide a service. But then, here in this place Zafir was far more formal than she remembered him ever being when they were at university.

  Perhaps that was all it was.

  “And how are your negotiations with the Sheikhs going?” she asked, wanting to change the subject before she mentally undressed Zafir and climbed on top of him.

  “Eager to leave?” he said, his eyes growing shadowed.

  “You know I want to go back to my dig, but that’s not why I asked.”

  “Isn’t it?” He shrugged and walked toward the small table that she only now noticed was set with plates and food. “Come, eat. And after this I will take you to the temples.”

  She joined him at the table, keeping her gaze from his while he once more dished out food for her. “I asked about the Sheikhs because I wanted to know,” she said when he’d finished. “It seems a dangerous situation, and I hope you are able to end the hostility.”

  He sighed. His eyes, she noted, were troubled.

  “I am working on it. In the old days I could have had them both executed. But times have fortunately progressed—even if I have often missed having that kind of absolute power while dealing with these two old fools. They grumble, but they will fall in line.”

  She had the distinct feeling there was something he wasn’t telling her. “This isn’t at all what you wanted to do, is it? Be a king, I mean?”

  “It was not my choice to make.”

  “But if it had been?”

  His dark gaze was sharp, assessing. “I would still be a Prince of Bah’shar, Genie. And I would still have duties to my nation.”

  And she would still be Geneva Gray, a girl who’d had to work hard for every opportunity she’d ever had. She speared a piece of mango with her fork. “I guess we can’t ever change who we really are.”

  “No.” He looked thoughtful. “But who are you inside, Genie? What can’t you change?”

  She swallowed. Who was she inside? She’d thought about it a lot lately, especially since coming here. “I suppose the greatest constant in my life was uncertainty.”

  Uncertainty over whether her father would come visit, whether her mother would make it to her school play or drop everything to be with the man she loved. Would Genie have to stand on the school steps long after the other kids had gone home and wait because her mother had forgotten again?

  “I need control of my life. I get nervous when I’m not in control.”

  “Your parents were divorced,” Zafir said, as if it explained everything.

  Genie gritted her teeth. Why not tell him the truth? Why not let him see how devastating his revelation about an arranged marriage had been to her?

  “That was a lie,” she said, lifting her chin. “A fiction I made up in order to keep from telling anyone the awful truth.”

  “And what was the truth?”

  She glared at him. “My mother had a decade-long affair with my father, a married man. He set her up in an apartment and came to visit us whenever he could get away from his real family.”

  Zafir looked stunned. “You never told me this before.”

  “Would it have made a difference?” she tossed at him, the old anger of her childhood and the disappointment of her relationship with Zafir mingling into an acid stew inside her. “When my father tired of us he had no problem walking away. My
mother was too depressed to go after him for child support. She took odd jobs to make ends meet, and there were times we went without heat or groceries because she barely had enough to pay the rent.”

  “I am sorry—”

  “Yes, well, you can certainly understand why I wasn’t prepared to put myself in the same position.”

  “I would have never abandoned you, habiba,” he said fiercely.

  “I imagine that’s what my father said too.”

  Zafir came and sank onto a chair close by, tossing one end of his headdress over his shoulder with a practiced movement that was too sexy for words.

  Sexy? Genie looked away, studied the food on her plate. How on earth could she find him sexy at a time like this?

  “I would change the past if I could,” he said, “but what I asked of you was not an insult in my world. I would not have forced you to stay with me once the marriage finally took place.”

  Genie tossed her fork aside. Now, why did that knowledge sting? “Very noble of you, Zafir.”

  She shoved to her feet before she lost her mind. She’d have never agreed to be a mistress, no matter what. But isn’t that what you were, Genie, considering he always intended to marry another?

  She pressed two fingers on either side of her forehead to stem the rising headache. “Look, can we just stop talking about this and get to the temples?”

  “We will go soon. You need to finish eating.”

  “I’m not hungry. And I don’t need your pity,” she practically growled.

  Zafir stood, his tall form suddenly towering over her. He was all formality once more, his robe draped over one arm, his eyes glittering dark and hot as he stared at her.

  “As you wish, habiba.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE Temples of Al-Shahar were millennia old. The foundations were ancient, though the temples in their current form were only about a thousand years old. The one temple still standing bore the soaring arches and mosaic work typical of the early Islamic period. The others were in various states of ruin, but they were all an archaeologist’s dream. At the very least her team would be busy here for months. In truth, they could stay for years.

  Genie walked through the structure, hands in pockets, her mind not quite as engaged as it should be for something so exciting.

  Zafir was somewhere behind her, his footfalls distinct in the shadowy interior. His ever-present bodyguards had fanned out to guard the perimeter while they came inside alone. It seemed to her he’d gathered more security since yesterday. She’d asked about it, but he had shrugged the question off.

  They’d hardly spoken since lunch. What was there to say?

  She’d told him one of the darkest, most painful secrets of her life, and now she regretted it. Because he felt sorry for her. In Bah’shar, it seemed as if a man could have more than one family and no one thought anything of it. Not the women, not the children, and certainly not the men.

  But her father had mostly ignored her existence, except for the occasional inquiry into her grades, or the awkward acceptance of a childish drawing that she’d used to believe he took home and put on the refrigerator. Now she realized he must have thrown them all out. His wife wouldn’t have wanted to know anything about the woman and child he kept across town.

  One day he’d finally walked out for good. She’d never known why.

  Zafir passed her line of sight and she studied him from beneath the brim of her hat. She should be studying the temple, but she couldn’t stop thinking about their lives together before. She replayed the kisses, the caresses, the early-morning walks, the late-night lovemaking, the look in his eyes when they’d been together—everything she could think of. How had she not realized it was only temporary?

  Because it had felt like so much more. She wasn’t wrong about that. She couldn’t be.

  But was that what her mother had thought too? Was that what had made her stay with a man who could never be hers, who’d kept her in a cage and expected her to be available whenever he wanted her?

  She’d done this before, after they’d broken it off, and she was angry that she was suddenly being forced to reexamine the past after all this time. He’d accused her of needing her work more than she needed him, but it was so much more than that. Perhaps he finally realized it too.

  Zafir was standing in the middle of a room, gazing down at the ruins of a mosaic on the floor. “There is much to be done here, yes?” he said, looking up and catching her staring at him.

  Genie refused to look away. To do so would be to admit she’d been thinking of him and not of her work. That he’d caught her in an unguarded moment. Clearly he wasn’t as tormented by thoughts of the past as she was. He’d been thinking about the temple.

  “It’s an extraordinary place,” she said, all business. “I believe the work could take a very long time. But I also think it’s a good decision to allow excavation here, even if you choose someone else to do it. This is an important site, and it should not be forgotten.”

  He speared her with a determined look. “I do not intend to choose someone else.”

  “I won’t let you down if you give this to me.”

  “I know. It is why I made the deal in the first place.”

  Genie bit her lip. Whether he believed her or not, she had to say it. “I slept with you because I wanted to, not for the temples.”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not. The commission is yours.”

  She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. She’d been feeling wounded and hurt, and now he’d managed to put her on the defensive. How did he do that? “Zafir, do you believe me or not?”

  He strode toward her, stopping in a swirl of robes and dust. He looked suddenly angry. “Does it matter? You have got what you want.”

  She swallowed as she gazed up at him, all six-foot-something of hard, arrogant male. He made her body ache just looking at him. Ridiculous the way her heart pounded. “I have never been dishonest with you, Zafir.”

  “Outright? No. But omission is still a form of dishonesty. You never told me what happened between your parents.”

  How dared he turn this around? He was the one at fault, not her. “What good would it have done? Besides, you were dishonest with me first.”

  “We were dishonest with each other.”

  The thought stung, and yet it wasn’t the same thing at all. “Why do we keep rehashing the past? It changes nothing. You still intended to marry a woman your father chose.”

  “I was obligated, Genie.”

  She slashed a hand through the air. “I know that, and I’m done talking about it.”

  He caught her close, gripping her upper arms hard. “You were important to me, whether you believe it or not. And you have no idea what it is like not getting to make your own choices in life. No one has ever told you that you are required to give up everything you want for the greater good of your country.”

  Genie jerked free from his grip. She didn’t fool herself that she was what he’d had to give up. “Maybe not, but do you think my life was any easier? You were born into privilege and accustomed to having the world at your fingertips. I had to work hard for every opportunity I ever got.” She took a step backward, putting distance between them, her body shaking with adrenaline and fury. “What would you know about sacrifice? You wanted me to sacrifice everything to be with you, yet you weren’t prepared to sacrifice a thing!”

  The words echoed through the empty temple. Zafir’s gaze was hard, his nostrils flaring as they stared each other down. His voice, when he finally answered, was deadly cold. “You will never know what I’ve sacrificed. Do not presume to tell me I have no idea what the word means.”

  Genie pulled in a shaky breath. Why did she get so emotional? Why did she let him press her buttons and make her so defensive? Her life had been upside down since the minute she’d walked into that tent and seen him sitting on the dais. And she was having a hell of a time getting it right again.

  Zafir glanced at his watch,
dismissing her as easily as he might one of his subjects. “If you are finished here, it’s time we returned to the palace.”

  Before she could answer, he simply turned in a sweep of robes and headed toward the entrance.

  *

  He was furious. Furious with the woman sitting so quietly beside him in the car, and furious that he was allowing her to get to him when he had far more important things to think about.

  Just this morning there’d been another threat to his life. He wasn’t worried. His security was tight and, besides, he knew there was always a certain level of disgruntlement to be expected when a new leader took office. The threats were vague, written on plain stationery and posted in Al-Shahar. The royal police were investigating, and Zafir had every confidence they would soon find the culprit.

  At least one situation in his life required definite steps to take and had a resolution in sight. For that he was thankful.

  But how did one correct a situation based on strong emotion and cultural differences? If he’d known about Genie’s childhood, would it have changed his actions?

  Probably. Because he would have understood how painful it was to her, and would have realized how different their worlds were. He’d asked her to give up her schooling and come to Bah’shar for what amounted to nothing more than an affair.

  And he’d done it for selfish reasons, which made him furious with himself. She’d filled the emptiness inside him and he’d been reluctant to give that up. And, he admitted to himself, he’d hoped that once she reached Bah’shar, once they’d been together for a while, even his marriage to a princess wouldn’t prevent Genie from staying as his lover.

  He’d offered her nothing and expected her to give up everything, just like she’d said.

  Worse, he wanted to do it again.

  When they reached the palace, he left her in the care of Yusuf and turned his attention to the Sheikhs. It was time to reach a solution. And, after that, time to let Genie Gray walk out of his life for the second time.