The Royal House of Karedes: The Desert Throne: Tamed: The Barbarian King / Forbidden: The Sheikh's Virgin / Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child

He gave a hoarse intake of breath. “Is it possible you could forgive me?” he whispered, searching her gaze. His blue eyes were deep and endless as the sea.

She stroked his cheek with her hand. Tears filled her eyes. “How could I blame you? You were…have always been—” my only love, her voice choked “—my dearest friend.”

She heard his ragged breath, felt the pounding of his heart against hers. His body was hot. His skin smelled of musk and sun and sand.

He looked down at her, and his gaze suddenly burned through her, stretching every nerve from her fingertips to her toes in taut anticipation as she heard the howl of the darkness outside. “And you are mine.”

Lowering his head, he kissed her.

Hidden in this cave, hidden far from the outside world and protected from the outside storm, he kissed her as if nothing and no one else existed. He pressed her against the smooth red rock wall of the cave, and she kissed him back fervently, her heart on her lips.

He abruptly pulled away from her. She blinked at him in the flickering firelight, dazed. His eyes were dark with need. Her lips felt swollen and bruised from the ferocity of his kisses—almost as bruised as her healing heart.

With a growl, he lifted her up into his arms, holding her against his hard chest as if she weighed nothing at all. She stared up at him, breathless, mesmerized by his brutal strength. She could hear the howl of the wind whipping sand outside, hear the whinny of the stallion. The small fire flickered shadowy firelight against the smooth red rock of the cave.

They were safe here. They were warm. They were together.

He lowered her gently to the blanket, then pulled off his white shirt and black pants and shoes. She gazed at his naked body in wonder as he stood before her. The muscles of his tanned body glistened in the twisting firelight.

Kneeling in front of her on the blanket, he slowly pulled off her panties beneath her dress, drawing them down her legs.

Then, with a wicked half smile, he tossed them into the fire.

“What?” she spluttered, staring at the white cotton fabric now burning beside the charred wood. “What did you do that for?”

He lifted a black eyebrow, giving her a dark look that curled her toes. “We needed fuel for the fire,” he whispered.

But a fire was already burning inside Jasmine, burning right through her, consuming her whole. He pulled her down into his lap, pulling her white skirt up to her hips. She was naked against him as he slid his hardness against her, rocking back and forth against her wet core. He leaned up to kiss her.

Hot. Hot. She was burning up, turning to ash and flame.

“Take off my dress,” she whispered. “Take it off.”

“You,” he repeated approvingly, sliding his hands over her breasts as he nipped little kisses up her neck, “are a wanton.”

With a tug, he pulled the white cotton dress up and over her shoulders and threw it down on the earth. She sat in his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist. She looked down at their naked intertwined bodies in the firelight. As he started to move against her, the soft sound of her gasps soon matched the cries of the wind outside.

The tension coiled low in her belly as he slid over her. Pleasure built inside her and then, suddenly, he lifted her up and impaled her with a single deep thrust. She gasped at the depth of his penetration.

He hadn’t just filled her body. He filled her soul.

She gripped his shoulders and let the ecstasy build inside her, higher and higher. Even when the euphoria finally ripped her to shreds, exploding her into pieces, she kept her secret hidden inside.

I love you.

I will always love you.

She couldn’t speak the words. She knew they changed nothing.

CHAPTER EIGHT

FOR an instant Kareef was afraid he’d hurt her. Then she moaned, swaying against him, tightening her legs around his waist as he filled her.

He gasped at that movement, at the way her full breasts brushed against his chest. Then he pushed her down again, thrusting inside her, filling her so deeply a growl escaped the back of his throat.

Firelight cast shadows over her beautiful face, her full, swollen lips, and the long dark eyelashes tightly closed in an expression of joy. Watching her, he held his breath with the effort it took to hold himself back.

He was inside her, but she was the one who filled him.

Jasmine. Her beauty. Her boundless sensuality. She swayed against him with the decadent grace of a houri. Beads of sweat were like clear pearls on her white, swanlike neck as she leaned back, gasping. The veil of her dark, glossy hair cascaded down her back, swinging back and forth as she kept her eyes closed, panting for breath.

Lifting her head with his hand, he kissed her. She gasped her pleasure against his mouth, gripping his shoulders, biting into his flesh with her fingernails, marking him in her own act of possession.

The force of his taking was primal—unstoppable. He heard her cry out and could hold back no longer. He gripped her against his body as he poured himself into her with a shout.

He collapsed back on the red blanket, holding her against him. He did not know when he woke. She was still sleeping in his arms.

They were both naked. The fire was dying. The night was growing cold, the darkness growing around them.

He felt her shiver. He looked down at her face. She was sleeping, her cheek pressed against his chest. Her beauty went beyond her dark hair or perfect pink lips. It went deeper than her pale skin with roses in her cheeks.

Even after all the times he’d made love to her, he did not feel satiated. And he was starting to fear he never would be.

He did not want to divorce her.

Silently, Kareef withdrew himself from beneath her body and rose to his feet. Crossing the cave, he pulled a second blanket from the horse’s pack. Crawling back beside her, he covered them both with it, wrapping her in his arms. He knew, even in sleep, he would not let her go.

Growing drowsy, he looked down at her sleeping against him. He wanted her like this every night. In his bed. At his table. On his arm. Charming diplomats with her beauty. Dancing in his arms.

With her beauty and gentle grace, Jasmine would be the perfect queen. But…

His jaw tightened as he stared at the dying fire.

He still had to divorce her. He had to provide an heir of the blood. The Al’Ramizes had reigned Qusay for a thousand years. His cousin Xavian had given up the throne when he’d learned he was a changeling, a substitute for a lost Al’Ramiz child.

Blood meant everything. It gave the Al’Ramiz men the right to rule. Not just the right—the obligation. And Jasmine could never become pregnant with his child.

His throat became tight. He looked away, staring at the bumps and rocks of scattered earth illuminated by the fading embers of the fire. Outside, he could hear the rattle of the sand against the solid rocks of the cliffs, hear the wind wailing in disappointed fury as it slowly died.

He slept fitfully, holding her tight.

“Kareef.” Her naked body stirred in his arms. “Are you awake?”

Her voice was like a dream, full of sweet warmth, offering such peace. He slowly opened his eyes.

At the mouth of the cave, above the piles of new sand, he saw the gray light of dawn creeping over the western mountains. The wind had died down. The desert was calm. He could hear the plaintive sound of morning birds, hear the soft whinny of the stallion hungry for breakfast.

It was morning. The storm was over.

Their time was over.

Unwillingly, he turned to Jasmine. Her face was like cool water, a balm to his spirit. Her brown eyes reflected deep pools of light. But it only made the pain worse.

He did not want to let her go.

“It’s barely dawn,” he lied softly. His arms tightened around her. “Go back to sleep.”

For a moment, she rested against him, and silence fell in the cool darkness of the cave. Then she shifted in his arms and her head popped up to look down at him. “Do you think your men are looking for us?”

“Yes,” he said. “They will be here soon.”

He heard her intake of breath, felt her pull away from him on the blanket. When she spoke, her voice was curiously flat. “Then it’s time.”

“Time?”

“Time for you to divorce me.”

He looked up at her. Her expression had turned to stone, the pools of light shuttered and gone. She glanced over at the black fabric now crumpled on the other side of the cave.

“I know you have the emerald,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, his jaw tight. “I brought it with me.”

“So eager to be rid of me?”

“I promised to set you free.”

She lifted her chin, her expression a mixture of bravado and pain. “So do it.”

Kareef’s hands tightened into fists.

Jasmine was right. It was time. The storm was over, and his men were no doubt grimly combing the desert. Soon, they’d be found, and Kareef would return to Shafar. Back to the royal palace, back to his endless duties. He would be hosting a royal banquet tonight.

Then, tomorrow, he would attend the Qais Cup. And witness the wedding of Jasmine Kouri to Umar Hajjar.

It was dawn. The magic was over.

“Kareef?” Jasmine looked at him, her eyes swimming with misery.

She felt the same as he did, he realized. She did not want this divorce.

The knowledge flooded him with sudden strength.

So he would not give her up. Not yet. He wasn’t done with her yet.

“No,” he growled. “I won’t speak the words yet.”

“But Kareef,” she choked out, “you know you must!”

“Must?” He sat up. His shoulders straightened as his whole body became as unyielding as steel. He looked down at her, as selfish and ruthless and harsh as any ancient sultan.

“There is no must,” he growled, lifting his chin as his eyes glittered down at her. “I’m the king of Qusay. And until I release you, you belong to me.”

You belong to me.

Jasmine shivered at the words. She could not deny them. She did belong to Kareef. She always had, body and soul.

But he was king of Qusay. He could not keep a barren woman as his bride. And she couldn’t openly remain his mistress. Such a scandal would make the one thirteen years ago seem like nothing.

Jasmine closed her eyes with a shuddering breath. She’d returned to Qusay to help her family, not ruin them again! And how could she stab Umar in the heart with such a public humiliation, after everything he’d done for her?

They had to divorce. They had to part. There was no other way. If she allowed herself to be with Kareef as she wished—if she allowed herself to be selfish—it would destroy everyone she loved. She looked up at Kareef.

Already, a team of his bodyguards was searching, no doubt panicked that their king had disappeared in the sandstorm.

Was that a helicopter she heard in the distance now?

No, she told herself frantically. Not yet!

But she had to face the hard truth. Their sweet, stolen time was over.

Pushing away from Kareef’s warmth, she rose numbly to her feet. It was too late for her panties—they’d been annihilated in the fire—but she pulled on her white cotton bra, which she found on the floor of the cave.

“You don’t need that,” Kareef said, lying back against the blanket. “We have hours yet. It’s barely dawn.”

She didn’t answer.

Kareef pushed himself up on one elbow. “Jasmine.”

She didn’t look back. She was afraid if she looked into the basilisk intensity of his gaze, she would be caught by his magic once again and lose her own ability to do what must be done. Even now, her body shook with the effort of defying him—and worse, defying her own deepest longings.

She found the white cotton dress, now dirty and with tiny rips in the eyelet lace, crumpled behind a rock. It seemed eons since he’d pulled it off her body.

So much had happened since then. Entire worlds had changed.

She felt his gaze, but wouldn’t turn to meet his eyes.

Naked, he sprang lightly to his feet, like a warrior. Taking her in his arms, he forced her to turn around and meet his gaze. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She swallowed. “Thank you for these beautiful days in the desert,” she whispered, feeling like her heart was splitting, bleeding in her chest. “I will never forget them.”

“Our time is not over.”

Trembling, Jasmine closed her eyes. It would be easier to say this if she didn’t have to look at his beautifully masculine face, at his sensual mouth, at his eyes of endless blue. He took her heart apart in his gaze.

“It is over,” she whispered. “We are over.”

She felt his shock. Felt his hands go slack before he tightened his grip painfully around her. “Look at me.”

She wouldn’t.

“Look at me!”

Compelled to obey, she opened her eyes.

His face was dark with fury.

“You are mine, Jasmine. For as long as I want you.”

Her throat went dry. How she wished it could be true, wished she could be his forever—or for even one more night!

“How?” she replied hoarsely. “How can I be yours, Kareef?”

His eyes darkened and cooled until they were like a thousand storms over the Arctic Sea. “You bound yourself to me long ago.”

“Kareef—”

“You will not marry him tomorrow. It is too soon!”

Her tortured eyes flickered up at him. “What would you have me do, then? Desert Umar at the altar? Be your mistress? Leave my family to their ruin?”

His jaw clenched. “We could keep our affair a secret—”

“There’s no such thing at the palace!” she cried. “Here in the desert, perhaps, with only your trusted servants, we could keep it quiet for a short while. But you know as well as I do that there are no secrets at the royal palace. There’s likely gossip about us already. I’ve already caused my family so much pain, and now my little sister is pregnant. How could my parents ever hold up their heads in the street, if I let myself be branded as your whore?”

Air hissed through his teeth.

“No one would call you that,” he raged. “You would be respected as my…as my—”

“As your what? As your wife? We cannot remain married. You know we cannot!”

His eyes glittered down at her. “I can do as I please. I am the king.”

She heard a distant helicopter, a deep flick-flick-flick high above the desert, and this time there could be no doubt. Shaking her head, she gave a harsh laugh.

“For a man with your sense of honor,” she said, fighting back tears, “that makes you less free than the lowliest servant in your palace.”

“Jasmine…”

“No!” she shouted. “I cannot back out of my engagement. Umar would be humiliated. My family’s reputation would be destroyed. First my scandal, then Nima’s pregnancy—my parents would never be able to leave their house again!”

“Why do you even care, after the way they’ve treated you?”

“Because I love them. Because—” she lifted her head as tears filled her eyes “—they are the only family I’ll ever have. They, and Umar and his children. I cannot be the cause of their ruin by becoming your whore!”

“Don’t use that word! I would kill any man who called you that!”

“All of them?” Her throat tightened as a hoarse laugh escaped her. “You would kill your own subjects for speaking the truth?”

His hands clenched her shoulders. “It’s not the truth, and you know it!”

She briefly closed her eyes, trying to regain her strength, to catch her breath. “What else would you call an engaged woman who’s done what I’ve done with you?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re my wife.”

“Let me go, Kareef,” she whispered. “Set me free.”

He looked down at her, his eyes full of an impetuous mixture of autocratic male possessiveness and emotion that struck her to the heart. “I can protect you, Jasmine.”

“How?” she whispered, then shook her head. “Even you cannot work miracles—”

“It’s a miracle you’re here with me now.” Cupping her face, he looked down at her. “And I will not let you go. Not yet.”

She felt his rough fingertips against her skin. Felt his naked body, so warm and hard and fierce against hers. Felt how much he desired her. Felt the power of his savage strength as he lowered his mouth to hers.

His lips moved against hers with deep, exquisite tenderness. Persuading her. Mastering her, not just with his sensual power, but with the ache of her own body and heart.

When he finally released her, a low sigh rose from her throat. She gazed up at him, this man she loved, feeling dazed and warm, drenched by the soft sunlight of his nearness.

His kiss had conquered her as a thousand words could not.

Exhaling, he pulled her back against his bare chest, stroking her hair as he felt her surrender. “You’re mine, Jasmine,” he murmured into her hair, almost too softly for her to hear. “As I am yours.”

Distantly, a voice cried inside her that he wasn’t hers—that he could never be hers, not anymore. And that by going back to Shafar with him as his secret mistress, she’d be risking everything she held precious—everyone she loved.

But she could not let him go. Not yet. Not yet!

She closed her eyes as he held her in her arms. Let the future come as it will, she thought. Somehow, they could find a way to be together just for a little while longer without hurting anyone. Couldn’t they?

The helicopter was very loud now. She saw the swirl of sand outside the cave turn by the force of its rotor blades as it landed on the nearby plateau.

Jasmine pulled back with sudden alarm. “Get dressed. We can’t let your men find you naked…alone with me!”

He snorted a laugh. “That would be a most unexpected sight for them, wouldn’t it?”

Picking up his clothes from the ground, she shoved them into his arms. “Get dressed!”

He smiled down at her, and she couldn’t help smiling back. For one instant time hung between them, breathless with the anticipation of endless future joys.

Then she heard his men shouting, heard the pounding of machines against the earth. Heard a rush of heavy footsteps coming toward the cave, growing louder.

Sighing beneath her anxious, pleading gaze, he moved with rapid military precision, stepping into his boxers and black pants. As he pulled on his shirt, she peeked one last look at his handsome physique and marveled that she was the only woman who’d ever experienced the incredible pleasure of being in his bed. How was it possible? How was she so blessed?

She thought again of the reverent, hot, tender way he’d touched her in the night. And in the day…

“Sire? Sire!”

Kareef’s chief bodyguard peered over the piled sand at the mouth of the cave, then fell to his knee in gratitude and relief. Behind him were a dozen men, geared up as if for battle. “God be praised! That blasted mare returned riderless right before the storm hit the house. We thought…We feared…”

Buttoning his ragged white shirt, Kareef stood before them, tall and proud. He looked every inch a king.

“We are safe, Faruq. Miss Kouri and I were riding when we were caught in the storm and took shelter here. Thank you for finding us.” He gestured at the black stallion tied to the rock. “Please see Tayyib is cared for. He bore us well.”

“Yes, sire.”

“And my people? My home?”

“No injuries,” the bodyguard replied. “Little damage. A great deal of sand. We brought a doctor for you just in case.”

“I am unhurt. He will check Miss Kouri for injury.”

Faruq glanced at her uneasily, then bowed and backed away. She felt the other bodyguards giving her sideways glances, and her face grew hot.

“The helicopter will return us to the royal palace immediately,” Kareef said. He turned to her, holding out his hand. “Miss Kouri?”

As Kareef escorted her out of the dark cave, lifting her back into the hot white sun, he smiled down at her. And all her sudden anxiety disappeared as if it had never been.

He led her to the waiting helicopter, and she smiled at him, trying to ignore the grim-faced bodyguards trailing behind. They would manage to keep their affair secret for one more day. One more precious day before Kareef would be forced to realize he had no choice but to divorce her, and they each parted to face the separate lives that fate had decreed for them.

One more day, she thought desperately. No one would be hurt by one more selfish day. A single day could feel like a lifetime.

Kareef would find a way to keep it secret. She’d never seen a secret kept at the palace, but he could find a way. He was magic. He was power.

He was king.

Kareef’s shoulders were tight as he stormed through the corridors of the royal palace, scattering assistants in his wake.

Every minute of his schedule since his return to the city had been meticulously dictated by five different assistants and undersecretaries working in conjunction, overseen by the vizier. The king’s duties were endless. Treaties to negotiate. False smiles under cloak of courtesy. Diplomacy. Politics. Saying one thing and meaning another. What did Kareef know of those?

He growled to himself. He was already learning far more than he’d ever wished.

He despised keeping Jasmine a secret.

She’d slept against his shoulder on the helicopter journey from the desert. He could still feel her, somehow still smell her intoxicating scent of oranges and cloves against his body, though he’d showered and changed out of his clothes and into white robes at the royal palace.

The moment he’d set foot back at the palace, he’d wanted to take her to his bedchamber; but she’d demurred, glancing at the endless secretaries and assistants waiting for him in the hallways. “Later,” she’d whispered, and with a sigh, he’d let her go. He’d told himself he’d be able to cut his meetings short and return soon to her little room in the servants’ wing.

That was ten hours ago. His elderly vizier, Akmal Al’Sayr, was still tearing his beard out at the days Kareef had missed. It seemed even being lost and halfpresumed dead in the desert wasn’t enough to excuse a monarch from his duty.

It was now twilight, and he hadn’t seen Jasmine since they’d arrived at the palace. His entire day had been wasted. A day devoted to cold duty in a palace full of hidden corridors and sly whispers of gossip.

His hands tightened. He hated all this secrecy. He had to convince her to give up the marriage. He would smooth things over with Hajjar somehow. Once she agreed to call off her wedding, Kareef would be willing to divorce her. When she agreed to be his longterm mistress.

How could my parents ever hold up their heads in the street, if I let myself be branded as your whore?

The word made him flinch. No. Damn it, no! If any man dared insult her, Kareef would throw him into the Byzantine dungeon beneath the palace. He would exile him to the desert without food or water. He would—

You would kill your own subjects for speaking the truth? He heard the echo of Jasmine’s whisper in the cave. Let me go. Set me free.

Clenching his jaw, he pushed the thought firmly from his mind. He would keep her as long as he desired her—whether that took ten years or fifty. He was young yet, only thirty-one. He would keep her for himself, and put off his own marriage as long as he could.

He quickened his pace down the hall, growling at any servant who dared to look his way.

Was Jasmine awake yet? he wondered. Was she naked beneath the sheets, with her dark hair mussed across the pillow? He felt rock-hard, aching for her. He went faster, almost breaking into a run.

“Sire, a word?”

In the hallway near the royal offices, he saw his vizier hovering in the doorway.