One Night with the Sheikh

He looked as if he could see right through her. “That is the only reason?”

“Isn’t that enough? And what other reason would there be?”

Now he appeared cynical. “Everyone is quite aware of Boutros Kassab’s reputation for suspect business arrangements and questionable connections.”

She would simply allow him to believe that rather than reveal the harsh reality—Boutros was a sadistic, uncaring lecher. “I was eighteen when we married, Rafiq. I had no involvement in his business dealings. I was only required to play the dutiful wife.”

He raised a brow. “In his bed?”

She hesitated slightly. “Do you wish me to lie and say no?”

“He is thirty years your senior. I hoped you would say he had little interest in anything of a carnal nature due to an inability to perform.”

Many nights she had wished that had only been the case, but it had not. “Boutros is a man, and men rarely lose interest in sex, no matter what their age.”

“Did he satisfy you, Maysa?”

She was momentarily stunned. “That is none of your concern.”

He streamed a fingertip down her cheek. “I am only curious if he knew how to please you. If he learned, as I did, how to make you tremble with need.”

She circled her arms around her middle as if that might afford her protection from his magnetic pull. From the memories. “Did Rima satisfy you, Rafiq? Or did you simply go to her for the sake of producing an heir?” The moment the words left her mouth, she silently cursed her thoughtlessness.

Rafiq reacted by turning away, crossing the room and moving to the window to stare at the mountains once more. She approached him slowly and rested a palm on his shoulder. “I am so sorry, Rafiq. I did not mean to be so unkind. I know how much you are hurting over the loss of your child. I also know that you did care very much for your wife, and you were a good husband to her. You would never ignore her needs.”

“And in doing so, I was forced to disregard what I needed most.”

“And that was?”

“You.”

Without warning, Rafiq spun around and crushed Maysa against him. He claimed her mouth with a vengeance, with a touch of desperation. And as she always had, she willingly accepted the kiss.

She hated that he could so easily mold her into a willing, wanton woman, but not quite enough to stop him. She despised herself for wanting to give in to the ever-present desire. To do so could lead to undeniable pleasure, and quite possibly disaster. He didn’t necessarily want her. He only wanted comfort wherever available, as it had been all those years ago. And that made her furious enough to recapture her common sense.

With all the strength she could muster, Maysa moved back, putting some much-needed distance between them. “How many women were there after me and prior to your marriage to Rima?”

Confusion crossed over his expression. “Why does that matter?”

“Perhaps you could call on one of them to provide the escape you so obviously need.”

His handsome features turned to stone. “You truly believe that is all you mean to me?”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Yes, I do. You’re only seeking a temporary diversion, and after you receive it, you will be gone again.”

“I seek the company of someone I trust. Someone I have always cared about.”

“If you truly cared about me, you would not have kissed me.”

“Perhaps the kiss was a mistake,” he said. “Perhaps I should not have come here.”

She released a disparaging laugh. “You’re right. It was a mistake. Someone could find out, and that would not go over well with the elders. I am a scorned woman, remember? A divorcée and to some, the equivalent of a harlot. And let us not forget you are the almighty king.”

“You have never been a harlot in my eyes,” he said adamantly. “And at times I wish to forget I am the king.”

The sudden dejection in his tone tugged at Maysa’s heartstrings. “It sounds as if you could use a sabbatical.”

“I have nowhere to go where I would be left alone.” He fixed his gaze firmly on hers as his lips curled into the familiar teasing smile. The one that had always crushed her determination. “Unless, of course, you would be willing to open your home to me. I would keep to myself. You would not know I am here.”

She would know he was there every moment of the day, whether in his presence or not. “I question the wisdom in that plan.”

He took her hands into his. “I only wish for time away from my responsibilities, and to become reacquainted with a friend.”

How very easy it would be to agree to his request, but... “You have no wish to become reacquainted in bed?”

“I would never ask anything of you that you are not willing to give.”

That alone presented a problem—she could find herself willing to give him everything, receiving nothing in return aside from nights of pleasure and more good memories to temporarily overcome the bad. He could also break her heart once more.

Maysa tugged out of his grasp and strolled around the room, all the while weighing the pros and cons. Then something suddenly occurred to her. She could use his presence to her advantage. She could finally show him that improvements to health care for the poor should be paramount during his reign. She could introduce him to exactly what his people endured in the face of illness. And she would do so while keeping her wits about her.

After all, the guest wing was far removed from her private suites, allowing them physical distance. Aside from that, she was a strong, independent woman. She had superb skills honed at the best medical facilities in the United States. She had survived and divorced a known tyrant. She could handle a king—or so she hoped.

On that thought, she faced Rafiq again, lifted her chin, and centered her gaze on his. “All right. You may stay.” When he began to speak, she held up a finger to silence him. “As long as you abide by my rules.”

He sent her a suspicious look. “What would these rules entail?”

“I prefer to reserve the details for later.” When she actually knew what they were.

“All right,” he said. “Is there anything else you require of me tonight?”

One response vaulted into her brain. An inappropriate response that she shoved aside. “Not at this time.”

Rafiq regarded his watch before bringing his attention back to her. “I must return to the palace now. We shall continue this discussion when I arrive tomorrow to begin my respite.”

Tomorrow? “I thought perhaps you would need more time to make arrangements.” Or to change his mind.

“I have complete control over when I stay or when I leave the palace. After all, I am—”

“The king. I know.” All too well. “I’ll see you out.”

They walked side by side to the door where Rafiq paused and regarded her earnestly. “I am forever in your debt, Maysa, and I assure you I will give you no cause to distrust my motives.”

That remained to be seen. “I’m pleased to know that. And I reserve the right to add conditions should your motives come into question.”

“I will strive to win back your trust. The way you once trusted me before our lives intruded on our relationship.”

Maysa wanted to believe him. More important, she wanted not to be so drawn to him. Wanted not to feel so lost when he looked at her as he looked at her now—with a heated gaze that traveled from her forehead to her mouth.

They stood for a few long moments, face-to-face, the tension as thick as the mountain mist. Maysa recognized that it would only take a slight move toward him before they found themselves lips to lips. Body to body.

She finally cleared her throat and stepped back before her resolve shattered. “Have a good night, King Mehdi. I will see you tomorrow.”

“I will be here before day’s end, Dr. Barad.”

The formality surprised Maysa and sounded false to her ears. Yet if that formality kept her grounded, she would avoid calling him by his given name. Avoid touching him altogether. Avoid any circumstance that could lead to risks neither could afford to take. But when he leaned and brushed a soft kiss across her cheek, and presented a soft, sensual smile, she worried danger could lurk around every corner when he returned to her home.

After Rafiq opened the door and strode out of the house toward the awaiting car, Maysa considered the first rule. An important rule that could save her from herself. “Rafiq,” she called before he could settle into the seat. “I have one more thing to say before you go.”

He turned with a wary look on his face. “You have reconsidered?”

She hadn’t, though she probably should. “No. I have thought of one rule that we both must follow.”

“And that is?”

“There will be no more kisses.”

He sent her a knowing smile before he slid into the car. And as Maysa watched the taillights disappear, she worried that King Rafiq Mehdi could convince her to break all the rules.

Two

No more kisses...

As Rafiq sat alone in his office, attempting to tie up loose ends, kissing Maysa remained foremost on his mind. Making love to her again did, as well. He could no more resist the fantasies than he could pick up the palace with his bare hands and move it down the mountainside.

“Have you mentally vacated the premises, brother?”

Rafiq glanced up from his desk to discover his youngest sibling standing before him, wearing his usual standard beige flight suit and mocking smile. “I am preoccupied by my duty.”

“Too preoccupied to speak with me, your most loyal supporter?”

Adan rarely supported anyone aside from himself. “Unless you have something important to say, you may return later.”

“I do have something of great importance to tell you,” Adan said as he claimed the opposing chair.

Frustrated over the intrusion, Rafiq tossed his pen aside and leaned back in his seat. “You have found yet another aircraft you are determined to add to our fleet.”

“No. I came to deliver a message.”

“From whom?”

“Maysa Barad.” Adan’s grin widened, as if privy to a secret. “She requests that you arrive before 6:00 p.m., and that you limit your guards if at all possible.”

He could only imagine where his brother’s thoughts had turned. “Duly noted. You may leave now.”

“Not until you explain why you are visiting Maysa, and why she would ask that you not bring along too many guards. Either she feels she does not pose a threat, or she wishes to make certain she has your undivided attention.”

“What business I have with Maysa is not your concern.”

“Perhaps, but I am curious.”

Rafiq resisted telling his brother what he could do with his curiosity, and his British accent. “If you must know, Maysa has agreed to allow me to take a brief respite in her home.”

Adan rubbed his chin. “I see. Will you be spending this respite in her bed?”

He was not at all surprised over the assumption, but he was angered by it. “Rest assured, I will not be attempting to bed her.” Though preventing that possibility would prove to be a great challenge.

Adan released a cynical laugh. “Ah, that is where we differ. I for one would give up flying before I would not take advantage of being alone with a beautiful woman in close confines. And you should consider doing the same.”

He felt the need to explain his resistance, whether Adan deserved an explanation or not. “First, I have only been widowed a short while—”

“To a woman you did not love.”

“A woman I had known for quite some time before she became my wife. No matter what you believe, I did care for Rima.”

“Yet not as much as you’ve always cared for Maysa.”

His patience was beginning to grow thin, frayed in part by the truth. “Maysa is only a friend who has agreed to accommodate my needs.”

“Which needs would those be, brother?” Adan asked.

“My intentions are honorable.” Though his thoughts and actions the previous evening had not been at all honorable.

“How honorable will you be while spending time with a friend who at one time fancied herself in love with you?”

He could not argue that point. “What Maysa and I shared in the past had more to do with camaraderie than with love.”

“Teenage lust, you mean. And that lust could quite possibly carry over into adulthood.”

He had spent most of the night considering it. “I am older and wiser. I have learned to maintain self-control.”

Adan presented a skeptic’s smile. “You are a Mehdi male, Rafiq, and self-control can and will escape you in the presence of a woman you have always desired. You are not made of steel.”

Rafiq folded his hands atop the desk and glared at his brother. “Do not project your lack of restraint on me. I have not made bedding women my favorite pastime.”

“I have not had as many women as you might believe,” Adan said. “And although you have practiced more discretion, I suspect you were not celibate during the time between your agreement to marry Rima and when you finally did wed her.”

That fact was not up for debate. “If you are finished delving into my private life, you may take your leave immediately.”

“Actually, I’m not quite finished. Did it disturb you that Rima was not a virgin when you wed her?”

Adan’s audacity made Rafiq’s blood boil. “Why would you assume this?”

“Are you denying it?”

Unfortunately, he could not. Yet he did question how Adan would know something so personal about Rima. He was tempted to ask, but he in turn feared the answer. “This topic is not up for discussion.”

“I only wanted to point out that Rima was not destined for sainthood,” Adan said. “Neither are you. In fact, you’re human, and a man with needs.”

The reason behind his brother’s insinuation finally dawned on Rafiq. “If you are worried I will bring scandal upon the Mehdi name by sleeping with Maysa, I assure you that will not happen. And if you are also hoping that I will abandon my duty and pass the crown to you, as Zain did with me, you may set those wishes aside immediately.”

Adan’s expression turned suddenly serious. “I have never possessed any desire to be king, Rafiq. And as far as your relationship with Maysa is concerned, I am an advocate for letting nature take its course. If you and Maysa find you cannot resist each other, then don’t. You certainly have my blessing.”

Adan had failed to weigh the most important fact. If Rafiq took Maysa as his lover again, the liaison could only be temporary since he would be expected to choose a suitable queen. The thought of being with another woman aside from Maysa was unthinkable. The thought of wounding her again, unimaginable. Yet he could very well head down that path if he acted on impulse.

For that reason, perhaps he should consider canceling their arrangement. Perhaps it would be best if he found another location for his sabbatical. “I will take your counsel under advisement. Now if you do not mind, I have work to complete.”

“So much work, il mio bel ragazzo, that you cannot give your former governess a few moments?”

Rafiq turned his attention from Adan to Elena Battelli, who now stood at the doorway, a dark-haired infant balanced on her hip. Her silver hair contrasted with her topaz eyes that at times hinted at mischief, and other times reflected wisdom. She had been the Mehdi sons’ surrogate matriarch since their mother’s death, and always a welcome presence. She had also been free with her opinions, and he expected no less from her now.

Rafiq came to his feet, rounded the desk and accepted her embrace. “I am glad to see you have returned home, Elena. You are looking quite well.”

“You are looking tired, cara,” she said as she handed the baby off to an overtly surprised Adan. “Take your niece to her father and allow me some time alone with your brother.”

Rising from the chair, Adan gripped the child awkwardly and looked as if he had consumed something unpalatable. “What if she begins to cry on the way?”

Elena frowned. “She would not be the first female you’ve made cry, so I suggest you hurry.”

As soon as Adan left with the squirming infant, Rafiq seated himself behind the desk while Elena claimed the chair opposite his. She studied him for a long moment before she spoke. “What is this I hear about you spending time with Dr. Barad?”

He should not be surprised Elena would join his brothers by presenting her thoughts on the matter. Yet her opinion had always mattered most. He also suspected she would side with Zain. “It is not what you might believe it to be.”

“I believe, cara mia, it is a good idea.”

He had not predicted that reaction. “I am beginning to question the wisdom in the plan.”

“Because you fear what others might think?”

Because he feared his possible absence of strength in Maysa’s presence. “I do not wish to add undue stress to her life.”

Elena waved a hand in dismissal. “Maysa is well equipped to handle stress, Rafiq, and perhaps even better equipped to handle you.”

He was taken aback by her assertions. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying she knows you very well.” Elena laid a palm on his hand. “She has always been your touchstone, and I believe you need that right now, more than you need the throne. And if you are concerned that you might succumb to inadvisable urges, I trust you to be the honorable man you have always been.”

If only he could trust himself. “Then you sincerely believe I should continue with my plans?”

“Yes, I do.” She rose with the grace of a gazelle. “Do not forget what I’ve taught you. Chi trova un amico trova un tesoro.”

He who finds a friend, finds a treasure.

As Elena started toward the door, she sent Rafiq a smile over one shoulder. “Maysa is your treasure, cara. Do not squander that gift.”

* * *

Maysa had begun to believe Rafiq had changed his mind. When the doorbell chimed, she hurried down the hall to answer the summons but then slowed her steps so as not to seem too anxious, though she was. Yet when she opened the door, the bearded man on the threshold happened to be her brother, not the king. “What are you doing here, Shamil?”

“I expected a more enthusiastic greeting, considering my recent absence,” he said as he breezed past her and entered without an invitation.

“My apologies,” she said as she faced him in the foyer. “I’m just surprised to see you.”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

She chose to withhold the truth and settled for a change in subject. “Are the resort’s renovations complete?”

“No, and that is why I am here now,” he said. “I will be returning to Yemen tonight, and I would respectfully request you supervise the workers from time to time in my stead.”

The request did not surprise her in the least. Shamil always seemed to have an ulterior motive when he bothered to call on her. He had protested the loudest over her divorce, and had chastised her at every turn—until he wanted something. “I have a medical practice that requires my attention, Shamil. I do not have time to oversee a project that you took on.”

“Need I remind you the resort is partially your responsibility?”

She could not believe his audacity. “Our father handed the keys to the resort to you, not me.”

“And he handed this house to you,” he said as he made a sweeping gesture over the area. “All because he is a generous and forgiving man. I would be remiss if I did not mention that he initially arranged for the hotel’s restoration. I am certain it would please him if he knew you were assisting me. He would not be pleased if he learned you refused to provide that assistance.”

Maysa was beyond trying to please her father, and immune to Shamil’s veiled threats. “I can only promise that I will stop by once a week, provided I find the time.”

“Twice a week, or perhaps three times, would be preferable.”

She would agree to most anything if it encouraged her sibling’s speedy departure. “I will try. Is that all you wish from me?”

“For the moment. I will notify the staff you will be periodically stopping by.”

“All right.”

When Maysa moved toward the door and yanked it open, she heard the sound of a car pulling into the portico.

“What is he doing here?” Shamil asked, both his tone and expression balanced on the brink of contempt.

She ventured a backward glance to see Rafiq emerging from the sedan with a heavily armed guard standing nearby. “First of all, he is the king, and he is allowed to go anywhere he pleases. Second, he is a friend, and at one time, your best friend.”

“He no longer holds that distinction.”

Maysa’s attempt to question her brother further was thwarted when Rafiq joined them at the doorstep.

Rafiq smiled at Maysa and briefly nodded at Shamil. “As-salam alaikum.”

“Wa alaikum as-salam,” Shamil replied in a voice that heralded indifference along with a touch of disdain. “Have you forgotten the way to the palace, Sayyed?”

“Not at all,” Rafiq replied. “I am here by invitation.”

Shamil sent Maysa a lethal look before returning his attention to Rafiq. “If you are here to discuss health care issues with my sister, it would be appropriate to do so in a less private setting.”

Concerned over her brother’s caustic demeanor, Maysa stepped aside to allow Rafiq entry. “The staff will show you to your quarters, Your Highness.”

“As you wish,” he said without offering Shamil even a passing glance.

She sensed her brother’s glare before she actually contacted it. She turned and gave him a glare of her own. “How dare you be so ill-mannered.”

“How dare you invite him into our father’s house.”

“Our father has always had close ties to the Mehdi family,” Maysa said. “He would not be opposed to having a member as a houseguest, particularly if that member happens to be the sovereign ruler of Bajul. A king who is in need of a respite, which is why he will be staying here for a time.”

“Our father would be opposed to you becoming the king’s mistress.”

Her fury simmered just below the surface of her feigned calm. “You have no right to speak to me this way, nor do you have any reason to hate Rafiq. Or do you still envy his marriage to Rima?”

He looked as if he might strike the wall, or worse, his sister. “Rima meant nothing to Rafiq,” he growled. “He did not deserve her.”

Clearly Shamil had not moved beyond the past, or his desire for a woman he could never have. But hadn’t she been guilty of the same with Rafiq? No. She had moved on, and would continue to do so. “How would you know what privately transpired between the king and queen, Shamil?”

“She deserved far more care and concern than Rafiq afforded her. She deserved the chance to live, and he stole that chance from her.”

“Rafiq had no hand in Rima’s death.”

“You would not agree if you had seen her that night.”

Maysa felt as if they might be hurling toward the truth of what had transpired that evening. What she herself had witnessed. “Perhaps I did see her after all.”

That seemed to momentarily douse Shamil’s wrath. “Where would you have seen her?”

“I drove to the resort earlier that evening and when I saw you embracing a woman on the veranda, I immediately left. Am I correct to assume that woman was Rima?” When he failed to respond, she added, “Shamil, was it Rima?”

His gaze faltered. “She was there for a brief time.”

“And how many times before that?”

“That is not your concern.”

Oh, but it was. “Were the two of you having an affair?”

“Enough!”

She’d obviously struck a nerve encased in the truth. “And Rafiq knew nothing about your liaison with his wife.”

“Rafiq knew nothing about Rima’s life because he chose not to know.” He sent her a steely look. “And he will never know. Is that understood?”

One more threat among many. “He has a right to know what happened in the minutes leading up to her death.”

“He gave up all rights to that knowledge when he discarded her feelings and deprived her of freedom. And if you utter one word of this conversation to the king, then I will see to it you are removed from this house and I will make certain your reputation is ruined beyond repair.”