The Sheik & the Virgin Princess

“The child of his beloved Fiona. Yes, I know.” Sadik shook his head. “Do not worry yourself on that account. No one resents your arrival.”

He was being polite, she thought. Or maybe he didn’t know about Sabrina’s unhappy relationship with her father. Men weren’t always very observant about that sort of thing.

The dance ended and Sadik excused himself to go find Cleo. Zara watched him hurry away. At least one of them was having fun. She turned and spied Jean-Paul heading in her direction. That meant Byron couldn’t be too far away. She ducked around several couples and headed for the stairs on the opposite side of the room. From there she might be able to spot Rafe. For all his claims to want to keep his eye on her, he’d been surprisingly absent since dinner.

She’d just reached the stairs when she felt a hand on her arm. Fearing the worst, she glanced over her shoulder, then sagged in relief when she saw Rafe.

“You abandoned me,” she accused.

“I was letting you have a good time.”

She exhaled loudly. “A lot you know about women if you think what I’ve been doing is fun.”

“Don’t you like dancing?”

“Not with two men acting more like terriers than humans. Plus, aren’t they a little old to be sulking?”

Rafe grinned. She liked the lines that formed beside the corners of his eyes and the way his tanned skin contrasted with his short blond hair.

“I saw you dancing with Sadik. That should have been all right.”

“It was. He mostly tried to reassure me about my acceptance in the family. I’m not sure I believe him.”

“You should.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t look now, but there are terriers approaching right behind you.”

Zara winced. “Rafe, at the risk of sounding too forward, are you allowed to dance with me?”

“Sure.”

“Then maybe you should ask.”

He did that one better. He swept her up in his arms and moved her into the swirling crowd. Thanks to her mother’s training, Zara knew all the basic dance steps. She moved easily to the steady beat of the waltz, stumbling only when she realized how well Rafe was doing.

“I didn’t think they taught dancing at paramilitary school,” she said breathlessly through a turn.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

For several minutes they danced in comfortable silence. She remembered that afternoon, how she’d felt in his arms. It had been different from being in them now, but despite the casual embrace and the people all around them, she felt safe and very feminine. She wanted him.

“Zara.”

Her name came out in a growl. The low tone sent shivers dancing along her spine. She raised her chin slightly.

“You feel it, too,” she murmured.

“So what? What we feel is irrelevant.”

The man was entirely too difficult. “I’m not sure I believe you—about the head cutting, I mean. The king wouldn’t really do that to you.”

“You have no way of knowing what he would or wouldn’t do. I’ve been around him much longer than you and I’m familiar with the ways of this world.”

Maybe it was the tension of the evening that made her so light-headed and bold. Maybe it was the lingering desire and the knowledge that no one had ever made her feel the way Rafe did.

“What about kissing?” she asked in a whisper. “That can’t be against the law.”

For a second she thought she might have gone too far. Maybe she was making a fool of herself. Then she saw Rafe’s eyes darken and a muscle twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“No kissing. It leads to trouble.”

“Coward.”

His gaze narrowed. “Insulting me isn’t going to help.”

“I was trying to dare you into acting.”

“It didn’t work.”

“What will?”

The music ended. Rafe stepped away and bowed. “Zara, you tempt me in ways I can’t begin to explain. But know this. I will never give in.”

She sighed. “That’s the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever heard.”

“I meant every word.”

Zara escaped into the ladies’ room rather than face Byron and Jean-Paul. While she was disappointed that Rafe hadn’t jumped on her suggestion that they kiss again, she couldn’t stop smiling as she remembered his claim to find her tempting. She didn’t think she’d ever tempted a man before—certainly not one like him.