With a sigh, he tossed back the heavy canvas door, and went to a nearby smaller bathing tent. He knew Josie was up to something, but she’d soon see there was nowhere to go. He twisted his neck to the left, cracking his vertebrae. She’d hopefully spend the next ten minutes trying to get her phone to work. He gave a low laugh.
Taking off his suit, he used silver buckets filled with cool, clean water to wash the grime of civilization off his skin. He exhaled, feeling his shoulders relax, as they always did here. He changed into the traditional male caftan over loose-fitting pants. His body felt more at ease in a lightweight djellaba than he’d ever felt in a suit. He loved the natural wildness of the desert, so much more rational and merciful than the savage corporate world.
As he left the bathing tent, Kasimir looked up at the endless blue sky, at the white-sand horizon stretching to eternity. There were eight large white tents, most of them used by his Berber servants who maintained this remote desert camp, surrounding the deep well of an oasis. On the edge of the camp was a pen for the horses, and farther away still, a helicopter pad. He’d given up trying to drive here. He’d destroyed three top-of-the-line Range Rovers trying to drive over the sand dunes before he’d finally given up on driving altogether and turned to horses and helicopters.
Now, he looked across the undulating sand dunes stretching out to the farthest reaches of the horizon. Sand muffled all sound at this lonely spot on the edge of the Sahara. The sun was falling in the cloudless blue sky.
His oasis in the desert was as far from Alaska as he could possibly get. He had no memories here of the bleak, cold snow. Or of the only promise he’d ever broken.
Yet.
Kasimir sighed. He was starting to think it was a mistake to wait until he had the land before he searched for Bree. Not just because it was making Josie so unhappy, but also because it was growing agonizing for him to be near his wife and unable to touch her.
“Sir.” One of his most trusted servants, a man in a blue turban, spoke to him anxiously in Berber. He pointed. “Your woman...”
Kasimir’s lips parted as he saw Josie struggling up a nearby dune, kicking off her flimsy flip-flops, her bare feet sinking in the sand to her knees.
A sigh escaped him. He should have known that mere warnings of death wouldn’t be enough to stop Josie from trying single-handedly to rush off to save that sister of hers. Irritated, he went after her.
Catching up with her easily, he grabbed her hand and pulled her all the way to the top of the dune. Then he abruptly released her.
“Look where you are, Josie,” he raged at her. “Look!”
With an intake of breath, Josie turned in a circle, looking in every direction from the top of the dune. It was like standing in the middle of an ocean, surrounded by endless waves of sand.
“There’s a reason why I brought you here,” he said quietly. “There is nowhere for you to go.”
She went in circles for five minutes before the truth of his words sank in on her, and she collapsed in a heap on the sand. “I can’t stay here.”
Kasimir knelt on the sand beside her. Reaching out, he tucked some hair away from her face. “I’m still going to save your sister. So stop trying to run away,” he said gruffly. “Okay?”
Wiping her eyes, she sat on the sand, looking at him. “You can’t just expect me to just sit here and do nothing, and leave her fate in Vladimir’s hands. Or yours!”
“I thought you said I was a good man with a good heart.”
She hiccupped a laugh, then sniffled. “I changed my mind.”
His jaw tightened. “Your sister is in no danger. Vladimir has done nothing worse to her than making her scrub the floor of his villa.”
“How do you know?”
“His housekeeper in Hawaii was not pleased to see him treating a female guest so rudely. But Bree has always been my brother’s weakness. That is why I—” Why I arranged for them to cross paths in Hawaii, he almost said, but cut himself off. He could hardly admit that now, could he? Josie’s trust in him was on very tenuous ground already. He set his jaw. “I’ve just found out he has her at his palace in St. Petersburg, where his company is busy with a merger.”
“And he’s not—bothering her?”
His lips curved. “From what I’ve heard, her greatest suffering has involved too much shopping at luxury boutiques with his credit card.”
Josie frowned. “But Bree hates shopping,” she said uncertainly.
“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think.” He stood up, then held out his hand. “Just as she does not truly know you.”
She put her hand into his. “What do you mean?” she said softly.
“She’s spent the last decade treating you like something fragile and helpless. You are neither.” He pulled her up against him, looking down at her. “You are reckless, Josie. Powerful. Fearless.”
“I am?” she breathed, looking up into his eyes.
“Didn’t you know?” He searched her gaze. “You risk yourself to take care of others. Constantly. In a way I cannot imagine.”
She bit her lip, looking down.
His hand tightened on hers. “No more escape attempts. I mean it. I swear to you that she is safe. Just be patient. Stay here with me. From this moment, you will be treated not as a prisoner, but as an honored guest.”
“Honored guest? You said I was more.”
“I cannot treat you as my wife,” he said huskily. “Not anymore.”
“What do you mean? Of course you...”
“I cannot make love to you.” His eyes met hers. “And since we kissed in Honolulu, it’s all I can think about.”
He heard her intake of breath.
“But I gave you my word of honor. I will not touch you. Kiss you. Make love to you for hours on end.” Kasimir’s larger hand tightened over hers. He looked down at her beautiful face, devoid of makeup. Her luminous brown eyes were the sort a man could drown in. And her lips... He shuddered. “You are safe, Josie,” he whispered. “Until the end.”
She slowly nodded. Holding her hand, he turned to lead her down the dune. They walked sure-footedly down the spine of sand, pausing to collect her discarded shoes, until they reached the encampment below. He thought about the cake he’d ordered for her, left behind in Honolulu. He’d order a wedding feast for her tonight. He would do everything he could to treat her as a princess—as a queen. That much he could do.
At the door of his tent, he glanced back to tell her how he planned to make her evening a happy one. Then he saw how her shoulders were slumped in his old black T-shirt, how the jeans he’d loaned her had unrolled at the hem, to drag against the ground. Her face was sad.
Something twisted in Kasimir’s chest.
He suddenly wanted to tell her he was sorry. Sorry he’d brought her here. Sorry he’d dragged her into his plans for revenge. And sorry above all that when she discovered the blackmail against her sister, it would be a crime that even Josie’s heart would be unable to forgive. She would despise him—forever. And he was starting to realize hers was the one good opinion he’d regret.
But when he opened his mouth to say the words, they caught in his throat.
Clenching his jaw, he turned away, pointing at the wardrobe. “You have fresh clothes here.” He gestured towards the large four-poster bed, the sumptuous wall-to-wall Turkish carpets. “I will ask the women to bring you refreshment and a bath. When you are done, we will have dinner.” He gave her a smile. “A wedding feast of sorts.”
But she didn’t smile back. She didn’t seem interested, not even in the bath—a rare luxury in the desert. Sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed, she lifted her gaze numbly.
“I don’t want to stay here with you,” she whispered. She was so beautiful, he thought. His gaze traced from her full, generous mouth down the curve of her long, graceful neck. Like a swan. So unself-conscious, as if she had no idea about her beauty, about the way her pale skin gleamed like cream in the shadows of the tent, or the warmth and kindness that caused her to glow from within, as if there were a fire inside her.
And that fire could be so much more. Standing beside the bed, he felt how alone they were in his private tent. He could push her back against the soft mattress and see the light brown waves of her hair fall like a cascade against the pillows. He could touch her skin, stroke its luminescence with his fingertips and see if it was as soft as it looked.
He had to stop thinking about this. Now.
Kasimir turned away, stalking across the tent. He flung open the heavy canvas flap of the door, then stopped. Standing in the late-afternoon sun, he heard the sigh of the wind and the distant call of desert birds. Shoulders tight, without turning around, he said in a low voice, “I never should have kissed you.”
He heard her give a little squeak. He slowly turned back to face her.
“I was wrong.” He took a deep breath. And then, looking into her shocked brown eyes, he spoke the words he hadn’t been able to say for ten years. “Josie,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”