To Touch a Sheikh (Pride of Zohayd 3)

“Nope.” She chuckled and watched his strong throat work as he drank, wondered how it would feel beneath her lips, if his skin would taste as intoxicating as he smelled. She sighed, knowing it wouldn’t be soon enough before she could find out. “But I would have appreciated it if, among your prolific commentary on the human condition, you’d told me how long you expected our ride to be. Not knowing made it feel like it would never end, made it harder to take.”

“And what would you have done if I’d estimated four hours and those became five or six? You would have spent that extra time going nuts thinking we were lost.”

“Not if you told me we weren’t.”

“As if you would have believed me.”

“I absolutely would have.”

That seemed to do the impossible—had him stymied for a comeback. Those spectacular eyebrows swooped down as if he, too, couldn’t believe it. As if he couldn’t believe she’d trust his word that undeniably. He’d soon learn otherwise.

She saw right through his masterfully off-putting facade to the core of valor inside. She more than trusted him. She believed in him.

She decided to put him out of his sarcasmless misery. “But you wanted to spare me anxiety, so your intentions were good.”

“And we all know where those lead.” He flicked a mocking look around. “Even though there wouldn’t be much worse than here.”

“Stop insulting this wonderful place. If you no longer want it for a lair, I’ll take it off your hands. Just name your price.”

A moment stretched as he brooded at her. “You’re barely standing upright and I’m not carrying you again if you collapse. Do so inside while I take care of business. Help yourself to the jet-powered shower.”

“And you dare badmouth this place. I would have been ecstatic with rudimentary indoor plumbing. A jet shower is nirvana.”

“It’s nothing like you’re used to…” She opened her mouth to remind him that she hadn’t always been a prince’s daughter. He overrode her. “And don’t expect anything fancy to eat. Provisions are all dried, powdered and canned.”

“It comes with food, too? A veritable five-star hotel, then.”

“Go.”

“Why do I get the feeling you want to get rid of me?” He rumbled something dangerous in his gut. She raised her hands in teasing placation. “I’ll go, but only because what you’re offering is irresistible. Rest, cleanliness, anything edible—” and being alone with you, she added inwardly “—constitutes heaven to me.”

With a last impish glance, she did her best not to wobble to the “inside” his stern finger had pointed to.

She entered a shock of a futuristic bathroom encased in pearly black marble, with a white onyx tub and toilet, a tempered-glass sink and a shower cubicle and brushed-steel fixtures and accents. It felt constructed to suit another facet of him, the ultramodern desert knight, where he—

Worry detonated inside her, aborting her fantasies.

She rushed back out. “Where’s Dahabeya?”

Amjad had been standing where she’d left him, staring at the ceiling. Nonchalance descended at her reappearance, masking what she’d seen on his face. But she had seen it. A terrible bleakness.

He shrugged. “In her stable, fed and watered. I’ll go wash her down and treat any injuries she sustained.”

With that he started fortifying himself again. She walked back slowly to the bathroom, her nerves rattling.

What could have warranted such an expression?

He’s exhausted, she answered herself. She’d just caught him not hiding it. She should stop gorging on his every breath and overanalyzing his every expression.

She exited a stinging, reviving shower, was drying herself with towels she’d found bagged and smelling of freshness when another scent hit her. Ambrosia, by the smell of it.

She scooped up her clothes, and the scent of fear and exhaustion rising from them made her groan in disgust. And she’d been clinging to him smelling like that.

She peeked around the wall. Amjad had his back to her in the kitchen. She bolted across the corridor.

She raided his closet, picked a shirt that fell to her knees. She didn’t find any underwear, put her own, washed and wet, on.

She pattered out over the warm, wonderful stone texture of the floor on bare feet, almost dizzy with hunger as the scent intensified on approaching the kitchen.

Her return was rewarded by a look of disinterest.

She smiled. She was on to him. He was anything but disinterested. In anything. From beneath that lazy, bored facade, he watched everything like a hawk, avid, analyzing. And he was anything but uninterested in her. She’d prove it.

“I’ve changed my mind.” She craned her neck around him to get a closer whiff of the edible delight he was stirring. “This place is a hundred-star hotel. It’s got its own crown-prince chef.”

He peered down his sculpted nose at her. “Don’t be so quick to promote me to chefdom. You haven’t tasted this mess yet.”

“Nothing that smells that good can taste bad. What is it?”

“You mean you’ve never seen lentils before? Your diet consists solely of carnivorous delicacies and men?”

He wouldn’t stop goading her about her supposed mandevouring activities, would he? He’d learn different. Until then, nothing he said could touch her. Even if it always tickled her.

“I’ll have you know I’m a vegetarian.” She served generous portions into the bowls he’d put out. “And lentils are one of my favorite foods. I’m asking about the spices that give it that heavenly aroma.”

“You’re asking me to reveal my secrets? Tsk. If you must know, it’s a protective concoction. For XY-chromosome bearers.”

She giggled. “Protecting huge, power-laden you from XX me, now that I got you stranded in the middle of the desert?”

She laughed again at the notion, before a heady sensation spread inside her. She would have been the one fearing for her safety, or at least feeling uncomfortable, with any other man. But with Amjad she felt totally safe, totally at ease.

She blew into her simmering spoon, licked at its surface. She groaned as the complex flavor hit her taste buds. She hoovered the rest, yelping as it scalded her, then did the same thing again and again.

After a moment of watching her ravenous demonstration, he said, “It’s nutmeg, chives, garlic, lime shavings and sumac. But you’ll understand if I don’t reveal the exact ratio.”