The Desert Lord's Bride (Throne of Judar 2)

Fool. He shouldn’t even think anything of the sort before he had her signature on all binding documents.

But her distress felt real. So was that the origin of her cold-as-ice, hot-as-hell persona? Not that he’d seen any evidence of her cold side himself, but he could see how she could have been pursued for all the wrong reasons. Sport, ambition, competition, all forms of exploitation. Had the incident he’d manufactured unsettled her so much that it brought back every unsavory situation she’d ever been exposed to, painting their situation, and him, with the brush of suspicion? Or had it only sharpened her hazy senses so that she felt he was pursuing her for reasons unconnected with her own desirability?

Suddenly he was sick of the whole thing. If her reputation had been unearned, as everything he’d felt from her so far kept insisting, if she’d been hurt by men’s perfidy before, he shouldn’t add to her injuries.

But what could he possibly do now? Confess his plan? He’d stood a chance of a favorable response if he’d told her who he was at the beginning. He would have at least gotten points for truthfulness. But he’d been so ready for deception as a necessity for success, he’d lost that chance. After all that had happened between them, all the lies he’d told her, she’d be incensed, might reject him with no hope of reconciliation.

What would he do if she did, when he couldn’t let her go? Kidnap her as she’d implied was one of the possibilities he’d seduced her for? Then what? Hold her hostage? Force her to marry him?

Just the thought that things could go so far had bile rising in his throat. He had to stop the situation from spiraling out of control. And he had only one way out.

She’d accused him of not wanting her for herself. That he could contest vehemently and sound sincere. For he was.

“You’re so wrong I would laugh if this wasn’t so distressing. I want you, Farah. I’ve never wanted anything or anyone like I want you.” He took a step toward her and she flinched. He flinched, too, stopped. “Ya Ullah, are you afraid of me?” Her eyes closed on a look of total confusion. And he rasped, “Am I paying the price for all of the people who tried to take advantage of you? But as you said, it’s even worse. I doubt you actually feared any of them.”

Her face contorted on emotions so clear it felt as if she’d shouted them in his mind. Mortification ruled them all.

But her tears were stopping. Then she hiccupped. “It was just-just-finding the plane taking off, that look on your face-and I scared myself with my own speculations…” She paused, gave him a hesitant, vulnerable look. “Do you really want me?”

He drove his hands in his hair in frustration he had no need to feign. “Can’t you feel it, in your every cell, setting your senses on fire, how much I desire you?”

She nodded, shook her head, at a total loss. “I do-but I felt…something deeper. If you have any hidden agenda besides…”

He wanted to swear to her that he didn’t. He couldn’t. The lie clogged in his throat. But he had to defuse her doubts. He must. His only recourse was to reach for whatever truths existed between the lies, press those home to her.

He came down beside her, reached for her restless hands, found them freezing in sweat. He exerted enough pressure to beseech her not to pull them away, while letting her feel she could if she wanted, his eyes soothing her with all his will.

“Every word I told you about how much I desire you is the truth, Farah. And I can’t bear to see you in this condition, to know that I’m the reason for it.”

She shook her head again. “You’re not, it was me.”

“It was me.” He smoothed a glossy lock of hair away from her cheek. “I should have realized how this situation would be overwhelming for you. You were shaken from all that had happened in the past hours, our meeting, our surrender to what you so aptly called ‘magic’ followed by the paparazzi’s intrusion and our escape from them. But instead of giving you time to catch your breath, I whisked you onboard my jet, where you found yourself surrounded by two dozen strange men, most of them armed, as you must have sensed. Then, without even consulting you, I ordered takeoff. You thought we’d have dinner onboard on the ground, didn’t you?”

Her eyes said she hadn’t thought at all. He caressed her cheek, almost moaning at its firm softness. “You haven’t even thought what would happen, and you found yourself receding from your world. Then I added insult to injury when the takeoff had my mind straying to a precarious deal I’m involved in at the moment, giving you a glimpse of the ruthless businessman side of me. It’s no wonder you leaped to conclusions.”

She winced, bit her lip. Then she finally quavered, “Can you order us to land, please?”

His every muscle clenched. “You don’t believe me.”

“I do,” she protested. Then she pulled an adorably sheepish face. “I just need to be on the ground so I can dig a hole deep enough never to be seen again.”

He exhaled the breath that had been about to burst his lungs. But he wouldn’t let his guard down again. He’d averted a catastrophe this time. He couldn’t let another brew.

He moved closer, still testing. She melted against him and he inhaled with the reprieve. “Don’t feel embarrassed by your fears, ya saherati. You had every right to wonder, to worry. In fact, I’m almost upset with you for not being more stringent in your examination of my character and intentions before you put yourself in my power this way. You know, like you were cross with me for trusting you based on such a short acquaintance. But then, I believe you wouldn’t have done that with anyone else, that you instinctively felt that you have more power over me than you could ever hand me over you.”

Farah closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of him, wishing she’d blip out of existence.

She’d made a mess of things. And he was letting her off the hook, exonerating her of all blame, shouldering it all himself.

But she couldn’t believe he wasn’t offended for real. She was used to being maligned by strangers, by public opinion, but if someone she cared anything for jumped to such unfounded and offensive conclusions about her, she wouldn’t be quick to forgive and forget. Could it be true he did so completely?

She opened her eyes, found anxiety still tingeing his gaze.

He had. And more. He felt horrible about his alleged role in her out-of-the-blue upheaval. He’d come up with explanations that saved her from looking like an irrational airhead. She felt herself shrink to the size and significance of a bug.