Lost to the Desert Warrior

He slid his fingers into her hair, pleased that Avery hadn’t suggested she wear it up. ‘Do you want to carry on dancing or would you like something to eat? Maybe a drink?’

‘The beat has changed.’

‘It’s a different dance. I can teach you.’

‘You must be tired of having to teach me everything.’

Her eyes were soft on his and he tightened his grip on her, pressing her closer until their bodies touched from waist to thigh.

‘No, I am not tired of teaching you.’ His arm was curved around her and the contours of her body fit perfectly against his. Sexual arousal slammed into him and he felt the answering tremor of her body and knew she felt the same. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. ‘You’re enjoying yourself?’

‘Yes. Very much.’

‘Did you have fun with Avery?’

‘Yes. I’ve never talked to another woman before. Not like that.’

‘What did you talk about?’

Colour streaked along her cheeks. ‘Life.’

‘Your life, habibti?’

‘Not specifically. She talked a bit about you and Salem. She is obviously very fond of you both.’

‘Those feelings are returned. Mal has been a friend for as long as I can remember. He and I were at the same party the night he first met Avery. It was like watching two asteroids collide. Everyone in the vicinity was hit by the explosion and the subsequent fallout.’ They both glanced towards the edge of the dance floor, where Avery was deep in conversation with Mal, their connection so close it felt like intruding to watch it.

‘They’re perfect together.’

There was a wistful note in her voice and Raz tilted his head so that he could see her face.

‘I thought you weren’t romantic?’

Her eyes were fixed across the room on Avery and Mal who were indulging in a last brief exchange before greeting their guests. Remembering what Mal had told him earlier, Raz could guess what the exchange was about.

‘I’m not. Not for myself. That doesn’t mean I can’t be pleased when other people find love.’

He looked down at the glossy curve of Layla’s mouth and suddenly wanted to be alone with her, away from the curious glances and the speculation.

‘Let’s get out of here. The Old Palace is famed for its water gardens. They were a gift from Mal’s father to his mother on their marriage.’ Keeping his arm around her, he guided her outside.

‘Should we be doing this? There are people waiting to speak to you.’

‘Then they can wait. I have been doing nothing but speaking to people. Tonight is for us.’ He wondered how often before in her life she’d been able to please herself and decided he probably didn’t want to hear the answer.

‘It’s peaceful here.’ Tilting her head back, she stared up at the stars. ‘I love the sound of the water. It reminds me of your home.’

‘Our home.’

She hesitated, then pulled away from him and sat down on the low wall that surrounded the bubbling fountain. ‘Did your wife love it there? Was it her favourite place?’

He stiffened in instinctive rejection of the personal nature of her question and then saw the anxiety in her eyes and realised how much courage it had taken on her part to ask it. ‘Nisa preferred the city. She grew tired of moving around. She was made impatient by the restrictions placed on our movements. She wasn’t always careful.’

‘I shouldn’t have asked.’

But she had asked, and emotion settled in his stomach like a solid lump. ‘The day she was killed—she wasn’t even supposed to be in the desert. She had been staying in the city but had come out to surprise me. I had ridden one of the horses and she climbed into my four-wheel drive. They had tampered with the brakes and she was inexperienced at driving in the desert. Had I been the one at the wheel then perhaps—’ He broke off, knowing that ‘perhaps’ was a useless word. ‘She couldn’t control the vehicle. It rolled and she was crushed.’

He felt her arms slide round his waist.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry you lost her. I’m sorry for any part my family played in that. For all of it.’

‘An individual is responsible for his own actions. I have never blamed you.’ But he understood how hard it must be for her and knew he was the one making it hard.

‘It hurts you to talk about it.’ Her voice was soft in the semi darkness. ‘I apologise. I shouldn’t have asked. I’ve spoiled the moment.’