Bride Behind The Desert Veil (The Marchetti Dynasty 3)

Pink trails heralding dawn.

The dawn of her wedding day.

Suddenly Liyah wasn’t feeling lazy any more. Panic gripped her belly. She was due to have henna painted on her hands and feet this morning, in preparation for the afternoon’s ceremony.

She had to go. Now.

She managed to leave the sumptuous bed without waking him, and stole to the opening of the tent. But there she stopped, giving in to temptation and taking one last look, knowing she’d never see him again. Knowing that she might always wonder if she’d dreamt this night up.

Her eyes devoured his majestic form. Even though he was sprawled in louche splendour across the bed, he was no less impressive or intimidating. His body and his face would be imprinted on her memory. For ever.

That clutch of emotion caught at Liyah again. What had happened here had been so...unexpected. Unprecedented. And magical. It would be her secret to carry with her, deep inside, where no one would ever find it.

Least of all her new husband.

When Sharif woke his head felt fuzzy, as if he’d had too much to drink. And his body felt pleasantly achy. Heavy. But also light.

But he hadn’t had too much to drink.

He’d just had the most intensely erotic experience of his life.

Sharif jacknifed up to sit in the bed as vivid memories assailed him.

But beside him was an empty space. No sign of the wild-haired temptress with the green eyes who had rendered him insensible with desire.

Desire? He grimaced at that. Desire was too ineffectual a word for what he’d felt for her from the moment he’d seen her revealed by the pool.

A wave of lust gripped him as the previ

ous night came back in glorious Technicolor. The way she’d sat astride him, taking him deep into her body, the look of awe on her face, her cheeks darkened with pleasure. And how it had felt when her secret inner muscles had milked him—

Dio. Sharif never dwelled on sex with lovers. He had it—he moved on.

He got out of the bed, feeling dizzy for a moment. Dizzy after a night of unbridled pleasure. He sensed the tent was empty and walked to the entrance, pulling back the material over the opening.

Dawn was bathing the oasis in deep pinks and golds. Sharif stepped out. Naked. The cool air made his skin prickle, but so did the fact that there was no sign of the woman.

Her horse was gone.

She was gone.

He walked over to the pool. Its serene surface left no hint of the unearthly goddess who had disappeared into its depths only to emerge and prove that she’d been all too earthly.

Sharif’s skin prickled even more, and it had nothing to do with the cool air and everything to do with a sense of exposure. Had she in fact existed at all? Or had it been a particularly lurid dream? Was he so jaded that he’d conjured up an erotic fantasy to entertain himself on the eve of his wedding to a woman sight unseen?

In fact the more he thought about it, the more he found it almost easier to believe it hadn’t happened. He was no saint, but neither was he inclined to ‘instalust’ or casual sex with a stranger. Usually his women were carefully vetted.

Not that it stopped them from crying to the tabloids when he ended their liaisons, a snide inner voice reminded him.

He ignored the voice. And then went cold as he thought of something else. They hadn’t used protection. He’d taken her at her word when she’d mentioned being on the pill.

He shook his head. It couldn’t have happened. He never indulged in unprotected sex. A man like him was a magnet for women who wanted to secure their lives by having his baby. And he was not in the market for babies. Not now. Not ever.

In a bid to wake himself out of this reverie and come back to sanity, Sharif stepped into the water and dived deep into its inky depths. The shock of the water made his brain freeze, and only when his lungs were ready to burst did he come back up to the surface.

As he sucked in deep breaths his mind cleared. It had been a dream. Lurid and very real, yes, but a dream. That was the only way he could explain it. And he always had crazy dreams when he was in the desert. Admittedly, never like that...

Sharif walked out of the water, a sense of almost relief coursing through him. Relief that it hadn’t been real, but also a tinge of regret. But of course she hadn’t been real—a woman like that couldn’t possibly be...