Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child

Wordlessly she complied, settling out of arm’s reach.

‘I remember some things,’ he said. ‘More than before.’

‘Really? That’s fantastic. What do you recall?’ If he noticed her too-bright tone he said nothing. She’d spent days wondering who he was and how he’d got here. How much worse for him not to know?

Again that shrug. Annalisa slid her gaze from the play of muscle and tanned skin, forcing her breathing to slow.

‘Just vague images. A party. Lots of people, but no faces. Places I can’t identify.’ He paused. ‘And a sandstorm, big enough to block the light.’

She nodded. ‘That was just before I came out here.’

‘I remember the vastness of the desert.’ His eyes snared hers. ‘Which leads me to wonder how we get out of here and if you’ve got enough food to keep us both in the meantime.’

‘There’s plenty.’ Out of habit she’d catered for two. ‘As for transport, there’s a camel route through the oasis.’

‘And a camel train is coming back soon?’

Annalisa’s bright smile faded. ‘Not straight away. In a few days.’

She’d prayed they’d return early and take Tahir to hospital.

Now her desperation was edged with other emotions.

‘A few more days?’ he repeated. ‘Maybe more?’ His voice was disturbingly deep, his scrutiny so intense it was like a touch, and Annalisa sucked in a quick breath.

‘You and me, alone in the desert.’

She met his unreadable eyes. Her stomach dipped. She lifted her chin, battling emotions she didn’t understand.

Last night’s intimacy had changed everything.

For the first time their enforced solitude felt…dangerous.

CHAPTER FOUR

ANNALISA needn’t have worried. Even now he was up and about Tahir didn’t encroach on her personal space. If anything he seemed to prefer distance. The idea stabbed her with ridiculous regret.

Occasionally she caught a look, a blaze of azure fire from under half-lowered lids, that stole her breath and set her pulse racing. But she knew it was imagination, her own guilty craving.

The only danger came from her wayward thoughts. They drew blushes to her cheeks and brought a twist of awareness deep inside her.

Meanwhile she was forced to keep an eye on him. Annalisa thought he was out of danger, but he still slept a lot and occasionally his temperature spiked worryingly. Nor could he recall more than disjointed images.

She almost wished she’d followed her father’s urgings and studied medicine. Then she’d know what to do. But, though she’d been proud to act as her dad’s assistant, medicine wasn’t her dream.

‘How long have you been an astronomer?’

Annalisa’s gaze jerked up from the meal she was preparing over the fire. Tahir sat in his usual place by the palm tree, reading in the fading light—one of the astronomy books she’d brought.

The question was innocuous. But it struck her that this was the first time he’d asked anything personal. His questions were always about the desert and Qusay. She’d enjoyed their discussions and his quick intelligence. She wasn’t used to talking about herself.

‘I’m not an astronomer. But my father was an amateur one. I grew up looking at the stars.’

Tahir tilted his head consideringly. ‘It’s your father who usually comes into the desert with you?’

She busied herself lifting the pan from the fire. ‘That’s right.’ Those treks had been special, precious time out from her father’s busy practice.

‘But he couldn’t come this time?’

She forced herself to concentrate on dishing up the couscous flavoured with nuts, spices and dried fruits.

‘My father is dead.’ It sounded bald, almost aggressive. But Annalisa found it hard to speak of him. He’d been the centre of her life, her mainstay and friend.

‘I’m sorry for your loss, Annalisa.’ The simple words flowed like soothing balm over raw-edged nerves, at odds with the shivery excitement evoked by the rare sound of her name on Tahir’s lips.

‘Thank you.’ She paused, feeling she should say more. ‘It’s been six months but still it’s hard.’

‘And you have no one else?’

Her shoulders stiffened. His words reminded her too much of her family’s urgings for her to marry. They meant well, but it grew increasingly difficult to avoid their offers to arrange a marriage to a respectable man who’d take care of her.

She’d grown up with all the freedoms her father had taken for granted with his foreign background. Even her dear, traditional grandfather had understood an arranged marriage wouldn’t work for her. She’d be stifled, living the more restricted life of a traditional Qusani wife.