Home > The Sheikh's Destiny (Desert Nights #3)(8)

The Sheikh's Destiny (Desert Nights #3)(8)
Author: Olivia Gates

Burning to ask why he kept it so ruthlessly cropped, she waited for him to say something. Like where to drive.

His continued silence told her she should figure out what to do with the rest of her one-sided plan. He’d contribute nothing more.

She started the ignition, cranked up the heater, turned back to him. “I’ll need directions.”

Without a word, he set the GPS then resumed his position.

So. The silent treatment. Two could play at this game.

Twenty minutes later, cruising the powerful car down almost-empty streets on the outskirts of the city, she’d long realized that that was easier bragged about than achieved.

She’d spent a lifetime yearning to talk to him and failing. Now she wanted to make up for all of those frustrating times. She wanted to deluge him with a thousand questions, yammer on about all the things she’d longed to say to him all her life.

But his silence was like a barrier. It made her awareness of him highly distressing. She felt as if his every breath expanded in her own chest, as if every impulse powering his magnificent body quivered through her nerves.

Then she felt him slide a discreet glance her way.

She tore her gaze from the road to his face. For a fraction of a second she saw something...unguarded.

It was gone before she could latch on to it, but she felt he was wrestling with something. Irritation? Humor? What?

“You understand that was blackmail.”

All her hairs, perpetually at half-mast around him, stood on end as the velvet night of his voice poured into her ear.

Her lips wobbled. “I choose to call it persistence. In response to your pointless resistance.”

“My resistance wasn’t pointless. Just useless.”

Her grin widened as she returned her eyes to the road. “That it was. But pray tell, what was its point?”

“That you shouldn’t be with me. That it’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, no. You’re not pulling our region’s traditions on me, of what’s ‘appropriate’ behavior for women, especially the variety stigmatized by spinsterhood.”

“You’re not a spinster.”

Her laugh dripped in sarcasm. “Tell that to my family, especially my dear mother. I’ve been a spinster in her eyes for over ten years.”

“Ten years ago you were a child of seventeen.”

He knew her age!

She tried not to grin like a fool at the discovery. “And I was already past my prime then. You know girls in our region are expected to interest men in acquiring them earlier than that.”

Instead of debating her, he only said, “Any reason why you don’t find this situation inappropriate?”

Was he for real? “Because we’re not in Azmahar or Zohayd?”

“Our behavior shouldn’t change based on geography. Wherever we are, we remain who we are. You—more than anyone from our region—should always observe said ‘traditions.’ As you realized tonight, they’re not only set to limit your freedom, but to protect you.”

“You’re not saddling me with the responsibility for tonight’s attack. Tonight was a fluke...”

“You can’t afford flukes. Or to think that guards would ‘cramp your style.’”

“Is that why you think I don’t have guards? Seems you haven’t kept abreast with the latest developments.”

“Why don’t you update me?”

“Sure. Where did you last leave off the soap opera that is my family life? You know the basics, how the whole mess started. Two brothers marrying two sisters to unite two kingdoms, and instead of being satisfied with their enviable lots of wealth, status and healthy children, becoming each others’ worst enemies.”

His gaze plunged into his own realizations. “You discovered how things stood between your parents, and your uncle and aunt.”

“Only from the time I knew who they were.”

That she’d always known seemed to interest him. At least she thought that was what that last heavy-lidded glance signified.

She sighed. “Then it all came to an inevitably explosive end when my mother and aunt plotted against their husbands and got caught, divorced and exiled. That’s where the part about my guards comes in. All my life, until her exile, my mother was obsessed with one thing. That she, the lofty Princess Somayah of Azmahar, not end up as a second-rate princess, known only for being sister to Queen Sondoss of Zohayd and married to King Atef’s brother. She had me hounded by a platoon to safeguard the asset she hoped would bring her an alliance that would elevate her to her sister’s higher royal status, and rid her of dependence on my father’s family. My father, who’s always been mired in gold-digging mistresses, only sent guards after me to evict hers in his petty feud with her. Once their toxic relationship was thankfully over, they dismissed me from their minds, the one thing they’d rather forget bonded them forever. So, I’ve been guard-free since I left Zohayd.”

His jaw hardened. “Why didn’t you ask your uncle Atef or your cousins for replacements? Why don’t you hire some yourself?”

“I never ask anyone for anything, let alone round-the-clock protection. And while my software development business is taking off, my liquid assets are tied up in its operating capital. Most important, I really felt I didn’t need protection. I came here to start a new life as just another single woman living in the city. I paid attention to my safety. This was the first time I ran into any trouble.”

“It only takes once.”

She exhaled. “True. But it didn’t happen because I was negligent. Someone was determined to hurt me. They would have found a way no matter what I did. And I’m grateful you happened along.”

A long moment of silence followed her statement.

At length, he exhaled. “As a princess of Zohayd, you must never be without protection. And you should never be with a strange man, let alone offer to drive him home.”

Oh, man. He was going all protective and disapproving on her. As if she needed to find him any yummier.

“You are strange—” in a uniquely and incredibly exciting way, her grin told him “—but not a stranger.”

That majestic head inclined in delicious curtness. “Not a total stranger, granted, but still one.”

“Oh, come on, Rashid. Next you’re going to say I need a mehrem.” In other words, an adult male of her kin whom she couldn’t marry to chaperone her in the presence of males she could. “How about you stop behaving as if we don’t know each other?”

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