buns in her hands and just squeeze . "Silver fox."
"I am a small desert mammal?"
"You don't know the expression?" she asked. "Did you go to college in Askar? I just assumed you went to Harvard or Oxford or something."
His lips twitched down. "My father never would have permitted such a thing. I attended a few classes at the University of Deira, but I was taught mostly by the best private tutors."
Wow. And she thought she had a sheltered life. He'd never even attended school.
"Mine pulled me out after one term," she shared. "I got drunk at a frat party. I guess it was for my own good."
One short term. She'd been loving her classes, too. She'd taken general arts with the plan of picking a major after the Christmas break. Maybe Psych. Then there was that pre-Thanksgiving party...
She shrugged. "Fox--it's a term for an attractive person. I guess small desert mammals are supposed to be sexy."
He joined her on the window ledge. The small window ledge. It meant his masculine thigh pressed against hers. The heat of him seeped through the fabric of his trousers.
He leaned in to her. Close. Oh so close.
Way too close. Close enough to... to kiss her.
He did have the most amazing lips. Curved like a seashell on the bottom. Deep divot in the top that pointed downward, as if to indicate exactly where to kiss.
Not that she didn't know that already.
They seemed locked in time, hovering in a frozen instant. Only her jumpy heart moved, pounded loud. How could he not hear that erratic beat?
"So now I am sexy?" he asked, breaking the moment.
Ooooh, big mistake telling him that. Looking away from him, she felt one of her epic blushes threaten to creep down from the already hot tips of her ears.
No matter how hot he was, he was still her kidnapper. Quick , she told herself. Deflect .
"Where's the Palm of Askar?" The question rushed out of her.
*****
Walid inhaled the warming midday breeze. Normally, the air up here smelled slightly of the ocean, but pure and clear. Today, with Noelle so close beside him, all he could detect was the scent of her, the expensive floral scent she wore so well.
He could have rescued the agreement with Al Khalili by taking his oldest daughter for his wife, and more importantly, taken her dowry to pay some of what Askar would soon owe. But seeing Noelle sprint around the palace courtyard... She had seemed so free, so wild... The broad smile on her face that seemed to exist for herself alone...
If only Askar could be that free.
He could not do it. Could not make an agreement to wed an unknown woman hidden behind a veil. Besides his distaste for pretense, he envisioned the progress of his country as more equality, more freedom, more self-determination. Fewer restrictions on people's lives.
More people running in gym clothes on the streets.
He had not been angry when Al Khalili had made an excuse and departed. And so the deadline counted down.
But now Noelle asked about the Palm.
"Lost," he finally told her, when he shook himself out of his fantasy of finding the jewel and ending this crisis. "No doubt in the hands of some private collector, hidden from the world. Last seen before German invaders sacked the palace during World War II. Sheikh Osman, the sheikh at the time--my great-grandfather--did his best to keep the Palm safe, but ultimately failed."
Perhaps his great-grandfather had been the first in an ancestral line of failures. First Osman, then his own father. Then himself.
"The Nazis got it?" Noelle queried, her tone hinting at disappointment. As if she herself had some stake in the jewel.
He shook his head. "As I said, Sheikh Osman hid the Palm, knowing the Nazis desired it for its supposed connection to the djinni who gifted it to my family. He also commissioned an elaborate map of clues to the location where the treasure is hidden. The invaders found the map and searched the land until the day they were forced to leave Askar by Berlin's defeat. In the meantime, they imprisoned
"I am a small desert mammal?"
"You don't know the expression?" she asked. "Did you go to college in Askar? I just assumed you went to Harvard or Oxford or something."
His lips twitched down. "My father never would have permitted such a thing. I attended a few classes at the University of Deira, but I was taught mostly by the best private tutors."
Wow. And she thought she had a sheltered life. He'd never even attended school.
"Mine pulled me out after one term," she shared. "I got drunk at a frat party. I guess it was for my own good."
One short term. She'd been loving her classes, too. She'd taken general arts with the plan of picking a major after the Christmas break. Maybe Psych. Then there was that pre-Thanksgiving party...
She shrugged. "Fox--it's a term for an attractive person. I guess small desert mammals are supposed to be sexy."
He joined her on the window ledge. The small window ledge. It meant his masculine thigh pressed against hers. The heat of him seeped through the fabric of his trousers.
He leaned in to her. Close. Oh so close.
Way too close. Close enough to... to kiss her.
He did have the most amazing lips. Curved like a seashell on the bottom. Deep divot in the top that pointed downward, as if to indicate exactly where to kiss.
Not that she didn't know that already.
They seemed locked in time, hovering in a frozen instant. Only her jumpy heart moved, pounded loud. How could he not hear that erratic beat?
"So now I am sexy?" he asked, breaking the moment.
Ooooh, big mistake telling him that. Looking away from him, she felt one of her epic blushes threaten to creep down from the already hot tips of her ears.
No matter how hot he was, he was still her kidnapper. Quick , she told herself. Deflect .
"Where's the Palm of Askar?" The question rushed out of her.
*****
Walid inhaled the warming midday breeze. Normally, the air up here smelled slightly of the ocean, but pure and clear. Today, with Noelle so close beside him, all he could detect was the scent of her, the expensive floral scent she wore so well.
He could have rescued the agreement with Al Khalili by taking his oldest daughter for his wife, and more importantly, taken her dowry to pay some of what Askar would soon owe. But seeing Noelle sprint around the palace courtyard... She had seemed so free, so wild... The broad smile on her face that seemed to exist for herself alone...
If only Askar could be that free.
He could not do it. Could not make an agreement to wed an unknown woman hidden behind a veil. Besides his distaste for pretense, he envisioned the progress of his country as more equality, more freedom, more self-determination. Fewer restrictions on people's lives.
More people running in gym clothes on the streets.
He had not been angry when Al Khalili had made an excuse and departed. And so the deadline counted down.
But now Noelle asked about the Palm.
"Lost," he finally told her, when he shook himself out of his fantasy of finding the jewel and ending this crisis. "No doubt in the hands of some private collector, hidden from the world. Last seen before German invaders sacked the palace during World War II. Sheikh Osman, the sheikh at the time--my great-grandfather--did his best to keep the Palm safe, but ultimately failed."
Perhaps his great-grandfather had been the first in an ancestral line of failures. First Osman, then his own father. Then himself.
"The Nazis got it?" Noelle queried, her tone hinting at disappointment. As if she herself had some stake in the jewel.
He shook his head. "As I said, Sheikh Osman hid the Palm, knowing the Nazis desired it for its supposed connection to the djinni who gifted it to my family. He also commissioned an elaborate map of clues to the location where the treasure is hidden. The invaders found the map and searched the land until the day they were forced to leave Askar by Berlin's defeat. In the meantime, they imprisoned
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