Strangers in the Desert by Lynn Raye Harris Page A

was undeniable that she had done so. Just as it was undeniable that she now felt guilty for it.
    Was guilt the only reason she wanted to see Rafiq, the only reason she claimed to want to be a part of his life? And what would happen when she realized that little boys were energetic and messy, that they neededlove and discipline and parents who put their welfare first?
    He would not take that chance. He knew what it was like to have a mother whose love you craved, but who would rather see you when you were cleaned and groomed and dressed like a perfect little boy so she could show you off to her friends.
    Her friends would
ooh
and
aah
and pinch your cheeks.
    And then you would be sent back to the nursery with your nanny, the woman who would clean your scrapes, wipe your tears and mitigate your fights with your brothers on a daily basis. The woman who really loved you and raised you as if you were her child, because your own mother claimed that children were too much for her delicate nerves.
    He did not want that for his son. He wanted a woman who loved Rafiq with her whole heart, and who would never see him as an inconvenience or a burden. Jasmine was that woman, not Isabella.
    Not only that, but he was also determined not to be forced into spending the rest of his life with a woman he didn’t trust. A woman he despised.
    A woman he wanted so badly he could taste it.
    Adan swore under his breath. How could he want her? How could he feel this pull of attraction for her, but not for Jasmine? How could he want to strip that damn blue dress off her body and find her sweet feminine center with his fingers and tongue before plunging deeply into her body in order to slake this craving?
    He had never been ruled by desire. Had never allowed his need for a woman to override his good sense. He remembered delighting in Isabella’s body before, butthey’d been newly wed and it was his duty to get her with child.
    Liar.
    It had been more than that, and he knew it. He’d wanted her then, and he wanted her now. In spite of her lack of personality back then, in spite of her unsuitability now.
    He would not act on the compulsion, however, no matter how long the divorce took. There was nothing good that could come of it. He’d been weak when he’d kissed her in Hawaii, but he would not be so weak again.
    For Rafiq’s sake, he would not be weak.
    Isabella didn’t remember ever having been to the palace before, though for all she knew, she had been. The whitewashed sandstone was inlaid with gold and porcelain tiles until the whole structure seemed to gleam in the sunshine. But that hadn’t been the most amazing thing.
    The most amazing thing about the palace was the approach. The marble fountains and statuary, the palms, the lush tropical plants and the acres of green grass that were indicative of fabulous wealth in such a hot and water-conscious country. Port Jahfar sat on the Arabian Sea, but the water had to be desalinated before it could be used to care for plants. And it took massive amounts of water to make grass grow in Jahfar.
    After their arrival, she’d been shown to a suite of rooms and left on her own for the past several hours, with the exception of a visit from a doctor who wanted to ask questions about her memory. She’d answered as truthfully as she could. He hadn’t been able to enlightenher about her condition in any way, but he’d seemed satisfied by her answers.
    She’d tried to leave her room afterward, but a servant had been assigned to her whose single duty, it seemed, was to keep her from doing so.
    Finally, after exploring her quarters, she’d taken up residence in a window seat that afforded her a view of the sea beyond the palace’s gardens. She was full of restless energy, and frustrated that she had no way to use it. There was no computer, no books, no television, nothing to occupy her time. There was a desk and some writing paper, and there were several seating areas with comfortable furniture, but