her go on to her marriage.
His smile faltered. The motorcade went past the palace gate and stopped beneath a portico. A turbaned footman opened his door. As they went up the sweeping steps, Kareef glanced back at his brother. Rafiq seemed dazed as he stared up at the turrets and domes reaching into the sky, glowing like a pearl beneath the noonday sun.
Kareef stopped, taking his brother by the arm. “Here I must leave you, my brother. So if you will excuse me…”
Rafiq cocked a suspicious eyebrow. “Off to place a bet on the Qais Cup?”
Kareef laughed. “I haven’t gambled on a horse race in years.”
“Then it’s being crowned king,” he guessed. “All that raw power.” He winked. “I’m almost envious, my brother.”
“No.” That definitely wasn’t it. “Excuse me.”
“Then what is it?” his brother called after him. “What’s got you so damned happy ?”
Kareef didn’t answer. He hurried down the stone cloister of ancient Byzantine arches around the courtyard. Servants stopped to bow as he rushed past them, his white robes whipping around his ankles. In the courtyard, the sun shone bright and hot. A warm breeze blew through the palm trees, rich with the fragrance of spice and oranges.
Her scent.
He glanced at the bright blue sky, hearing birdsong from the garden. It was after noon, and he hadn’t yet eaten. But he hungered for only one thing.
He found Jasmine waiting in her small bedroom in the servants’ wing, sitting on the bed reading a paperback book, her packed suitcase at her feet. When he opened the door, she looked up, her expression grave and pale.
“Finally, I am ready.” He glanced around the tiny, shabby room, noticing it for the first time. He cleared his throat. “I regret this was the only room available in the palace….”
“That’s quite all right,” she said quietly, marking her place and tucking her book in her suitcase. “This room has suited me very well.” She rose to her feet. “Shall we go?”
Her wide eyes looked up at him, the color of sepia fringed in black. She was wearing a short modern dress in pink silk. Her dark hair was pulled back in a chignon beneath a little felt hat. Her look was retro, modern and with a quirky style all her own.
She looked sixteen still. The same pale, olive-hued skin. The same full black lashes, sweeping over high cheekbones. The same full, luscious lips, bare of makeup. The color of roses.
He longed to kiss those lips.
He was already hard for her.
No wonder. He’d been celibate for… He didn’t like to think about that. He’d thought he was too busy for women, or simply uninterested in the particular succession of gold diggers who threw themselves at royalty on a daily basis, even if he had been only minor royalty until recently.
Now he knew the truth. His body had hungered for only one woman. The woman in front of him now.
He could hardly wait to satiate himself with her. It was a journey of several hours to the desert. His eyes fell upon her tiny bed. He was not sure he could wait that long….
But even as he considered the size of her bed, she’d already left the room, dragging her tiny suitcase behind her. He caught up with her, lifting up the suitcase on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said gravely.
“It weighs almost nothing.” And it truly did. He carried it easily with one hand. “Why did you pack so little?”
“Um.” Her lips turned upward at the corners. “To avoid baggage fees at the airport?”
He snorted a laugh. “Hajjar has his own plane.” He shook his head. “You always enjoyed dress-up as a girl, always had your own style different from the rest.” He smiled. “Has so much changed for you? You’re too busy to worry about clothes, now that you run your own multimillion dollar company in New York?”
“Ah. Well.” Her eyes shifted away uneasily. “Umar has already picked out the clothes he thinks appropriate for me. They will arrive from Paris in a few days. So he
His smile faltered. The motorcade went past the palace gate and stopped beneath a portico. A turbaned footman opened his door. As they went up the sweeping steps, Kareef glanced back at his brother. Rafiq seemed dazed as he stared up at the turrets and domes reaching into the sky, glowing like a pearl beneath the noonday sun.
Kareef stopped, taking his brother by the arm. “Here I must leave you, my brother. So if you will excuse me…”
Rafiq cocked a suspicious eyebrow. “Off to place a bet on the Qais Cup?”
Kareef laughed. “I haven’t gambled on a horse race in years.”
“Then it’s being crowned king,” he guessed. “All that raw power.” He winked. “I’m almost envious, my brother.”
“No.” That definitely wasn’t it. “Excuse me.”
“Then what is it?” his brother called after him. “What’s got you so damned happy ?”
Kareef didn’t answer. He hurried down the stone cloister of ancient Byzantine arches around the courtyard. Servants stopped to bow as he rushed past them, his white robes whipping around his ankles. In the courtyard, the sun shone bright and hot. A warm breeze blew through the palm trees, rich with the fragrance of spice and oranges.
Her scent.
He glanced at the bright blue sky, hearing birdsong from the garden. It was after noon, and he hadn’t yet eaten. But he hungered for only one thing.
He found Jasmine waiting in her small bedroom in the servants’ wing, sitting on the bed reading a paperback book, her packed suitcase at her feet. When he opened the door, she looked up, her expression grave and pale.
“Finally, I am ready.” He glanced around the tiny, shabby room, noticing it for the first time. He cleared his throat. “I regret this was the only room available in the palace….”
“That’s quite all right,” she said quietly, marking her place and tucking her book in her suitcase. “This room has suited me very well.” She rose to her feet. “Shall we go?”
Her wide eyes looked up at him, the color of sepia fringed in black. She was wearing a short modern dress in pink silk. Her dark hair was pulled back in a chignon beneath a little felt hat. Her look was retro, modern and with a quirky style all her own.
She looked sixteen still. The same pale, olive-hued skin. The same full black lashes, sweeping over high cheekbones. The same full, luscious lips, bare of makeup. The color of roses.
He longed to kiss those lips.
He was already hard for her.
No wonder. He’d been celibate for… He didn’t like to think about that. He’d thought he was too busy for women, or simply uninterested in the particular succession of gold diggers who threw themselves at royalty on a daily basis, even if he had been only minor royalty until recently.
Now he knew the truth. His body had hungered for only one woman. The woman in front of him now.
He could hardly wait to satiate himself with her. It was a journey of several hours to the desert. His eyes fell upon her tiny bed. He was not sure he could wait that long….
But even as he considered the size of her bed, she’d already left the room, dragging her tiny suitcase behind her. He caught up with her, lifting up the suitcase on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said gravely.
“It weighs almost nothing.” And it truly did. He carried it easily with one hand. “Why did you pack so little?”
“Um.” Her lips turned upward at the corners. “To avoid baggage fees at the airport?”
He snorted a laugh. “Hajjar has his own plane.” He shook his head. “You always enjoyed dress-up as a girl, always had your own style different from the rest.” He smiled. “Has so much changed for you? You’re too busy to worry about clothes, now that you run your own multimillion dollar company in New York?”
“Ah. Well.” Her eyes shifted away uneasily. “Umar has already picked out the clothes he thinks appropriate for me. They will arrive from Paris in a few days. So he
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