Desert Rogues Part 2 (24 page)

“He abandoned you,” her father pointed out. “What kind of man does that? He tried to turn your head, the way he's doing now.”

“Emma, you've never been strong enough to take care of yourself,” her mother said, her voice pleading. “You can see that, can't you? Oh, darling, come home. You belong here, with us.”

Emma ignored the pleas and the claims. She'd been plenty strong—she should know. Her independence had been hard-won.

“He didn't abandon me, Daddy,” she said. “He came to see me every day. He called when he was in Bahania for his aunt's funeral, and as soon as he got back to Texas, he practically camped out in front of the house, didn't he?”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Yes. Is he lying?”

Her father was silent for a long time. “He came by a few times.”

She clutched the phone tighter. Reyhan had told the truth about everything. “You told him I didn't want to see him. You decided
for
me.”

“Kitten, you were in no shape to deal with him. Have you forgotten what you went through?”

No. She would never forget. The pain would be with her always.

“Mom, did you write the letter telling him I never wanted to see him again?”

“I…Oh, Emma. It was for the best.”

She closed her eyes and wondered how her life would have been different if she'd known. She'd loved Reyhan as much as her childish heart had allowed, and she would have gone with him in a second. Had her parents realized that? Had they not wanted to see their only child living half a world away in a foreign land?

If she had only known…

“What about the money?” she asked, more resigned than angry. “Why didn't you tell me about that?”

“We thought it was best for you not to worry about that,” her mother said primly.

Not to worry? “I have student loans and a ten-year-old car,” she said. “You had no right to keep that information to yourself. Spending it or giving it back was my decision to make.”

“You were so young, kitten,” her father said. “Too young.”

For all of this, she thought.

“Reyhan said he sent a letter telling me not to let pride get in the way of the money. After that, some has been withdrawn regularly. What did you do with it?”

“We didn't spend it,” her mother said, sounding outraged. “We simply moved it into a money-market account. It's all there, darling. I'll show you the bank statements when you get home.”

She felt drained and weary. It had been an evening of too many emotions.

“Were you ever going to tell me the truth?” she asked.

“Of course,” her mother said.

“We love you,” her father added.

“When? Oh, let me guess. When you thought I was old enough.”

“Exactly.”

She was twenty-four and living on her own. She had a job, an apartment and something closely resembling a life. What rite of passage had her parents been waiting for?

She was sure in their hearts they had planned to tell her what had happened, but they would have put it off as long as possible. Partly because they wouldn't want to make her angry and partly because they wouldn't want her returning to Reyhan. She was beginning to suspect they would have done anything to keep her close. Even lie about her marriage.

“Why did you tell me the marriage wasn't real?” she asked.

“We weren't sure,” her mother said. “That lawyer we hired couldn't verify it one way or the other. Best to be safe.”

“By telling me I wasn't married when I was? What if I'd fallen in love and had gotten married again? I would have been a bigamist.”

“If you'd gotten serious about someone, we would have said something,” her father told her. “Emma, you have to understand our position in all this. We only want what's best for you.”

Words she'd heard her entire life. For a long time she'd believed them, but now she wasn't so sure. Did they want what was best for her or for themselves?

“I need to go,” she said. “I'll call when I get home.”

“Emma, no!” Her mother sounded frantic. “You can't stay there. It's so far away.”

“I'll be back in two weeks. Don't worry. Everything is fine.”

“But, Emma—”

She cut them off with a quick “I love you” then hung up.

Alone, confused and weary to her bones, she curled up in a corner of her sofa and wondered when exactly her life had become so messy and what she was going to do to get things in order.

T
he next morning Emma awoke with a brain full of questions and an achy feeling low in her belly. She knew the latter came from a night of erotic dreams with her and Reyhan as the stars. In her sleep he'd taken her over and over again and she'd been a willing participant. She'd pleaded and wanted and touched and surrendered happily.

Uneasy and more than a little apprehensive, Emma decided to ignore whatever not-so-subconscious message might be lurking in her dreams. Right now she had bigger problems—namely, what she'd said to Reyhan and how he'd told the truth about everything.

After showering in her Montana-size bathroom and dressing, she skipped breakfast. She owed Reyhan an apology and the nerves clog dancing in her stomach were unlikely to go away until she'd delivered it.

After getting directions to his office from the young woman cleaning the suite, Emma stepped out into the main corridor and walked toward what she hoped was the business wing of the palace. Ten minutes and three more sets of directions later, she walked into what looked like a very busy, very upscale office facility. She crossed to the middle-aged man sitting at a reception desk.

“I would like to speak with Prince Reyhan,” she said.

The man's neutral expression didn't change but she thought she caught him eyeing her inexpensive dress and dismissing her.

“Do you have an appointment?” he asked.

She shook her head.

He reached for the large phone console on his desk. “I will call his assistant and check his schedule. May I ask who you are?”

She'd been about to say “Emma Kennedy” but her pride had been bruised. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't afford nice clothes. Besides, she was clean and tidy and she'd taken extra time with her makeup, and did Reyhan think she was badly dressed, too?

She raised her chin slightly and looked the man in the eye.

“His wife.”

The man raised his eyebrows, color fled his cheeks and his jaw dropped.

“Of course, Your Highness.” He nodded differentially and quickly pushed several buttons on the phone. When he was connected, he announced her and then hung up.

“This way, Princess Emma,” he said, rising, then bowing.

Emma felt kind of small and petty for claiming a relationship that barely existed, but it was too late to call back the words.

She was led into a large open area. There were alcoves leading to private offices. The man apologized for making her wait even a second, then scurried off. Emma entertained herself by studying a color-coded map on the wall. She saw the capital city of Bahania and the ocean. El Bahar was also outlined and there were small markers at random intervals.

She moved closer to get a better look, when she felt a tingling at the back of her neck. Turning, she saw Reyhan striding toward her.

If her heart had not been trapped in her chest, it would have taken flight. He was so tall, she thought foolishly. And handsome. A powerful man who ruled an empire. Emotions flashed in his dark eyes but they were gone before she could catalog any of them. Then Reyhan was standing in front of her, staring, and Emma couldn't think. She could only breathe in the scent of him and silently wish he would kiss her again.

“Emma,” he said, his voice low and sensual.

That was all. No more than her name and she found herself swaying toward him.

“Reyhan.”

“Now that we have established our respective identities, perhaps you would like to tell me the reason for your presence in my offices.”

“What? Oh.” She glanced around at the people working. They were trying not to pay attention while hanging on every word. “Could we please speak in private?”

“Of course.”

He took her arm and led the way into a massive office. A carved wooden desk dominated the center of the room. An exquisite Oriental rug outlined a conversation area, while bookcases lined one entire wall.

She saw another detailed map opposite the window and three different computer systems.

“What is that for?” she asked, pointing at the map.

“It details the placement of the oil wells and pumping stations here and in El Bahar.”

“There are a lot of them.”

He smiled slightly. “Yes.”

She'd heard Bahania was a rich nation—now she could see why.

“Our oil production is my area of expertise,” he said. “That is why I was in Texas getting my master's degree.”

She thought of all the oil in her own state. “I guess we're experts, too.”

“Yes.”

He led her to the sofa grouping and motioned for her to sit down. When she'd done so, he settled across from her and assumed a patient expression.

Funny how he looked so remote and distant, she thought. As if he hadn't kissed her the previous evening. As if he hadn't reacted with desire, breathing hard and wanting her. Or had she imagined his reaction? Had he kissed her to show he still had power over her, while not reacting himself?

She didn't have enough experience to be able to tell which it had been—a disadvantage she didn't enjoy because there was no doubt in her mind that Reyhan had known exactly what was going on inside of
her
body.

“What did you wish to speak to me about?” he asked.

She twisted her fingers together on her lap and shrugged. “I spoke with my parents last night.”

She waited to see if he would say anything, but when he didn't, she continued.

“You were right…about everything. The marriage, the money, that you tried to get in touch with me.”

She glanced at him. He looked neither surprised nor annoyed.

“I'm sorry I doubted you,” she whispered.

“Why would you not?” he said. “You have known your parents your entire life. We had been together only a few weeks. I disappeared after the wedding without giving you any information. Your parents would have been suspicious. No doubt they thought the worst.”

“They're good at that,” she said, surprised he was being so magnanimous. She would have expected a little gloating on his part—he'd more than earned it.

“I should have questioned them,” she said. “I wanted to, but I was afraid.”

“That I sought you?”

“That you didn't. That I'd been far too forgettable.”

He looked at her. “You are many things, Emma, but not that. I, too, could have put more effort into getting in touch with you. I suspected some subterfuge on the part of your father, but I walked away. I assumed that in time you would learn what had occurred and get in contact with me.”

There was more to it than that, she thought. Reyhan was a proud man. He wouldn't beg. Not for her. Probably not for any woman.

“I should have been more curious,” she told him. “Instead I took the easy way out and I believed them.”

She studied the strong lines of his face. Who was this man who had married her and then walked away? If only she hadn't been so young and inexperienced. If only they'd met more as equals. Six years ago she might have intrigued him initially, but in time he would have tired of her childish ways. And now?

She didn't have an answer to that, although she was more than willing to try the kissing again. Not that Reyhan seemed to be offering.

“So all this time after the fact, we make peace with the past,” she said. “And in a few days the king will authorize a divorce.”

“Yes.”

Ouch. His agreement stung a little. Foolish, she told herself. She couldn't possibly have any interest in him. Better to get this all behind her and start over. She would find someone else—someone more like her—and settle down. Have kids. That was her destiny—not a handsome prince from a foreign land.

She stood, and he rose, as well.

There was so much so say, and yet nothing. What could have been would stay a mystery.

“I was wondering about palace tours,” she said.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I'm unlikely to get back to Bahania anytime soon. I would like to take advantage of my remaining time here to see something of the palace and the city.”

“You may go anywhere you like in the palace.”

She laughed. “Gee, thanks, but wandering around lost isn't my idea of a good time. I'm interested in hearing about the palace itself. Maybe some of the history. Is there a regular tour offered? I could join that.”

“I will take you anywhere you would like to go.”

“That's really nice of you, but unnecessary. I know you're busy.”

Not that she would mind spending time with Reyhan. Being around him made her insides flutter—a new and thrilling experience. But he had responsibilities that didn't include her.

“Until the divorce, you are my wife. I will show you the palace and the city. We will begin today after lunch.”

“That sounds like more of an order than a request.”

He smiled. “You were the one to mention the tour. I am accommodating you.”

Hmm, if he said so. Emma figured there was no point in arguing. Not only would Reyhan likely win, but having the argument would prove her to be a complete idiot. She wanted to spend time with him, which he was offering. A smart woman would smile and say yes.

“I look forward to it,” she said brightly. “What time?”

“Two o'clock. Is that convenient?”

She laughed. “It's not like I have a full social calendar. I'll be ready.”

He reached out and took her hand, then drew it toward his mouth. At the last second, he turned her fingers and pressed his lips against the inside of her wrist.

The hot, damp contact sent shivers zipping up her arm. Tension invaded her body and she would swear her knees were within seconds of buckling.

“Until two,” he said, and released her.

Emma left quickly while she could because the alternative seemed to be throwing herself at him and begging him to never let her go. A feeling she couldn't deny, nor could she explain.

 

Reyhan showed up promptly at two. While he still looked hunky and appealing in the suit he'd been wearing earlier, Emma had agonized over her clothing choices. She'd wanted to look sexy and glamorous and enticing. All a challenge based on the contents of her suitcase. Not that her closet back home would have been that much help. She spent her workdays in scrub pants and brightly colored shirts and her evening attire pretty much consisted of khaki pants or long skirts and casual tops. Not exactly the fashion-forward clothing she would need to catch the eye of a prince.

A prince very interested in divorcing her, she reminded herself as she smoothed the front of her skirt and smiled brightly. Reyhan had made it more than clear he was intent on getting her out of his life. Not exactly the actions of a man prepared to be overwhelmed by her modest charms.

“What interests you most?” he asked as she stepped into the hallway and shut the door of her suite behind her. “There is an impressive display of centuries-old jewelry in a few of the public rooms.”

“I'm sure it's lovely,” she told him, “but I'm more of an antique furniture and tapestry kind of girl.”

Reyhan raised one dark eyebrow, but didn't comment on her statement. Maybe he didn't believe her, which wasn't her problem. Sure, she liked sparkling things as much as the next woman, but they weren't her world.

“Very well,” he said. “We'll begin in the older section of the palace. The original structure was built in the late 900s. Since then, the pink palace has been updated and enlarged several times. Once, during the reign of Elizabeth the first, the daughter of a wealthy merchant was captured and held for ransom by the bastard son of the king. After a time, instead of returning her, he fell in love with her. They married and lived happily together. For their tenth anniversary, he presented her with a chapel—a miniature representation of a cathedral she'd seen once in France. We'll begin there.”

Emma walked next to him, trying not to get caught up in the heat his body generated. “Were many women captured and held against their will?”

Reyhan smiled. “It is a time-honored tradition for sheiks to take that which they admire.”

How comforting. “So there's a harem here in the palace, too?”

“Of course.”

She wasn't sure if she wanted to see it or not. Imagine a place where women were held simply to offer pleasure to one man. Of course there would be a lot of free time. She could catch up on her reading.

She glanced at her estranged husband and wondered what it would be like to be captured by him. Would he be kind? Demanding? She shivered at the thought of either. The wanting that was always just below the surface when he was around, burst into life. Her body ached to be close to his. She wanted him to pull her against him, kiss her, caress her. Instead she had to be content with the occasional brush of his arm against hers.