Desert Rogues Part 2 (26 page)

“I must return to my office,” Reyhan said at last. “You will find your way back to your rooms.”

It was a statement rather than a question, and Emma wasn't sure she could speak, let alone argue. She watched him walk away, then she staggered a few feet to one of the columns and leaned against it until her heartbeat slowed to normal.

She didn't understand what was happening with Reyhan. She hadn't seen him in years. Why was he getting to her? And why did he have to be the only man who made her
want
with such incredible intensity?

“Too many questions,” she whispered when she could finally think and breathe like a normal person. “No answers.” Just a man who made her burn and a ticking clock that reminded her it would soon be time to leave.

 

Reyhan didn't return to his office right away. He detoured through the far end of the palace, walking briskly in an attempt to burn off the passion and need that Emma had created.

Nothing had changed. Emma's pull over him remained absolute. She could bring him to his knees with just a glance. When she touched him—he would capture the moon if she so requested.

He could never let her know the power she had over him, could never let her know his weakness for her. He paused by a window and stared uneasily out at the view. He
would
control this, he told himself. He would
stay
in control.

In a few days she would be gone and there would be relief. But instead of anticipation, he felt only pain at the thought of his world without her. The ache inside of him deepened.

So much time had passed, he'd hoped that he could face her and not care, not need. But he'd been wrong. Worse, she responded to him with the wants and desires of an experienced woman. She was no longer the frightened child he'd married.

Who had taught her to kiss so expertly? he wondered grimly. What man had tutored the woman who belonged to
him?
Passion blended with rage as his hands curled into fists. Were that man here now, Reyhan would rip him apart.

No! Control. He had to get control. Emma might be the color in his world, but she was also dangerous. Better to live in shades of gray than risk everything. Just a few more days. Then she would be gone and he would be free.

T
he main marketplace was so filled with light and color, it was like stepping inside of a kaleidoscope. Emma didn't know where to look first. Wooden stalls lined the wide stone street and everywhere she turned there were more wonders to be seen. Bright silks puddling like quivering gems, copper pots of every shape and size, fruits, vegetables and rich, supple leather goods tempted her to step closer and touch.

In addition to the visual display, there were also strange and intriguing scents—sandalwood, coconut, exotic flowers and spices blended with wood smoke and the underlying musk of perfumes. A hundred conversations blended into a unique musical accompaniment with the call of the merchants, the barking of dogs and the laughter of the children racing through the back alleys.

“It's wonderful,” she breathed, pausing to stare into the eyes of a camel tied up at a corner. “Like something out of a movie.”

She smiled at Reyhan, who nodded.

“There are few sights that compare with an open-air market,” he told her. “We have one of the oldest and largest in the world.”

She smiled at a young woman holding a baby. The woman ducked her head and slowly backed away. Emma knew it wasn't because of her—no one knew her from a rock. Instead it was the presence of a prince, and the three large and hostile-looking bodyguards that were assigned to accompany them. The well-dressed and well-armed men kept the other shoppers at least an arm's distance away and discouraged casual conversation.

Emma wanted to protest, saying they would be fine on their own, but who was she to judge? Besides, Reyhan had explained that the accompanying men were as much for crowd control as protection.

She'd been surprised when Reyhan had offered to take her to the local market. After their last encounter she'd been sure he would want to avoid her, what with how he'd stalked away without saying anything. Yet two days later he'd shown up at her door with the invitation.

She'd been delighted to accept.

“Local dates,” Reyhan said, stopping by one of the stands. “Try some.”

The merchant, a tiny wizened man with a huge smile, held out a tray of plump dates. When he nodded encouragingly at her, she took one and tasted.

“They're good,” she said.

The merchant beamed. Reyhan reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins.

“No, no.” The old man backed up and shook his head. “It is my honor. My pleasure.”

Reyhan smiled. “Such is the power of a beautiful woman.”

Emma was so startled by the offhand compliment, she laughed. “Oh, sure. He's overwhelmed by my beauty, not by the fact that you're a prince and traveling with enough muscle to start your own wrestling federation.”

His dark gaze settled on her face. “You don't think you're attractive?”

“I'm okay.” Passably pretty, she thought. No one had ever looked at her and then run shrieking in the opposite direction. “But I've never overwhelmed anyone.”

He continued to study her, then looked away without saying anything. The merchant pressed a bag in her hands. She could feel the soft fruit inside.

“Thank you,” she said. “You're very kind.”

As they walked away, Reyhan said something in a language she couldn't understand. One of the bodyguards made a note on a small pad he'd pulled from his jacket pocket.

“What was that about?” she asked when they'd drifted down another aisle in the market.

“Someone from the palace will visit the old man's stall later in the week,” Reyhan said in a low voice. “A large quantity of dates will be purchased at a premium price.” He jerked his head back the way they'd come. “The old man offered a gift he can scarcely afford to give. Respect from my people shouldn't come at the price of starving.”

“It was just a few dates.”

“He has nothing else to sell.”

An interesting point, she thought, studying Reyhan from the corner of her eye. She would have said he was firm and intelligent. Remote and stern with a hidden well of passion. But she would never have guessed he had a compassionate heart for those in need. One more item on the long list of things she didn't know about her soon-to-be ex prince-husband.

Two young boys ran past them, laughing and yelling as they went. Emma turned to watch them go.

“Did you come play in the market when you were a child?” she asked. “Were you allowed out and about?”

“Sometimes,” Reyhan said. “With my brother Jefri.” He shrugged. “Once we were playing with more abandon than usual and knocked a cooking pot off an open fire. In our hasty effort to retrieve it before the large and mean-looking owner noticed, we bumped a burning log into the corner of a stall. It was old, dry wood and went up in seconds.”

She covered her mouth with her fingers. “Was anyone hurt?”

He shook his head. “No, but three stalls were completely destroyed before the fire was brought under control. Jefri and I were in trouble for a long time. Our father refused to let us simply pay for the damage out of our pocket money. Instead we had to rebuild the stalls and then work in them for several weekends. In the end, the owners came out ahead as people shopped to see the young princes up close.”

“So it was a fitting punishment?” she asked, even as she thought it sounded a bit harsh. Not the rebuilding. That made sense, but the working in public where the boys would be stared at like zoo animals.

“My father wanted us to learn,” Reyhan told her, not really answering the question. “Jefri and I were more careful on our next trip to the marketplace.”

They stopped in front of a stall displaying silver jewelry. The merchant nodded exuberantly and held out dozens of silver bangles. They were large and beautifully carved.

“Something to remember the day by,” Reyhan said, selecting several and offering them to her.

She wouldn't need a reminder. Everything about this time with him was burned onto her brain. But the bracelets
were
pretty. She reached for one made of linked hearts and slid it on.

He took the bag of dates from her and passed them to one of the bodyguards, then held her hand out in front of her. When he turned her wrist, the light caught the shiny bangle.

“Very nice,” he said, and gave the jeweler several folded bills.

“Is it terribly expensive?” she asked, feeling a little guilty. “I can pay you back. I have my checkbook in my purse.”

Reyhan didn't speak, nor did he turn away. His dark gaze did the talking for him as she remembered who he was and all the money he'd left in her account. No doubt a silver bracelet wasn't going to be a blip on his financial radar.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It's very beautiful.”

“You are a woman who deserves beautiful things.”

That compliment nearly made her stumble, but she managed to stay upright. Fake it until you believe it, she told herself. Even if the faking lasted right up until the moment she walked into her apartment back in Dallas.

She wanted to ask what made her deserving of beautiful things and if he meant it when he looked at her with fire in his eyes. Did he feel the sparks between them? Did the heat draw him? Had he relived their kisses, as she had, longing for more, for every intimacy?

Rather than risk a potentially embarrassing line of conversation, she went for something safer.

“Did you attend school locally?” she asked.

“No. Just the tutor, then to a British prep school, then an American university.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back and urged her down another crowded aisle. Several people bowed and smiled when they saw him. From what she could tell, Reyhan was very popular with his people. Probably a good thing when one was a prince.

“My father thought it was important for his sons to have a diverse education and contact with the West. Much of our business is conducted with American and European interests. Familiarity with mindsets and customs helps the process.”

She thought of her own small life. Aside from now, and except for their brief honeymoon in the Caribbean, she'd never been out of the state.

“I would imagine both Britain and America were different for you,” she said.

“I knew some of your ways from watching movies. I'd been raised speaking English as well as Bahanian, so I was comfortable with the language. But there were still lessons to be learned.”

She stopped and touched his arm. “Like what?”

He glanced at her. “When I first arrived at my university, I told a few people who I was. Word quickly spread and my time there became…difficult.”

“Everyone wanting to rub shoulders with a real, live prince?” she asked sympathetically.

“Something like that. Some young women were enthusiastic in their effort to get to know me.”

She could imagine. “You would have been something of a catch.”

One corner of his mouth curved up. “So I was told. When I went to Texas, I decided not to tell anyone who I was. A few recognized me from various articles in magazines and reports on television, but for the most part I was able to simply be myself.”

“I had no clue,” she said, more than a little embarrassed by the fact. “I guess I should have paid more attention to current events.”

He started walking again and drew her along with him. “Not at all. Your interest in me was about who I was as a person, not who I was as a prince.”

“The whole royalty thing would have overwhelmed me,” she admitted. “Actually, I would have run in the opposite direction.”

“And I would have chased after you.”

“Really?”

She glanced at him, wondering if he was teasing or telling the truth. Would Reyhan have pursued her? She wanted to believe he had been that interested, but was it really possible? She'd just been a very shy, inexperienced eighteen-year-old. Hardly the sort of woman to catch the interest of a sophisticated man of the world.

He took her hand in his and squeezed lightly. “You wanted to be a nurse. I know you graduated with honors, but I'm not that familiar with your work. Tell me what you do.”

It was difficult to concentrate with his fingers rubbing against hers. When his thumb brushed against her palm, she nearly moaned. Wanting burned low in her belly, making her ache and need.

So many physical reactions, she thought. Why was her body coming alive now? With him?

Better not to ask, she told herself and focused on Reyhan's question.

“I'm a delivery room nurse,” she said.

His expression tightened with surprise. “You assist with births?”

“Pretty much.” She smiled. “It's so wonderful to spend my day helping babies being born. It's a time of joy and happiness for everyone involved.”

“I suppose that is more fitting than you dealing with men.”

“That's not why I chose my specialty. I went into it because I love children and babies and I thought it would be very gratifying. I was right.”

“My sister-in-law recently had a baby. My sisters Zara and Sabrina are also pregnant.”

“I'd heard. Cleo told me.”

As she spoke, she raised her face toward his. Sunlight turned strands of her hair to the color of copper. Humor brightened her eyes and made her skin glow as if lit from within.

Beautiful, Reyhan thought desperately. She had always been beautiful.

Not that her being ugly would have helped, for if he closed his eyes when he was with her, he still wanted her. The sound of her voice was as musical as the rush of the tide. The scent of her body teased and enticed him. Her gentle spirit called to him, as did her intelligence and humor. Blind, deaf and mute, he would have burned for the lightest brush of her touch.

His need for her grew every second he was in her presence. Soon it would be as uncontrollable as a wild animal, and like that animal, he was in danger of devouring her. He had to get away from her but not just yet. One more day, he told himself. Then he would retreat to nurse his wounds and wait out her remaining time in his company.

“What will you do when you return to Dallas?” he asked.

“What do you mean? I'll go back to work.”

Amusement tempered his growing desire. “Because you have bills to pay?”

She laughed. “Yes. All the usual things like rent and utilities, plus my student loans.”

She was still so innocent.

“I am Prince Reyhan of Bahania.”

She blinked at him. “Actually, I know that.”

“You are my wife.”

She shook her head. “I suppose technically, although not really.”

“Legally you are.”

“Okay. I guess. But you want a divorce.”

“And after the divorce, do you think you'll leave with nothing?”

Emma's green eyes widened in surprised. “I don't want anything. I'm not your responsibility, and I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”