Her Desert Knight (6 page)

How could this be wrong if it felt so good and didn’t hurt anybody? She collapsed gently on top of him and his strong arms closed around her back, holding her close. His chest rose and fell beneath her and emotion welled inside her. In his embrace she felt so supported and cared for and cherished, just as he’d said she should. Which was silly, since they really didn’t even know each other that well. There was a connection between them that neither of them could fully understand or articulate, but it was there all the same.

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. She wished she could stay here forever, pampered by his affection and his simple enjoyment of her company.

“That was something else, Dani.” His gruff voice and the gentle way he stroked her hair almost undid her. Their bodies seemed to fit so perfectly together, still throbbing and pulsing with enjoyment even as they lay quietly in each other’s arms.

“You’re something else.” She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know, and that was okay. She didn’t even mind being one in a long stream of eager women. Why not? It was the most pleasure she’d ever experienced during sex; she’d probably never know anything like it again. “And I’m very glad you interrupted my reading that day.”

“Me, too. It pains me to say this but it’s almost time for you to leave.”

“Already? I feel like we just got here.” A glance at her watch revealed that he was right. How had three hours flown by so fast? And how sweet of him to keep an eye on the time for her when he could have ignored it in the pursuit of his own pleasure. “I really wish I could stay, but we both know I can’t.”

“Can you come back tomorrow?”

She smiled, her face still pressed to his neck. “I’d love to.”

* * *

The next day they could hardly wait until the drive was over before they peeled off each other’s clothes and made steamy, passionate love again. The attraction between them was so intense it threatened to singe their flesh. Dani had never known such powerful desire. It undid her inhibitions and let her revel in pure enjoyment for its own sake. Afterward, they wrapped themselves in luxurious silk robes from the bedroom closet, and unpacked a lunch Quasar had brought from the hotel. They were in a room that had been remodeled into an open kitchen and living-room area. The ancient pale stone walls contrasted with the light-filled modern spaces, and stained-glass lanterns sprinkled glittering jewels of color over the walls and ceiling.

“Goodness, look at this salad. It must have twenty different things in it.” There were lush slices of fruit, nuts, fresh greens—everything looked as if it had been picked that morning.

“Salim scours the world for the most creative chefs and makes them an offer they can’t refuse.”

“It must take some convincing to get them to come to Salalah. I bet most of them have never heard of it.”

“Money talks.” Quasar grinned and spooned helpings of the salad he’d brought into beautifully painted earthenware bowls.

“Not to everyone.”

“Sooner or later, most people will listen to it. That’s my experience, anyway.”

“That’s a very mercenary view of the world.” She poured them both a glass of fresh limeade with fragrant mint leaves.

“True. What do you think motivates people?” His gaze contained a challenge. She resolved to rise to it.

“I think most people want to be happy. I know I do.”

“To a certain extent I agree.” He stretched out on one of the sofas, dish of salad balanced on his knee. “The problem is that no one really knows what makes them happy. They rarely even know when they are happy. They just notice when they’re not.”

“And they decide that a few more zeros on the end of their bank account balance will make them feel better?”

“Pretty much.” He winked.

It was hard to counter, since she wasn’t motivated by money at all. She’d been lucky enough never to have to worry about where her next meal was coming from. Family loyalty might come with obligations, but they were amply paid back by the security her family offered when she needed it most.

On the other hand, was she happy?

She looked at the gorgeous man seated on the sofa next to her, contentedly munching on the exotic salad. Right now, the answer was unequivocally yes. She was happy. She knew it wouldn’t last forever, or even for much longer, but right now she was in bliss.

“I’d like to meet your father.”

“What?” She almost dropped her fork.

“It’s not right for us to keep meeting in secret. We’re in Oman and we should abide by Omani custom.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He won’t like you. And with good reason, since you’ve tempted me into an illicit affair.
“You’re only here for a short time. There’s no point.”

“Of course there is. We don’t have to tell him we’re having sex, but at the very least he should know we’re friends.”

“But we’re not friends.”
We’re a lot more than that. Or much less
. She wasn’t quite sure. Her stomach had shriveled into a tiny knot. Her feelings of blissful happiness were evaporating into the air-conditioned atmosphere as she faced the true nature of their relationship head-on.

Quasar still looked relaxed and at ease, sipping his limeade. “Don’t worry, I’ll charm him.”

“He’s not really susceptible to charm. He’s an engineer. He’s all about structure and substance.”
He’ll want to know when the wedding is
. She couldn’t say that. She’d rather die. A pleasure-seeking international playboy like Quasar would not be marrying her in this lifetime. Even in the throes of passion she wasn’t delusional enough to think that.

“Trust me.”

She shook her head. “Trust
me
. It’s not a good idea. Besides, I don’t like being told what to do. That’s what my ex-husband specialized in, remember?” She was proud of herself for speaking her thoughts. She didn’t need a man to run her life and tell her what was appropriate. Not that she was pleased with herself for sneaking about, but under the circumstances it seemed like the only approach that protected both her feelings and her reputation. Quasar cared about her feelings because he wanted to please her, and her father cared about her reputation as a matter of family honor, but neither of them really had much reason to worry about the big picture.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I don’t like this sneaking around. It doesn’t sit well with me. We have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You just admitted there was no reason to tell him that we had sex.” She noticed how he called it having sex, not making love. “So it’s not like you wouldn’t be hiding something anyway. It will be easier for me if he never knows about us.”

“I’ve spoiled your appetite for this delicious food.” He looked ruefully at the fork now sitting idle on her plate. “I’m sorry. I’ll drop the subject. If you want me to be your secret lover I’ll try to go along with it.”

She managed a smile. “I bet this isn’t your first secret affair.”

“I cannot tell a lie. I’m no stranger to subterfuge. I think I’m getting too old for it, though. I’d rather have everything aboveboard.”

“Sometimes that’s just not possible. Besides, you’re thirty-one. That’s not old.”

“I’m a mature man and you’re a mature women and we should be able to enjoy each other’s company openly.”

“In America, maybe, but not in Oman.” Things would be so different if they were in New Jersey, or California. On the other hand, if they were, Quasar would probably be spending the afternoon with a glamorous starlet or a sexy businesswoman, and would never have noticed her. She didn’t exactly have men pursuing her everywhere. Her cousin said it was because she gave off energy that said,
Stay away!
Her ex had been persistent enough to break through her reserve. Then he’d been persistent enough to steamroll right over her and empty her life of anything but him. She didn’t know how to have a normal relationship. Her affair with Quasar was anything but normal but maybe it could be if the circumstances were different.

If they weren’t in Oman.

If Quasar were an ordinary man.

If she were an optimistic, confident woman who still believed in love and happily-ever-afters.

But none of those things were true so she had to make the best of where they were right now. She picked up her fork and tried for an encouraging smile. “I appreciate you wanting to meet my father. It really is sweet of you. It just isn’t a good idea.”

“I’ll bow to your superior wisdom on the topic. You’ve lived in Oman a lot longer than I have.” He didn’t look mad, or even put out. Probably it didn’t matter much to him either way and he’d just made the suggestion to please her. Which was sweet.

She forked some salad into her mouth and let the sweetness of orange and mango spread over her tongue. She needed to live in the moment. To be happy while the opportunity presented itself.

Which shouldn’t be hard given the circumstances. Diffuse sunlight poured through the lattice screens on the arched windows, pooling in luxurious patterns on the marble floor. Quasar’s slate-blue eyes sparkled with the passion and excitement that she’d put there. In bed he’d been making love to her with a look of rapture on his face. Who wouldn’t be happy in her place?

It wasn’t as if she were falling in love with him. Now that would be stupid. She wasn’t stupid. They’d enjoy each other’s company, then they’d go their separate ways. There was no danger of getting in over her head. In the meantime she just needed to keep her head, and protect her heart.

“I can see you’re not hungry, beautiful.” Quasar put down his plate and knelt at her feet. He kissed her fingertips, then her lips, and desire flared through her, banishing her doubts and worries. “Shall we go back to the bedroom?”

She placed her plate on an inlaid wood table. Feeling was so much easier than thinking. Right now all she wanted to do was press her naked body against Quasar’s and lose herself in his touch. “Absolutely.”

Six

“I
’m telling you, leave well enough alone. Her father hates our whole family.” Elan reined in his horse, who was blowing hard. They’d trailered two horses, borrowed from a close friend, and headed out to the mountains to let off some steam. They were up on a high slope with a view of Salalah partially visible through the trees.

Quasar leaned back in his saddle on his gray mare, who was puffing and blowing from the effort of the ascent up the mountain. “But I can reason with him, make a deal that will win him over. I’m famous for negotiating my way out of tough situations.”

“Or into them. Are you going to marry her?” His brother’s intense gaze slammed right into him.

“I just met her.”

“See? You’re just experimenting. Playing around. Seeing what will happen. And I think we both know, based on your history of relationships, what will happen.”

Quasar frowned. “You think I’ll grow bored with her.”

“I don’t know her. How could I predict that?” Elan leaned forward to flick a fly off the neck of his sturdy chestnut gelding.

“I want to bring her over so you can all meet her.”

“That will tell her that you’re serious.”

“I am serious!”

“Not by Omani standards. Serious means marriage. Don’t lead her on until you know where you’re going.”

Squinting into the late afternoon sun, they guided their sweating horses down a winding trail on a wooded slope. “How do I know where I’m going if I don’t at least get started in the right direction. Did you know right away that you would marry Sara?”

Elan laughed. “Hell, no! I was determined to have nothing to do with her. She was my employee, for crying out loud.”

Elan had not only had an affair with his secretary, but he’d also accidentally got her pregnant. “But you ended up in the right place, married to the woman you love.”

“Yeah.” Elan took a gulp from his canteen. “I learned to stop being the boss and trying to run the show, and let Sara be my partner. So if Dani doesn’t want you to meet her father, then don’t.”

“I see your point.”

“You can’t charm your way into every situation. Or out of it. Old man Hassan hates our family with a passion that could last for generations. If you can manage not to fall in love with his daughter you’d probably be doing both of you a favor.” Elan’s familiar piercing stare caught him off guard again. “You’re not in love with her already, are you?”

“Me?” Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Wanting to be with her? Wanting to tell everyone about her? Was that love?

Probably not. Nevertheless, it was likely some possessive male thing that would still get him into trouble.

“Because if you’re in love with her then it’s a different story.”

Their horses were happy to reach level ground. Elan launched into a spirited description of the newest Arab mare on his ranch back in Nevada. “Women aren’t like mares, little brother.” Elan pulled up his horse and stared at him again. “They don’t like being told what to do. They need to make up their own minds.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Of course he didn’t love Dani. He barely knew her. They had great chemistry, no doubt. Unbelievable sex, hell yes. Interesting conversation, for sure. Enjoyable companionship, yes indeed. But love? He didn’t even know what that was.

“Then don’t approach her father. If you do, he’ll think you’re serious. And if you don’t love her, you’re not serious. Shall we gallop on this flat land?”

“Sure.” His mind whirred with confusion as he urged his horse faster, until the gray mane was flying in his face. Why were matters of the heart so much more complicated than corporate affairs? Since coming to Oman he’d already come up with three viable new business plans, each of which excited him equally. On the other hand, there was only one woman on his mind.

“Race you there!” Elan called back, pointing to a lone frankincense tree in the desert.

Whipped on by his own competitive instincts, Quasar charged forward until they were neck and neck, their powerful horses speeding across the desert, hooves tapping out a quiet drumbeat on the sandy soil. Pursuing Dani was all wrong. He didn’t want to hurt her again after what she’d suffered in her marriage.

When his horse passed Elan’s, Quasar let out a yell into the desert air. A whoop of triumph that also contained a howl of frustration at the situation he found himself in with Dani. The sex they shared was insane. He could talk to her about anything. He craved her company when he wasn’t with her. And everyone, including her, thought he should stay away from her.

So why did he want to ignore them all and take matters into his own hands?

* * *

“Good news, my darling.” Dani’s father arrived home that evening in an uncharacteristically festive mood. She didn’t remember ever hearing him call her
darling
before. It struck a note of alarm in her heart.

“What, Dad?” She took his briefcase and put it in its place under the hall table.

“Samir Al Kabisi came to my office today.” He was beaming. Dani froze. This was the man who’d told her he was still potent so her needs would not go unmet. “He made a generous offer for your hand in marriage and you’ll be happy to hear that I accepted.”

“What?” She knew the custom of
mahr
, in which the husband offered a certain sum of money to his bride. It was a tenet of Islam intended to protect women by making sure they had money of their own in case they needed it. But these days it was customary for the man to make his offer of marriage to the woman herself, not her father, wasn’t it? And how could her father possibly accept without asking her? Her heart pounded and her breathing grew unsteady. “I’m not marrying him.”

“Don’t be foolish, Dani.” Her father’s cheerful expression had barely altered. “It’s an excellent offer and he’s a good man. He owns his own firm and could comfortably retire tomorrow if he wanted. He’s the chief supplier of nuts and rivets in the gulf region.”

“But I’m not in love with him.” Her voice was shaky. She knew her father couldn’t make her marry this man, but her refusal was bound to cause a rift between them.

“Love grows. It’s a silly modern fashion to try to fall in love before you’re committed.”

“I’ll never love him. He’s too old. I’d make him unhappy as well as myself.”

Her father’s expression darkened. “Daniyah, I’ve been very indulgent with you since your unfortunate return home. You tried to do everything your own way once, and the results were disastrous.”

She didn’t deny it.

“Now it’s time for you to listen to the wisdom of your father and an older generation, when life was simpler and people were happier.”

She couldn’t argue and say that her parents’ marriage wasn’t happy. She suspected it wasn’t but since her mother wasn’t alive to agree with her, she could only speculate. “I’m not opposed to marrying again, but it needs to be someone I can grow to have feelings for.”

“Samir is a kind man. He hosts a party at the orphanage every year during the
Eid
holiday.”

“I’m sure he’s lovely, but those aren’t the kinds of feelings I’m talking about. We’re both adults here. If I’m to share a bed with my husband I must have some attraction to him.”

Her unruly brain conjured an image of Quasar next to her in bed, languid, his tanned, muscled body against the white sheets, eyes shining in semidarkness.

“Daniyah, I’m shocked at you. Discretion is an essential quality in a woman.”

“I have to speak the truth. I’ve survived one bad marriage and I’m not willing to take a chance on another. You’ll have to tell Mr. Al Kabisi that I refused his kind offer, or I’ll go tell him myself.”

Her father clucked his tongue, his good humor utterly gone. “A father does not expect to endure the burden of his daughter returning home in middle age.”

Stung by humiliation, Dani drew herself up. “I’m hardly middle-aged. I’ll find a job.”

“As an art historian?” He snorted. “You should have studied something sensible, as I always encouraged you to. You could have been an engineer, or a chemist, or even an architect, but no, you had to study something foolish and whimsical with no career prospects, almost as if you intended only to be a rich man’s wife.”

Tears stung her eyes. “Art is my passion.”

“Fishing was my passion, when I was a child. I did not, however, choose to become a fisherman. If I were still inclined to pursue it, I’d fish simply as a hobby.”

She had to admit his words made sense. She’d been so blinded by the cheerful attitude that everyone should follow their bliss, which had prevailed at the small New Jersey university she’d attended. “You’re right. But I’ll find something. I’ll work in a shop.”

He looked doubtful. “At least take the night and think it over. You’ll be very comfortable with Samir. He has a spacious house only a few streets away and he drives a Mercedes.”

“I won’t change my mind,” she whispered. “I have a headache. I’m going to go lie down.” She’d skip dinner and help herself to something later when everyone else had gone to bed. She couldn’t face sitting around with three male Hassans looking skeptically at her every move.

Not for the first time she reflected that maybe she should have stayed in New Jersey, where at least she wouldn’t have elderly suitors shoved down her throat. But how? New Jersey was very expensive. She had no job and no place to live, and she could hardly return to live with her aunt, who had four daughters and now considered her to be a bad influence. Her self-esteem had been shattered by her ex-husband and she no longer believed herself capable of supporting herself and living independently. At the time she’d seen no other option than to run home with her tail between her legs.

Now that she’d had the time and distance to regain some perspective, she could see that coming home actually left her in a worse position. Her employment prospects were dimmer than ever, and she had another domineering male to answer to.

In her bedroom she lay on her soft bed and gazed up at the high ceiling with its ornately carved wood beams. This house she’d grown up in was grand by Omani standards. She’d always been well provided for and treated like a princess, at least by her indulgent and warm mother. She’d seen little of the world outside the filigree wooden shutters and had imagined it to be a brilliant and exciting place similar to the one she saw on American television shows. In college she often felt like the star of an upbeat sitcom where anything was possible. When her future husband, Gordon, had arrived on the scene, she’d assumed she was the heroine of a romance being swept off her feet by his insistent pursuit.

As her marriage progressed she’d realized she might be starring in a future episode of
Law & Order
instead. As her husband’s psychological abuse ratcheted up slowly into verbal abuse, and he began to pound his fists on the table or the wall, she knew she’d be next to feel his wrath and she’d finally come to her senses.

Hot tears leaked from her eyes as she reflected on all the foolish dreams she’d had. And now Quasar had come into her life as if to mock her with the kind of romance and passion she couldn’t really hope to enjoy, at least not for more than a few stolen sessions.

Noise from outside her room made her jerk her head up from the pillow. She heard raised male voices, and one in particular made her breath catch in her throat.

She could almost swear that was Quasar’s voice.

Dani climbed off the bed and hurried to her bedroom door. The house was one story, centered around a hallway, and if she opened her door the men would likely see her. The voices seemed to be coming from the direction of the front door.

“I know exactly who you are,” her father was shouting. “Your whole family has played a part in the plot to deprive my heirs of their birthright.”

What? Dani pressed her ear to the door. Now she was desperate to hear the other voice. It couldn’t be Quasar, could it?

“Mr. Hassan, I come with nothing but the utmost respect for you. You may not be aware that I have lived in the States for many years and have little to no involvement in my family’s affairs. I certainly have played no part in the lawsuit between our families.”

Dani’s chest rose and fell rapidly. It did sound like Quasar. But it couldn’t be, because she’d explicitly told him not to come here. And if it was Quasar, they’d be talking about her. And they weren’t. She had no idea what they were talking about.

She frowned and turned back toward her bed. Obviously she was losing her mind if she thought some random man who came to the door must be her lover. When she wasn’t with him, thoughts of him haunted her day and night. His image always seemed to hover at the edges of her consciousness, taunting her until she could see him again. He’d talked her into letting him pick her up at the house tomorrow. He’d convinced her that repeatedly meeting out in public was getting too risky and it was wise to mix things up a little, so she’d given him her address.

Her chest—and other parts of her—tingled with excitement at the prospect of seeing him again and spending another languid afternoon in their remote and luxurious love nest.

But what on earth was going on in the foyer?

“I curse the name of Al Mansur and I will never let one of those sons of dogs anywhere near my daughter!”

Dani froze; the word
daughter
struck fear into her heart.

“I’m not here as a representative of my family or anyone else. I come simply as a man of honor seeking your approval to meet and talk with her.”

Now she was sure that the voice was Quasar’s.

She crept back to the door, blood pounding in her head, and pressed her ear to it. Oh, how she wished there was a keyhole to peer through!

“My daughter is spoken for. A man has just today asked for her hand in marriage, and I have accepted his offer.”

“Surely Dani must have a say in the matter.” Quasar sounded shocked. As well he might. She hadn’t mentioned her father’s plans to him. “She’s an adult woman, not a young girl who doesn’t know her own mind.”

“She’s made up her own mind in the past and it proved to be a bad idea. She understands that I have only her best interests at heart.”