Desert Orchid: The Desert Princes: Book 1 (21 page)

But then this was Khalid. He never ceased to surprise her.

And by the way his family had behaved, they'd been astonished by the new take charge Khalid, too. His father's and brother's eyes held a deep respect for Khalid that Charisse had never seen before, and her own heart swelled with pride for him. If some good came out of this unholy mess, if Khalid and his family became close again, then perhaps it was all worth it.

The information from Arabella that the attempts on her life may not be personal, but rather, an attempt to destabilise the whole region didn't make sense in Charisse's opinion. But the El Haribe's were in contact with their allies and specialist help was already being despatched from the United States and the United Kingdom. Something about black ops teams.

Her life, Charisse decided, had turned into something from an action movie. Assassins, political intrigue, blood feuds, and the hard truths of her own past, were all swirling together in her mind in a sort of toxic soup. And even though Khalid was insisting on taking her away to recover and to have a honeymoon, she couldn’t help the feeling burning in her belly that she was running away.

Her dark thoughts were interrupted by the whine of the helicopter as the rotors began to spin. And then they were airborne. Charisse had never flown in a helicopter at night. The weather was clear, no cloud, and she realised the light from the moon highlighted the horizon. At first Arabella headed west, towards Sarif's kingdom of Quaram. But once she'd flown the aircraft over the mountains, it dipped sharply and turned east.

Khalid spun to Arabella, his eyes narrowed and dark. "What are you doing? This isn't part of the plan."

She handed him a thick envelope.

"Staying under the radar. Queen Janaan and I had a long chat. She came up with a location that no one will ever think to look for you. Read it."

Although he didn't look happy, Khalid whipped out a tiny penlight, tore open the envelope, pulled out thick parchment and read. Charisse watched him shake his head as a big grin spread over his wonderful face.

He turned in his seat, dark eyes twinkling into hers. "You're gonna love this."

Arabella spoke in their ears, "Her majesty is a very clever woman."

Bemused, Charisse asked, "Where are we going?"

Khalid shook his head. "Wait and see."

Feeling more than a little irritated about not being in on the secret, Charisse gave him a dark look. She was beginning to find the lack of control over her destination, her future, and any say in what was happening in her country incredibly frustrating. Very soon she was going to have words with her husband. Just who the hell did he think he was?

"Care to share?" Charisse asked.

Her icy tone had his brows shoot into his hairline.

Khalid opened his mouth, but Arabella shook her head totally focused on the task at hand. "Not over the radio, please. The hills have ears."

He shrugged. "Okay. Just sit back and relax."

Easier said than done.

But Charisse did as she was told.

The only light in the helicopter was from the radar screens, and Arabella took it nice and easy. No one spoke for the next forty-five minutes.

Then the aircraft lingered at the front of a wall of sheer rock, it went up-up-up, until they dipped over the edge into a wide valley surrounded by a mountain range. It was pitch black as the helicopter hovered.

Arabella turned on a flashlight on the undercarriage of the craft and waited. Then lights flickered on the floor of the valley below illuminating a scene straight out of a James Bond movie. There appeared to be a very large landing pad below a huge property built into the side of the mountain.

They landed.

Once the helicopter rotors ground to a halt, Khalid helped her out. It was just as well his strong arm supported her waist because Charisse felt the world tilt.

"What on earth is this place?"

Arabella tossed her a grin but said nothing, before she tugged on a huge back-pack and trundled out a metal case on wheels from the helicopter.

Khalid held her close, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead that had the blood fizz in her veins.

Dark eyes glittered into hers. "It was built during the second world war as an emergency communications centre for the allies. My father re-fit the building for my mother as a place to escape the stresses and strains of court life. Here, they can chill out, and take time to simply be together."

Movement sensors had more lights flicker on as Arabella led the way into what looked like a vast cave. But once they entered, wide steps carved out of the rock led up to what appeared to be an ultra-modern concrete box.

Releasing her, Khalid moved to assist Arabella heft the luggage before leading the way up the stairs. Stepping through a vast oak door, they entered a fantastical space with high ceilings.

The room smelled of candle wax and fresh flowers. Low lights shed a gentle glow on a huge open plan sunken sitting room. Large couches covered in butter-soft leather the colour of treacle, three of them, surrounded a vast coffee table set in front of an open fireplace. Logs flickered lazily in the open hearth. On the right-hand side, one wall was made of glass from floor to ceiling. The constellations glittered with millions of stars in a velvety black sky.

Then she jolted in shock as two grey-haired servants, their eyes wide, materialised from a side door. They'd obviously been woken by their arrival. Khalid immediately went to greet them.

The elderly man's rheumy eyes lit-up as he recognised his prince.

He smiled, showcasing a mouth with the grand total of three white teeth.

Then he bowed deeply.

Khalid stepped forward. "Faris and Junah, please meet my wife, Charisse, Queen of Onuur," he said a low voice.

Charisse moved to shake each bony hand. Their eyes were now filled to the brim with an emotion that caught her throat. The love they had for Khalid was clear to see. Then they bowed again and scurried after Arabella to help unload the helicopter.

Feeling strangely shy to be alone with him for the first time since their wedding, which was ridiculous, Charisse took a turn around the immense room hollowed out of sheer rock.

She turned to him. "It's amazing. Do they look after this huge place on their own?"

Khalid stepped into her, and all the while dark eyes never left her face. Those eyes missed nothing, she realised, as he took her hand and brought it to his mouth.

"They came thirty years ago. And stayed."

She blinked. And couldn't help the little shiver that ran up her spine.

"They never left?" Her voice sounded too high. She cleared her throat. "You mean they're trapped here?"

He shook his head, sent her a slow smile. "They are brother and sister. My parents took them in after they had been shunned by their tribe. They were born with no vocal cords. A birth defect. They are very happy here."

Charisse's soft heart broke for the siblings. Even though Dhuma was a forward thinking country, among the desert tribes some things took longer to find acceptance. Communication, the singing of songs, and in particular the telling of stories were the way histories were kept alive. To have members of the tribe who couldn't speak would be a severe handicap to their ability to survive. And certainly marriage, having a family of their own would have been impossible.

"Can they read and write?"

Khalid nodded. "Yes." Again he took her hand, and the way his eyes went dark and intense as they met hers had her heart skip in her chest. "Let me show you around."

Together and with her hand held tight in his, Charisse walked with Khalid into a new future.

The outrageous bathroom of their bedroom suite had walls of Italian marble and floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

Khalid rested his palms on the ivory walls of the shower and let five jets cleanse his body. The sting of the force of the water was just what he needed to give himself a reality check. What the hell did he know about running a country? What the hell did he know about being a husband? His first weeks in the role of King of Onuur had been an unmitigated disaster. Instead of bringing stability and peace, he'd unwittingly brought chaos to the palace, heartbreak to the country, and to the woman he loved. Guilt slid a sharp blade deeper into his soul and his conscience. By selfishly following his art, he'd let his people down. But worse, he'd let Charisse down, too.

The scent of liquid soap, ginger and spice, rose to mingle with the steam, as he lathered his body.

His father had made it clear, crystal clear, that he must put his country and his wife before his God given talent to paint. If he'd put his duty before pleasure, then Charisse would have trusted him. She wouldn't have felt the need to go riding out into the desert in the middle of the night to meet Sheik Abbas. She wouldn't have been shot.

Khalid closed his eyes tight shut as the memory of her lying in the dirt, bloody and broken entered his mind.

Her beloved horse Diablo was dead.

And he knew by the way her mind wandered at times, by the way her eyes became deep blue pools of terrible sadness, that her heart was broken. Not once had she wept about her loss or made a fuss. Charisse appeared to have the enviable ability to accept her lot in life.

He closed his eyes against the sting as he massaged shampoo into his scalp.

Try as Khalid might to remain optimistic for their future, to quiet the inner critic who whispered sly words in his mind, the truth again hit him hard.

He wasn't good enough for her.

Oh, he might talk big to his parents and his brother, demanding that Arabella Faulkner bring in an elite counter insurgency team. But what the hell did he know about military tactics or special operations? His brother was the trained military man who dealt with the security side of keeping the El Haribe family in power.

Then he'd gone and compounded his sins by telling Charisse he loved her.

And God bless her, she'd told him she loved him, too.

The love in her eyes for him had terrified him even as it made his heart fill with a tremendous happiness. However, they still hadn’t discussed the incident in their past that had brought them to this point. Namely, the accident that had changed both their lives.

And had changed the behaviour of her father.

Somehow the
right
moment hadn’t arrived for them to have that conversation.

Khalid let the pounding water rinse the shampoo from his scalp, and admitted he was avoiding the discussion, and so was Charisse.

Christ, who could blame her?

Alone in the shower with only himself for company, Khalid admitted that he didn’t want to have that conversation with her.

He needed memories that were too painful for both of them to bear, to remain exactly where they belonged - in the past.

What was the point of digging up old hurts, old fears, when they should be moving forward and dealing with events that demanded their attention
now
.

By the way she’d looked at him today when they’d promised themselves to each other, he knew that she expected him, trusted him, to deal with whoever threatened her and their country. And for a crazy moment as they’d exchanged vows, he’d believed he could do it, too.

But now all his personality flaws and past failures rose high on a wave of self-doubt. A wave so powerful it drowned the fragile shoots of his self-belief.

What the hell had he been thinking?

Overwhelmed by the sense of too many emotions from the past and present colliding, an oil slick of anxiety that he didn't have a fucking clue what he was doing lay too heavy in his gut.

Sarif had told him that he would have a strategy in place after Khalid and Charisse returned from their honeymoon. The main thing was to keep her out of harm’s way.

However, in reality Khalid felt that the past was repeating itself. He'd permitted his family to clean up his mess. Again. And he was running away from his responsibilities. Again.

On the other hand, he needed to keep his wife - God his
wife
- safe.

His hand slapped off the water.

Khalid dried himself with white towel of thick cotton, heated from one of the towel rails. Wrapping the towel around his hips, he wandered into their bedroom. Junah had helped her prepare for him. Using a hand towel to rub his hair, he kept a careful eye on Charisse who was sitting on the edge of the bed looking perfectly relaxed.

Well,
he
wasn't feeling relaxed.

He was feeling like shit.

Tension rose from his shoulders, up the back of his neck.

At the moment his wife was rubbing ointment on the livid bruise. He could actually count her ribs. And her fragility not only scared him - it annoyed him. It annoyed him a lot because everything,
everything
, that had happened to her was all his own fault.

She winced as she touched a tender spot, and white teeth bit down hard on her bottom lip.

After placing the pot on the bedside table, she turned to him. Blue eyes studied him from his toes to the top of his head until they stayed on his. Now she was perched on the bed wearing a tiny pair of panties in ivory silk along with a matching top with shoelace straps. Her glorious hair was confined in a single loose plait that hung down her back to her slim waist.