Desert Orchid: The Desert Princes: Book 1 (8 page)

"I’m not at all comfortable with strange women being brought here," she said in a tone that meant business.

His tongue ran over his top teeth as those grey eyes went too dark, too intense, as they held hers.

"I have no intention of bringing
strange women
here. Now I've met you, I've decided that you are going to be my muse. In fact, right at this moment I have a vision of you lying right there, naked."

She shook her head.

Dream on.

Not a chance.

"Then you’ll have a very long wait. Because there’s no way you’re going to paint my private parts and add them to your vast collection of lady bits."

Her voice was firm.

But it was the tone and the scorn in it that made Khalid push off the wall and stalk towards her.

Oh, his little wife-to-be couldn't seem to help but challenge him. And there was nothing Khalid El Haribe loved more than a challenge. After the way she’d responded to him upstairs, he knew it wouldn’t take much to have her naked on his bed.

But the genuine alarm in those vivid eyes held him back from showing her just who was the boss in this relationship.

There was no point in scaring her half to death, he decided.

He’d have plenty of time to make her his.

Plenty of time to have her naked and legs spread if he so desired.

And that brought another issue to the front of his mind.

He had no intention of waiting six weeks to make her his wife.

It hadn’t taken Khalid and Sarif more than a couple of days to realise that Charisse wielded immense power in Onuur. She was adored, almost revered. The brothers had agreed it was crucial that Khalid brought her under his control sooner rather than later. There was no way he was going to take a back seat in his own country to someone who was nothing more than a girl. The quicker he got her pregnant and busy with a baby, or two, the better.

And that thought had his groin fire in a way that caught his breath as he stood before her and read sheer defiance in those blue eyes.

He could see how much it cost her not to step away from him and he found himself admiring her courage yet again.

Charisse was an interesting character, he decided.

She was beautiful, brave and bright. And, he realised, with some surprise, that if it wasn't for the fact she was a greedy little witch, he could quite easily like her.

"Whether I paint you or not is not something we need to discuss here and now, honey. Can I look forward to the pleasure of your company for dinner this evening? My brother is looking forward to meeting you."

Her flush of guilt almost made him laugh out loud.

"Ah yes, I believe you mentioned you’d much rather have married him." The way her blue eyes went wide as her jaw dropped made him bite down hard on his bottom lip. God, she was adorable. "However, let me give you fair warning. If you repeat those words again, you won’t find me terribly forgiving."

His hand reached out to cup the soft skin of her neck.

And she went absolutely still as he pulled her into him.

The mad pulse in her neck beat like a trapped bird’s and he rubbed his thumb over the spot. He didn’t miss the dilation of her pupils or the sharp inhale of breath. Ah yes, in spite of herself, she was attracted to him.

Excellent.

It would make his life a hell of a lot easier to have a willing wife in his bed rather than a reluctant one.

And now he wondered how many lovers she’d had.

Best not to go there, he decided.

Then his eyes narrowed as they examined her face with his artists' eye.

Something about her didn’t quite add up.

The woman who’d sold herself to a sick old man for money, even if she had been a loyal wife who'd nursed her husband until the bitter end, didn’t add up with the vibrant, sensual and sexy woman he now knew her to be.

Studying her stunning face with the clear skin, big eyes and that tempting mouth, Khalid found himself again desperate to kiss her.

But he knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn’t stop at kissing.

His thumb rubbed the alluring fullness of her bottom lip as his eyes met and held hers.

"I don’t see any reason to wait six weeks for our wedding. Do you?"

Something like fear entered those eyes even as she gave a microscopic shake of her head.

"We need to honour Asim," she whispered.

He nodded. "True. I understand you are an orphan?" For the first time her eyes slid from his. A tiny nod was all the response he received. Hmm, a tender spot. "We’ll have a small ceremony here in the palace with my family in attendance."

His eyes narrowed fractionally as he continued to study his thumb stroking her vulnerable bottom lip. And that vulnerability worried him, tugged at something inside him, in a place he didn't want tugged. In his conscience.

Khalid was well aware he wasn’t an easy man to live with. It didn't bother him. It was simply a fact. He had needs, dark sexual needs. Her eyes went wide now as she studied him, perhaps picking up his mood? Her mouth trembled as she took a breath. And a vision of her on her knees, taking his manhood in that mouth, along with him doing other things, dark things, to her made him go too hard, too fast.

She was an incredibly beautiful woman.

And in his vast experience in dealing with beautiful women, Khalid had found that honesty was always the best policy.

"I have a very strong sexual appetite with specific... needs." He let the words hang between them. Saw heat scorch her cheeks. "Are you quite certain you want to do this?"

Her eyes flew to his.

And he caught a glimpse of heartbreak along with something dark lurking at the back of her eyes. Add in the way she trembled under his fingers, and his instincts were screaming that something about her, and about this situation, was very wrong.

Her response was no more than a whispered, "I have no choice."

He frowned.

And just what did that mean?

Of course she had a choice.

She had a fortune in Swiss banks.

"Everyone has a choice, Charisse."

The shake of her head was so tiny he almost missed it.

"I don’t even know you," she admitted now.

She was evading.

He decided to permit the change of subject, for now.

"Did you know my uncle before you married him?" Her cheeks went radioactive as her eyes again dropped from his and she shook her head. Pleased with her reaction, he continued, "Then I don’t see your problem. I’m younger and can more than satisfy your sexual needs. And by your reaction to me you will satisfy mine. I can give you a child. Surely you want to be a mother?"

Taking a deep and shaky inhale of breath, she looked up to search his face.

"Yes. But will you be a good King? A good husband? A good father?"

And Khalid had to admit, those were very good questions.

Would he?

So far he’d failed as a brother and as a son.

But staring down into that lovely face Khalid had the strangest feeling that with Charisse at his side there was nothing he couldn’t do. Then he told himself he was being fanciful. She was simply a beautiful face with big blue eyes and a greedy heart.

"I’ve no idea. But I promise to do my best. What about you?" he asked.

She gave him a sad little smile that stirred something in his chest.

"I’ve already fulfilled two of those roles. It is up to you to give me the third."

By the way his groin stung, he could certainly do that, so he pressed his lips to her smooth forehead and felt her tremble.

Delighted by her reaction to him and by his to her, Khalid looked down into those big eyes. The sensation was like sinking into the deep blue sea.

"It will be my pleasure, Highness."

Inserting earrings of fragile gold into her earlobes, Charisse refused to let the butterflies in her belly morph into bats.

The jewels were tissue thin, dangling like chandeliers, and reaching almost to her shoulders. She’d tied her hair back to the nape of her neck, and Yasmin had added a matching bracelet to her narrow wrist.

With a critical eye Charisse stood, studying her reflection in the vast mirror leaning against the wall of her dressing room. Delicately applied mineral powder lightly covered her skin, making it appear pearlescent. Smudged kohl lined her eyes and her mouth wore clear lip gloss.

"I never wear make-up, Yasmin. And do not understand why I must start now." Charisse leaned closer into the mirror to inspect her sister-in-law’s handy work. The fluttering in her heart bothered her – it bothered her a lot. And it had been going on all day since The Kiss. "I don’t look like me."

"You do look like you, only more you."

"That comment doesn’t make sense."

"It doesn’t need to make sense, it just is. Now turn around and let me look at you."

Charisse did as she was told.

Her dress had been specially made for her by the house of Chanel. It was made of heavy black silk to just above the knee with a high round neck and tight sleeves to her elbows. The neckline, hemline and sleeves were stitched with fine gold and silver embroidered leaves, which matched the embroidery at the hem of narrow legged Capri pants the colour of pewter. On her slim feet were open toed sandals of soft gold leather, which tied at the ankle. A waterfall of tiny gold balls fell from the ankle strap across her lightly tanned feet.

"You look beautiful,
habibiti
," Yasmin told her as she placed a slim gold band around her neck.

Since Charisse regarded her so called beauty as nothing more than a curse, vanity had never been a problem. After all, her looks had brought her nothing but fear, rejection and horror. Unlike most women her age, she never wore artificial enhancements. Until the arrival of Khalid there had been no one in her immediate sphere of influence to tell her she looked sexy or desirable. Why would they? Certainly Asim had taken absolutely no notice of her appearance. He’d taught her, shown her, that her mind was a beautiful and wondrous thing. And he'd encouraged her to voice whatever entered her mind as long as the thought was worth hearing. Their debates on the pros and cons of global communication technology along with the positives and negatives of social networking used to rage for days. If something didn’t make sense to her, Asim had encouraged her to unravel the facts, seek the alternative point of view, and to get to the heart of the matter.

To Charisse’s way of thinking Khalid might be a handsome (okay, stunning) man, but he was a man with real issues of character. He might have made a promise to his father and
say
he was reformed, but she wasn’t buying it.

In her world actions spoke louder than words. His well-documented behaviour, how he’d partied his way through three continents, living and bedding woman after woman, was a recorded fact not fiction. How could he expect her to accept his word that he was happy to give up his way of life, to change the habits of a lifetime, and embrace the polar opposite in just few days? To be the ruler of a country, marry a complete stranger, father a child and live happily-ever-after was too incredible for Charisse to believe. Remembering the passion in his eyes when he spoke of making the oath to his father, Khalid had certainly sounded sincere, but would a promise be enough for an enduring change in his behaviour?

These thoughts and more spun around her brain.

Perhaps the words Asim had written in his letter about her helping Khalid fulfil his potential should be her goal? It sounded arrogant, but if Asim reckoned his nephew had potential, then it was up to her to help Khalid realise that the life he'd promised to embrace was now full of fantastic possibilities. That there was
nothing
he could not do,
if
he put his mind to it.

If anyone had told her she had an impossible task ahead, Charisse might have argued that no one, not even a spoilt prince, deserved to be tossed onto the scrap heap of life. As far as she was concerned, she’d been given a chance to live a full life, therefore Khalid deserved to be given the same opportunity. Even if what he did with that opportunity was up to him.

Ultimately, for their relationship to work, it was up to Khalid to make a real effort.

As Yasmin dabbed a light floral scent behind her ears, Charisse had to admit that the signs, thus far, were not favourable. Except, of course, for the amazing sexual chemistry that burned between them. But she understood enough of the human condition to acknowledge the fact that when attraction burned too hot it tended to burn out.

And then where would that leave them?

The common bonds that underpinned a successful relationship were friendship and a deep mutual respect. As for love, well, she didn't dwell on such a fickle emotion. It was much better to focus on reality rather than to wish upon a distant dream.