Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child

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Nevertheless she didn’t linger. Despite his strength and his formidable determination he was far from well.

She saw him immediately she left the tent.

He sat with his back against a palm tree, long legs outstretched. He wore the trousers she’d washed and set aside for him. He wasn’t naked, as when he’d clasped her close. Yet Annalisa shivered as awareness trickled through her middle, igniting a scorching heat.

Memories of last night and her burgeoning physical responses swamped her. Guilt rose that she’d reacted so to a man who was vulnerable and in her care.

And confusion. In twenty-five years she’d never responded so to any other man.

With his broad bared chest and shoeless feet he looked untamed, elemental, despite his tailored dress trousers. Annalisa recalled the texture of that fine fabric. Even to her untutored touch she knew it to be of finest quality. Proof that Tahir came from a place far beyond here. That he belonged in another milieu.

Yet, sitting with the sunlight glancing off the golden skin of his straight shoulders, he looked at home. Like a rakish marauder taking his ease. Only the bruises mottling his ribs and the gash at his temple belied the image.

She followed the play of muscles across his chest as he leaned sideways. Annalisa tried and failed to ignore a disturbing new sensation deep in her abdomen.

It felt curiously like hunger.

‘Here.’ He hadn’t noticed her, but spoke instead to the tiny goat he’d carried into the oasis. It stood beside him, stretching up towards a scanty green bush. Tahir reached out an arm and drew a slender branch low enough for the animal to reach.

She didn’t know another man who’d bother. Here in Qusay, except for prized horses, animals weren’t cosseted.

Despite his outrageously potent masculinity, there was a softer side to him.

Had she imagined Tahir’s motives last night? She’d been almost convinced part of his abrupt determination to wash was because he’d seen the stupid tears misting her eyes when she thought of her father. Could he really have sought to divert her thoughts?

It seemed ludicrous, and yet…

‘Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes.’ Eyes bright as the morning sun gleamed under straight dark brows. With his burnished skin and black-as-midnight hair those light eyes should have looked wrong somehow.

Yet Annalisa knew with a sinking certainty, as her pulse sped, that she’d never seen a more handsome man. His half-smile drove a deep crease up one lean cheek and her gaze fixed on it with an intensity that appalled her.

‘I hope you didn’t need me earlier,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t imagine why I overslept.’

‘Can’t you?’ This time he smiled fully, and Annalisa reached out to grab the tent post as her heart kicked and her knees loosened.

What was happening to her?

All her life she’d been sensible, responsible, dutiful. Never, not even on the brink of marriage, had she been swept away by the sheer presence of a man.

‘From the little I recall I’d guess you’ve been running yourself ragged caring for me.’

Annalisa blinked and made herself move from the tent. It felt absurdly as if she was stepping away from safety. But the only danger lay in her reckless response to those piercing blue eyes.

‘I packed up your telescope, by the way.’

Swiftly Annalisa turned to the place where her father’s telescope had been last night. The location hadn’t been ideal, close to the lights of the camp, but she hadn’t liked to move too far away in case Tahir needed her.

Swiftly she knelt to undo the battered case.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, frantically trying to remember whether she’d covered the lens before going last night to sit with Tahir through his nightmare. If the wind had risen and blasted sand across the lens—

‘It seemed okay when I packed it up.’

He was right. There was no damage. Relieved, she sank back on her heels. ‘You know about telescopes?’

He shrugged. Unwillingly Annalisa followed the fluid movement of his shoulders.

‘Who knows?’ His lazy smile slipped and for a moment he looked grim, his eyes cooling to an icy blue.

‘I’m sorry.’ How could she be so clumsy? ‘I’m sure you’ll remember soon.’ Impulsively she stood and walked towards him, only to stop at his side, self-conscious.

‘No doubt you’re right.’ His easy smile belied the gravity of his expression. ‘Sit with me?’

Wordlessly she complied, settling out of arm’s reach.

‘I remember some things,’ he said. ‘More than before.’

‘Really? That’s fantastic. What do you recall?’ If he noticed her too-bright tone he said nothing. She’d spent days wondering who he was and how he’d got here. How much worse for him not to know?

Again that shrug. Annalisa slid her gaze from the play of muscle and tanned skin, forcing her breathing to slow.

‘Just vague images. A party. Lots of people, but no faces. Places I can’t identify.’ He paused. ‘And a sandstorm, big enough to block the light.’

She nodded. ‘That was just before I came out here.’

‘I remember the vastness of the desert.’ His eyes snared hers. ‘Which leads me to wonder how we get out of here and if you’ve got enough food to keep us both in the meantime.’

‘There’s plenty.’ Out of habit she’d catered for two. ‘As for transport, there’s a camel route through the oasis.’

‘And a camel train is coming back soon?’

Annalisa’s bright smile faded. ‘Not straight away. In a few days.’

She’d prayed they’d return early and take Tahir to hospital.

Now her desperation was edged with other emotions.

‘A few more days?’ he repeated. ‘Maybe more?’ His voice was disturbingly deep, his scrutiny so intense it was like a touch, and Annalisa sucked in a quick breath.

‘You and me, alone in the desert.’

She met his unreadable eyes. Her stomach dipped. She lifted her chin, battling emotions she didn’t understand.

Last night’s intimacy had changed everything.

For the first time their enforced solitude felt…dangerous.

CHAPTER FOUR

ANNALISA needn’t have worried. Even now he was up and about Tahir didn’t encroach on her personal space. If anything he seemed to prefer distance. The idea stabbed her with ridiculous regret.

Occasionally she caught a look, a blaze of azure fire from under half-lowered lids, that stole her breath and set her pulse racing. But she knew it was imagination, her own guilty craving.

The only danger came from her wayward thoughts. They drew blushes to her cheeks and brought a twist of awareness deep inside her.

Meanwhile she was forced to keep an eye on him. Annalisa thought he was out of danger, but he still slept a lot and occasionally his temperature spiked worryingly. Nor could he recall more than disjointed images.

She almost wished she’d followed her father’s urgings and studied medicine. Then she’d know what to do. But, though she’d been proud to act as her dad’s assistant, medicine wasn’t her dream.

‘How long have you been an astronomer?’

Annalisa’s gaze jerked up from the meal she was preparing over the fire. Tahir sat in his usual place by the palm tree, reading in the fading light—one of the astronomy books she’d brought.

The question was innocuous. But it struck her that this was the first time he’d asked anything personal. His questions were always about the desert and Qusay. She’d enjoyed their discussions and his quick intelligence. She wasn’t used to talking about herself.

‘I’m not an astronomer. But my father was an amateur one. I grew up looking at the stars.’

Tahir tilted his head consideringly. ‘It’s your father who usually comes into the desert with you?’

She busied herself lifting the pan from the fire. ‘That’s right.’ Those treks had been special, precious time out from her father’s busy practice.

‘But he couldn’t come this time?’

She forced herself to concentrate on dishing up the couscous flavoured with nuts, spices and dried fruits.

‘My father is dead.’ It sounded bald, almost aggressive. But Annalisa found it hard to speak of him. He’d been the centre of her life, her mainstay and friend.

‘I’m sorry for your loss, Annalisa.’ The simple words flowed like soothing balm over raw-edged nerves, at odds with the shivery excitement evoked by the rare sound of her name on Tahir’s lips.

‘Thank you.’ She paused, feeling she should say more. ‘It’s been six months but still it’s hard.’