“Running away, again, Dr. Tornell?
“And yet aren’t you the expert at teaching women to stand their ground and face their fears, look reality in the eye?”
“Yes. But I’m also the expert who says women should trust their gut, and my gut says you are dangerous—”
He laughed, and his laughter silenced her.
She lifted her chin. “I’m deadly serious, Sheikh Fehr.”
He smiled, but his eyes were cold. “Then act like a scientist, because that’s what I want. I’m most certainly not interested in the woman in you.”
“That’s good, because the woman in me despises the man in you.”
Jane Portergrew up on a diet of Mills&Boon ®romances, reading late at night under the covers so her mother wouldn’t see! She wrote her first book at age eight, and spent many of her high school and college years living abroad, immersing herself in other cultures and continuing to read voraciously. Now Jane has settled down in rugged Seattle, Washington, with her gorgeous two sons. Jane loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 524, Bellevue, WA 98009, USA. Or visit her website at www.janeporter.com
‘If you are a sheikh romance fan.Jane Porter pens a wonderful ‘romance’ overflowing with all the elements that sheikh romance fans adore…wealth and luxury and exotic locations.’ —The Romance Readers Connection
DUTY, DESIRE AND THE DESERT KING
BY
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Dear Reader
I’m a fan of sheikh stories—I love the fantasy, the exoticism and the gorgeous impossible heroes in their faraway desert kingdoms and in DUTY, DESIRE AND THE DESERT KING I was able to revisit one of my favourite desert kingdoms: the country Sarq, home to the royal Fehr family.
We’re first introduced to Sarq and the powerful Fehr brothers in THE SHEIKH’S CHOSEN QUEEN, which is Sharif and Jesslyn’s story. King Sharif Fehr is the eldest brother, a true leader and ruler of their desert country—a country bordered by sand and sea.
We continue the Fehr family story in KING OF THE DESERT, CAPTIVE BRIDE, when Sheikh Khalid Fehr, the youngest Fehr brother, rescues a young American girl from the hands of his enemies, forcing a marriage of convenience.
And now we finally conclude the Fehr saga with Zayed Fehr, the middle brother and the family black sheep. Thirty-five and fiercely single, Zayed has embraced life in Monte Carlo with all its decadent pleasures. Gorgeous and wealthy, Zayed has little to do with his family or his kingdom—until a family tragedy brings him home.
I have loved writing the Desert Kings trilogy, and getting to know these wonderful, seductive Fehr brothers. They are all powerful and extraordinary sheikhs, and hold a special place in my heart. I hope you’ll enjoy the final story in the trilogy as Zayed Fehr comes home.
Best
Jane Porter
For Ty and our new baby boy, Mac Bran Gurney. It’s going to be a wonderful Christmas!
Monte Carlo
SHEIKH ZAYED FEHR, the middle brother of the three powerful Fehrs, read the letter yet again. It had been typed on the heavy ivory parchment of the royal Fehr family but the correspondence came from Khalid, the youngest brother, instead of eldest brother, Sharif, the king.
The letter was short and uncomplicated. Khalid’s words were simple enough.
Zayed’s hand shook.
He blinked. He, Zayed Fehr, the heartless Fehr, could barely breathe. Pain hot and hard and sharp exploded in his chest once, twice and again. He exhaled against the shock of it.
Khalid had to be wrong. Khalid was mistaken. Surely if this were true Zayed would have heard something on the news, heard something before this formal letter.
It just couldn’t be.
Couldn’t.
And Zayed, the heartless, knew for the first time in fifteen years he wasn’t heartless because his was breaking now.
Sharif, his beloved big brother, was missing. His plane had crashed somewhere in the Sahara Desert and he was presumed dead.
Effective immediately, Zayed needed to marry and come home.
Because Sharif’s son was three and not of age to rule, Zayed would be king.
Vancouver, Canada
“SHEIKH ZAYED FEHR is here ? In Vancouver?” Dr. Rou Tornell repeated, her hand shaking ever so slightly as she removed her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose.
She told herself it was fatigue making her hand tremble; exhaustion was only to be expected after a seven-week book tour.
She told herself it had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with Sheikh Zayed Fehr, the younger brother of King Sharif Fehr, and the only man who’d ever hurt or humiliated her the way he had.
Jamie, Rou’s assistant, moved forward toward the desk where Rou was working on her laptop, concern creasing her brow. “Yes. He’s…here.”
“What do you mean, here ?” Rou demanded, her normally cool voice now wobbling with shock.
“I mean, here. In this hotel.”
“What?” Rou shoved the glasses back on her nose and stared at Jamie in consternation. She normally wore contact lenses for appearances but in the privacy of her hotel suite she preferred the comfort of glasses. “Why?”
“You told him you didn’t have time to see him in Portland. Or Seattle. So he’s flown to Vancouver and he’s here now.” Jamie smiled nervously, hands fidgeting. “And I don’t think he’s going to go away until you see him. Apparently it’s urgent. Life or death, or something of that nature.”
Life or death. Just the sort of thing her father would say. Zayed was cut from the same cloth. Gorgeous, wealthy, famous, shallow and self-absorbed. It was always about them, what they wanted, what they needed. She despised playboys and movie stars, loathed self-indulgence, and loathed Zayed Fehr most of all.
Zayed might be Sharif’s brother, but he was truly the black sheep of the family. A desert prince without a care, or sense of responsibility, or propriety, for that matter. Rou gestured unhappily. “I don’t have time to see him—”
“You do now, actually—”
“But I don’t want to see him.”
“Have you ever seen him?” twenty-three-year-old Jamie asked breathlessly.
“We’re acquainted,” Rou answered flatly, unwilling to admit to more than that. Jamie certainly didn’t need to know the details of their painful, embarrassing encounter three years earlier. Suffice it to say that Zayed Fehr would never be a man she respected, or trusted.
“He is really good-looking,” Jamie added, eyes bright and cheeks pink.
“He is,” Rou answered with an exasperated sigh. “He might even be physical perfection. He also has an ungodly amount of money, a shocking amount of power, but that doesn’t make him a good person.”
Jamie’s shoulders lifted and fell. “He seems nice enough. Actually, he seems very nice—”
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