Ann Lethbridge - Mills & Boon New Voices - Foreword by Katie Fforde

It was too late to change, however, because Yusuf had arrived to escort her to the dining room.

Except it wasn’t the dining room he showed her to. Yusuf opened a door and bade her enter, then disappeared before she could ask if there was some mistake.

This room was even more ornate than the harem. There was a living area with couches, chairs, and a flatscreen television on one wall. Off to one side she could see a bedroom, with a large canopied bed. Across the room a series of arched doorways opened onto what looked like a terrace.

She was just wondering what to do when Zafir emerged from one of the darkened entryways. Her breath stopped. He’d changed out of the traditional robes and into a dark tailored suit. He wasn’t wearing a tie, however, and he’d unbuttoned the first three buttons of his snowy white shirt.

She had a sudden urge to go to him, to press her mouth into that hollow at the base of his throat, to taste him the way she’d once done. He’d always tasted exotic, spicy. She’d never forgotten the way he smelled, the way his skin felt beneath her fingers. Thinking of it now was not something she wanted to do, and yet her heart wouldn’t stop throwing the memories into her head.

Zafir was staring at her, his eyes moving appreciatively over her form. “You look lovely, Genie.”

She tried not to blush. When was the last time she’d been dressed up? The last time a man had complimented her for the way she looked? She couldn’t honestly remember. Other than a few social functions tied to funding for her projects, she didn’t get out much.

“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself,” she added. “I have to admit that I’m surprised you remembered my size.”

“I remember a lot of things.” His voice was low, suggestive. It stroked across her sensitized nerves, set up a humming in the back of her head.

But she didn’t want to know what kind of things he remembered. Her pulse was already going haywire just from being here with him. To hear the things he remembered about her…?

No.

Zafir saved her by holding out a hand instead. “Come, we are dining in the courtyard.”

She let him lead her outside. The courtyard was enclosed on all four sides, making it very private. There was a long table in the center, one end set with candles and flowers, the glassware and delicate china sparkling in the soft light. Flickering gas lamps provided additional light around the perimeter.

Palm trees stood nearby, their fronds sighing together where the tops towered over the enclosed walls. The breeze occasionally wafted down to the floor of the courtyard, but since darkness had settled it wasn’t hot or uncomfortable.

Zafir pulled her chair out for her, then lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss into her palm. Tingles radiated down her arm, over her breasts, her nipples tightening in response.

And, lower, another response gathered in her feminine core. Oh, God, she ached with want for this man. How long had it been since she’d felt this kind of heat and want?

She had to force it away, had to keep her head. It was wrong to want him when he’d hurt her so badly. She had to keep her cool, had to be all business.

“This scene is set for seduction, Zafir,” she said as he took the seat opposite.

His smile was wicked with intent. “Do you think so?”

Breathe, Genie. “You know it is.”

“And is it working?”

Be cool, unaffected. “I suppose that depends on what’s in the food.”

One eyebrow arched. “Are you suggesting I would have to drug you to succeed?”

“I’m not sure what lengths you would go to,” she replied. “I hardly know you anymore.”

“We could rectify that tonight, habiba .”

A team of waiters arrived then, saving her from a reply. One shook out her napkin and laid it across her lap, while another poured water and wine. A third man began to serve them, but Zafir said something in Arabic and the man set the dish down on the table. Then he moved the serving cart closer and bowed. The three men filed out, and once again she was alone with Zafir.

He stood and pulled the covers off the dishes. “Allow me to serve you, habiba ,” he said.

“It’s not necessary.”

“No, it’s not.” He dished out fragrant rice, vegetables, chicken and flat bread before filling his own plate. His movements were quick, efficient, and she thought that he must not have much freedom anymore to do these sorts of things. Indeed, the waiters had looked slightly askance at their king’s request they leave, but they could do nothing except obey.

“I’ve never been served by a king before,” Genie said, taking a sip of her water.

Zafir gave her a grin as he took his seat. “Ah, but you have, many times over. I was not exactly a king then, however.”

She tore off a piece of flat bread and dipped it in the sauce over the chicken. The food was aromatic, alive with spice and flavor, and she happily ate at least half of what he’d given her before she looked up and found him watching her with an amused expression.

Heat crept into her face. “This is so much better than the camp food I’ve been eating for the last few weeks. No matter how you try, sand seems to get into everything.”

“You have been living the life of a nomad,” he replied easily. “Is this what you expected to be doing when you were in school?”

“I expected to spend time in harsh places, yes.” But she’d also expected more glamour and adventure. She’d soon learned, after beginning to study archaeology as an undergraduate, that the adventurous life of Indiana Jones was more than a bit exaggerated.

He cocked his head. “It is a very odd choice for such a beautiful woman. I must admit that I never envisioned you doing such things.”

“No, you envisioned me in a harem.”

He sighed. “I thought we were good together. I did not wish it to end simply because I had to return to Bah’shar.”

Genie fixed her gaze on her plate. She’d been so naïve back then. It was humiliating to remember how happy she’d been when he’d asked her to go with him. Before she’d understood that he was not proposing marriage and never would.

“But I should have told you about Jasmin,” he said. “From the beginning.”

Her head snapped up. His eyes were on her. Hot, dark, intense. Did he mean it, or was this simply another attempt at seduction, at lowering her resistance?

“Yes,” she said, “you should have.”

Genie’s eyes flashed fire as he watched her across the table. So passionate, this woman. So vibrant and alive. She had no problem challenging him, and he found he rather liked that, even while it sometimes irritated him.

“Arranged marriages, especially between royals, are such a part of my culture that I did not consider how it might affect you. Nor did I feel it necessary to explain my life to you in the beginning, when I hardly knew you.”

“And now you admit you were wrong?”

“Yes.” He hadn’t meant to say it tonight, because he hadn’t wanted her to think he was being insincere—and yet he found he needed to do so. He wanted her to understand, wanted to explain what he’d been too young and arrogant to explain that night so long ago.

“I appreciate that, but it doesn’t change anything, Zafir. Even if I’d been the sort of woman who could accept such an arrangement, I wouldn’t have been able to pursue my work here.”

“Bah’shar is filled with ruins that need exploring by scholars. You could have done so.”

She shook her head emphatically. “No, don’t go there. It was impossible. I could never have accepted the kind of arrangement you were offering me.”

“I know this now,” he said, shoving back from the table and drawing her up from her chair.