The Sheik Who Loved Me Read online

  She was doggedly refusing to wear anything of Aisha’s. She was more than going out of her way to respect his feelings.

  Guilt niggled at him and his resolve wavered further. Suddenly nothing seemed simple. What was it that he was going to demand of her? Keep out of his business? His life? Stay away from his child? It suddenly seemed unreasonably harsh. He swallowed. The midday heat was making his mouth dry, his head thick. It didn’t usually affect him this way. Heat was a familiar thing in his life. But there was nothing about this situation that was familiar.

  David stood silent, watching her, trying to find his focus, listening to the hum of bees and clicking of tiny grasshoppers among the vegetation. Her garden tool scrunched against soil as she stabbed at the earth. Her movements were snappy in spite of the temperature. Her body language screamed frustration. He watched as she tossed another bright-orange carrot into the bowl with a clunk. The livid color was in stark contrast to the verdant green of the leafy tops that hung over the side of the deep-blue bowl.

  David stared at the colors, the contrasts. Everything seemed unusually bright, his senses extraordinarily heightened.

  He wiped his brow. It must be the sun, he thought.

  He glanced at the sky. The sun was at its zenith and there was not a wisp of cloud in sight, not a hint of breeze in the air.

  He turned his attention back to Sahar. Her hands were covered in soil. She was fully engaged in her task in the same way she’d been engrossed in her game of tag with Kamilah. He found this deeply alluring.

  She unearthed another carrot, tossed it in with the others. The bowl was almost full now. Still David didn’t speak, couldn’t. He was fascinated. There was something so earthy, so organic about the vignette in front of him. Something basic and honest and life-affirming about the way she was digging in this time-old garden that had fed generations before them.

  He cleared his throat.

  She gasped, spun around, stared up at him, lips parted in surprise. “David, you startled me!” She rose slowly to her feet, trowel in one hand, carrots in the other.

  There was dirt on her knees. The brown smudges drew his eyes down the length of her lean, tanned legs.

  “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

  He dragged his eyes up from her legs, along the length of her body, to her face. Her features were dappled by the shade of her straw hat, her wide eyes an impossibly luminous and bewitching green in this light.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” he said, stepping closer. He could smell the musk of freshly turned earth. And he could smell her. The heat was lifting her fragrance into the air. Citrus. Warm. And female. His nostrils flared reflexively.

  She angled her head to get a better line of sight from under the battered brim of her hat. Up close he could see a fine sweep of almost imperceptible gold freckles across her nose, her cheeks flushed from the kiss of the sun.

  “And now you’ve found me.” She smiled, hesitantly. “What did you want me for?”

  Oh, he wanted her all right. Right now. Right here. He moistened his lips, trying to find focus. But he couldn’t quite get his mind back on track. Her skin was slick with the soft sheen of perspiration. Mesmerized, he watched as a small bead of sweat shimmered down from the hollow of her throat toward the valley between her breasts. His eyes followed the droplet as it slithered down into her shirt. He felt a sudden dizziness. It was the sun, he told himself. The heat.

  His eyes slid slowly back up to her face. She was watching him warily from under the brim of her hat, like a wild cat in the shadows. Time seemed to hang still, warped by the waves of heat. The buzz of the bees grew louder in his ears. His focus shrunk to another tiny jewel of perspiration that traveled like a tear from the side of her eye. David watched the glistening drop slide slowly down the subtle swell of her cheek to dangle precipitously on her jawbone. She sensed it, swiped it away, leaving a smudge of dirt along the side of her chin.

  He reached out reflexively and wiped the dirt from her jaw. Her breath caught sharply in her throat.

  His hand stilled. “You’ve got dirt on your face,” he explained, his voice thick.

  Her mouth tightened. “Thanks.” She turned away from him, dropped back to her knees, tossed the carrots she was holding into the bowl, jabbed angrily again at the earth.

  She was cutting him off. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? So why did it sting?

  “Why were you looking for me?” she asked as she dug.

  “I need to talk to you about Kamilah.”

  She glanced up at him.

  “Why don’t you come inside? We can talk there, get a drink.”

  “We can talk here,” she said bluntly.

  He blinked. He hadn’t expected resistance. People seldom resisted his will. David crouched down beside her and reached for a carrot, as if asserting his ownership, his control over everything including the vegetables in this garden. He dusted it off against his pants, crunched his teeth into it, watching her as he chewed.

  Something shifted again in her features. She turned abruptly away from him and concentrated on unearthing another root. “What about Kamilah?” she asked as she turfed the carrot into the bowl.

  “I want you to stop with the mermaid nonsense.”

  She went dead still. Then she turned slowly to face him, her eyes narrowing. “What nonsense, exactly, David?”

  Again he moistened his lips. The heat of the sun beat relentlessly through the fabric of the shirt on his back. A trickle of sweat ran down under his arm to his waist. “It’s hot as hell out here,” he said. “You’ll get sunstroke. Come, let’s go inside.”

  She didn’t budge. “What nonsense?” she insisted.

  He blew out a hot breath of frustration. Well, if she wanted this on her terms, her choice of turf, she’d get it.

  “Kamilah has been through a lot, Sahar. I don’t want to go into all the details because it’s not your affair. This is Rashid family business, and I expect you to keep out of it. I want you to stop filling her head with fairy-tale garbage. Life isn’t like that. There are no happy endings. I don’t want you filling her head with unrealistic expectations.”

  Her jaw dropped. She stared at him. “You were listening to us?”

  “It’s my island. My palace.”

  She glared at him in silence.

  He shifted uncomfortably. Another trickle of sweat traced around his underarm, slid slowly down the length of his waist.

  Still she said nothing.

  Irritation simmered under his skin. “Do you understand me, Sahar? You’re welcome to remain on Shendi until your memory returns, but you are not to interfere in my life.”

  She jerked to her feet. “Your life?”

  Her reaction startled him. He looked up. Mistake. Her legs were astride, feet planted angrily into the ground. He was uncomfortably conscious of a gap between the hem of the wide, oversize shorts and those smooth, long thighs. Fixated, he stared at the opening. Something hot and slick slipped low in his belly. He felt his blood rush from his head.

  He quickly stood up, seeking the advantage of height, forcing his brain back on track. But it only made him dizzy.

  “This is not just your life, David. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you’ve got a little girl who desperately needs to share what she’s been through. She needs to talk. Have you even considered the fact that you may the one who’s been blocking her efforts to reach out?”

  She was lecturing him? How dare she? “Sahar—” His voice came out in low warning. But she refused to back off. She was on a roll and she was going to have her say.

  “You’re all cramped up with your own damn anger, David. You’re so busy wallowing in your own guilt that you can’t see what your child needs. I saw how you shut her out this morning. She came down to the stables to be with you. She was reaching out, David. And you snubbed her.”

  “Damn you, woman,” he snarled, grabbing her wrist. He wrenched her toward him. It silenced her instantly. His fingers ti
ghtened like a cuff, digging into her skin as his eyes bored angry into hers. “How dare you? I love Kamilah more than anything in this damn world. She’s all I have left. I’ve hired the best specialists, the most expensive tutors. I’d move heaven and earth for her—”

  “David,” she interrupted, her voice suddenly soft, caring, so gently feminine that it knocked him completely off stride. “Kamilah doesn’t need heaven and earth. She doesn’t need specialists. She just needs you. She needs her daddy. She needs to play. She needs to be a child.”

  His throat constricted around his words. Because he knew she was right. Her presence on Shendi had shown him that.

  “She just needs you to hold her, David. Is that really so hard?”

  His fingers tightened around her wrist. But she didn’t flinch. She just stood there probing his soul with those haunting eyes, getting right inside his bloody head. She was scrambling his radar. He was primed for a fight, and she’d come at him sideways, knocking his knees out from under him with her soft voice and liquid eyes.

  And words of truth.

  He wanted to lash out at her, hurt her for doing this to him. He wanted to pull her to his chest, kiss that incredible mouth, plunge himself between her legs. But he didn’t dare move. Because he wasn’t sure what in hell he would do. So he held dead still. Too close to her mouth, to her beautiful breasts. So close that the scent of her filled his nostrils, his mind, drugged his senses.

  “Why the anger, David?” she asked softly.

  That’s what Watson had asked him. He sucked in a shuddering breath.

  She reached up, placed her palm against his cheek. The simple gesture cracked him. It took all his control to hold back the bank of emotion that exploded painfully behind his eyes. God, this woman was splitting him right open. She’d ripped back his barriers and exposed him. And now her simple touch was blowing salt into his wounds. He clenched his jaw and held on desperately to the volatility heaving inside him.

  She moved her body closer to him. “Let me help you, David,” she whispered.

  “Why?” his voice came out hoarse.

  “Because I can see your pain.” She hesitated. “Because I’ve ridden with you on a horse and I know that inside is a man aching to be free again. Free like you felt on that stallion…with me.”

  She was unreal. She could see right into him. How could she possibly know the depth of what he’d felt on that horse? Where in hell had this woman come from?

  Shocked, he pulled away.

  As much as he wanted to take her into his arms, to believe in her, to make this journey with her, he couldn’t.

  He took another step back, sucked in air. He couldn’t do this. She was going to leave. Anyday. Any second. Watson may have information on her right this instant. There might be a message waiting in his office that would take her away before nightfall.

  “Sahar, just keep out of it. I don’t need your help.”

  Hurt flashed through her eyes. She bit her bottom lip. He could see why. It was beginning to tremble. She was trying to stop it.

  His heart twisted. She had her own pain. “Sahar—”

  She looked abruptly away. But not fast enough to hide a fat tear that slid down her cheek trailing fine dust after it.

  Great! Now she’d switched tables on him! What was a guy to do? “Sahar?” He stepped forward.

  She wouldn’t look at him. She held up her hand, shook her head as if warning him to back off.

  He’d done it again. He’d pushed her too far. There was something so innately resilient about her that it kept surprising him when he hit her sensitive spot. She seemed too outwardly strong to hurt. But inside she was lost. And instead of offering comfort, he was doing his damnedest to chase her away. He was lashing out at her because of the way she clouded his mind. Because of what she did to his body. And if he was truthful, it scared the hell out of him. He was used to being in control at all times. He was not used to this.

  “Sahar—” he took her elbow firmly “—come sit in the shade.”

  She acquiesced, allowed him to lead her to the stone bench under the fruit-laden tree. She seemed suddenly spent. The energy that had quivered around her was gone, and that threw him. He felt like a cad for having done this to her. She was probably exhausted, drained. She’d been through a terrible accident. And on top of that, she’d been physically going at it all morning, running, swimming, riding, playing tag with Kamilah and now jabbing a trowel into the earth under the fierce heat of the North African summer sun.

  She slumped onto the bench in the shade. He sat down beside her. They both remained silent. As if afraid to take the next step in the bizarre game they seemed to have been thrust into.

  “That came out all wrong,” he said finally. “I’m sorry.”

  She swiped at a tear, leaving a smudge of dirt across her face. “It’s okay, I…I totally understand.”

  How could she possibly understand?

  She took Watson’s battered old hat off, exposing the bruised look in her eyes. She swiped her damp brow with the tail of her shirt. It only streaked the dirt from one place to another.

  “I should be the one apologizing, David. I can see I’m making you unhappy. It’s not my intention to hurt you or Kamilah. I only wanted to help. I needed to help. I can’t explain it.” She smudged another tear across her cheek. “I’ll go. I’ll leave Shendi. I’m an uninvited guest and you’ve been good to me, and I thank you for that. But I’ll leave in the morning. Dr. Watson left me his mobile number. I’ll call him and ask him to help me find a place…somewhere…maybe Khartoum…while I try and figure out who I am.”

  Oh, boy. He felt like camel dung now. She hadn’t asked to be washed up onto his beach unconscious. She hadn’t asked to be placed in this predicament. Hell knew what she’d been through in that storm, what she may yet have to face when the nature of her accident began to reveal itself.

  And Kamilah? She’d be devastated if she found Sahar gone in the morning. Damn, this was a double bind. This was precisely what he’d been trying to avoid in the first place. Hurting Kamilah. Allowing himself to feel something for this stranger.

  Because suddenly she wasn’t a stranger anymore.

  She was Sahar. She was digging up carrots in his vegetable garden, riding with him on his stallion, telling him how to be a father, stirring feelings in him that were fit for sin.

  When exactly had this started to happen? He blew out a breath.

  This woman didn’t play fair.

  She didn’t play by the rules.

  He placed his hand on her knee. “Sahar, I want you to stay.”

  Her eyes slanted up to meet his. More tears pooled in her lower lids. Her hand fidgeted at her side.

  “I want you to be my guest. Consider this an official invitation.” He did his best to smile warmly, but inside he was a mess of conflicting, uncertain emotion.

  “David—”

  “No.” He placed two fingers against her lips. “Enough. I apologize. I’ve been an abominable host. I want you to stay on Shendi. But I also want you to remember one thing. When you leave, Kamilah will be devastated. I just want you to consider that, when you interact with her. I guess that’s all I was really trying to say.”

  She took his hand from her lips, held it in her own. “I know she will be sad. She told me. But I was hoping we’d have managed to work through the mermaid thing by the time I left, that she’d be ready for me to leave. But maybe you’re right, David. I shouldn’t have interfered. In her life or yours. But I couldn’t not help. Maybe it is best if I do go now.”

  His stomach swooped out from under him and his pulse quickened. “No, Sahar. I can’t let you go.” It was too late. As much as he wanted her to leave, it was beyond him to actually let her go. He just couldn’t. And even if he could, what kind of man would that make him? Sahar had amnesia. She was helpless. She had absolutely nowhere to go and not a possession to her name. “Give me a chance to be a better host, Sahar.” He attempted a laugh. It came out a little
hollow, a little desperate. “I haven’t even shown you around my home.” He cupped her jaw, tilted her face to his. “What do you say, Sahar? Will you stay? Be my guest? For as long as you need?”

  Sahar hesitated, snared by the intensity in David’s eyes. But more than anything it was the deep sincerity, the honesty and integrity in his voice that held her. This was a man struggling to do what was right. And she could only respect him for that.

  Besides, she had nowhere to go. The thought of being nameless and alone in a place like Khartoum terrified her.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I’ll stay. Thank you, David.”

  David exhaled, ran his hands through his hair. “Good. That’s settled then. Now can I give you a tour of my home?”

  A shaky smile tugged at her mouth. “Yes.” She said, swiping at the last of her tears, trying to pull herself together. “I’d be delighted.”

  He stood, thrust his shoulders back in mock gallantry, grinned like a pirate and held his hand out to her, palm up, steady as a rock. “Come, then.”

  She reached out, placed her hand in his. He closed his fingers around hers. And inside she felt as if she’d found a bridge, steady and dependable, one that would somehow get her to the other side.

  Wherever that was.

  Chapter 8

  “My father bought this place when I was a child,” David explained as he took Sahar’s arm and led her into the enormous main hall.

  She stared up in awe at the stained glass dome high in the centre of the curved ceiling. The midday African sun streamed though it, picking up hues of oranges, ochres and greens, imbuing the vast room with a cathedral-like quality. Except the architecture couldn’t be further from the cathedrals she knew. “It looks Moorish in design,” she said.

  “You’re right. Moroccan inspired,” he explained, pushing open thick double doors at the far end of the room. “Shendi Palace was built by an eccentric French general in the early 1800s. He’d served for years in Algiers, Morocco and Mauritania before the jinns got him.”