The Desert Lord’s Bride

half coming out as seemingly out-of-the-blue incoherencies.”

His eyes crinkled as he smoothed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I can’t tell you how eager I am to be fluent in Farahish. But I think I’m getting the hang of the basics. You didn’t think we’d actually land on the island, did you?”

“You understood! Wow. People always think it’s a sign of loose brain components, and it only gets worse when I explain.”

He frowned. “It’s pointless to try to explain anything to those whose minds were poured in casts. But I’m almost grateful to the rigid wretches. They make you appreciate me even more.”

“If I appreciated you more than that I’d be in deep d…” She gulped, then stammered, “Uh…anyway-I did have a mental image of a tiny island and assumed we’d land in a neighboring kingdom and head here by a smaller jet, maybe a helicopter or yacht.”

They touched down as she spoke, a perfect, imperceptible landing. She was so impressed she broke out clapping.

He laughed. “The pilots can’t hear you as they would on a commercial flight, but I’ll make sure to relay your approval.”

Godly and gracious. She beamed at him. “Oh, please do.”

He rose to his feet, smiled down on her. “Shall we?”

She jumped up and groaned as everything inside her did, too. His arm came around her, his touch and gaze concerned.

“My joints need oiling after sitting down for so long.”

He pinched her cheek softly. “Next time, take my advice. If you’d at least lain down in one of the bedrooms, you wouldn’t be aching all over now. But have no fear. All joints will get well oiled around here. You won’t sit down much while I’m around.”

He let that marinate in her mind with a hundred mental spices as he walked her down through the jet to the air-stairs.

The moment the stairs touched down, hot, dry air rushed in to greet them, making her gasp. He secured her to him as they descended to the tarmac. She smiled up her thankfulness-and gasped again.

If she’d thought seeing Shehab by moonlight had added to his mystique, to his beauty, she’d again been measuring by mere mortals’ standards, those who needed darkness to hide their imperfections. In the merciless glare of the island sun, Shehab was-was…There was no single adjective. Not a dozen, either.

Where a twelve-hour beard made most men look unkempt and in need of a shave and shower, it only deepened his bronze statue impression. His skin really was perfect, spread taut over the masterpiece chiseling of his bone structure, burnished, the color so complex, so rich it set off the whites of his eyes, the night of his irises. His hair looked alive, the luxury of its waves an extension of his vigor and character as much as his eyes and lips and hands, its ebony highlighted by honest-to-goodness indigoes and blues as if his electric nature imbued it. And then came his features. She hated to think what the light and the harsh shadows it generated were doing to her own haven’t- seen-daylight-in-seven-years paleness. But exposed to their pitiless test, the symmetry and precision of his features were enhanced to the point where she felt she’d discover he was some higher being after all.

Before she could again wonder how such a being could be as hard hit by her as she was by him, he rushed her to a sleek, matte-black monster of a toy, a helicopter the likes of which she’d never seen before.

In moments she was strapped into the passenger seat and he was in the pilot seat and they were sweeping away from the mini-airport in a smooth arc to soar over the sandy and rocky terrain of the mostly virgin island.

“You can fly,” she finally exclaimed.

“No, I can’t. I can’t even manage simple levitation under my own power. But I’m working on it.”

She pinched his arm and he threw back his head and laughed. She was becoming addicted to the way he ribbed her, too.

She teased back. “Well, until you manage it and I can pick your brain for the method, will you teach me how to fly this beauty? I always wanted to be able to fly something, but never got the chance to try even a kite.”

“I’ll teach you to fly, ya jameelati. Everything.” His eyes became heavy with promise. “And in every way.”

With that he left her dealing with another attack of arrhythmia and concentrated on flying, and talking on his radio.

In ten minutes they were approaching the mansion she’d seen from the jet. Then they were landing in a cobblestone courtyard nestled between palm trees at the side facing away from the sea.

He rushed around to hand her down. As soon as she was out of the copter’s controlled environment, her feet wobbled.

He swept her up in his arms. “The heat’s too much for you?”

Her head flopped on his shoulder. “Now it is.” He chuckled, strode toward the mansion, which looked deserted. “But before you had me defying gravity, what got to me was the crisp purity of the air. I feel like a fish out of her AC-grown bacteria and carbon monoxide.”

He chuckled again. “Mermaid, not fish. But I’ll detox you. This beauty deserves only the best this earth has to offer.”

Surprised again by his praise-the one thing that had managed to stun her into silence-she clung to him, took in his mansion.

Built of sandstone and covering at least thirty thousand square feet, it combined the rawness of the natural habitat, the richness of the culture and the grandeur of royal prosperity. As far as she could tell, it had architectural influences from all over Arabia and Asia in its design, in every line, embellishment, column, arch, door and window, but there were also other influences, simpler ones-Bedouin, even a bit of modern. Much like its owner, the mansion was a mix of the best of all worlds. And like him, its overall effect was breathtaking.

As soon as he scaled the dozen stone steps leading to the columned patio, footmen in Arabian garb seemed to materialize out of nowhere, rushing to open the gigantic oak double doors.

She blinked at them as Shehab crossed into the darkened interior. She should have known the deserted impression was an illusion. A place this big must have dozens of people seeing to its upkeep. And they’d stay out of the way until Shehab needed them.

Flustered that they’d seen her in Shehab’s arms, she tried to resume autonomy. But he tightened his hold, dropped a kiss on her temple. “You’re exhausted, ya jameelati. Let me pamper you.”

She went limp in his arms once more, surrendered to his coddling as the interior’s coolness robbed her of what was left of her volition. He was right. She was exhausted. It had been over thirty hours since they’d met. It felt like thirty chaotic days. Weeks. Within ten of those hours, she’d made a decision that would change her life, change her, forever.

As he swept her through his mansion, she barely took in the gigantic hall in the subdued lighting of a circular bronze chandelier that was strung up by dozens of feet of chains from the soaring ceiling to hang just a few feet above head level. All she registered acres of sand-colored marble floors and a massive fountain in the center of it all. As they passed it, the sound of water made her bones melt faster.

He climbed up one side of the twenty-foot-wide marble stairs that bifurcated to the upper floor, entered a corridor as wide as her condo back home. Still holding her securely in one arm, he opened an arched oak door, entered an expansive bedroom. His?

Her powers of observation were dwindling. She got only impressions of mirrorlike floors, soaring ceilings, whitewashed walls, ten-foot terrace windows draped in semi-opaque brick-colored curtains that turned the ambiance inside the room into that of a warm, intimate dream.

The one thing she saw every detail of was the bed. Huge, spread in crisp white sheets and an Arabian-design earth-tone bedspread. He swept away the covers and lowered her onto it.

She clung to him, cried out when he came down on top of her, his weight, his heat, his leashed power pressing down on her with just the exact measures of domination and consideration to let her feel his hunger, to make her feel cherished.

She wound herself around him, and he groaned, sank deeper onto her, flooded her with his taste and feel.

After the surreal madness of those minutes in the gardens, she’d shied away from visualizing what would really happen between them. She had nothing to draw on in the realm of intimacy but one crushing disappointment. She couldn’t predict anything, had even been afraid to. She’d been scared that reality would only suffer in comparison