“We said no touching.”

Rafiq inched his palm higher. “You said no kissing.”

“Rule two: no touching.”

Despite Maysa’s assertions he did not bother to lift his hand, and she did not bother to shove it away.

“Yet you have been touching me.”

“As a physician.”

“And I have reacted as any man reacts to a woman’s touch.”

“For that reason I should go now.”

Rafiq had predicted that she would stand and leave, but she remained positioned next to him, both hands still resting lightly on his shoulders. He straightened, bringing their faces close. Their gazes connected immediately. He saw indecision in her eyes, as well as a spark of need.

And then Maysa did something Rafiq did not expect—she broke her first rule.

One Night

with the Sheikh

Kristi Gold

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KRISTI GOLD has a fondness for beaches, baseball and bridal reality shows. She firmly believes that love has remarkable healing powers and feels very fortunate to be able to weave stories of love and commitment. As a bestselling author, a National Readers’ Choice Award winner and a Romance Writers of America three-time RITA® Award finalist, Kristi has learned that, although accolades are wonderful, the most cherished rewards come from networking with readers. She can be reached through her website at www.kristigold.com or through Facebook.

Recent titles by the same author:

FROM SINGLE MOM TO SECRET HEIRESS

THE RETURN OF THE SHEIKH

THE CLOSER YOU GET

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my beautiful daughter, Kendall.

One of the best athletic trainers in the business, one of my biggest fans, and one of my major sources for chocolate.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Extract

One

King Rafiq ibn Fayiz Mehdi possessed keen intelligence, vast power and infinite riches. Yet none had aided him in preventing a devastating tragedy—a tragedy for which he had been partially responsible.

As the sun began to set, he stood on the palace’s rooftop veranda and peered at the panorama stretched out before him. The diverse terrain he once revered now seemed ominous, inviting disturbing recollections that cut into his composure like a well-honed blade.

A dark, winding road at midnight. Silence and dread. Flashing lights illuminating the bottom of a cliff. The twisted metal wreckage...

“If you believe you’ll move mountains by staring at them, I assure you it will not work.”

At the sound of the familiar voice, Rafiq glanced back to see his brother standing only a few steps behind him. “Why are you here?”

Zain claimed the space beside Rafiq and leaned back against the stone wall. “Is that how you greet the man who so generously handed you the keys to the kingdom over a year ago?”

The same man who had abdicated the throne for the sake of love, an emotion Rafiq had never quite embraced. “My apologies, brother. I was not expecting you for another month.”

“Since I completed my initial preparation for the water conservation project, I felt the timing was right for my return.”

Under normal circumstances, he would appreciate Zain’s company. Lately he preferred solitude. “Did you travel alone?”

“Of course not,” Zain said in an irritable tone. “I do not travel without my family unless absolutely necessary.”

Rafiq had never believed he would hear his womanizing brother utter those words. “Then Madison is with you?”

“Yes, and my children. I’ve been anxious for you to finally meet your niece and nephew.”

Rafiq did not share in Zain’s enthusiasm. Being in the presence of two infants would only serve to remind him of what he had lost. “Where are they now?”

“Madison and Elena are tending to them.”

At least he could temporarily avoid the painful introduction. “I am glad you have finally returned Elena to her rightful place. The household does not run well without her.”

“So I have heard,” Zain said. “I have also heard you are in danger of causing an uprising among the palace staff if you continue to terrorize them.”

Rafiq admittedly had trouble maintaining calm in recent days, but he did not care for the exaggerated accusation. “I have not terrorized the staff. I have only corrected them when necessary.”

“It’s my understanding you have found it necessary to correct them on a daily basis, brother. I’ve also learned you have not been cooperative with the council.”

Rafiq began to question the real reason behind Zain’s surprise appearance. “Have you been speaking with our younger brother?”

Zain’s gaze faltered. “I have been in touch with Adan on occasion.”

His anger began to build. “And you have clearly been discussing me.”

“He only mentioned you’ve been having a difficult time since Rima’s death.”

Rafiq’s suspicions had been confirmed—Zain had arrived early to play nursemaid. “Despite what you and Adan might believe, I do not need a keeper.”

Zain leaned forward, his expression suddenly somber. “We both understand how devastating it must be to lose your wife and your unborn child—”

“How could you understand?” No one would ever understand the constant guilt and regret unless they had experienced it. “You have a wife and two healthy children.”

“As I was saying,” Zain continued, “it’s understandable that you are still harboring a good measure of anger, particularly with so many unanswered questions about the accident. However, your attitude is proving disruptive. Perhaps you should consider taking a sabbatical.”

Impossible and unnecessary. “And who would run the country in my stead?”

“I would,” Zain said. “After all, I prepared many years to assume that responsibility before I gave up the position. Adan is willing to assist me.”

Rafiq released a cynical laugh. “First, Adan has no interest in governing Bajul. He’s only interested in flying planes and seducing women. As far as you are concerned, our people have not forgotten you abandoned them for a second time.”

Barely contained fury called out from Zain’s narrowed eyes. “I still have an abiding love for this country, and I am quite capable of seeing that it runs smoothly, as I promised before I returned with Madison to the States. Do not forget, I alone developed the water conservation plan that will secure Bajul’s future. And I have earned the council’s support.”

Rafiq recognized he had been wrong to criticize Zain. “My apologies. I do appreciate your support, but I assure you I do not need a sabbatical.”

“A sabbatical would allow you to assess your feelings about the situation.”

Rafiq was growing weary of the interference. “My feelings are not significant. My duties to Bajul are of the utmost importance.”

“Yet your emotional upheaval has understandably begun to affect your leadership. Grieving requires time, Rafiq. You have not allowed yourself enough for that.”

He had grieved more than anyone would know. “It has been six months. Life must continue as planned.”

Zain whisked a hand through his dark hair. “Plans go awry, brother, and life sometimes comes to a standstill. You have suffered a great loss and if you choose not to acknowledge that, you will only suffer more.”

He could no longer suffer through this conversation. “I prefer not to discuss it further, so if you will excuse me—”

The sound of footfalls silenced Rafiq and drew his attention to Zain’s blonde American bride walking toward them, a round-faced, dark-haired infant propped on one hip. He immediately noticed the happiness reflected in his sister-in-law’s face and the obvious adoration in her blue eyes when she met Zain’s gaze. “I have a baby girl who insists on being with her daddy.”

Zain presented a warm smile. “And her father is more than happy to accommodate her.”

After Madison handed the infant to Zain, she drew Rafiq into an embrace. “It’s good to see you, my dear brother-in-law.”

“And you, Madison,” he said. “You are looking well, as usual. I would never have known you had given birth.” Ironically, only a few days after he had buried his wife.

She pushed her somewhat disheveled hair back and blushed. “Thank you. Elena told me to tell you that she’ll see you as soon as she has Joseph in bed. She seems to be able to calm our son better than anyone, but then after raising the Mehdi boys, she’s had quite a bit of experience.”

Zain moved closer to Rafiq and regarded his child. “Cala, this is your uncle Rafiq. And yes, we do favor each other, except for that goatee, but I am much more handsome.”

Rafiq experienced sheer sadness at the sound of his mother’s name that his brother had given his daughter. The mother he had barely known yet still revered. “She is a beautiful child, Zain. Congratulations.”

“Do you wish to hold your niece?” Zain asked.

If he dared, he risked destroying the emotional fortress he had built for protection. “Perhaps later. At the moment I have some documents to review.” He leaned and kissed Madison’s cheek. “You have honored my brother by giving him the greatest of gifts. For that, I am grateful.”

Needing to escape, Rafiq strode across the veranda, only to be halted by Zain, who handed the child back to Madison and followed him to the door. “Wait, Rafiq.”

He reluctantly faced his brother again. “What is it now?”

Zain rested a hand on Rafiq’s shoulder. “I understand why it would be difficult to discuss anything involving emotional issues with your siblings. For that reason, I believe you should seek out a friend who understands you better than most.”

He could only recall one soul who would currently meet that requirement, and they had not interacted as friends in quite some time. “If you are referring to Shamil Barad, he is away while the resort is being renovated.”

“I am referring to his sister, Maysa.”

The name sent a spear of regret through Rafiq’s heart, and a rush of memories into his mind. He recalled the way her long, dark hair cascaded down her back and fell below her waist. The deep creases in her cheeks that framed her beautiful smile. He remembered the way she had looked that long-ago night when they had made love—their greatest mistake. He also remembered the pain in her brown eyes the day he had told her they could never be together. “I have not spoken with Maysa at length in many years. She severed all ties when—”

“You chose Rima Acar over her?”

He did not care to defend the decision, but he would. “I was not consulted when the agreement between our fathers was made.”

Zain rubbed his shaded jaw. “Ah, yes. I believe Sheikh Acar trumped Maysa’s father’s offer during the bridal bartering. I also recall that you did nothing to plead your case. You never attempted to convince either party that you belonged with Maysa.”

And he had regretted that decision more than once. “In accordance with tradition, it was not within my power to do so.”

Zain’s expression turned to stone. “A tradition that forced me to choose between my royal duty and my wife. An antiquated custom that has done nothing but lead to your misery, and Maysa’s, as well. The choice the sultan made for Maysa resulted in divorce and nearly ruined her, and you were anything but happy with your queen.”

Anger as hot as a firebrand shot through Rafiq. “You know nothing about my relationship with Rima.”

“I know what I witnessed when I saw the two of you together.” Zain studied him for a long moment. “Were you happy, Rafiq? Was Rima happy?”

He could not answer truthfully without confirming Zain’s conjecture. “I cared a great deal for Rima. We were friends long before we wed. Her death has been difficult for me, whether you choose to believe that or not.”

“My apologies for sounding insensitive,” Zain said. “As I told you earlier, it’s very apparent you are in great turmoil, which brings me back to my suggestion you talk with Maysa. She will understand.”

Perhaps so, but other issues still existed. “Even if she agreed to see me, which I suspect she will not, any liaison with Maysa would not be considered acceptable. She is divorced and I have been widowed for only a brief time.”

Zain’s frustration came out in a scowl. “First of all, I am only suggesting you speak with her, not wed her. Second, if you are concerned that someone will assume an affair, then steal away in the night to prevent detection. It has always worked to my advantage. Should you need assistance, I will be glad to make the arrangements.”

He had no doubt Zain could. His brother had made covert disappearance an art form. “I do not need your assistance, nor do I plan to see Maysa.”

“Do not dismiss it completely, Rafiq. She could be the one person to see you through this difficult phase.”

At one time, that would have held true. Maysa had known him better than any living soul, understood him better, and she had been a welcome source of support during their formative years. She had also been his greatest weakness, and he had been her greatest disappointment.

For that reason, he should stay away from her. Yet as he left his brother’s company and returned to his quarters, alone with his continuing guilt, he began to wonder if perhaps Zain might be right. Reconnecting with Maysa again, if only for a brief time, could very well be worth the risks.

* * *

As the village’s primary physician, Maysa Barad answered the midnight summons expecting a messenger requesting she tend to an ailing child or a mother in labor. She did not expect to find Rafiq Mehdi, the recently crowned—and newly widowed—King of Bajul. Her childhood friend. Her first love. Her first lover.

The changes in Rafiq were somewhat apparent, but subtle. He was still tall and lean. Still as incredibly handsome as he’d always been, despite that he now chose to wear a neatly trimmed goatee framing his sensual mouth. His eyes and hair were still as dark, much the same as hers, yet maturity had lent him an even greater aura of power. A power that had crushed her resolve on more than one occasion many years before.

She could not remember the last time he had called on her. She couldn’t imagine why he was here now, but she intended to find out. “Good evening, Your Majesty. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I need to speak with you.”

His serious tone and intense gaze prompted Maysa to press the panic button. “Are you ill?”

“No. I will explain why I am here as soon as we are in a private setting.”

Maysa glanced around him to see a black car parked in the portico, and surprisingly not one of the requisite sentries. “Where are your guards?”

“At the palace. Only select members of my staff know I am here.”

Being completely alone with him somewhat concerned Maysa. She considered asking him to return in the morning, when she was appropriately dressed, well rested and better prepared. However, he was still the king and his wish would have to be her command, an all too familiar concept. During their youth, she would have done anything he asked of her. One fateful night, she had.

Despite all the concerns racing through her mind, and the threat to her composure, she opened the door wide to allow him entry. “I suppose you may come in for a while.”

After Rafiq stepped into the foyer, Maysa closed and locked the door, then faced him to find his dark, pensive gaze leveled on hers. “I sincerely appreciate your willingness to see me at this hour,” he said without a hint of familiarity.

She sincerely questioned the wisdom in allowing him in her home. “You are welcome. Follow me.”

Maysa led him down the corridor and paused when one of the staff appeared from around the corner. She waved the befuddled woman away and continued past the myriad rooms comprising the expansive house belonging to her father, and on loan to her. The same house where she’d gone from teenager to woman in her childhood bed, courtesy of the man walking behind her.

Once they reached her private living area, she shut the door and gestured toward the settee. “Feel free to be seated.”

“I prefer to stand,” he said as he began to pace the room like a caged tiger, his hands firmly planted in the pockets of his black slacks.

Maysa dropped down onto the sofa, curled her legs beneath her and adjusted the aqua caftan to where it covered her bare feet. She chose to continue to speak in English, should one of the staff decide to eavesdrop. “What can I do for you, Rafiq?”

He stopped to stare out the window overlooking the mountains. “I could not sleep. I’ve had difficulty sleeping since...”

“The accident,” she said when his words trailed away. The mysterious, single-car accident that had claimed the queen’s life six months ago. “Insomnia and restlessness are understandable. Rima’s death was tragic and unexpected. If you would like me to prescribe a sleep aid, I would certainly be willing to do that.”

He turned toward her, some unnamed emotion in his near-black eyes. “I do not wish a pill, Maysa. I wish to go back to that night and find a way to prevent my wife’s death. I want to find some peace.”

His feelings for his queen apparently were much deeper than Maysa had realized. “It takes time to recover from losing someone you cared about, Rafiq.”

“It has been six months,” he said. “And I did not care enough, which directly contributed to her demise.”

Evidently she had made an erroneous assumption. It seemed Rafiq’s marriage to Rima Acar had been little more than a long-standing agreement between their patriarchs. Yet she didn’t understand why he blamed himself for her death. “You weren’t driving the car, Rafiq.”

He crossed the room and joined her on the opposite end of the small settee. “But I did drive her away that night.”

She wasn’t certain she wanted to hear the details, but since he’d decided to take her into his confidence for the first time in years, she chose to listen. “Did you argue before she left?”

He lowered his head and streaked his palms over his face, as if to erase the bitter memories. “Yes, immediately after she informed me she was with child.”

Rima’s pregnancy had been kept from the press, but the revelation came as no surprise to Maysa. Unbeknownst to the king, the queen had come to her for confirmation instead of consulting the palace physician, though she never quite understood why. Rima had always been aware of Maysa’s close relationship with Rafiq, at times pitting them as rivals. “Were you not happy to hear the news?”

“I was pleased to know I would have an heir. She was not at all pleased to be having my child.”

Maysa had witnessed Rima’s distress when she’d delivered the results, but she had attributed that to slight shock. “She told you that?”

He released a rough sigh. “Not in so many words, but I sensed her unhappiness. When I questioned her at length, she did not deny it. She disappeared some time later without my knowledge.”

Maysa experienced a measure of satisfaction that he’d chosen to release his burden and a good deal of guilt over what she’d chosen to withhold from him. She suspected she knew where the queen had been before the accident, though she had no solid proof. “Do you know where she might have been going when she left?”

His expression remained somber. “No, and I most likely will never know. I do know if I had been kinder to her, then perhaps she would not have felt the need to leave.”

She offered him the only advice she could give him at the moment. Advice she had been forced to follow since the day he’d told her he would be marrying another, shattering her dreams of a future with him. “Rafiq, you can spend a lifetime wondering what might have been, or you can move on with your life.”

“I told Zain only hours ago that I intended to proceed with my life,” he said. “I did not admit the difficulty in that. To him, or until recently, myself.”

“It would be nice if your brother were here during this trying time.”

Rafiq kept his gaze trained on the floor. “He arrived in Bajul today with Madison and their children.”

She realized having the children around could be the basis for his lack of enthusiasm and distress. “That must be very difficult for you.”

He finally looked at her. “Why would you believe I would not welcome my brother’s family?”

She laid a hand on his arm. “Of course you would, but being in the presence of two infants might remind you of your recent loss.”

“I can handle that, but I cannot abide Zain’s advice. He is convinced I need a sabbatical.”

“Perhaps he is right. Time away would aid in the healing process.”

He frowned. “He is wrong. I only need time to adjust. I can accomplish that and still tend to my duties.”

As far as she was concerned, he was overestimating his strength. “Does Zain know you’re here?”

“Yes. He insisted I talk with you.”

Maysa’s hopes had been dashed once more. “I thought perhaps you came on your own.”

“I would never have thought to bother you,” he said.

“It’s no bother, Rafiq. I considered visiting you after the funeral, but I wasn’t at all certain I would be welcome.”

He looked at her somberly, sincerely. “You will always be welcome in my world, Maysa.”

The memory hit her full force then. The memory of a time when he’d spoken those same words to her.

No matter what the future holds, you will always be welcome in my world, habibti....

Yet she had not been welcome at all. After his marriage contract had been finalized, they had been expressly forbidden to see each other, yet they had continued to meet in secret. Those clandestine trysts had only fueled the fire between them until one night, they had made love the first—and the last—time.

Maysa wondered if Rafiq remembered. She wondered if he recalled those remarkable moments, or if he had pushed them out of his thoughts. She wondered why she had been such a fool to believe he would have changed his mind about marrying Rima.

She rose to her feet and crossed the room to pour a glass of water from a pitcher set out on a side table. She kept her back to Rafiq as she took a few sips, and swallowed hard when she heard approaching footsteps.

“Have I said something to upset you, Maysa?”

His presence upset her. Her feelings for him upset her. She set the glass on the table and turned to him. “Why are you really here, Rafiq? Why have you come to me after all these years?”

His expression reflected confusion. “You are the one person I have always turned to for solace.”

“Not always,” she said. “We’ve been virtual strangers for well over a decade.”

His expression implied building anger. “You were the one who left Bajul for the States, Maysa. I have always been here.”

“I had no choice after I divorced Boutros.”

“A man you should have never wed.”

A heartless, angry sultan who had almost stolen her sense of self-worth and security. Almost. “As it was with you and Rima, my marriage was no more than an edict from my father.”

Rafiq inclined his head and studied her. “Why did you risk your name and reputation to divorce him?”

She did not dare tell him the entire truth. “He refused to allow me to pursue my profession. I refused to allow him to tell me how to live my life.”

He looked as if he could see right through her. “That is the only reason?”

“Isn’t that enough? And what other reason would there be?”

Now he appeared cynical. “Everyone is quite aware of Boutros Kassab’s reputation for suspect business arrangements and questionable connections.”

She would simply allow him to believe that rather than reveal the harsh reality—Boutros was a sadistic, uncaring lecher. “I was eighteen when we married, Rafiq. I had no involvement in his business dealings. I was only required to play the dutiful wife.”

He raised a brow. “In his bed?”

She hesitated slightly. “Do you wish me to lie and say no?”

“He is thirty years your senior. I hoped you would say he had little interest in anything of a carnal nature due to an inability to perform.”

Many nights she had wished that had only been the case, but it had not. “Boutros is a man, and men rarely lose interest in sex, no matter what their age.”

“Did he satisfy you, Maysa?”

She was momentarily stunned. “That is none of your concern.”

He streamed a fingertip down her cheek. “I am only curious if he knew how to please you. If he learned, as I did, how to make you tremble with need.”

She circled her arms around her middle as if that might afford her protection from his magnetic pull. From the memories. “Did Rima satisfy you, Rafiq? Or did you simply go to her for the sake of producing an heir?” The moment the words left her mouth, she silently cursed her thoughtlessness.

Rafiq reacted by turning away, crossing the room and moving to the window to stare at the mountains once more. She approached him slowly and rested a palm on his shoulder. “I am so sorry, Rafiq. I did not mean to be so unkind. I know how much you are hurting over the loss of your child. I also know that you did care very much for your wife, and you were a good husband to her. You would never ignore her needs.”

“And in doing so, I was forced to disregard what I needed most.”

“And that was?”

“You.”

Without warning, Rafiq spun around and crushed Maysa against him. He claimed her mouth with a vengeance, with a touch of desperation. And as she always had, she willingly accepted the kiss.

She hated that he could so easily mold her into a willing, wanton woman, but not quite enough to stop him. She despised herself for wanting to give in to the ever-present desire. To do so could lead to undeniable pleasure, and quite possibly disaster. He didn’t necessarily want her. He only wanted comfort wherever available, as it had been all those years ago. And that made her furious enough to recapture her common sense.

With all the strength she could muster, Maysa moved back, putting some much-needed distance between them. “How many women were there after me and prior to your marriage to Rima?”

Confusion crossed over his expression. “Why does that matter?”

“Perhaps you could call on one of them to provide the escape you so obviously need.”

His handsome features turned to stone. “You truly believe that is all you mean to me?”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Yes, I do. You’re only seeking a temporary diversion, and after you receive it, you will be gone again.”

“I seek the company of someone I trust. Someone I have always cared about.”

“If you truly cared about me, you would not have kissed me.”

“Perhaps the kiss was a mistake,” he said. “Perhaps I should not have come here.”

She released a disparaging laugh. “You’re right. It was a mistake. Someone could find out, and that would not go over well with the elders. I am a scorned woman, remember? A divorcée and to some, the equivalent of a harlot. And let us not forget you are the almighty king.”

“You have never been a harlot in my eyes,” he said adamantly. “And at times I wish to forget I am the king.”

The sudden dejection in his tone tugged at Maysa’s heartstrings. “It sounds as if you could use a sabbatical.”

“I have nowhere to go where I would be left alone.” He fixed his gaze firmly on hers as his lips curled into the familiar teasing smile. The one that had always crushed her determination. “Unless, of course, you would be willing to open your home to me. I would keep to myself. You would not know I am here.”

She would know he was there every moment of the day, whether in his presence or not. “I question the wisdom in that plan.”

He took her hands into his. “I only wish for time away from my responsibilities, and to become reacquainted with a friend.”

How very easy it would be to agree to his request, but... “You have no wish to become reacquainted in bed?”

“I would never ask anything of you that you are not willing to give.”

That alone presented a problem—she could find herself willing to give him everything, receiving nothing in return aside from nights of pleasure and more good memories to temporarily overcome the bad. He could also break her heart once more.

Maysa tugged out of his grasp and strolled around the room, all the while weighing the pros and cons. Then something suddenly occurred to her. She could use his presence to her advantage. She could finally show him that improvements to health care for the poor should be paramount during his reign. She could introduce him to exactly what his people endured in the face of illness. And she would do so while keeping her wits about her.

After all, the guest wing was far removed from her private suites, allowing them physical distance. Aside from that, she was a strong, independent woman. She had superb skills honed at the best medical facilities in the United States. She had survived and divorced a known tyrant. She could handle a king—or so she hoped.

On that thought, she faced Rafiq again, lifted her chin, and centered her gaze on his. “All right. You may stay.” When he began to speak, she held up a finger to silence him. “As long as you abide by my rules.”

He sent her a suspicious look. “What would these rules entail?”

“I prefer to reserve the details for later.” When she actually knew what they were.

“All right,” he said. “Is there anything else you require of me tonight?”

One response vaulted into her brain. An inappropriate response that she shoved aside. “Not at this time.”

Rafiq regarded his watch before bringing his attention back to her. “I must return to the palace now. We shall continue this discussion when I arrive tomorrow to begin my respite.”

Tomorrow? “I thought perhaps you would need more time to make arrangements.” Or to change his mind.

“I have complete control over when I stay or when I leave the palace. After all, I am—”

“The king. I know.” All too well. “I’ll see you out.”

They walked side by side to the door where Rafiq paused and regarded her earnestly. “I am forever in your debt, Maysa, and I assure you I will give you no cause to distrust my motives.”

That remained to be seen. “I’m pleased to know that. And I reserve the right to add conditions should your motives come into question.”

“I will strive to win back your trust. The way you once trusted me before our lives intruded on our relationship.”

Maysa wanted to believe him. More important, she wanted not to be so drawn to him. Wanted not to feel so lost when he looked at her as he looked at her now—with a heated gaze that traveled from her forehead to her mouth.

They stood for a few long moments, face-to-face, the tension as thick as the mountain mist. Maysa recognized that it would only take a slight move toward him before they found themselves lips to lips. Body to body.

She finally cleared her throat and stepped back before her resolve shattered. “Have a good night, King Mehdi. I will see you tomorrow.”

“I will be here before day’s end, Dr. Barad.”

The formality surprised Maysa and sounded false to her ears. Yet if that formality kept her grounded, she would avoid calling him by his given name. Avoid touching him altogether. Avoid any circumstance that could lead to risks neither could afford to take. But when he leaned and brushed a soft kiss across her cheek, and presented a soft, sensual smile, she worried danger could lurk around every corner when he returned to her home.

After Rafiq opened the door and strode out of the house toward the awaiting car, Maysa considered the first rule. An important rule that could save her from herself. “Rafiq,” she called before he could settle into the seat. “I have one more thing to say before you go.”

He turned with a wary look on his face. “You have reconsidered?”

She hadn’t, though she probably should. “No. I have thought of one rule that we both must follow.”

“And that is?”

“There will be no more kisses.”

He sent her a knowing smile before he slid into the car. And as Maysa watched the taillights disappear, she worried that King Rafiq Mehdi could convince her to break all the rules.

Two

No more kisses...

As Rafiq sat alone in his office, attempting to tie up loose ends, kissing Maysa remained foremost on his mind. Making love to her again did, as well. He could no more resist the fantasies than he could pick up the palace with his bare hands and move it down the mountainside.

“Have you mentally vacated the premises, brother?”

Rafiq glanced up from his desk to discover his youngest sibling standing before him, wearing his usual standard beige flight suit and mocking smile. “I am preoccupied by my duty.”

“Too preoccupied to speak with me, your most loyal supporter?”

Adan rarely supported anyone aside from himself. “Unless you have something important to say, you may return later.”

“I do have something of great importance to tell you,” Adan said as he claimed the opposing chair.

Frustrated over the intrusion, Rafiq tossed his pen aside and leaned back in his seat. “You have found yet another aircraft you are determined to add to our fleet.”

“No. I came to deliver a message.”

“From whom?”

“Maysa Barad.” Adan’s grin widened, as if privy to a secret. “She requests that you arrive before 6:00 p.m., and that you limit your guards if at all possible.”

He could only imagine where his brother’s thoughts had turned. “Duly noted. You may leave now.”

“Not until you explain why you are visiting Maysa, and why she would ask that you not bring along too many guards. Either she feels she does not pose a threat, or she wishes to make certain she has your undivided attention.”

“What business I have with Maysa is not your concern.”

“Perhaps, but I am curious.”

Rafiq resisted telling his brother what he could do with his curiosity, and his British accent. “If you must know, Maysa has agreed to allow me to take a brief respite in her home.”

Adan rubbed his chin. “I see. Will you be spending this respite in her bed?”

He was not at all surprised over the assumption, but he was angered by it. “Rest assured, I will not be attempting to bed her.” Though preventing that possibility would prove to be a great challenge.

Adan released a cynical laugh. “Ah, that is where we differ. I for one would give up flying before I would not take advantage of being alone with a beautiful woman in close confines. And you should consider doing the same.”

He felt the need to explain his resistance, whether Adan deserved an explanation or not. “First, I have only been widowed a short while—”

“To a woman you did not love.”

“A woman I had known for quite some time before she became my wife. No matter what you believe, I did care for Rima.”

“Yet not as much as you’ve always cared for Maysa.”

His patience was beginning to grow thin, frayed in part by the truth. “Maysa is only a friend who has agreed to accommodate my needs.”

“Which needs would those be, brother?” Adan asked.

“My intentions are honorable.” Though his thoughts and actions the previous evening had not been at all honorable.

“How honorable will you be while spending time with a friend who at one time fancied herself in love with you?”

He could not argue that point. “What Maysa and I shared in the past had more to do with camaraderie than with love.”

“Teenage lust, you mean. And that lust could quite possibly carry over into adulthood.”

He had spent most of the night considering it. “I am older and wiser. I have learned to maintain self-control.”

Adan presented a skeptic’s smile. “You are a Mehdi male, Rafiq, and self-control can and will escape you in the presence of a woman you have always desired. You are not made of steel.”

Rafiq folded his hands atop the desk and glared at his brother. “Do not project your lack of restraint on me. I have not made bedding women my favorite pastime.”

“I have not had as many women as you might believe,” Adan said. “And although you have practiced more discretion, I suspect you were not celibate during the time between your agreement to marry Rima and when you finally did wed her.”

That fact was not up for debate. “If you are finished delving into my private life, you may take your leave immediately.”

“Actually, I’m not quite finished. Did it disturb you that Rima was not a virgin when you wed her?”

Adan’s audacity made Rafiq’s blood boil. “Why would you assume this?”

“Are you denying it?”

Unfortunately, he could not. Yet he did question how Adan would know something so personal about Rima. He was tempted to ask, but he in turn feared the answer. “This topic is not up for discussion.”

“I only wanted to point out that Rima was not destined for sainthood,” Adan said. “Neither are you. In fact, you’re human, and a man with needs.”

The reason behind his brother’s insinuation finally dawned on Rafiq. “If you are worried I will bring scandal upon the Mehdi name by sleeping with Maysa, I assure you that will not happen. And if you are also hoping that I will abandon my duty and pass the crown to you, as Zain did with me, you may set those wishes aside immediately.”

Adan’s expression turned suddenly serious. “I have never possessed any desire to be king, Rafiq. And as far as your relationship with Maysa is concerned, I am an advocate for letting nature take its course. If you and Maysa find you cannot resist each other, then don’t. You certainly have my blessing.”

Adan had failed to weigh the most important fact. If Rafiq took Maysa as his lover again, the liaison could only be temporary since he would be expected to choose a suitable queen. The thought of being with another woman aside from Maysa was unthinkable. The thought of wounding her again, unimaginable. Yet he could very well head down that path if he acted on impulse.

For that reason, perhaps he should consider canceling their arrangement. Perhaps it would be best if he found another location for his sabbatical. “I will take your counsel under advisement. Now if you do not mind, I have work to complete.”

“So much work, il mio bel ragazzo, that you cannot give your former governess a few moments?”

Rafiq turned his attention from Adan to Elena Battelli, who now stood at the doorway, a dark-haired infant balanced on her hip. Her silver hair contrasted with her topaz eyes that at times hinted at mischief, and other times reflected wisdom. She had been the Mehdi sons’ surrogate matriarch since their mother’s death, and always a welcome presence. She had also been free with her opinions, and he expected no less from her now.

Rafiq came to his feet, rounded the desk and accepted her embrace. “I am glad to see you have returned home, Elena. You are looking quite well.”

“You are looking tired, cara,” she said as she handed the baby off to an overtly surprised Adan. “Take your niece to her father and allow me some time alone with your brother.”

Rising from the chair, Adan gripped the child awkwardly and looked as if he had consumed something unpalatable. “What if she begins to cry on the way?”

Elena frowned. “She would not be the first female you’ve made cry, so I suggest you hurry.”

As soon as Adan left with the squirming infant, Rafiq seated himself behind the desk while Elena claimed the chair opposite his. She studied him for a long moment before she spoke. “What is this I hear about you spending time with Dr. Barad?”

He should not be surprised Elena would join his brothers by presenting her thoughts on the matter. Yet her opinion had always mattered most. He also suspected she would side with Zain. “It is not what you might believe it to be.”

“I believe, cara mia, it is a good idea.”

He had not predicted that reaction. “I am beginning to question the wisdom in the plan.”

“Because you fear what others might think?”

Because he feared his possible absence of strength in Maysa’s presence. “I do not wish to add undue stress to her life.”

Elena waved a hand in dismissal. “Maysa is well equipped to handle stress, Rafiq, and perhaps even better equipped to handle you.”

He was taken aback by her assertions. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying she knows you very well.” Elena laid a palm on his hand. “She has always been your touchstone, and I believe you need that right now, more than you need the throne. And if you are concerned that you might succumb to inadvisable urges, I trust you to be the honorable man you have always been.”

If only he could trust himself. “Then you sincerely believe I should continue with my plans?”

“Yes, I do.” She rose with the grace of a gazelle. “Do not forget what I’ve taught you. Chi trova un amico trova un tesoro.”

He who finds a friend, finds a treasure.

As Elena started toward the door, she sent Rafiq a smile over one shoulder. “Maysa is your treasure, cara. Do not squander that gift.”

* * *

Maysa had begun to believe Rafiq had changed his mind. When the doorbell chimed, she hurried down the hall to answer the summons but then slowed her steps so as not to seem too anxious, though she was. Yet when she opened the door, the bearded man on the threshold happened to be her brother, not the king. “What are you doing here, Shamil?”

“I expected a more enthusiastic greeting, considering my recent absence,” he said as he breezed past her and entered without an invitation.

“My apologies,” she said as she faced him in the foyer. “I’m just surprised to see you.”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

She chose to withhold the truth and settled for a change in subject. “Are the resort’s renovations complete?”

“No, and that is why I am here now,” he said. “I will be returning to Yemen tonight, and I would respectfully request you supervise the workers from time to time in my stead.”

The request did not surprise her in the least. Shamil always seemed to have an ulterior motive when he bothered to call on her. He had protested the loudest over her divorce, and had chastised her at every turn—until he wanted something. “I have a medical practice that requires my attention, Shamil. I do not have time to oversee a project that you took on.”

“Need I remind you the resort is partially your responsibility?”

She could not believe his audacity. “Our father handed the keys to the resort to you, not me.”

“And he handed this house to you,” he said as he made a sweeping gesture over the area. “All because he is a generous and forgiving man. I would be remiss if I did not mention that he initially arranged for the hotel’s restoration. I am certain it would please him if he knew you were assisting me. He would not be pleased if he learned you refused to provide that assistance.”

Maysa was beyond trying to please her father, and immune to Shamil’s veiled threats. “I can only promise that I will stop by once a week, provided I find the time.”

“Twice a week, or perhaps three times, would be preferable.”

She would agree to most anything if it encouraged her sibling’s speedy departure. “I will try. Is that all you wish from me?”

“For the moment. I will notify the staff you will be periodically stopping by.”

“All right.”

When Maysa moved toward the door and yanked it open, she heard the sound of a car pulling into the portico.

“What is he doing here?” Shamil asked, both his tone and expression balanced on the brink of contempt.

She ventured a backward glance to see Rafiq emerging from the sedan with a heavily armed guard standing nearby. “First of all, he is the king, and he is allowed to go anywhere he pleases. Second, he is a friend, and at one time, your best friend.”

“He no longer holds that distinction.”

Maysa’s attempt to question her brother further was thwarted when Rafiq joined them at the doorstep.

Rafiq smiled at Maysa and briefly nodded at Shamil. “As-salam alaikum.”

“Wa alaikum as-salam,” Shamil replied in a voice that heralded indifference along with a touch of disdain. “Have you forgotten the way to the palace, Sayyed?”

“Not at all,” Rafiq replied. “I am here by invitation.”

Shamil sent Maysa a lethal look before returning his attention to Rafiq. “If you are here to discuss health care issues with my sister, it would be appropriate to do so in a less private setting.”

Concerned over her brother’s caustic demeanor, Maysa stepped aside to allow Rafiq entry. “The staff will show you to your quarters, Your Highness.”

“As you wish,” he said without offering Shamil even a passing glance.

She sensed her brother’s glare before she actually contacted it. She turned and gave him a glare of her own. “How dare you be so ill-mannered.”

“How dare you invite him into our father’s house.”

“Our father has always had close ties to the Mehdi family,” Maysa said. “He would not be opposed to having a member as a houseguest, particularly if that member happens to be the sovereign ruler of Bajul. A king who is in need of a respite, which is why he will be staying here for a time.”

“Our father would be opposed to you becoming the king’s mistress.”

Her fury simmered just below the surface of her feigned calm. “You have no right to speak to me this way, nor do you have any reason to hate Rafiq. Or do you still envy his marriage to Rima?”

He looked as if he might strike the wall, or worse, his sister. “Rima meant nothing to Rafiq,” he growled. “He did not deserve her.”

Clearly Shamil had not moved beyond the past, or his desire for a woman he could never have. But hadn’t she been guilty of the same with Rafiq? No. She had moved on, and would continue to do so. “How would you know what privately transpired between the king and queen, Shamil?”

“She deserved far more care and concern than Rafiq afforded her. She deserved the chance to live, and he stole that chance from her.”

“Rafiq had no hand in Rima’s death.”

“You would not agree if you had seen her that night.”

Maysa felt as if they might be hurling toward the truth of what had transpired that evening. What she herself had witnessed. “Perhaps I did see her after all.”

That seemed to momentarily douse Shamil’s wrath. “Where would you have seen her?”

“I drove to the resort earlier that evening and when I saw you embracing a woman on the veranda, I immediately left. Am I correct to assume that woman was Rima?” When he failed to respond, she added, “Shamil, was it Rima?”

His gaze faltered. “She was there for a brief time.”

“And how many times before that?”

“That is not your concern.”

Oh, but it was. “Were the two of you having an affair?”

“Enough!”

She’d obviously struck a nerve encased in the truth. “And Rafiq knew nothing about your liaison with his wife.”

“Rafiq knew nothing about Rima’s life because he chose not to know.” He sent her a steely look. “And he will never know. Is that understood?”

One more threat among many. “He has a right to know what happened in the minutes leading up to her death.”

“He gave up all rights to that knowledge when he discarded her feelings and deprived her of freedom. And if you utter one word of this conversation to the king, then I will see to it you are removed from this house and I will make certain your reputation is ruined beyond repair.”

She clung tightly to the last thread of civility. “You do not have that much power, Shamil. You never have. I can find another place to live, and the villagers respect me not only as their doctor, but as a person. They care not about my past.”

He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “Will they be so accepting if they learn their doctor is also the king’s sharmuta?”

She pointed a shaky finger at the SUV parked at the end of the drive. “Leave now and do not return unless you arrive with an apology.”

He released a bitter laugh. “Oh, I will return, yet I will not rescind what I have said. If you reveal any details to Rafiq, there will be consequences.”

With that, he rushed to the waiting SUV and drove away, leaving Maysa standing on the threshold, worrying over how she would tell Rafiq about his wife’s whereabouts that fateful evening. If she decided to tell him.

Should she confess, the outcome would still be the same. Rima would still be gone, her secrets following her to the grave. Shamil would be bent on ruining Maysa’s life if she told Rafiq the details. She had very limited loyalty to Shamil, but she possessed enough common sense not to risk losing everything she had worked so hard to build. Yet the thought of keeping such a serious secret from Rafiq fueled her guilt.

Fortunately, she would not be forced to choose which course to take in the immediate future. Right now, her focus would be on making Rafiq feel welcome.

* * *

She seemed uncomfortable. Rafiq noticed that about Maysa during dinner, and now as they relaxed on rattan sofas in the private courtyard beneath the night sky. Regardless that she seemed on edge, she still looked beautiful as she sat with her legs curled to one side, revealing her bare feet and a delicate silver chain circling one ankle that matched the heavy bangles at her wrists. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her slim shoulders, strands of amber highlighted by the moon, and the sleeveless white gauze dress she wore contrasted with the golden cast of her skin. He remembered touching that skin during a time when they had both been completely captivated by one another. So hungry for each other that it seemed they might never be sated—until the one and only night they crossed the forbidden line and made love.

She captivated him still, fed a fire that he had wrongly assumed would be extinguished by time, mistakes and regrets. He wanted to leave the sofa he had claimed and take the space beside her. He wished to do more than only sit with her. Yet her moratorium on kissing left him with only one option—remain where he sat and simply admire her from afar.

Maysa sighed, her attention focused on the jasmine lining the edge of the stone terrace. “I love summer evenings.”

He loved the sound of her voice—soft, lyrical. “You have lost most of your accent.”

She smiled, deepening the dimples creasing her cheeks. “The time I spent in the States is responsible for that.”

“Do you still know how to speak our native tongue?”

She frowned. “Of course I still know how. I have to communicate with my patients here.”

He thought of one question he had wanted to ask. “Why did you return to Bajul to practice medicine knowing how you would be treated following your divorce?”

Her gaze wandered away as she began twisting the bracelets around her right wrist. “Bajul is my home, Rafiq, and since Boutros lives elsewhere, it seemed logical to return. I also missed the quiet pace and the peaceful existence.”

“You do not seem at peace tonight,” he said. “Is something bothering you?”

She shifted slightly and finally raised her gaze to his. “Actually, yes. I’m concerned about the lack of care for the poorest in Bajul.”

“It is my understanding you are an excellent doctor, therefore they are receiving the finest care.”

“But I’m only one person, Rafiq. Other physicians could assist, yet they refuse. They only provide services to those who can pay. It’s a travesty.”

He understood her frustration, yet he had no solution. “I cannot force other physicians to work for no pay.”

“But you could see to it that newer doctors are enticed to come here to fill in the gaps.”

He leaned back and set his glass of mango juice on the adjacent table. “How do you propose I do this?”

“By offering government-sponsored grants.”

“Our current funds are earmarked for the water conservation efforts. We have no surplus to devote to anything else at this time.”

“Then perhaps sell one of the new military planes Adan has recently acquired. It would seem you have more than enough for a country the size of Bajul.”

“At times it seems we do not have enough to bolster our defense. But I will take your suggestions into consideration.”

He noted a spark of anger in her dark, almond-shaped eyes. “That is all you have to say?”

“Maysa, I am only one voice on the council.”

“You are the supreme voice, King Mehdi. You have the last word.”

He had less power than she realized. “I must do what the majority dictates to keep the peace.”

“At the expense of your people?”

“Again, I will consider your concerns and present them to the council when it is time to prepare the next budget.”

She straightened her legs, planted her feet on the ground, and seared him with a glare. “That is over five months away. People could die before then, both elderly adults and children. Mothers with difficult births.”

He did not have the means to accommodate her at this time, yet he could not disappoint her. “I will see what I can do, though I can make no promises.”

“I suppose that is enough,” she said, her expression somewhat more relaxed. “At least for the time being.”

Fatigue began to set in, yet Rafiq could not force himself to leave her. He also could not rid himself of the slight pain resulting from an injury he’d suffered in his youth. He lifted the shoulder slightly, once, twice, before he settled back against the cushions.

“It still bothers you, doesn’t it?” Maysa asked.

He was not surprised she had noticed. “What bothers me?”

“Your shoulder. The one you fractured in that ridiculous fight with Aakif Nejem.”

“I believe we were fighting over you.” He smiled. “And I came away with two black eyes and a lacerated lip. I would have been unscathed had it not been for my falling against the iron gate.”

Maysa returned his smile, though she appeared to be attempting to keep it at bay. “The very gate you drove through earlier, designed by my father to ward off unwelcome suitors.”

“Yet that gate was not strong enough to keep me from you that night.”

A brief span of silence passed between them, as well as an exchanged glance that Rafiq remembered very clearly. The same knowing look they had given each other when he had laid her down in her bed, cloaked only by the cover of darkness, the threat of discovery heightening their desire.

Maysa broke the visual contact first and turned her focus back on the flowers. “That was a long time ago, Rafiq. We were both young and very foolish.”

“We were consumed by each other.”

She raised a thin brow. “Consumed by lust, you mean.”

Had it only been lust, he would have long forgotten that evening. Forgotten her. “Have you never considered what would have happened had your father come upon us?”

“Would he have forced us to marry?” She shook her head. “He would have sent me away from you.”

In many ways, that is exactly what had happened. The sultan had sent her into another man’s bed. A man who had not deserved her.

When Maysa hid a yawn behind her hand, then stretched her arms above her head, Rafiq suspected she would soon be leaving him again, at least for the evening. “It is time for me to go to bed,” she said, confirming his theory. “I have several early visits to make in the village tomorrow.”

He struggled for some way to keep her there awhile longer, and returned to the issue that had begun their journey into the past. “Would you examine my shoulder before you retire?”

“What do you believe I’d accomplish by doing that?”

She would be closer to him, at least momentarily. He pressed his palm against the spot that always gave him the most pain. “I would like to see what you think about this ridge. Perhaps you can advise me if it is an issue I need to have evaluated further.”

She sighed, rose from the sofa and took the space beside him. “Lean forward.” After he complied, she rested her left hand on his left shoulder and examined the offending shoulder with her right hand.

“Well?” he asked.

She pushed against one spot, causing him to wince. “Does that hurt?” she asked.

“Slightly.” More than he would allow her to see.

“That’s your deltoid muscle,” she said as she continued to knead the area. “You have quite a bit of tension there.”

The tension behind his fly began to increase with every caress of her fingertips. “Perhaps it is only stress-induced?”

“Perhaps, but I cannot tell for certain without an X-ray. You could probably benefit from physical therapy.”

The therapy she was offering him now was quite beneficial in terms of soothing the soreness. He could not say the same for his libido. And when she leaned over and applied more pressure, his palm automatically came to rest on her thigh, immediately above her knee, where he drew small circles with his thumb through the dress’s thin material.

Her hand froze midmotion. “What are you doing, Rafiq?”

“Nothing.” Not presently.

She released a shuddering breath. “We said no touching.”

He inched his palm higher. “You said no kissing.”

“Rule two, no touching.”

Despite her assertions, he did not bother to lift his hand, and she did not bother to shove it away. “Yet you have been touching me.”

“As a physician.”

“And I have reacted as any man reacts to a woman’s touch.”

“For that reason, I should go now.”

Rafiq predicted she would stand and leave, but she remained positioned next to him, both hands still resting lightly on his shoulders. He straightened, bringing their faces close, their gazes connecting immediately. He saw the indecision in her eyes, as well as a spark of need.

And then Maysa did something Rafiq did not expect—she broke her first rule.

Three

She had taken complete leave of her senses, but at the moment Maysa didn’t care. She only concerned herself with the play of Rafiq’s mouth against hers and the impressions he made with the gentle glide of his tongue.

At some point—and she had no idea how or when—he had shifted toward her and she had moved fully into his arms. A nagging voice demanded she stop before she could not, but she disregarded the caution. For once she wanted to be softly kissed, without undue force. Willingly kissed. She wanted to remember how it felt to be a desirable woman, not simply an object of brutal lust.

Yet all the reasons why she shouldn’t be doing this kept crowding her mind. She could be only a means to an end for Rafiq. A source of comfort. A temporary diversion. She was also keeping a secret from him. A secret that could ultimately destroy him emotionally, and her reputation literally.

Still, when he cupped her breast, she focused on the sensations, not solid rationale. He traced her nipple with a fingertip, causing her to shift restlessly against the building heat. But when he left her mouth to feather kisses down the column of her throat, sliding the dress’s strap down her shoulder, a barrage of bitter memories prompted her to automatically tense.

Rafiq reacted to her sudden change in mood by abruptly rising from the sofa, leaving Maysa alone steeped in self-consciousness. He walked away, his hands laced behind his neck, and stopped in the middle of the terrace, keeping his back to her.

“I’m sorry,” Maysa muttered as she readjusted her clothing. “I have no idea what has come over me. We shouldn’t be doing this.” She’d begun to wonder if she could do it, even if she wanted to.

Rafiq dropped his arms to his sides and faced her again. “I am not sorry, yet I am convinced this will keep happening between us.”

So was Maysa, unless she revealed the absolute truth behind her reluctance. She wasn’t willing to do that. “We’ll simply need to avoid situations such as this. Following dinner each evening, I will return to my quarters, and you will return to yours. We will keep our distance during the day, as well.”

He shifted his weight slightly. “And I will lie awake all night, imagining how it would be to touch you with my hands and my mouth in ways I never did when we were younger. I will dream about how it would feel to be buried deep inside you. And each time I see you, I will want the reality.”

The heat returned, prompting Maysa to cross her legs. “Then perhaps it would be best if you found another place for your respite.”

“I care not to be anywhere else.”

Truthfully, she didn’t want him to leave, either. “Then I suppose you will be forced to rely solely on your imagination.”

“Or we could both choose not to fight our desire. No one would know if we became lovers again.”

How very easy it would be to agree. How very foolish if she did. “I would know, Rafiq. Nothing could ever exist between us beyond temporary physical pleasure. You are the king, and I am a woman who most believe is unfit to keep company with you, let alone be your lover.”

He rubbed a palm over his nape. “Again, we could be discreet. We could enjoy each other during the time we have.”

The fact he didn’t say she wasn’t unsuitable was as effective as a frigid shower. Maysa stood, hands fisted at her sides, nails digging into her palms. “I have already been one man’s whore, Rafiq. I will not be another’s.”

“I am prisoner to tradition and acceptable mores, Maysa, as are you. Yet that does not mean I would view you as my sharmuta.”

“Yet that is exactly what I would be to you, a woman not fit to be your queen, yet expected to do your bidding in bed. Answer your every need, yet receive nothing in return, as it was with Boutrous. That would make me your mistress.”

Maysa expected to see anger in Rafiq’s expression, but he only seemed concerned. “What did Boutros do to you, Maysa?”

“This has nothing to do with him.” Only a partial truth. “This has to do with us. I have developed a great deal of self-respect during our time apart. I am not that smitten schoolgirl who would have given everything to you, knowing I could never have a future with you.”

He released a rough sigh. “What do you wish me to say, Maysa?”

That he would tell the elders to go to hell. That she was an acceptable partner by virtue of her intelligence and skills, not her past. That he would make an effort to change the archaic laws governing the role of women. “Nothing, Rafiq. I wish for you to say nothing. You have already said it all.”

When she turned to retire to her room, Rafiq called her back. “I would rather die a thousand deaths than to wound you again, Maysa.”

And she would experience a thousand more regrets if she gave in to the sincerity in his dark eyes. “Then don’t, Rafiq. Be my friend.”

He approached her slowly. “I am your friend. That has never changed, despite the distance between us.”

Before she made another monumental mistake and walked back into his arms, Maysa left the terrace and returned to her quarters. And once she was safely in bed, she let herself imagine what it would be like to make love with him again, too. Yet the fantasies could never replace the reality. But the reality was she’d invited him here for a reason, and tomorrow she would begin to implement her plan. And with that plan came the opportunity to educate a king. The beautiful, sensual king of her heart.

* * *

Shirtless, Rafiq faced the double-paned window overlooking the veranda, allowing Maysa a premiere view from the partially open door. The strong planes of his broad shoulders, broken by a slight scar on his right, demonstrated he was still as physically fit as he’d always been. The indentation of his spine tracked into the waistband of his navy pajamas, surrounded by supple, golden skin. And below that, narrow hips and a toned buttocks looked quite touchable.

But she wouldn’t touch him. Not today. She had more pressing matters at hand, provided he cooperated.

Maysa moved quietly into the room, several items of clothing clutched in her arms. “Did you sleep well?”

If he was at all startled by her appearance, he didn’t show it. He simply turned and presented a half smile. “I slept as well as can be expected in a strange bed alone, knowing that a desirable woman is such a short distance away.”

She disregarded the innuendo, but she could not seem to keep her eyes off the downward stream of masculine hair below his navel, or that he seemed quite pleased to see her from an anatomical standpoint. “Well,” she said as she forced her gaze to his dark eyes, “I hope you are sufficiently rested since I have plans for us today.”

“Plans?” He rounded the foot of the bed and stood a few feet from her. “What do these plans entail?”

“I am traveling to the Diya region and I want you to come with me.”

He frowned. “That is over two hours away.”

“Yes, and I make the journey every Wednesday to treat the sheep farmers and their families. Today is Wednesday.”

“Why would you wish me to accompany you?”

“Because I believe it’s important you begin to understand the health care issues facing your country, including the lack of resources in remote areas.”

He appeared to mull that over before he spoke again. “The people of Diya never supported my father. It has been reported several possible insurgency camps exist there.”

“Perhaps they did not embrace being ignored by your father,” she said. “You could change that.”

He strolled around the room for a moment before turning to her again. “Would we be able to communicate by cell phone with the outside world?”

She rolled her eyes. “There are no cellular towers. The villagers only recently received regular phone service, and many do not have electricity. Some do not have adequate water supplies.”

“If I accompany you, I would require a contingent of guards for both our protection should I be recognized.”

“Not if you are unrecognizable.” She tossed him the army-green shirt and cargo pants. “If you put these on and wear sunglasses, no one will know a king walks among them.”

He unfolded the clothes and inspected them. “I doubt a change of attire would serve as an adequate disguise.”

“If you wear sunglasses and shave, that should suffice.”

He laughed. A deep, low, sensual laugh that sent chills down the length of Maysa’s body. “I have no intention of shaving.”