Lacey to her front door at a brisk pace, Hafiz noted he wasn’t even breathing hard from lifting her. She weighed barely anything. He glanced down at her face and the fragility struck him like a fist.
Not for the first time did he wonder if moving Lacey to Rudaynah had been the best decision for her. Life in hiding had taken its toll. Why hadn’t he seen that before? Or did he not want to see it?
Lacey stirred as if she was acutely aware of his perusal. “I’m fine,” she murmured and tentatively ran her tongue over her parched lips.
“No, you’re not.” He leaned heavily against the doorbell and waited at the iron grille door until the American servant wearing a loose T-shirt and cargo pants came to the door.
“Your Highness! What happened?” Glenn asked as he unlocked the door bolts with economical movements. His craggy face showed no alarm, but his watchful eyes were alert. His body, lean from many years of military training, vibrated with readiness to act on the first command from his employer.
“It’s all right. She fainted from the heat.” Hafiz kicked off his sandals at the door and moved past the older man. “I’ll get her into the shower. Have your wife prepare something very cold and sweet for her to drink.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.” Glenn raked his hand over his bristly gray hair. “She said—”
“It’s all right,” he repeated, calling over his shoulder as he made way to the master bedroom. “Lacey has always had a problem following directions.”
“I’m not dead, you know,” Lacey said with her eyes closed. “I can hear every word.”
“Good, because I do not want you venturing outside again without Glenn,” Hafiz said as he stepped into the large room where he spent many hours exploring Lacey’s body and revealing the darkest recesses of his heart. This time the sumptuous silks and oversized pillows didn’t stir his hot blood. He wanted to tuck Lacey between the colorful sheets and not let her out of bed until she regained her vibrancy. “He is your bodyguard and—”
“He is to play the role of my next of kin if any questions are asked because single women are not allowed to travel alone in this country,” Lacey ended in a monotone. She let out a slow, stuttering sigh that seemed to originate from somewhere deep inside her. “I know.”
“Then, don’t let it happen again.” He pushed the bathroom door open with his bare foot. Slapping the light switch outside the door with the palm of his hand, he entered the windowless room now flooding with light.
“It won’t.”
The determination in her voice made him hesitate. He cautiously watched her face as he set her down gently, sliding her feminine curves along his length. For once her expression showed nothing. Her eyes veiled her feelings. Usually her eyes would darken with righteous indignation, glow with rapturous delight and twinkle with every emotion in between. The sudden change in her behavior troubled him.
He wanted to hold her close until he could read her thoughts, but Lacey had other ideas as she moved away from him. “Can you stand on your own?” he asked.
“Yes.” She took another step back and shucked off her cloth boots. The movements lacked her usual energy.
He kept one hand outstretched in case he had to catch her as he started the shower full blast. Hafiz turned his attention on Lacey and quickly divested her of her black caftan.
“Lacey!” His startled hoarse cry echoed in the small room. The sight of her barely-there peach lingerie was a shocking contrast against the conservative cloth. Hafiz’s body reacted immediately. The heavy black material dropped from his fists and flopped on the wet floor.
“What?” She inspected her arms and legs. “What’s wrong?”
He cleared his throat, wishing he could also clear the sharp arousal tightening his body. “You’re supposed to wear several layers of clothes under the caftan.” He unhooked the front closure of her bra, his knuckles grazing her breast. He saw the tremor in his hands. He was acting like a callow youth.
“Are you kidding?” She skimmed the high-cut panties down her legs and kicked them aside. “I would boil alive.”
His gaze traveled as the peach satin landed on the black fabric. The searing image branded in his mind. The way he would look at women in the shapeless caftan was forever changed. He swallowed roughly as he controlled his baser instinct. “What if you had gotten caught?”
“No one would have found out. You are the only person who has shown enough nerve to get that close.” She arched her eyebrow in disapproval.
And he was going to keep it that way. “Here, get under the water.” He pulled her to the showerhead.
“Oh! Ow!” Lacey squealed in dismay as the icy cold spray hit her body. She jumped back and rubbed her hands over her arms. “This is so cold.”
“You’ll get used to it in just a minute,” he replied as he always did to her comments on the lack of heated water. The familiarity calmed him while her beaded nipples made his brain sluggish.
“You can leave now,” she said through chattering teeth. She looked away from him and tested the temperature by dipping her foot in the cold water.
He leaned against the door and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t want you passing out in the shower.”
“I won’t. Now go before your royal gown gets soaked.” She shooed him away with her hands.
She had a point. The bathroom, already hot as a sauna, was in the traditional Rudaynahi design, with the exception of a European commode. The concrete floor had a drain and was also to be used as the shower floor. Since there was no plastic curtain or glass shower door, the water was already spraying every inch of the bathroom.
“If you’re sure,” Hafiz said and flashed a wicked smile. “But I can just as easily take it off.”
She glared back at him. “I’m sure.”
His smile turned wry at her ungracious rejection. He shouldn’t have made the offer. He knew that but went for it anyway. “I’ll be outside,” Hafiz said. Lacey didn’t respond as she stuck her head fully under the spray.
He stepped out of the bathroom and almost collided with the housekeeper who carried a small tray into the bedroom. The tall frosty glass of juice rattled against a plate of figs and dates.
“How is she doing?” Annette asked as she set the tray on the bedside table. “Do we need to call a doctor?”
“No, she’s not sick.” The uncertain look of the older woman irritated him. If he truly felt Lacey needed medical care, he would call the American doctor who’d already discovered that cashing in favors from a prince was worth more than any currency in a country that relied heavily on the bartering system.
The physician was brilliant and up to date on medicine. Hafiz had seen that firsthand when Lacey arrived in the country and had drunk water that had not been purified. That week had been torture, and Hafiz was insistent that she was given the best care, no matter what. Hafiz would never place secrecy above Lacey’s well-being, and it stung to have someone silently questioning his priorities.
“She’s
