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,
