she couldn’t hear and several men crowded into her quarters. They reached for the luggage and the boxes.
“I’m taking those with me,” she said, indicating the bags. “The boxes will be stored.” She gave the floor and room number of where they should be taken.
Kateb nodded, as if his permission were required for them to do as she said. And it probably was.
“Is there electricity where we’re going?” she asked. “I brought my curling iron.” Not to mention her blow-dryer, her iPod and her cell-phone charger. She wasn’t sure about cell service out in the desert, but she would want to charge it before she returned to the city.
“Once we arrive, you will have everything that you need,” he told her.
Which, she noted, wasn’t exactly a yes. “I’m guessing we have different ideas about what I need. You are unlikely to see the importance of a curling iron.”
His gaze moved to her hair, which she’d pulled back in a ponytail for the trip. But she’d still curled the ends. She might be going to the girlfriend equivalent of prison, but she would look good on the way.
“We will leave now,” he told her.
She followed him out of the room and into the corridor. There was no one to see her off. Her friend, Maggie, was on a trip with her fiancé, Prince Oadir—Kateb’s brother. Victoria had left a note explaining she would be gone for a while. After two years in El Deharia, she didn’t have any friends back home who would notice she’d disappeared for a few months, and she certainly wasn’t going to be in touch with her father. It was, she thought sadly, a very lonely feeling.
They walked through the palace, heading for the back. When they stepped outside Victoria saw several large trucks in the rear courtyard.
“I don’t have that much luggage,” she said, wondering what they were for.
“We are taking supplies,” Kateb told her. “The desert people trade for what they need. You will travel with me.” He pointed to a Land Rover parked on the side.
“The SUV of kings,” she murmured. Didn’t the British royal family also use Land Rovers? But she didn’t ask. Speaking suddenly seemed difficult. Despite the bright sun and warm temperature, her body felt stiff and cold. The closer she got to the SUV, the harder it was to move. Fear clawed at her throat. Panic made her stomach clench.
She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t go out in the desert with a man she didn’t know. What was going to happen? How horrible was it going to be? Her father didn’t deserve her sacrifice, she thought bitterly. He certainly didn’t appreciate it.
But she hadn’t done it for her father, she reminded herself.
“Victoria?”
A guard held open the passenger door. She sucked in a steadying breath and slid onto the smooth leather. The car door closed next to her. The sound seemed unnaturally loud—as if she’d just been cut off from everything safe and good.
Her luggage had already been loaded into one of the trucks. She was the only woman in a sea of workers and guards and drivers. There was no one to appeal to, no one to protect her. She was truly on her own.
Kateb drove the familiar road into the desert. For the first day, they would see signs of villages and small towns but by this time tomorrow, all civilization would have been left behind.
Victoria was mercifully silent. After a restless night, he wasn’t in the mood for inane conversation. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have blamed her for his lack of sleep, but he’d spent the hours of darkness tossing and turning in his bed, trying not to think about her. An impossible task, given that he’d seen her nearly naked the day before.
It was as if the image of her body were imprinted on his brain. He didn’t have to close his eyes to see her pale skin and full breasts. The vision taunted him, reminding him how long it had been since he’d been with a woman. And the wanting made him angry.
He knew the anger was more about himself than her, but she was easy to blame. If he’d had less self-control, he would have pulled over and taken her right there, on the front seat, the men with them be damned. But he wouldn’t. Not only because he would never force her or put on a show for his men, but because the need was too specific. He wanted Victoria, not a faceless woman to satisfy himself, and that bothered him.
It had been five years since Cantara had died. Five years during which he’d mourned her loss. There had been times when desire had driven him to someone’s bed, but those brief hours had been about physical need. The woman herself had been a means to an end. Nothing more. He refused to have Victoria be different.
She was nothing like Cantara. His beautiful wife had been desert born, a laughing, dark-haired beauty. They’d grown up together. He’d known everything about her. There had been no surprises, no mysteries, and he preferred that. She had understood him, his position, his destiny. She had been proud, but never assumed they were equals. She had been his wife and that had been enough for her.
He glanced at Victoria, taking in the perfect profile, the fullness of her mouth. This woman would not be content to be anything but a man’s true match, he thought. She would expect her opinion to matter. She would want to talk about everything. Her feelings, her plans, her life. It was more than a prince should have to bear. She would—
He glanced at her again and noticed the slight tremor in her cheek. As if her teeth had been tightly clenched for some time. She was pale and had her hands tightly clasped. He caught it then, the bitter scent.
Fear.
The knowledge made him weary. He was not cruel enough to allow her to terrorize herself with her concerns.
“Nothing will happen until we arrive at the village,” he said sharply.
Her breath caught. He felt her glance at him. “H-how long will that take?”
“Three days. Very few people know the place. It’s beautiful, at least I find it so. Like nothing you’ve ever seen.”
He hoped she wouldn’t ask what would happen when they did finally arrive. He had no answer for that. He had taken her because she had offered herself in exchange for her father and the desert law respected a noble sacrifice. But to what end? Did he really plan to take her for his mistress?
He looked at her again. She wore jeans and ridiculous boots with high heels. The shirt was made of some clingy fabric that seemed to hug her breasts. He forced himself to return his attention to the road.
He found her attractive and would enjoy her in his bed, but he was reluctant to commit to longer than a single night. Which meant he was going to have to find something else for Victoria to do.
“I, uh, thought the people of the desert were nomadic,” she said.
“Many are, but many also enjoy life in the desert and do not feel compelled to move from camp to camp. The village provides the best of both worlds.”
“I hope I brought enough sunscreen,” she murmured.
“We will send for more if you did not,” he told her.
“So you
