CHAPTER THREE
Maisey Yates
Elyse and Elizabeth, I blame you for this book…
I mean, I thank you for this book. It was as fun
as I thought it would be.
SHE WAS FRAIL. And pale. Her blond hair pulled back into a tight and elegant bun, the long sleeves of her dress and the hem that brushed the floor were likely an attempt at sparing her European skin from the full brunt of the Taharan sun.
It would not do. A few moments out in the environment he’d spent his past decade in and she would perish.
Nothing more than a white lily drying on the sand until she returned back to the dust, sent away on the next dry, hot breeze.
Whatever advisor had imagined she would make a suitable wife for the Sheikh of Tahar was
