A defiant woman...in a desert king’s world!
After inheriting a broken kingdom, Prince Rafiq made a vow—to restore its pride by winning a prestigious horse race. To ensure success, he hires an English expert. But even notoriously controlled Rafiq is shocked when his new employee is introduced...as Miss Stephanie Darvill!
Stephanie is determined to leave her shameful past and broken dreams behind—she will prove to Rafiq she deserves his trust! But this hard-hearted desert sheikh calls to Stephanie in the most primal of ways... Dare she give in to her wildest desires?
Hot Arabian Nights
Be seduced and swept away
by these desert princes!
You won’t want to miss this new, thrillingly exotic quartet from Marguerite Kaye!
First, exiled Prince Azhar must decide whether to claim his kingdom and beautiful unconventional widow Julia Trevelyan!
Read
The Widow and the Sheikh
Already available!
When Sheikh Kadar rescues shipwrecked mail-order bride Constance Montgomery, can a convenient marriage help him maintain peace in his kingdom?
Find out in
Sheikh’s Mail-Order Bride
Already available!
To secure his kingdom’s safety, Sheikh Rafiq must win Arabia’s most dangerous horse race. His secret weapon is an English horse whisperer...whom he does not expect to be an irresistibly attractive woman!
Read
The Harlot and the Sheikh
Available now!
And don’t miss
Claiming His Desert Princess,
coming soon...
Daredevil Christopher Fordyce has always craved adventure. When his travels lead him to the kingdom of Nessarah, he makes his most exciting discovery yet—a desert princess!
Stephanie is the third English heroine in this series to find herself in deepest Arabia at the start of the nineteenth century. Preposterous, right? Maybe not as fanciful as you might think. Lady Hester Stanhope, who inspired my first desert book, Innocent in the Sheikh’s Harem, lived in Arabia from 1815. The last of Lady Jane Digby’s four husbands was a sheikh. She settled permanently in Arabia in 1853. Lady Anne Blunt, a breeder of Arabian horses and part inspiration for Stephanie, met with Lady Jane Digby in Damascus in 1877. And Gertrude Bell traveled to the Arabian desert in the early twentieth century and was instrumental in the foundation of Iraq. So my intrepid heroines do have a sound foundation in historical reality.
I have, however, chosen to avoid some of the more contentious aspects of nineteenth-century Arabia. My fantasy Arabia is free of the controversies of religion, imperialism and world politics, which affected it then and, unfortunately, continue to do so to this day. This series is quite a departure for me, but it’s been creatively liberating. I hope you enjoy my fantasy kingdom as much as I enjoyed dreaming it up.
I’ll end with a small confession. Before I started this book, I knew absolutely nothing about horses. I’ve ridden two. A donkey on the beach on the Isle of Bute, Scotland, and a carousel horse in Glasgow. I fell off both times. So please forgive any inaccuracies relating to equine matters; they are entirely my own doing.
MARGUERITE KAYE writes hot historical romances from her home in cold and usually rainy Scotland. Featuring Regency rakes, Highlanders and sheikhs in her stories, she has published almost thirty books and novellas. When she’s not writing, she enjoys walking, cycling (but only on the level), gardening (but only what she can eat) and cooking. She also likes to knit and occasionally drink martinis (though not at the same time). Find out more on her website, margueritekaye.com.
Kingdom of Bharym, Arabia—June 1815
Dawn was gently breaking as Rafiq al-Antarah, Prince of Bharym, trudged wearily out of his stables after another tense all-night vigil. The outcome had been tragically predictable: the loss of another of his prized Arabian thoroughbreds to this mysterious new sickness. Inas, on this occasion, a beautiful chestnut mare, her suffering brought mercifully to an end when it had become obvious that there could only be one outcome. Eight of his priceless breeding stock lost in just six months, and the only mare to have contracted and survived the seemingly random infection left utterly debilitated. Would there be no end to this torment?
Leaning against the wooden picket fence which bordered the empty paddock, Rafiq surrendered momentarily to the fomenting mixture of grief, rage and frustration which consumed him. It was enough to bring the strongest of men to their knees, enough to make even the most stoic weep. But a prince could not countenance displaying human weakness. Instead, he clenched his fists, threw back his head and roared impotently at the fading stars. His beautiful animals were innocent victims, punished for his crime. He was certain of it. In this darkest hour which was neither night nor morning, when he felt himself the only man alive in this vast desert region, he had no doubt at all. The fates had visited this plague upon him in retribution, making a mockery of the public pledge he had made to his people, the private vow he had made to himself. Reparation, in the form of restored national pride and
