taken himself. She must have imagined it.
The first to admit that reading people was not her strong suit, she nevertheless felt a shiver of apprehension skate along her spine.
“It’s not as if we share a cot, just a tent,” Russell said, no doubt trying to assuage any conservative sensibilities.
And doing a really bad job of it, Iris thought.
Asad’s features set in a mask she was sure had more in common with his warrior ancestors than modern man. He gave Russell a look that made her self-defined intrepid field assistant shrink into his chair.
“Not acceptable.” Just two words, but spoken with absolute authority in a tone she’d heard only once from Asad.
When he was telling her they had no future in words that could not be denied.
Russell squeaked. Catherine’s look tinged with concern. Iris’s heart ached with memory while she fought to maintain a facade of indifference.
Sheikh Hakim frowned. “My cousin is correct. It would be neither safe, nor appropriate for you to camp in such a manner.”
Iris could see her escape route disappearing in front of her eyes while the chilly sense of dread inside her grew. She couldn’t give up without a fight, though. “I assure you, I’ve been on several field assignments, in the States and abroad, and never had a problem with it.”
Just not in the Middle East.
“Nevertheless, I am responsible for the safety of those within my borders,” Sheikh Hakim said with a shake of his head. “Asad is right, a two-person camp in the mountains is an unacceptable option.”
Asad simply looked at her with an immovable expression she would never forget. He’d used it also when he said goodbye. “As I told you earlier, I will see to your safety.”
“My safety isn’t your responsibility.”
“On the contrary. I have decreed that it is.” Sheikh Hakim’s friendly manner dissipated in the face of his arrogant assurance.
Right. And Sheikh Hakim was a very important client. His country was paying CC&B a great deal of money for this survey. She was compelled to accept the way he wanted the field work handled. Either she backed out of the assignment, or accepted the constraints surrounding it, including Asad as her liaison.
She’d accepted that backing out of the assignment wasn’t an option before she ever left the States.
“Not having a moving camp could make the initial sample gathering and measurements take significantly longer,” she said by way of her final sally.
“Swift is not always better,” Sheikh Hakim said implacably. “Your safety must come first.”
“Would you be more comfortable with a male team lead?” she asked, seeing a possible way out. If the sheikh asked for it, her career wouldn’t be affected adversely. It was understood that some parts of the world did not deal as well with female geologists. “My superiors could arrange for my immediate replacement if that would make you more comfortable.”
“Not at all. I am confident your work will be more than acceptable,” Sheikh Hakim said smoothly.
Russell was staring at her like she’d offered to dance naked on the tabletop. Okay, so normally, she’d bristle and fight tooth and claw to avoid being replaced simply on the basis of gender, but these were special circumstances.
“It surprises me you would make the offer.” Asad sounded just as disbelieving of her words. “I remember a woman who would not stand for the idea that men made better geologists than their female counterparts.”
“I didn’t say he would be a better geologist.”
“Naturally not. You graduated at the top of your class, did you not?”
“I’m surprised you know that.” But then it might well have been included in the information CC&B had supplied about her to Sheikh Hakim.
Asad shrugged again. “I kept up with you.”
No, really, he hadn’t. She’d never heard from him again after he left, though a mutual friend had told Iris when Asad had married a year after returning to his home. She’d spent the weekend crying off and on, for once Iris’s studies unable to assuage the ache of loneliness and grief.
Then she’d buckled down, determined not to let anyone or anything stand in the way of the one dream she had left. She’d even continued her studies in Arabic, though until this assignment, she’d had no chance to use them in more than a few written translations and phone calls.
“I’m surprised your wife isn’t with you,” she said to change the topic and to remind herself forcibly why this man could not be allowed past her defenses.
No matter what the circumstances she would be forced to live in over the coming weeks.
And really? Where was the man’s wife? What woman would prefer to stay at a Bedouin encampment when she could be visiting the local palace? And how did his wife feel about Asad promising protection and guidance to his former girlfriend?
But then, that at least, was an idiotic question. No way did the princess know anything about Iris.
Iris certainly hadn’t known anything about Princess Badra when she’d been dating and sleeping with Asad.
Asad had known, though. He’d known he had no intention of spending his future with Iris. He’d known he planned to marry the virginal princess, not the American geology student who spent every night in his bed for ten months.
He’d seduced her anyway, treating Iris like his girlfriend when she was nothing but his mistress.
An old-fashioned word for an ugly, outdated position she would never have willingly taken. Or so she told herself.
The most painful truth of all, the one that had woken her in nighttime sweats more than once, was that even had she known he would never be hers, Iris was not sure she would have been able to walk away from what he offered her naive, love-struck, nineteen-year-old self.
“My wife died two years ago.” Asad’s voice pushed into Iris’s raw thoughts.
She met his eyes in genuine shock and polite words tumbled out of her mouth in stark reaction. “I’m sorry.”
Asad didn’t reply, but looked back at her with an expression both predatory and implacable.
The room and people around them faded from her awareness for a frozen moment as she met his gaze, her body frozen in shock, her mind blank with reaction and her heart stuttering in horror.
A married Asad was bad enough, but a widower? The thought sent terror shaking through her not-so-mended heart.
The helicopter blades whirled overhead, making discussion within the bird impossible except over the shared radio pieces. Asad had his fill of public discourse the night before when all he’d wanted to do was drag Iris out of the dining room and take her somewhere they could be alone.
He could not pretend
