Mills & Boon New Voices: Foreword by Katie Fforde. Ann Lethbridge
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“You should have told me from the beginning.”
“We did not know each other well enough.”
She looked outraged. “You were engaged, Zafir, and you slept with me for six months without ever letting me know that fact. I don’t think knowing each other had anything to do with it! You didn’t want anything to interfere with your ability to get me into bed.”
He couldn’t stop the smirk that crossed his face. “As if that was so difficult, Genie.”
She blushed, and he knew she was remembering their first night together. Their first date. She hadn’t been a virgin, but she hadn’t been experienced either.
“I’d like to go back to my camp now,” she said primly.
“Of course you would,” he said, coming to a decision. “And yet I am afraid this is not possible.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes blazing suddenly. “What do you mean, not possible?”
He almost had fun saying the next part. Almost, but not quite.
“Because I have need of you here.”
Chapter Two
GENIE’S heart dropped to her toes. Next came rising irritation. He was toying with her, punishing her for what happened between them ten years ago. The sex between them had been great, yes, but hers was the only heart that had been affected. She’d been in love with him, and all he’d wanted was to take her to Bah’shar and keep her as a plaything while he married someone else.
Even had he not been engaged she’d been right to break it off between them. He would have prevented her from making something of herself, from pursuing the career she’d always wanted. He would have stifled her freedom and bound her up in a perfumed prison.
She was glad she’d refused to go with him. He hadn’t loved her and would have discarded her as soon as he’d tired of her. It’d been the hardest thing she’d ever done, walking away from him, but it had been right.
And now he was a king, and trying to use that power to prevent her from returning to her job, her life. Fury whipped through her.
“This is beneath you, Zafir,” she said, as coldly as possible.
One dark eyebrow arched. My God, how could the man still be so absolutely breathtaking—especially when he was being so arrogant? And how could she want him as much as she ever had?
“Beneath me? Interesting choice of words, habiba.”
She folded her arms over her chest. There wasn’t much she could control here, but she had to insist on that which she could. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
He laughed. “Does it bring up bad memories?”
“No,” she said automatically. And then, realizing what she’d admitted, followed it with an emphatic, “Yes.”
“Interesting. I do not remember you objecting when you screamed my name in pleasure, or afterward when I held you close and called you habiba.”
A sliver of desire sizzled to life inside her. She’d been with a few men in the last ten years, but none had ever affected her the way Zafir had. The way he was affecting her now.
But she’d never seen him like this either. Surely that was what had her blood pumping into her veins like a runaway train? Though she’d known he was a desert prince, he’d never dressed in the tradition of his home when they were together.
He was truly magnificent in the white dishdasha. A gold igal held his headdress in place, and at his waist was a curved ceremonial dagger with a jeweled hilt.
He was exotic and forbidden in a way he never had been when he’d worn jeans and button-down shirts. When he’d simply been handsome and sexy and she hadn’t been able to believe he was hers. That she was the one he spent time with when there were so many gorgeous women he could have chosen instead.
Except he hadn’t really been hers, had he?
“That’s in the past,” she forced out. A past that had never really stopped haunting her.
He turned away in a swirl of robes. “I did not say, by the way, that I would never let you return to your dig.”
Genie shook her head. “I don’t understand, Zafir. What do you want from me?”
“The short answer is that my father had trouble with warring tribes in this region. I am here because I intend to put a stop to it once and for all. Since you were a gift from the chieftain of one of the tribes, I can hardly let you leave.”
Genie’s jaw went slack. “A gift? Like a goat or a camel or a jeweled dagger?”
“Precisely. And until I conclude this meeting I require your presence.”
For the moment, she could only focus on the fact that she’d been given to him. “How can someone give away a human being? What kind of king are you to allow such a thing to happen?”
His jaw was firm. “I am the king of a very old and traditional nation. The ways of the desert are ancient and cannot be changed overnight.”
“But you could have refused.”
He crossed his arms, one eyebrow arching. “Indeed I could have. And you would now likely be back in Sheikh Abu Bakr’s harem, awaiting his attentions.”
She thought of the old man who’d been speaking earlier and shivered. “That’s barbaric.”
“It is the custom.”
“You have a lot of customs, don’t you?” she said bitterly. Like keeping mistresses while marrying another woman and having children with her.
“Indeed—which is why you will remain.”
“And what if I don’t want to stay?”
His dark eyes glittered. “You do not have a choice.”
“You would force me to stay here against my will?”
He inclined his head. “To prove I am not such a barbarian, I will compensate you in the end. This is not a bad deal, Genie.”
For who? Staying here for even a minute longer than she had to was dangerous. Because in spite of everything—all the hurt and pain and agony of the past—her heart was soaring with every minute she stood near him.
“I don’t want money.”
He looked skeptical. “Really? Aren’t archaeological digs expensive?”
“I have funding for my projects.” Not as much as she’d like, but she wasn’t admitting that to him.
“Then I will give