Page 4 of At the Sheikh's Command
“The palace,” she said quietly, the fear deepening, both at the tone of his voice and at his response. He wanted her in his territory, and he was mad at her. The thought of being trapped, unable to come and go as she wished, filled her with dread. It always had. She swallowed hard. “And may I ask why?”
“Let’s just say it will be more convenient.”
“For whom?”
She received an answering glare. Of course, it would be for his convenience. He was king, and she was a nobody.
“And do you act as a taxi service for every visitor entering your country?”
The palace gates swung open before them, and they drove into the outer courtyard where the grand entrance was flanked by soldiers. A group of visitors, accompanied by security guards, stopped and stared at them. Darrius raised his hand in acknowledgement of the soldiers’ salute and continued to drive through another set of gates, which opened as they approached. Still he didn’t answer.
Gowned officials were crossing this next courtyard from the palace to a set of more modern offices on the far side. But the car didn’t stop in the administrative center either. Instead, they continued on through yet another set of gates and entered an inner courtyard which, she knew, was the wing where the royal family had their private residences.
He didn’t reply to her question until he’d parked the car outside the front steps. Silence filled the car and dust ballooned in the surrounding air. He didn’t bother to look at her. She watched his grip tighten momentarily around the steering wheel and then relax.
“Only when I have a personal interest in the visitor.”
“Personal?” She wished her usually firm voice hadn’t quavered. But the air between them vibrated with anger and something more, something she hadn’t expected—something which hadn’t changed in all of those eight long years. A crackling electricity, which needed only a spark to ignite.
He looked at her then for the first time. His eyes roved over her face thirstily, as if he’d been walking in the desert for days and had found water. A shiver tracked down her spine. And it wasn’t one of fear. How could she have forgotten the effect of his gaze on her? How could she imagine that by merely seeing him, she’d get him out of her system?
As quickly as he’d turned to her, he turned away again, and the glare of the mid-day sun was gone, leaving her in shadow, leaving her wanting more.
As soon as he got out of the car, people came running. The door was opened for her and her bag was whisked inside. She felt like she was on a slippery slide to a place she definitely didn’t want to go. How the hell had he taken over her life so quickly and so easily? But she knew the answer. It wasn’t only because he was king in this traditional monarchy. It was because he was Darrius—a man who knew what he wanted, and made sure he got it. He didn’t even bother to see if she followed him, but ascended the steps with the confidence of a leader.
“Wait! I don’t want to stay here. I have a booking at the hotel.”
She’d thought he hadn’t heard her, but then he hesitated before he entered the palace and turned to her. “Not anymore. It’s been cancelled. You’ll be staying here, with me.”
“Tell me one thing. Why did you come to meet me? It obviously wasn’t for a tête-à-tête. You didn’t speak until we arrived.”
He was king. He didn’t have to answer. One wave of the hand would have been enough to have had half a dozen people come running to shut her up. But the only reason he waved his hand was to dismiss his people. Suddenly, they were alone again.
“I wanted to see you as soon as I heard you were here.”
She was blindsided by a searing blast of emotion which came out of nowhere. She’d imagined he’d picked her up to punish her for walking out on him. That he wanted to see her opened up a part of her she thought long dead—a desire so elemental it felt like hunger.
“You wanted to see me?” she repeated huskily.
“Yes. I couldn’t believe you had the gall to turn up to my country unannounced after all these years.”
He descended the steps until he stood close to her—too close. She gasped, holding the tiny breath between pressed lips as she searched his face, needing to see him in the flesh after so long without him. Every night for years she’d tried to remember the details of his face. But the harder she’d tried, the more elusive they had become. One night, she might remember his brows lowered in a permanent frown. Another night she’d recall his cheekbones with vivid clarity—hard and chiseled, highlighted by Sifra’s sunshine as he looked out to the wide open sky. Yet others she’d re-live the sensation of his lips on her body when she closed her eyes in a restless tangle of sheets and longing. The best nights were those when she looked into his eyes—pools of darkness into which she wanted to lose herself. And here they were, looking at her with a hard-eyed look of hatred. And she knew she was already lost.
She swallowed. “And yet here I am,” she said in a husky voice.
“And yet here you are,” he replied, a light flaring in those dark, midnight eyes. He withdrew a little from her and she released her breath, flexing her hands as if suddenly aware of herself again. “And here’ll you stay,” he added.
For a moment, she thought she’d misheard him. It sounded like a threat. It sounded like a judgement.
“No! What? What do you mean?”
“Exactly as I say. For the duration of your stay, you will remain here, with me, where I can keep an eye on you.”
But by his hungry expression, it wasn’t an eye he wanted on her. It was something else entirely. She’d thought she could come to this land, inveigle her way to seeing him again, and then be relieved that there was nothing between them. But things weren’t going to plan.
“How long can I stay in Sifra?”
“How long?” He gave a smile which was no smile. “You may stay until I tell you to leave. You may go where I allow you to go. You will do nothing without my personal permission.”
