The Sheikh's Stubborn Lover (The Adjalane Sheikhs Series Book 2) (4 page)

The town car took them back to Adjalane Palace, with a stop first at Michelle’s hotel. But not the hotel she had planned on staying at. Adjalane Towers boasted a first class hotel, and while Michelle protested about having already booked a room at the Marriot, Adilan wouldn’t hear of her staying anywhere else.

Her protests died when she saw the view from the room—a first floor balcony overlooking the ocean. This was far better than the inland Marriot. Adilan arranged for her luggage to be brought over, had the hotel staff bring up clothing for her to change into—khaki pants, a loose white shirt, and sensible boots that tied at the ankle. She started more protests over his high-handed outfitting of her, but she was quickly learning that Adilan listened to her and then simply gave her a dozen reasons why his plans where so much better.

“Do you have clothes suitable for the desert?” he asked. She started to explain that jeans would work fine, but he held up a hand and kept talking. “You need something light, so your skin can breathe. Something that will protect you from the heat and sun. This is why most women wear the
abaya
—it is a practical garment. But, I will not insist you veil yourself. But a hat, yes, I think that is a good idea, too.”

She gave up on the protests. Hell, the man had just loaned her eighty thousand—she’d be more than rude to throw his generosity back at him. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being set up to agree to this land swap. She tried to tell herself she wasn’t a push over, but Adilan was hard to resist.

It wasn’t just his force of personality—it was that small smile he would give her, as if he was including her in on some private joke. It was the way he grinned and brought fun to almost everything. It was also the heady joy of having a good looking man waiting on her, doing his best to please her.

When she came out in the clothes he’d had the staff bring her, she liked how his eyes lit up. He came over to her and took her hand. The differences in their height was more pronounced when he stood so close—the top of her head only barely reached the bottom of his chin. She stared up at him, caught by those green eyes of his, a sizzling awareness of him tingling on her skin.

She felt his body tighten. She knew he was attracted to her—and she was to him. But he didn’t act on it. He kissed the top of her head and stepped back. “We should go before the heat of the day becomes too much.”

Now they stepped from the town car back at Adjalane Palace, and Adilan pulled Michelle with him to a garage that looked more like another wing of the palace. He pointed to a tan Hummer. All the time he’d been talking about the property he wanted to show her, telling her about its ideal location, its views, and the beauty of the spot. “I promise, it’s worth the drive.”

She smiled at him. He sounded so enthusiastic. But she kept thinking—
it’s not the oasis
. What would her mother think of a trade? Faced with the choice, would she be the sensible business Deborah Reynolds, or the sentimental Deborah Reynolds? Mother could go either way.

But Michelle had only agreed to look at this other property—and consider the idea. That was it. She got into the Hummer. Adilan reached over and fastened her seatbelt for her. He was being very bold with all the touches he kept sneaking in, but why not sit back and enjoy the day. She had the pressure off her for right now, and it was nice to have someone else running the show for a change.

Just keep your head.

As if she could.

He took off at high speed, followed a curving road out of the palace and then headed off the road and up over a sand dune. Michelle gave a squeak. He grinned at her. “You definitely never want to venture out into the desert without a GPS and a good idea of where you’re going.”

Hanging onto the dash, she glanced at him. “I’m not sure I want to venture out at all. Do people get lost out here?”

“Sometimes. Usually foreigners who haven’t paid attention to the warning signs posted at the edges of town.”

She frowned. Was Adilan paying attention to warning signs? “Why do you need warning signs? What are they a warning of?”

Adilan pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on. “The desert is an ocean of sand. It shifts and changes with each new wind. It’s also very unforgiving. The warnings are of the heat—and the lack of help that can be expected.”

She gave a nod and a wince as Adilan crested yet another sand dune. “I watch a lot of travel documentaries and I always wondered if the sandstorm that can bury a small town are real or just exaggerations.”

Adilan grinned. “Oh, they are very real and fatal if one is caught out in one without the benefit of shelter.”

She shivered. “That sounds like a horrible way to die.” Leaning to the side, she glanced at the sky. “I hope we’re not expecting any storms.”

He slowed the vehicle as he neared the top of another dune. “Close your eyes.” She glanced at him, but dutifully closed her eyes. She could feel the Hummer as it slowed even more and came to a stop. Adilan’s voice whispered near her ear. “Open your eyes now.”

Michelle did so and gasped. Unlike Al-Hilah, this one was not hemmed in by Rocky Mountains. Palms clustered around not just one spring, but several, forming four pools of green. Between them camels stood near a white tent. Several people in traditional white robes moved between the springs, but she couldn’t tell if they were men or women. The location was quite a bit larger than the other oasis—and lovely. She glanced to the right and could see the thin, shimmer of ocean in the distance. The mountains rose up as a backdrop. Michelle shook her head. “It is beautiful,” she said. But a small voice whispered in her head,
‘It’s not Mother’s oasis.’

“Father gave me this land when I turned twenty-one. It is called the Zia oasis.”

Surprised, she glanced at him. “Why would you make this part of the deal? How could you possibly think to give this up?”

Adilan smiled and looked at her over the top of his sunglasses. “Perhaps I am hoping I will have a standing invitation to visit your sanctuary once it is built.”

“Getting a little ahead of yourself—I haven’t agreed to anything.”

His smile widened to a grin. “You agreed to lunch.” He headed down to the oasis.

Michelle wanted to stare at everything—the carpets spread out before the tent, the camels, which smelled terrible, the people who sent cautious glances her way. Adilan leaped from the Hummer and came around to her side. She’d barely gotten her seatbelt off and the door open when the swept her out, spinning her around before putting her on feet. “Welcome to my tent.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Overdoing the sheikh just a little?”

“Impossible,” he said. At the entrance to the tent, he slipped off his shoes. Her boots took more effort, but she got them off and followed him inside. It was like stepping into an illustration—or a dream.

Incense burners and lamps set with colored glass hung from the wooden tent frame. Fabrics draped the walls and carpets turned the sand into colorful flooring. Everywhere she looked she could see cushions in vivid silks—purples, reds, oranges. A huge brass table sat on a low wooden stand. Adilan glanced at her from where he sat beside the table. He swept out a hand. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

She came over and sat down on the pillows—they seemed to enfold her. A woman brought in a pitcher, a bright blue bowl and towels. The woman poured the water and Michelle washed her hands in the cool liquid.

And then the food began to appear—carried in on large platters. She thought she recognized the smooth paste that almost everyone in the Middle East ate—hummus, or ground up chick peas. Flat bread, still warm from baking came in, along with a bowl of figs and bright red pomegranate seeds. Meat of some kind on skewers was served, with a honey dipping sauce. Salad, olives, sliced cucumbers, and then Michelle lost track of the dishes. She wanted to taste everything.

Adilan poured her lemonade from a glass carafe. He held up what looked like a small pastry made of layers of flaky dough and smelling of honey. “This is a specialty of Al-Sarid. You must try it.”

She didn’t see any way to take the pastry from him, so she let him put it in her mouth. Her lips closed over his fingers and her tongue brushed his fingertip. His eyes darkened. She swallowed the morsel of sweetness. “What is it?”

“Dates, honey—and spices. The recipe is known only to three cooks in Al-Sarid, and each bakery claims to have invented the dish. Try the lamb now.” He wrapped a small chunk of meat in the flat bread and held it up for her to take it from his fingers.

“Uh, I can manage,” she told him.

He shook his head. “It is custom to feed a guest. In turn, you may choose to feed me.”

She bit down on her lower lip. She wasn’t sure if he was feeding her a line more than any food, but she glanced over and saw one of the robed women watching them. The woman rolled her eyes, a giggle was smothered, and Michelle straightened. She wasn’t letting anyone think she was some stupid American who couldn’t adopt local customs.

Leaning forward, she parted her lips. Adilan placed the lamb on her tongue, and whispered, “Savor it.”

She let the meat linger on her tongue. Spices exploded in her mouth—a mix of mint, thyme, something sweet, and something a little tart. The bread seemed to melt away, and the lamb—she’d never had anything so good.

Glancing over at the women serving them, she saw expectation in the woman’s dark eyes. Michelle scooted a little closer to Adilan. She swept up one of the honey dates with her fingers—there were no forks, not even so much as a napkin—and held it up for him. Green eyes dancing, Adilan opened his lips. She fed him the date, and his mouth closed on her thumb and fore finger.

His tongue darted out, licking the last touch of sweetness from her thumb. Shock darted up her hand to her heart, sending it skidding fast. She licked her lips.

Adilan leaned even closer. She could smell his scent, something musky and warm. “I have a surprise for you.” Standing, he held out his hand to her. She put her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet.

He kept her hand as he walked her to the front of the tent. There stood a tan camel—the kind with one hump. A tasseled saddle sat on the animal’s back and a matching tasseled bridle wrapped around its head. The camel turned and stared at Michelle with dark eyes and the most ridiculously long eye lashes. Then it gave a belch that smelled like something fermenting and a loud, grumbling complaint.

Michelle eased closer to Adilan. “I don’t think it likes me.”

“She.” He stepped forward and held out a date that the camel quickly found and ate. “This is Dena. And we are going to see the Zia oasis from her back.

Michelle gave him a sideways glance and stepped back. “Adilan, I don’t even know how to ride a horse.”

It was the first time she had used his name. A surprising touch of something wrapped around his heart. He frowned. He did not know why it should matter to him how—or even if—she spoke his name, but suddenly he wanted to hear her say it again.

He put a hand on her waist. “Never fear, we will be riding tandem.”

She gave him another look that made him want to laugh—she was so suspicious, his American. Giving orders, he had soft boots brought to Michelle and for himself—good desert boots made of goatskin. He took the reins and stick from the boy who had brought Dena to the tent and he tapped the camel on her leg to ask her to lie down so they could mount.

Dena complained as always, but it was a good sign that she had not spit at Michelle. Settling Michelle in front, Adilan swung his leg over the camel’s back, and gave Dena the command to stand. She did so, lurching up in front and then behind. Michelle gave a gasp, then a giggle.

Adilan tapped Dena on the shoulder and then on the haunch and he steered her away from the tent.

“You sure she’s safe?” Michelle asked.

“More so than any car. She is a ship of the desert.” He set off to show Michelle the land.

He wasn’t sure what part of good sense had come into play when he’d decided to take Michelle for a camel ride. She was sitting in front of him, her nicely rounded ass pressing against his groin. The rocking of the camel forced her against him and then away—all too stimulating a move.

He wrapped his arms around Michelle so he could guide Dena, and that put him into even closer proximity to her. If he turned his head a fraction, he could nuzzle her ear, licking the skin beneath her earlobe.

Ah, but he was playing with fire. With the fire in her hair, and in her eyes. He wanted her—but he was the one who was supposed to seduce her into doing his bidding. Instead, all he could think of was how to make her smile again. How to make her laugh—and how to make her say his name again.

They spent a half hour touring the Zia oasis. He spoke of the dates palms that produced the sweetest fruit in all Al-Sarid, of the sweetness of the water. “There is a legend that if you bath in these waters, you will have great health, a long live, happiness, and true love.”

Michelle gave a laugh and glanced back at him. “Very romantic, but I’m not certain how water could do all that. And, what, no wealth?”

“In Al-Sarid, if a man has all the other things, he is considered very wealthy indeed. Do you care to put the legend to a test?”

“Don’t tell me—you have swimsuits here.”

He grinned. “I was thinking more that our skins are suits enough.” He swung down from the saddle and held up a hand to Michelle. “Come, there is no one other than me to see you and you cannot say you have fully experienced the oasis until you have bathed in the water.”

She shook her head but she climbed down from the saddle. “And I also smell like camel now.” Glancing around, she asked, “Where did everyone go?”

He waved a hand over the dunes. “My staff has gone back to the city.” Letting go of Dena, he allowed her to wander off. “Dena will also find her way home—or she may stay to graze. Now…what about a swim?”

Michelle glanced at the cool waters. He could tell she was tempted, so he took her hand and led her to his favorite pool. The clear water was shallow enough to show the bottom of the springs. Letting go of her, Adilan turned his back. “I promise not to look—but you should bath. The waters are indeed special here, with minerals and warmed not just by the sun but by heat deep underground.”

She bit her lower lip and glanced up at him. “Really—no peeking?”

He sat down, his back to a palm tree. “You have my word as an Adjalane that you may undress in utter privacy.” He heard the rustle of her boots coming off and then of clothing. It took a great deal not to look—he wanted to see her skin, her body, but he had given his word.

Water splashed and then Michelle let out a deep sigh. “Okay, maybe there is something to this legend.”

He glanced over at her. Water shadowed her figure, but he could see hints of curving white skin. She floated on her back, staring up at the sky. He was entranced. She looked an enchanted houri, or a woman from fable with her hair darkened by water and spread out around her.

Dena gave a low bellow, and Adilan turned to watch the camel lope up the sand dunes, heading back to the city. Frowning, he stood. Dena would not have run, unless…

He turned and strode from the grove. He felt the wind first—sharp and stinging—then heard the low howl that Dena must have sensed. A storm was whipping up.

Heading back to the springs, he picked up Michelle’s shirt. “Come. You must get out. We need to return to the tent.”

She turned onto her front and eyed him. “Is this some ploy to see me naked?”

Closing his eyes, he held out her shirt. “This is some ploy to get you moving—a sandstorm is coming.”

He heard the splash of water, and her shirt was tugged from his hands. Opening his eyes, he saw a flash of pale breast—and the sight of her legs robbed him of thought for a moment. She grabbed her boots and pants. “How bad is it? Can we make it back to the city?”

He shook his head and grabbed her wrist, pulling her with him. “We will stay. The tent will be better shelter, and if the sand is bad, it will only clog the engine, leaving us stranded. That is how people die.”

“A tent? Seriously?”

Pulling her with him, he stepped into the tent. His people had done well, putting it up in the old style, with the edges buried. Letting go of Michelle, he pulled fabric over the opening, layering the material so nothing would get inside. “We are at the center of the Zia oasis, and as far as memory goes back, these springs have never been covered by the sand. The desert tries to take it back, but the way the dunes are situated, they act as natural wind breaks.”

Michelle shivered and rubbed her arms. Outside the wind began to howl. She stepped closer to him. “Are you sure we’re safe? Buried by sand…” She let the words trail and shivered again.

Coming over to her, Adilan draped an arm over her shoulders. “Come and sit. I will make us tea.”

He led her back to the cushions. A stone circle with coals in the center waited only for a match. While the wind howled and the tent shivered, he lit the fire and began to brew water for a calming rose tea.