ck hadn’t done his nerves any good either. If at any time she had shifted her hand an inch lower she would have realised that the only thing on his mind was sex.
Wondering how she was finding her own accommodation and whether she was wishing it was a five-star hotel, he donned a white thawb and royal headdress and went outside.
The sun was low on the horizon, his favourite time of day in the desert, the ambient light turning the sky a dusky mauve. Hearing a sound behind him, he turned to see Regan dressed in a brightly coloured thawb and flowing floor-length headdress. As soon as they had arrived at the village a group of local women had descended upon their future Queen to give her a traditional makeover. The results were stunning. She was completely covered from head to toe, and yet she managed to look like an exotic treat waiting to be unwrapped. Her chin tilted upwards in a tiny gesture he had first assumed was haughtiness, but now realised was one of self-consciousness. Despite her fair skin, she looked as if she was born to be here. Born to be his.
Perturbed by that last thought, Jag didn’t realise he was frowning until Regan raised a brow. ‘I did try to tell them to stop with the black kohl and henna. I look like I’m dressed for a Halloween party, don’t I?’
Jag felt instantly chagrined at her pained expression. ‘You look stunning. I just had something else on my mind.’ Such as the fact that he might be slowly losing it.
‘Well, whatever it was it obviously wasn’t nice. Which is hard to believe when you’re in a place like this.’ Her gaze swept across the small cluster of tents and the deep blue lagoon. ‘This is like something out of a fairy tale.’
‘You don’t wish for more modern accommodation?’
‘Are you kidding?’ Regan gaped at him. ‘People pay a fortune to have experiences like this. I had no idea tents had carpets and real beds.’
‘You’re getting the upscale version. Come. It is a short drive to the village.’
‘We’re not going by camel?’
Jag couldn’t prevent a grin at her teasing comment. ‘I draw the line at some traditions.’
He held the door wide and her sheer veil caught on his arm as she made to step into the car. As he lifted his hand to disengage it his fingers caught around her silky hair and he nearly threw caution to the wind and buried his hands in the sexy mass and brought her mouth up to his again.
Moments later their car pulled up alongside a large purpose-built marquee. Inside low tables were set in a wide circle with cushions scattered throughout the tent for seating, soft music playing from the edge of the entertainment area.
He watched Regan as she greeted his local tribespeople, speaking softly and attempting a few words in his native tongue, her adept mind already picking up a few phrases. He remembered the way her face had lit up when they had ridden first in the helicopter, and then on horseback through the desert. He had half expected her to hate his homeland but to his surprise she had seemed enamoured by it.
As his people were fast becoming enamoured by her.
‘Your Majesty, your table.’
The tribal chieftain guided them to the central spot in the marquee, where everyone would be able to watch him and Regan interact.
Seeing the smiles on his people’s faces was like a punch in the stomach. He hadn’t given much thought to how much they wanted this to be real and he conceded that Regan had been right to be hesitant in accepting the invitation. Probably he could have got out of it but once again he found himself making a decision to keep this woman close when it wasn’t necessary.
He frowned. What was necessary was getting back to the palace and to what was important—work and finding Milena. But before that could happen he had tonight to get through.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked Regan softly. ‘Overwhelmed? Nervous? I should apologise because you’re the centre of attention again.’
‘I’m fine.’ She gazed around the wide, brightly decorated space. ‘Maybe you dragging me to your palace has been good for me. I think I’ve become a bit reclusive at home, keeping to my usual routine and never stepping outside of my comfort zone. My world is so small compared to yours. I don’t know how you do it; having to be switched on all the time.’
‘Sometimes it’s tough,’ he admitted, something he’d never said out loud before. ‘Sometimes I’m presented with problems and challenges with no clear answers, and I find that the hardest of all.’
Especially now that Regan had started making him question his relationship with his siblings. Did Rafa stay away from Santara because Jag had not created a clear role for him at the palace? Had Milena run off with Chad James because she didn’t want to go through with her royal marriage and couldn’t tell him?
‘We don’t always get it right,’ she said softly, as if reading his mind.
But he did. He had people depending on him. People who needed him to get it right. Especially when his father had been too caught up in his domestic dramas to lead the country as it deserved to be led.
Fortunately the tempo of the music increased, cutting off any further chance of conversation. A good thing, since he had a habit of revealing too much of himself around this woman.
* * *
Dancers poured into the tent, smiling and clapping, and, despite her misgivings about being here, Regan decided she was going to enjoy the evening. It wasn’t as if she was likely to get a chance to experience something like this again any time soon. And yes, it would be better if she wasn’t so aware of the man beside her, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. Try as she had...
They might not have met in the most conventional of circumstances, but the way her body responded to him was one hundred percent conventionally female.
And knowing that he was just as attracted to her was driving her crazy. It made her wonder what might have been if he had been an ordinary guy she had met at her local park. But he wasn’t. He was a king, a man of supreme importance—and her brother had run off with his sister.