“Connected,” he pressed a hand to the tabletop, fingers splayed wide. “There is an ancient rhythm that runs beneath the sand dunes, that pulses like music under your feet. It is in the air, the night sky, the clarity of the stars, the silhouette of the mountain ranges across the plains, it is in the smell of clay and dust. To stand in the desert is to feel generations of Al Medinans flooding your body, becoming a part of you, breathing through you. It is a consciousness of your place in a bigger tapestry. It is a calling, a reminder that we are a single thread, that with our life comes a duty,all life,not just that of a royal prince—to respect the past, to build the future.”
Goosebumps lifted across Cora’s skin as his words took a hold of her, built a wave of comprehension deep in her soul. Awed silence fell, her eyes locked to his, the imagery he’d conjured too powerful for her to look away at first. “I just meant, does it have good museums,” she joked, flashing him a smile, but the sense of awe remained.
“The best,” he agreed after a beat, pride in his smile. “And food.”
“I can’t fault you there.” Despite no longer being remotely hungry, she lifted a forkful of food to her mouth. It was just too delicious to leave.
“So?” He asked, staring straight at her. “Does that buy me a little longer?”
His tone was light, but the question had a weight all its own, a weight brought to bear by Cora’s past, her divorce, her innate mistrust of people, and particularly men. But just as the desert had a consciousness of its own, so too did Cora’s desire, and despite all the knotty little doubts grabbing hold of her, there was really only one thing she could say.
“Yes.”
4
“IMEAN, I’LL TAKE the win, but it does feel a little like cheating.”
Adan’s voice seemed to come from a long way off and not just because he, and his powerful Arabian steed, were almost a football field ahead of Samir. Grinding his teeth and determinedly pushing Cora from his mind, Samir forced himself to focus, to push his own stunning beast to new limits, faster, across the grounds of the palace, leaning down, whispering into the horse’s ear, encouraging him, willing him to victory. But it was fruitless. For the first time he could remember, Samir’s older brother crossed the line first, his laugh victorious as he punched the air, the horse still running fast, but gradually coming to a trot, allowing Samir to come to his side.
“Congratulations, brother,” he said with a nod, his expression stern, as it had been for two weeks, since leaving Athens. He hadn’t expected this.
“But I had the advantage from the start.”
“Oh?”
“You are distracted as all hell. What’s going on? Is it the trade negotiations?”
Samir shook his head. “There’s nothing,” he lied.
“Nonsense. I haven’t seen you like this since—well, ever, in fact. What’s going on?”
“I told you, nothing.” He met his brother’s eyes then grimaced. They were always honest with each other, but for Samir, he’d barely been able to admit the truth to himself, so finding the words now was difficult. “It’s—,” he ground his teeth.
“Yes?”
“A woman.”
“A woman?” Adan’s brows lifted. “You’re serious about someone?”
“No,” he rejected quickly. “I’m…obsessed by someone,” he said angrily—so angry with himself for not being able to control his lust, and angry with Cora, for inspiring it, though he knew she hadn’t intended to get under his skin at all, and certainly not like this. In fact, she’d specifically warned him off this.
“And she doesn’t feel the same way about you?”
“I don’t know,” he said simply. “We shared an incredible two nights.”
“And?”
“And then I left.”
“So, she is not from Al Medina?”
“No.”
“And you left without arranging to see her again?”
Samir’s jaw was clenched so tight it made a small popping noise. “She’s not suitable.”
“For what?”