The Return of the Sheikh

Three

Perception is everything…

Zain had to agree with Madison on that point. He’d always been perceived as a man with a strong affinity for attractive women, a fact he could not deny. Yet that standing had provided the means to carry out his covert activities over the past seven years, and earned him the Phantom Sheikh title. His absence had always been blamed on a lover, and most of the time that had been far from the truth. Most of the time. He hadn’t been celibate by any means, but he had not had as many affairs as what the media had led people to believe. If he had, he would have been perpetually sleep deprived.

He also recognized that giving in to temptation with a woman like Madison Foster—an intelligent, beautiful and somewhat willful woman—could possibly lead to disaster. Still, he wasn’t one to easily ignore temptation, even if wisdom dictated that he must. And at the moment, Madison looked extremely tempting.

Zain remained in the open doorway to his suite in order to study her. She stood at the veranda’s stone wall, looking out over the valley below, her golden hair flowing down her back. She’d exchanged her conservative clothing for more comfortable attire—a casual gauze skirt and a loose magenta top that revealed one slim, bare shoulder. He didn’t need to venture a guess as to the color of her bra, since she didn’t appear to be wearing one. That thought alone had him reconsidering the merits of wisdom.

Zain cleared his throat as he approached her, yet she didn’t seem to notice his presence. Not until he said, “It’s a remarkable view, isn’t it?”

She sent him a backward glance and a slight scowl. “Why do you keep sneaking up on me?”

He moved beside her, leaving a comfortable distance between them. “My apologies. I did not intend to startle you. I only wanted to make certain you have everything you need from me.”

She faced him, leaned a hip against the wall and rolled her eyes. “Are we back to that again?”

“My intentions are completely innocent.” Only a half-truth. He’d gladly give her anything she needed in a carnal sense.

She took a sip from the cup clutched in her hands. “Sorry, but I’m having trouble buying the innocent act after your recent admission.”

That came as no surprise to Zain, and he probably deserved her suspicions. “I will do my best to earn your trust.” He nodded toward the cup. “I gather that’s Elena’s special tea.”

“Yes, it is, and it’s very good.”

“Do you have any idea what might be in it?”

She lifted that bare shoulder in a shrug and took a sip. “I suspect it’s chamomile and some other kind of herb. I can taste mint.”

He turned toward her and rested one elbow on the stone barrier. “Take care with how much you drink. It could be more than tea.”

“Too late. This is my third cup, and do you mean alcohol?”

“Precisely.”

“Is that allowed?” she asked.

“Elena is free to do as she pleases, as is everyone else in the country, within reason. We’ve always had a spiritually, economically and culturally diverse population, due in part to people entering the borders seeking—”

“Asylum?”

“And peace.”

She turned back to the view and surveyed the scene. “Then Bajul is the Switzerland of the Middle East?”

“In a manner of speaking. I might not have agreed with all my father’s philosophies, but I’ve always admired his determination to remain neutral in a volatile region. Unfortunately, the threat to end our peaceful coexistence still exists, as it always has. As it is everywhere else in the world.”

She took another drink and set the cup aside. “The landscape is incredible. I hadn’t expected Bajul to be so green or elevated.”

“You expected desert.”

“Honestly, yes, I did.”

Another example of inaccurate perception. “If you go north, you’ll find the desert. Go south and you’ll find the sea.”

She sighed. “I love the sea. I love water, period.”

He took the opportunity to move a little closer, his arm pressed against hers as he pointed toward the horizon. “Do you see that mountain rising between two smaller peaks?”

She shaded her eyes against the setting sun. “The skinny one that looks almost phallic?”

That made him smile. “It is known as Mabrứuk, our capital city’s namesake. Legend has it that Al-’Uzzá, a mythological goddess, placed it there to enhance fertility. Reportedly her efforts have been successful, from crops to livestock to humans.”

“Interesting,” she said. “Do people have to go to the mountain to procreate, or does it have a long radius?” She followed the comment with a soft, sensual laugh. “No pun intended.”

Discussing procreation with her so close only made Zain’s fantasies spring to life, among other things. “I suppose it’s possible, but that’s not the point I was trying to make.”

She turned and leaned a hip against the wall. “What point were you trying to make, Your Highness?”

She seemed determined to disregard his terms. “Zain.”

Madison blew out a long breath. “What were you going to say before the topic turned to the baby-making mountain, Zain?”

He liked the breathless way she said his name. He liked the way she looked at the moment—slightly disheveled and extremely sensual. “I was going to point out that beyond the ridge there are two lakes. Perhaps I’ll take you there in the near future.”

“That would be nice, as long as you don’t expect any baby making.”

He certainly wouldn’t mind making love to her in the shadow of the mountain, or perhaps in the lake. Without the resulting baby, of course.

He forced his thoughts back to business matters. “My intent would be to show you the key to Bajul’s future.”

“What would that be?”

“Water.”

She appeared to be confused. “For a fishery?”

“Food and water are commodities in the region,” he explained. “We have more rain than most, and our lakes have deep aquifers. They also have the capacity to sustain our land for many years to come, and that means bountiful crops and livestock. Those commodities could serve as an export for countries that suffer shortages as long as we make certain we protect our resources. My plans include exploring innovative and eco-friendly ways to treat and preserve the water from the lakes.”

She laid her palm on his arm. “That sounds like a wonderful plan, Zain.”

The simple touch sent a surge of heat coursing through his body. “That plan will not come to fruition unless I can convince the council it’s our best recourse as opposed to oil.”

She unfortunately took her hand away. “But you’ll have your brother’s support, correct?”

If only that were true. “He’ll be the hardest to convince. He will most likely side with the council and suggest drilling as soon as possible. I refuse to allow that unless we have exhausted all alternatives.”

“I don’t understand why the two of you seem to butt horns at every turn.”

This would require more than a brief explanation, yet he felt she had the right to know. “Most believe that the crown automatically passes to the firstborn son. In my family’s case, the reigning king can designate a successor, and he designated me, not Rafiq. My brother has resented that decision for years.”

She shook her head. “I guess I assumed Rafiq was younger, although he does seem older in many ways. Not in appearance, because the resemblance between the two of you is remarkable. But he’s very stoic.”

“He’s thirteen months older,” he said. “And he is serious about preserving traditions that should be deemed obsolete in this day and time.”

“I take it you’re referring to arranged marriages.”

Unfortunately, that was one change he wasn’t prepared to make, even if it impacted his own future. “The tradition of selecting a bride with a royal heritage is necessary. Only a member of royalty can understand the royal life.”

“Of course, and keeping the blood blue must be very important.”

He ignored the bitterness in her tone. “I know how antiquated it might sound, but yes, that does hold some importance.”

“Then why did you give your brother such a hard time about it?”

“Because I do not believe in committing to someone if you haven’t explored an intimate relationship prior to committing to marriage. I would never have bought my Bugatti without test-driving it first.”

Her eyes went wide. “You’re comparing a woman to a car?”

“No. I am only saying that sexual compatibility holds great importance in a marriage, or it should. How will you know you are compatible in that regard unless you experience intimacy before you make a commitment?”

She looked skeptical and borderline angry. “In my opinion, sex shouldn’t carry too much weight. As they say, passion does have a tendency to fade.”

“You sound as if you speak from experience. Have you been married?”

“No, but I was in a long-term relationship, and he’s the reason I no longer have my dog.”

“So you parted because of a canine?”

She briefly smiled. “We were the cliché. He wanted a house and kids and to live in suburbia, while I wanted a career in the city.”

“And you have no desire to have a family?”

An odd and fleeting look of pain crossed her expression. “I have no intention of giving up my career for a man. My mother fell into that trap with my father.”

Her past obviously was as complex as his. “That wasn’t the life she chose?”

She downed the rest of the tea. “Oh, she chose it, all right. She gave up a career as a medical researcher to globe-trot with her diplomat husband. I’ve never understood how someone could claim to love someone so much that they’d set their aspirations aside for another person.”

“Perhaps it all goes back to shared and sustained passion.”

She released a sarcastic laugh. “Sorry, but I just can’t wrap my mind around that. In fact, I don’t even want to think about passion and my parents in the same sentence.”

Her skepticism both surprised and intrigued him. “Have you never experienced a strong passion for someone?”

“As I’ve said, it’s overrated.”

Apparently she hadn’t been with the right man. A man who could show her the true meaning of desire. He could be that man. He wanted to be that man despite his original intention to drive her away. And so went the last of his wisdom.

He surveyed her face from forehead to chin and centered on her mouth. “You’ve never been so attuned to someone that when you enter a room, that person is all you see? You’ve never wanted someone so desperately that you would risk everything to have them?”

She drew in a shaky breath. “Not that I recall.”

“I cannot imagine you would have voluntarily missed out on all that lovemaking has to offer.”

Her eyes took on a hazy cast. “What makes you think I have missed out?”

He traced her lips with a fingertip. “If you had, you wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the existence of phenomenal sex.”

He expected her to argue the point. He predicted she would back away. He wasn’t prepared when she gripped the back of his neck and brought his mouth to hers.

All her untapped passion came out in the kiss. He could taste the mint on her tongue, could sense any latent resistance melt when he tightened his hold on her. He had no doubt she could feel how much he wanted her when he streamed his hands to her hips and nudged her completely against him.

He should halt the insanity before he carried her to his bed, or dispensed with formality and took her down where they now stood. Yet stopping didn’t appear to be an option—until she stopped.

Madison wrested out of his arms, looking stunned and well kissed and quite perturbed. “What was that?”

Zain leaned back against the wall and dared to smile. “That was uncontrolled passion. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you didn’t recognize it.”

She backed up a few steps and tugged at the hem of her blouse. “I tell you what that was. That was a huge mistake on my part. That was too much talk about that darn baby-making mountain.”

When she spun around and listed to one side, he clasped her arm to prevent her from falling. “Perhaps it was the tea,” he whispered in her ear from behind her.

“Perhaps I’m just an idiot.” She pulled away again and spun around to face him. “I’m going to bed now.”

“Do you wish some company?” he asked as she backed toward her room.

“Yes… No, I don’t wish any company.”

With that, she turned and disappeared through the glass door, leaving Zain alone with a strong urge to follow her, and an erection that would take hours to calm.

Now that he’d sampled what Madison Foster had to offer aside from her political expertise, he didn’t want her to leave yet. He wanted more. He wanted it all.

*

She wanted to scream. She wanted to pull the covers over her head and forget what had happened the evening before. She wanted to tell the person who was knocking to go away and come back in day or so. Maybe by then she would be over her mortification enough to make an appearance.

Instead, Madison shoved the heavy eggplant-colored spread aside, left the bed and put on her robe on the way to answer the summons. If she happened to encounter the reason behind her current distress, she just might have to give him another piece of what was left of her mind. Or invite him in…

She yanked open the door to discover Elena once again standing on the threshold, tray in hand and a cheerful smile on her face. “Good morning, Miss Foster. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock.” Like the dead or better still, the drunk. “What was in that tea, Elena?”

She breezed into the room and set the tray on a table near the glass doors. “Chamomile and a few other things.”

Madison tightened her robe. “What other things?”

Elena straightened and swept a hand through her silver hair. “Some herbs and honey and schnapps.”

Schnapps. That explained a lot. “You should have warned me. I drank three cups and had to take a twenty-minute shower to sober up before I could find the bed.”

“My apologies, cara. I only wanted to aid you in relaxing.”

“I was definitely relaxed.” So much so she’d melted right into Zain’s mouth.

Elena pointed in the direction of Madison’s chin. “I have a special balm that will help with that irritation.”

Confused, Madison strode to the mirrored dresser to take a look. Not only was her hair a blond Medusa mess from going to bed with it wet, she had a nice red patch of whisker burn below her bottom lip. “I used something new on my face, so that must be it. I’ll be avoiding it from now on.” Avoiding Zain’s seduction skills, even if she couldn’t avoid him.

“Would this something new be tall, dark and have a heavy evening beard?”

She met Elena’s wily smile in the reflection. She hated to lie, so she’d simply be evasive. Turning from the mirror, she gestured toward the tray holding a silver pot and a plate of pastries. “I hope that’s not more tea.”

Elena shook her head. “No. It’s coffee. Very strong coffee. I decided you would need some caffeine for your meeting with Prince Zain.”

She didn’t recall scheduling a specific time. Then again, last night’s details were a bit fuzzy, except for the blasted kiss. “When does he expect me?”

“Now. He’s is in the study, waiting. And he seems to be in a somewhat foul mood.”

Lovely. “Do you know the reason behind his foul mood?”

Elena tapped her chin with a slender finger and looked thoughtful. “Perhaps it is because he has tried something new on his face and he would like more of the same.”

Madison internally cringed. If she kept backing herself into corners, she’d soon be folded in half. “Elena, seriously, this is just a rash. I have very sensitive skin.”

“Yes, cara, and I am the Queen of Italia. I can tell when a woman has been kissed, and kissed well. And of course, I know Prince Zain is the culprit. He is a charmer, that diavoletto.”

Little devil was an apt description of Zain Mehdi. Sexy little devil. “Okay, if you must know, we shared a friendly kiss. Thanks to your special tea, I had a temporary lapse in judgment.”

Elena laughed softly. “Prince Zain’s powers of persuasion are much stronger than my tea. I only caution you to take care with your heart.”

Madison held up her hand as if taking an oath. “I promise you there will be no more kissing, friendly or otherwise. I’m not one to bend the rules, much less break them.”

Elena smiled. “I wish you much luck with that.” She headed for the door and paused with her hand on the knob. “L’amore domina senza regole,” she muttered before she disappeared into the corridor.

Love rules without rules.

Who said anything about love? She wasn’t in love with Zain Mehdi. In lust maybe, but that fell far from love.

Regardless, she didn’t have time to ponder the woman’s warning or the kiss or anything else for that matter. She needed to prepare to see the future king.

After she completed her morning ritual, Madison applied some makeup and twisted and secured her crazy hair at her nape. She dressed in brown slacks and sleeveless beige silk turtleneck that she covered with a taupe jacket, intentionally making certain she bared no skin aside from her hands and face. Wearing gloves and a veil would probably be overkill. She chose to nix the pastry but paused long enough to drink a cup of black lukewarm coffee. Even if she was somewhat hungry, she didn’t dare feed the butterflies flitting around in her belly.

Those butterflies continued to annoy her as she grabbed her briefcase and headed downstairs to the second-floor office. Surprisingly she found the door partially ajar, but no guards and no prince in sight when she entered the vacant study. Only a few seconds passed before Zain emerged from what appeared to be an en suite bathroom.

Aside from one wayward lock of dark hair falling across his forehead, he looked every bit the debonair businessman. He wore a pair of black wool slacks and a white shirt with a gray tie draped loosely around his neck. The light shading of whiskers surrounding his mouth led Madison right down the memory path toward that toe-curling kiss.

She shoved the thoughts away and put on a sunny smile. “Good morning.”

Without returning the greeting, Zain crossed the room to the coat tree to the right of the desk and took a jacket from one hanger. “Did you have breakfast?” he asked.

He was so absolutely gorgeous she’d love to have him for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner… “I didn’t have time. But I did have the most important staple—coffee.”

He turned, slipped the coat on and nailed her with those lethal dark eyes. “I’ll have the chef prepare you something you can eat while you wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“I am about to address my royal subjects.”

Several key concerns tumbled around in Madison’s mind. She’d begin with the first. “Best I recall, you’re not scheduled to do that for another two days.”

He slid the top button closed on his collar. “Apparently the masses did not receive the memo.”

Apparently. “Where is this going to take place?”

He gestured to his right. “Outside on the terrace where my father and my father’s father have always spoken to the people.”

Madison set her briefcase on a chair and immediately walked to the double doors to peek through the heavy red curtains. She saw a substantial stone balcony containing a podium with a skinny microphone as well as several stern—and heavily armed—sentries standing guard. As she peered in the distance, she caught a glimpse of an iron fence, also lined with guards, holding back the milling crowd. And in that crowd stood a few respectable correspondents, along with more than a few pond-scum tabloid reporters.

After dropping the curtain, she faced Zain again. “Do you know what you’re going to say?”

He rounded the desk, leaned back against it and began to work his tie. “I am your new king. Accept it.”

Her mouth dropped open momentarily from shock. “You can’t be serious.”

“It is simple and to the point.” His smile was crooked, and so was his tie.

“Perhaps a little too simple and too pointed.”

“I am not yet prepared to speak on all my plans.”

“But are you prepared for the questions that are going to be hurled at you by reporters?”

He buttoned his coat closed. “Rest assured I’ve handled the press before.”

“Even paparazzi?”

“Especially paparazzi.”

Considering his notorious way with women, she supposed he probably had encountered more than his share of media stalkers. However, she still worried he could get bombarded by a few queries that could trip him up. Hopefully he’d learned how to ignore those. Too bad his tie was too askew for her to ignore.

Without giving it a second thought, Madison walked right up to him to fix the problem. The memory of her mother doing the same thing for Madison’s dad settled over her. Was she in danger of becoming her mother? Only if she professed her undying love to Zain and promised to follow him throughout the world. He wasn’t the undying-love kind, but he certainly did smell great. Nothing overpowering, just a hint of light, earthy cologne. Or maybe it was the soap he’d used in the shower. Never before had she aspired to be a bar of soap, but at the moment she did. How nice it would be to travel down all that slick, wet, fantastic male terrain, over muscle and sinew and hills and valleys. Definitely hills…

“Are you finished yet?”

Zain’s question jarred Madison back into the here and now. “Almost.” She smoothed her hand over the gray silk tie and straightened lapels that didn’t need straightening. Just when she was about to step back, he captured her hands against his chest.

“I am curious about something,” he said, his dark eyes leveled on hers.

“Sage-green satin. Matching bra, if you must know.” Heavens, she was volunteering underwear info before he’d officially asked.

“Actually, I was about to inquire about your night and if you slept well.”

Now she felt somewhat foolish and confused as to why she hadn’t tried to wrest her hands away from his. “I slept well, thank you, although I did have a few odd dreams.”

He raised a brow. “Sexual dreams?”

“Strange dreams. I was climbing up a mountain chasing a snake.”

His smile caught her off guard. “Some believe climbing denotes a craving for intercourse. Need I say what the mountain and snake symbolize?”

That phallic mountain would be her Waterloo if they didn’t stop discussing it. “Spoken like a man. I’m sure you could make a dream about doing laundry all about sex.”

“Perhaps if it involved washing your lingerie.”

She tried to hold back her own smile, without success. “Right now you should be concentrating on your speech, not sex dreams.”

He raised her hand and kissed her palm before setting it back against his chest. “It’s difficult to concentrate with this ongoing chemistry between us.”

She couldn’t argue that, although she would. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Don’t be naive, Madison. You feel it now.”

She admittedly did feel a bit warm and somewhat tingly. Maybe a little lightheaded, but then that could be some lingering effects of the tea. She managed to slip from his grasp and take a much-needed step back. “If you’re referring to what happened last night, that was a mistake.”

“You’re going to deny that you wanted to kiss me? That you want to kiss me now?”

She could deny—and lie—in the same breath. “I want to get back to the issue at hand, namely your speech. In my opinion, it’s important that you appear to be a strong yet compassionate leader. Be decisive but not forceful.”

“I have come to one important decision now.”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “What would that be?”

He moved closer, rested a hand on her shoulder and brought his lips to her ear. He whispered soft words that sounded lyrical, sensual, though she couldn’t begin to comprehend the message, at least not literally. She could venture a guess that the missive was sexual in nature.

When Zain pulled back and homed in on her gaze, she released a slow, ragged breath. “Do you care to interpret what you just said to me?”

“Later, when we have complete privacy.”

That sent Madison’s imagination straight into overdrive and would have quite possibly, had it not been for the rap on the door, sent Madison straight into Zain’s arms.

“Enter,” he said, his voice somewhat raspy and noticeably strained.

Madison smoothed a hand down her jacket then over her hair as Deeb stepped in the room, looking every bit the humorless assistant. “You are cleared to proceed, Emir.”

Zain rubbed a hand over his jaw. “The shooters are in place?”

“Yes. Four positioned on the roof, two in the tower.”

The reality of Zain’s importance suddenly hit home for Madison. So did the reality of what she’d almost done—kiss the king for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Yet she didn’t have time to think about it as two bodyguards swept into the room, pulled back the curtains and escorted Zain onto the terrace.

Madison stood to one side slightly behind the drapes while Mr. Deeb took his place beside her. When Zain positioned himself behind the podium, a series of shouts ensued above the murmuring crowd. “What are they saying?” she asked Deeb.

“They are calling him a turncoat.”

Ouch. She wished she could see Zain’s face, gauge his reaction, but she could only see his back and his hands gripping the edge of the wooden surface, indicating he could be stressed. But no one would know that, she realized, the moment he began to speak in words she couldn’t begin to understand.

“What’s he saying?” she asked Deeb who remained his usual noncommittal self.

“He is telling them he is honored to be their leader and he looks forward to serving them.”

So far, so good. But then she heard the sounds of disapproval and didn’t feel nearly as confident. “What now?”

“He claims he is not his father and that he will rule differently,” Deeb said. “He is also speaking of positive changes he wishes to make, such as improvements to the hospital and the schools.”

As Zain continued, Madison noticed the temporarily dissatisfied crowd had quieted and many people, particularly women, seemed to hang on his every word. And although she couldn’t interpret his words, she could certainly appreciate his voice—a deep, mellow voice that went down as smoothly as a vintage glass of wine.

After an enthusiastic round of applause, she turned to ask for clarification from Deeb, only to hear someone suddenly shout in English, “Is it true you fathered a child with Keeley Winterlind?”

Though she’d been aware of Zain’s liaison with the supermodel, Madison was seriously stunned by the query, and thoroughly appalled that someone would interrupt a king’s speech in search of a sordid story. Worse, was it true?

Zain ignored the question and continued to speak to the throng that seemed to grow more restless by the minute. Then another reporter demanded he address the pregnancy issue, prompting shouts from the masses.

Although Madison still couldn’t see Zain’s expression, she did notice his hands fisted at his sides. She had no clue what he’d muttered, but it didn’t sound at all friendly and, considering the crowd’s angry reaction, it wasn’t. Amid the show of raised fists and verbal condemnation, Zain turned and stormed back into the study. He didn’t afford her or Deeb a passing glance, nor did he hesitate to make a swift exit, slamming the door behind him.

Madison waited for the sentries to leave before she sought confirmation or denial from her only immediate source of information. “Is it true about the baby?”

Deeb’s expression remained emotionless, but she saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. “I am afraid, Miss Foster, you will have to ask the emir.”

And that’s exactly what Madison intended to do. First, she had to find him, and soon, before all hell broke loose.