Heart of a Desert Warrior Read online

  “Our friendship prospered.” Asad gave her a look as if expecting Iris to agree, even after the way their friendship had ended. “Though I knew little of geology and Iris had no more interest in business management.”

  “The friendship didn’t last, which would indicate our differences were a lot more important than they seemed at first.” She’d managed to say it without a trace of bitterness or accusation.

  Iris had never really considered herself much of an actress, but she was channeling Kate Winslet with her performance tonight. She’d managed to get through predinner drinks and the first course of their meal without giving away the turmoil roiling inside her to her hosts, the Sheikh of Kadar and his wife, just Catherine please.

  Asad laid his fork across his empty salad plate. “Youth often lacks wisdom.”

  “You were five years older than me.” And worlds wiser and more experienced.

  He shrugged, that movement of his shoulders she knew so well. It was his response to anything for which there was no good, or easy to articulate, answer.

  “Anyway, I hope my words haven’t made it seem I’m looking to renew any old friendships.” Chills of horror rolled down her spine at the thought. “I’m not. I’m here to work.” It was her turn to shrug, though it was more a jerk of one shoulder.

  She’d never done casual well when it came to Asad, but it didn’t matter. She was in Kadar to work and then she would be out of his life once again, just as fully and completely as before. As she was sure he would prefer.

  And she was never returning to Kadar. Not ever. No matter how lucrative a promotion depended on it.

  “It would be a shame to travel so far from your home and spend no time experiencing the local culture.” Asad’s gaze bored into hers with predatory intent.

  She remembered that look and her heart tightened at receiving it here, in this place, after everything that had passed between them and in his life particularly since their breakup.

  “I’m sure living amidst your tribe will give both Iris and Russell the perfect opportunity to experience much of our culture,” Catherine said with a smile aimed first at Asad and then Iris. “I love staying with the Bedouin. It’s such a different way of life. Though why it always seems there’s more trouble for our children to get into in the city of tents than at home, I don’t know.”

  She winked at her husband and Sheikh Hakim gave her such a look of love and adoration, it was both wonderful and painful to see. Here was a couple who loved each other every bit as much as Iris’s parents, but who adored their offspring with equal, if different, intensity.

  Then the full import of Catherine’s words hit Iris. “We’re staying with Sheikh Asad’s tribe?” she asked in shock. “But I thought this would be our home base.”

  The beautiful Middle Eastern palace that still managed to feel like a home for all its glamour and size.

  “Our current encampment is far closer to the mountainous region you will be surveying,” Asad said, an inexplicable tone of satisfaction lacing his words.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “STAYING WITH the Sha’b Al’najid will save you a lot of time in travel,” Sheikh Hakim added.

  “But…”

  “You’ll love it, trust me,” Catherine said. “While Asad has taken the tribe in a different direction than Hakim’s grandfather did, their way of life has much in common with that found millennia ago. It will be an amazing experience, believe me.”

  Iris would be in purgatory, but at least the encampment would only be their home base, she tried to tell herself. “I’m sure I will enjoy it very much,” she lied through her teeth. “What time we spend there, at any rate.”

  Catherine looked inquiringly. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “When we’re in the field doing the type of survey Kadar has requested of CC&B, a team spends most of its time in a portable camp,” Iris explained. “It really wouldn’t make much of a difference if we maintained a home base here, or in the Bedouin encampment.”

  “You are not staying alone in a camp with nothing but this pup for company.” Asad’s voice, laced with possessive bossiness, brooked no argument.

  And shocked Iris to the core. She didn’t understand why it mattered to him. And that possessiveness was completely at odds with a man already taken himself. She must have imagined it.

  The first to admit that reading people was not her strong suit, she nevertheless felt a shiver of apprehension skate along her spine.

  “It’s not as if we share a cot, just a tent,” Russell said, no doubt trying to assuage any conservative sensibilities.

  And doing a really bad job of it, Iris thought.

  Asad’s features set in a mask she was sure had more in common with his warrior ancestors than modern man. He gave Russell a look that made her self-defined intrepid field assistant shrink into his chair.

  “Not acceptable.” Just two words, but spoken with absolute authority in a tone she’d heard only once from Asad.

  When he was telling her they had no future in words that could not be denied.

  Russell squeaked. Catherine’s look tinged with concern. Iris’s heart ached with memory while she fought to maintain a facade of indifference.

  Sheikh Hakim frowned. “My cousin is correct. It would be neither safe, nor appropriate for you to camp in such a manner.”

  Iris could see her escape route disappearing in front of her eyes while the chilly sense of dread inside her grew. She couldn’t give up without a fight, though. “I assure you, I’ve been on several field assignments, in the States and abroad, and never had a problem with it.”

  Just not in the Middle East.

  “Nevertheless, I am responsible for the safety of those within my borders,” Sheikh Hakim said with a shake of his head. “Asad is right, a two-person camp in the mountains is an unacceptable option.”

  Asad simply looked at her with an immovable expression she would never forget. He’d used it also when he said goodbye. “As I told you earlier, I will see to your safety.”

  “My safety isn’t your responsibility.”

  “On the contrary. I have decreed that it is.” Sheikh Hakim’s friendly manner dissipated in the face of his arrogant assurance.

  Right. And Sheikh Hakim was a very important client. His country was paying CC&B a great deal of money for this survey. She was compelled to accept the way he wanted the field work handled. Either she backed out of the assignment, or accepted the constraints surrounding it, including Asad as her liaison.

  She’d accepted that backing out of the assignment wasn’t an option before she ever left the States.

  “Not having a moving camp could make the initial sample gathering and measurements take significantly longer,” she said by way of her final sally.

  “Swift is not always better,” Sheikh Hakim said implacably. “Your safety must come first.”

  “Would you be more comfortable with a male team lead?” she asked, seeing a possible way out. If the sheikh asked for it, her career wouldn’t be affected adversely. It was understood that some parts of the world did not deal as well with female geologists. “My superiors could arrange for my immediate replacement if that would make you more comfortable.”

  “Not at all. I am confident your work will be more than acceptable,” Sheikh Hakim said smoothly.

  Russell was staring at her like she’d offered to dance naked on the tabletop. Okay, so normally, she’d bristle and fight tooth and claw to avoid being replaced simply on the basis of gender, but these were special circumstances.

  “It surprises me you would make the offer.” Asad sounded just as disbelieving of her words. “I remember a woman who would not stand for the idea that men made better geologists than their female counterparts.”

  “I didn’t say he would be a better geologist.”

  “Naturally not. You graduated at the top of your class, did you not?”

  “I’m surprised you know that.” But then it might well have been included in the informati
on CC&B had supplied about her to Sheikh Hakim.

  Asad shrugged again. “I kept up with you.”

  No, really, he hadn’t. She’d never heard from him again after he left, though a mutual friend had told Iris when Asad had married a year after returning to his home. She’d spent the weekend crying off and on, for once Iris’s studies unable to assuage the ache of loneliness and grief.

  Then she’d buckled down, determined not to let anyone or anything stand in the way of the one dream she had left. She’d even continued her studies in Arabic, though until this assignment, she’d had no chance to use them in more than a few written translations and phone calls.

  “I’m surprised your wife isn’t with you,” she said to change the topic and to remind herself forcibly why this man could not be allowed past her defenses.

  No matter what the circumstances she would be forced to live in over the coming weeks.

  And really? Where was the man’s wife? What woman would prefer to stay at a Bedouin encampment when she could be visiting the local palace? And how did his wife feel about Asad promising protection and guidance to his former girlfriend?

  But then, that at least, was an idiotic question. No way did the princess know anything about Iris.

  Iris certainly hadn’t known anything about Princess Badra when she’d been dating and sleeping with Asad.

  Asad had known, though. He’d known he had no intention of spending his future with Iris. He’d known he planned to marry the virginal princess, not the American geology student who spent every night in his bed for ten months.

  He’d seduced her anyway, treating Iris like his girlfriend when she was nothing but his mistress.

  An old-fashioned word for an ugly, outdated position she would never have willingly taken. Or so she told herself.

  The most painful truth of all, the one that had woken her in nighttime sweats more than once, was that even had she known he would never be hers, Iris was not sure she would have been able to walk away from what he offered her naive, love-struck, nineteen-year-old self.

  “My wife died two years ago.” Asad’s voice pushed into Iris’s raw thoughts.

  She met his eyes in genuine shock and polite words tumbled out of her mouth in stark reaction. “I’m sorry.”

  Asad didn’t reply, but looked back at her with an expression both predatory and implacable.

  The room and people around them faded from her awareness for a frozen moment as she met his gaze, her body frozen in shock, her mind blank with reaction and her heart stuttering in horror.

  A married Asad was bad enough, but a widower? The thought sent terror shaking through her not-so-mended heart.

  *

  The helicopter blades whirled overhead, making discussion within the bird impossible except over the shared radio pieces. Asad had his fill of public discourse the night before when all he’d wanted to do was drag Iris out of the dining room and take her somewhere they could be alone.

  He could not pretend what he wanted to do was talk, either, though it was not entirely off the agenda.

  It had taken considerable self-control to stop himself from going to visit her in her room, but he needed to follow his plan. A plan that had a better chance of success once she was living in his encampment, not minutes from the royal airfield at the palace.

  The level of animosity in Iris’s expression and voice when she wasn’t doing her best to suppress it, surprised him. It had been six years since he’d returned home. Surely she was not still angry at the admittedly abrupt end to their association.

  Had he to do it over again, he would have handled it differently. But when they’d been together, he hadn’t realized she’d been thinking in terms of the future, either. He’d assumed from her actions and circumstances that she knew nothing they did together could be permanent. He hadn’t counted on her Western viewpoint on feminine sexuality, or her ignorance of his status.

  In his arrogance, he’d believed everyone knew he was a future sheikh. It was no secret after all. But Iris did not gossip, and she was a geology student who, he learned later, knew next to nothing about the students in her own discipline, much less the others that attended the large university with her.

  When she’d told him she loved him, he’d taken it as his due. The usual response of a female in a sexual relationship with a man, but he hadn’t believed she meant it.

  He still wasn’t sure he bought the idea of everlasting love, though his cousin’s marriage to Catherine was something special. Even Asad could see that.

  Nothing like his own marriage, which had been nothing more than a series of lies and subterfuge.

  Still, he could have been kinder when he had to end their months-long affair. He realized that now.

  He would never admit to anyone but himself that his harsh and immediate withdrawal had been the result of feelings he wasn’t used to dealing with. He’d become more attached to Iris than he’d expected to. And much to his chagrin, had realized at the end of their time together, that she, more than anyone or anything else, had the possibility of undermining his carefully laid plans.

  So, he had walked away. And stayed away.

  And had forced his mind to shut down every time he thought of her until his ill-fated wedding night, when inevitable comparisons and conclusions had to be drawn. Conclusions that had destroyed what was left of his own naive beliefs about women and sex.

  Iris hadn’t been a virgin, but she’d been honest, loyal and surprisingly innocent. He’d believed Badra untouched, but that had been a lie of monumental proportions, as was so much about her. The woman who had considered herself too good for a Bedouin sheikh had traded on deceit and Asad had not even had a glimmer until their wedding night.

  Even so, his anger at Badra had muted over time to be replaced with indifference. So that when she had died all he had felt was relief to be free of her, only marginally tinged by sadness for their daughter, who saw less of her mother than the Parisian clothiers Badra favored.

  Once married, he’d been unable to keep thoughts of Iris completely banked. Though that surprised him, he chalked it up to the fact that they had been even better friends than they were lovers. He’d kept up with her academic and work career, but had stayed away from her personally. He was not Badra. Asad did not cheat.

  He did not understand this passionate fury barely contained in Iris, not after so much time. He slid a glance at her only to find her looking out the window of the helicopter, her eyes too unfocused to be seeing anything of real interest in the desert below.

  Her body and attention turned from him, but he would change that. It had been six years. Two years since his wife’s death. Enough time for all that he had planned. He would wait no longer.

  The low mountains loomed much closer than at the palace when the helicopter made its descent for landing.

  “Hey, where are the camels?” Russell asked as he climbed out of the helicopter right after the pilot.

  Asad did not answer. He had not liked the way the field assistant referred to Iris proprietarily, and with such familiarity, the night before. Though he doubted very much that the two shared a relationship outside of work, Asad felt possessive of the friendship that had not been allowed to flourish by his marriage.

  He offered his hand to help Iris alight. After a moment of inaction while she stared at his hand as if it were a snake set to strike, she very clearly gritted her teeth and then reached out to take it.

  He smiled into her lovely sky-blue eyes, carefully blanked of emotion. “Welcome to the Bedouin of the twenty-first century.”

  Iris looked around them at the landing pad and the SUV parked on its edge. “I understand camels are not quite the mode of transport they once were.” She met his gaze again and choked out a laugh which he enjoyed hearing very much. “But a Hummer?”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? Our tribe is more affluent than most.”

  “Why is that?”

  “My great-grandfather purchased land rights in three adjoin
ing countries along our usual travel route so our tribe would always have a place to camp. At the time, political unrest dictated the move, but we rarely avail ourselves of that land for encampment anywhere but in Kadar.”

  “But the land in the other countries, it’s making money for you?”

  “It is.” The once-beautiful landscape was marred by oil rigging that pounded away with a noise that others might learn to sleep through.

  He never would. “Oil.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Some might say so.”

  “I think pretty much everyone would say so.”

  He didn’t reply, but turned to give instructions to the tribesmen waiting for them to move the geologists’ luggage and equipment to the Hummer. Asad made sure Russell ended up in the other SUV for the drive.

  *

  The Sha’b Al’najid encampment was nothing like Iris expected. Erected in the shadows of the small mountain range in the southernmost part of Kadar, it truly looked like the “city of tents” Catherine had referred to.

  “You must have high-producing wells.”

  “They are sufficient as a base for our needs.”

  “A base?”

  “My grandfather invested intelligently if modestly on behalf of our people. I have continued that tradition, though perhaps not as modestly.” Satisfaction glowed in Asad’s dark gaze. “We continue to do what we are best at as a people, as well.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, her curiosity stronger than her desire to avoid conversation with him.

  “The Bedouin are known for their hospitality. Our tribe offers the opportunity to live the Bedouin life for tourists from the cities of Kadar and abroad. The Sha’b Al’najid still run trading caravans across the desert and for a sufficient fee, one may join in this venture, also.”

  “Like a Dude Ranch?” she asked in disbelief.

  “I have never been to a Dude Ranch, but I believe the intent is similar. Others of my brethren tribes do this, as well. It provides our people the opportunity to continue with millennia of cultural and living traditions while others are afforded the opportunity to experience this unique way of life.”