Pursued by the Desert Prince(8)

Kasim flicked his gaze beyond her to where she knew Maurice would have  been seated at a table with a sight line on her. He was likely sipping a  coffee while awaiting a light meal, gaze monitoring the restaurant's  employees and patrons.

"It's the reason I don't date," she said, noting where he was looking.  "Men don't care to be watched while they attempt to romance a woman."

"It would be a special predilection, wouldn't it? One I don't possess, I'll admit."

She had to chuckle at that, relieved he had a sense of humor about it.

"And if I were merely attempting something that had little chance of  success, I might be self-conscious," he added, gaze clashing into hers.  "But I'm not."

Oh.

"You're a very confident man." She allowed herself to lean into the  fire, to let the heat of his interest warm her cheeks and glow in her  eyes. "You come on very strong."

"I didn't expect to find you so intriguing." He held her gaze without  actually looking into her eyes. Instead he visually caressed her face,  touching her loose hair with his dark gaze. She couldn't look away as he  studied her like she was a painting. "A meeting in your office would  have sufficed if you'd been less...impassioned. You're not like anyone  I've ever encountered."

She had expected another compliment on her looks. This was far more  disarming. It made her feel like he saw within her, to the real woman  inside, the one few noticed or understood. Plus it was an acknowledgment  of something she'd had to work on most of her life: being unique from  her sister and being comfortable with her own powerful emotions.         

     



 

If she wasn't careful, she would be seduced without realizing it. He was very good at it.

"I like your sister, you know. I wouldn't want to hurt her. She's  delightful." She waited a beat, deliberate with her timing as she added,  "Not much like you at all."

His mouth twitched and he took a thoughtful sip of his wine. His lashes  were so thick and long, they were almost pretty, but he was undeniably  masculine as he lifted them to regard her. There was nothing soft in the  dangerous air he projected.

She held her breath.

"Feel privileged, Angelique. I'm letting you get away with a lot."

She bit the inside of her lip, wondering if she should apologize. Was she ruining this little bit of rapport they'd arrived at?

"Hasna is a lovely person," he agreed. "And you're right. She and I are  opposites. Women lead different lives in our country so they grow up  with gentler personalities." Something about that statement made him  briefly pensive. "At least that's what I've always thought made her so  tenderhearted and me more practical and assertive."

"Now you're not so sure?" She tried to read his inscrutable expression.  "Supporting her desire for a love marriage sounds rather sentimental, if  you ask me."

His cheeks hollowed as though he considered his words carefully.

"She was very upset about losing Jamal. I'm not incapable of compassion.  I want her to be happy in her marriage and we've established that we  both wish to protect our sisters from heartache, have we not? Is that  how you came to open a fashion house with yours?"

She heard that as the shift in topic it was, which intrigued her because  something about the way he was trying to compensate Hasna for their  brother's loss struck her as guilt. Or responsibility, maybe.

Because she was the sensitive, intuitive one. In some ways it was her  burden, but she couldn't deny that she often picked up on things others  missed.

"Trella started making her own clothes," she began, then recalled why.  Those early years of recovery had been so brutal. As if the kidnapping  hadn't been traumatic enough, the press had crucified Trella, dubbing  her The Fat One among other things.

"It's not that interesting a story, actually. Just something that both  of us enjoyed. We have an artistic flare and work well together so we  gave it a shot."

Trella was actually The Smart One. Her business plan had been excellent.  The boys would have underwritten anything she'd proposed, to spoil her  and give her something she could control and succeed at, but she had  been determined to make her mark on the world in a very specific way.  Feminine strength imbued every aspect of Maison des Jumeaux. Angelique  was deeply proud to be part of it.

"The press makes a lot of the fact that family money gave us our start,  but we've paid back the initial loan. I don't know why it's important to  me that you know that."

"So I don't think you're chasing Sadiq's money, presumably."

"No." She couldn't help smirking at the way he stiffened every time she  contradicted him. "I think it's because I know you respect women who are  ambitious and independent. Isn't that why you were so adamant Hasna  finish school?"

"No." He waited out the delivery of their appetizers before expanding on  his reply. "The more accurate reason is that I didn't want to give my  support too quickly or easily because, in order to broker that deal with  my father, I promised that my own marriage would be an arranged one.  With a suitable bride from my own country, one he could choose. You  understand why I'm telling you that."





CHAPTER FOUR

"THAT'S QUITE A SACRIFICE." Angelique's eyelids shimmered with golden tones, shielding her thoughts.

"It's duty. My father is not what anyone would call progressive. I have  visions of a modern Zhamair. It would be good for our people, but I will  never be given the chance to steer it that way if I don't play by his  rules. My uncle would be more than happy to accept the crown if my  father decided I was too liberal. My uncle is even more of a throwback  than my father. So I have agreed to my father's condition. But I'm not  in a hurry to give up my freedom."

He let himself admire her smooth skin with its warm glow, her mouth  gently pouted in thought. Their kiss was still branding a permanent  pattern into his memories-exactly the sort of freedom he was loathe to  relinquish by tying himself down.

"You intend to be faithful to your wife, then, once you're married?"

"Certainly until heirs have been established. After that..." He  scratched beneath his chin. "My father has two wives. I have not  observed having more than one woman coming to your bed to be as idyllic  as it sounds."         

     



 

Her lashes came up, gaze curious as all Westerners were when he mentioned it. "Jealousy?" she guessed.

"How did you know?" Kasim said drily.

He privately thought the polygamy was the reason his father was so  ferociously implacable, refusing to evolve with the times or even hold a  rational conversation. He consistently asserted his will and slammed  doors on further discussion. If he didn't control every aspect of his  life with an iron fist, his wives might tear him in two.

That emotional turmoil bleeding all over his childhood was the reason  Kasim had grown such a thick shield of detachment. How else could he  have withstood the helpless agony of witnessing his brother's struggle?  How else could he have been ruthless enough to end it? Taken altogether,  it was the reason he was just as happy to marry a stranger. Love  provoked madness and pain of every variety.

"Was your father's marriage to the queen an arranged one?"

"It was." He knew where she was going with that. "And it was a contented  one until he brought Fatina into it. Which is why I don't intend to do  anything similar."

"Because you want to rule," she murmured, gaze narrowed as she weighed that.

"That concern you feel for your sister's well-being? That's how I feel for my entire nation," he explained quietly.

He had never put it in so many words. As her lashes widened at the  magnitude of what he was saying, he experienced a lurch in his heart. He  had always thought of it as a goal, not a sacrifice. Suddenly he saw it  differently.

"None of us are in a hurry to marry," Angelique mused, dropping her gaze  again. "We're a tight bunch, my siblings and I. Letting someone into my  life means opening all our lives. That demands a lot of trust and we've  all been stung at least once, so we're all wary. It's why I don't even  bother with affairs anymore, contrary to reports online." She flashed  him an admonishing look. "Don't you dare say that if I don't have  affairs, it should be a treat to spend a night with you."

"Oh, I'm starting to see the honor will be all mine." He meant it.  Everything she had shared pointed to a woman who lived within her own  restrictions. No wonder she had exploded in his arms. She was a powder  keg of suppressed passion.

She sputtered with laughter, shaking her head. "You are an incredibly arrogant man."

"There is an expression, isn't there? About a kettle and a pot?"

"I'm not arrogant." She dismissed that with a shake of her loose hair and a haughty elevation of her chin.