Midnight in Arabia: Heart of a Desert Warrior / The Sheikh's Last Gamble / The Sheikh's Jewel. Trish Morey

outside of the encampment rather than living here to raise me.”

      Genevieve clicked her tongue twice, as if gently chiding her grandson without saying anything overt.

      “You never told me this.” And Iris wasn’t sure that hadn’t been for the best.

      She’d been head over heels in love with Asad, but how much worse it would have been for her if she’d believed they had this pain in common and allowed herself to identify with him on such a deep level?

      “There was much we did not talk about.”

      “True. I didn’t even know you were going to be sheikh one day.” And he knew nothing of her childhood or her parents’ supreme indifference. She’d never told him the story of how she’d lost her virginity. Asad was oh so right; there was a lot they’d never spoken of. “Looking back, I realize I should have guessed based on your bearing alone.”

      “I did not mean to hide that from you.”

      She believed him. He had been so certain she knew the score, she did not believe he’d meant to hide anything from her. For the first time in six years, she admitted to herself that they’d both been spectacularly wrong in reading the situation between them. Not just her.

      That didn’t do a thing to alleviate her current anger with him for manipulating her into coming to Kadar, however.

      Genevieve rose gracefully to her feet. “I will refresh the tea.”

      Iris went to stand, intent on helping, but the older woman placed a staying hand on her shoulder. “No. Another time, I will teach you to make tea the proper way. Now you must stay here and renew your acquaintance with my grandson. He has so looked forward to seeing you again.”

      Nonplussed, Iris could do nothing but nod with as much graciousness as she could muster. She didn’t think it would do her company’s relationship with Kadar a good turn if Iris admitted she would rather renew the acquaintance of the rattlesnake she’d met on her last field survey than Asad’s.

      Asad waited until his grandmother had gone to say, “I never lied to you. I thought you knew I was meant to be a sheikh.”

      “I heard you the first time.” She glared at him, her current anger sufficient to fuel the nasty look, their past notwithstanding.

      “And?”

      What? Was he expecting her to congratulate him or something?

      “Do you believe me?” he asked with a tinge of frustration in his usually urbane tones.

      “Yes.”

      “Then why the look when grandmother left us to talk?”

      Really? He could not be that dense. “I guess an eidetic memory does not equate to people smarts.”

      His eyes narrowed in affront at her sarcasm. “You have changed.”

      “Yes.” She was no naive idiot anymore. “But seriously? How could you think knowing you would be a sheikh one day would have made a difference to me back then? I wouldn’t have been any more prepared to be dumped like I was.”

      “I did not dump you.”

      What happened to that famed honesty of his? “Excuse me, you did.”

      “I had obligations, a plan for my life I could not abandon.”

      “You didn’t want to abandon it. You didn’t leave me out of duty—you left because you never wanted me for a lifetime. I was just stupid enough to believe you did. That’s all.” And equally painful, she’d lost her best friend.

      “I am sorry.”

      He had said that six years ago too, with pity in his eyes. But not regret. If there was regret there now, she wouldn’t let herself see it.

      “It’s in the past.”

      “Yet I still see pain in your eyes when you talk about it.”

      She couldn’t deny it, but she sure wasn’t going to admit to it, either. She’d had all the pity she could stand from this man when she’d been that foolishly naive nineteen-year-old. Besides, she had something much more recent to deal with.

      “I can’t believe you engineered me coming to Kadar.” She made zero effort to hide how much knowledge of his manipulation infuriated her.

      He looked shocked by her anger. “I was doing you a good turn, making up for my abrupt departure from your life, if you will.”

      “You have absolutely got to be kidding me. You think being forced to work in close proximity to you is in some way a good thing?”

      “I am no monster. You used to enjoy my company very much, and I do not just mean in the bedroom.”

      “We were friends. We aren’t anymore!” She swallowed her next words and fought for control of her vocal cords. The last thing she wanted was for Genevieve to return to Iris shouting at the man she was beginning to realize was more dense than metamorphic rock.

      “We could be again.”

      “Why?” Why would he want to be?

      “I missed you. You missed me.”

      And to him, it was that simple. Never mind the fact she’d been so totally in love with him that she’d felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest when he left. “You could have just called.”

      “You needed the Middle East experience to move forward with your career.”

      “Just how close tabs have you been keeping?” she demanded.

      “Close enough.”

      “So, you thought you’d do me a favor?” Why did she think it hadn’t all been altruism on his part? Oh, yes, because she no longer trusted him and never would again. “Didn’t it occur to you that not coming to the Middle East had been my decision?”

      “No.”

      She dropped her head in her hands and groaned, her fury losing its heat. The man just had no clue, none whatsoever.

      And there was no point in continuing this discussion. He was never going to get it, but he wasn’t going to drop the subject unless she did.

      So she observed, “You said you share this tent with your family.”

      “I do.”

      “Where is everyone else?” Were the tent walls so thick, they would mask the sounds of a child?

      It was surprisingly quiet, no sounds from outside filtering through, nor from any other part of the tent.

      “My grandfather spends this time each day with the other old men, drinking coffee and telling stories. No doubt he would have stayed to meet your arrival, but my grandmother knows how to get her way and she wanted to meet you first,” Asad revealed in a fond tone.

      “Where is your daughter? In school?” Iris guessed.

      He shook his head. “She will be playing with other small children under the watchful eye of my cousin.”

      Since, presumably, if his grandparents had more children than Asad’s father, the barbaric bargain would not have been made, he didn’t mean cousin literally, but referred to a female relative. “She’s not old enough for school?”

      “We do not run a school precisely, though the concept is similar. We train our children in every aspect of life, not merely to read, write and cipher, though we do not neglect their book learning. Some will want to attend university one day.” He reached out as if to touch Iris and let his hand fall, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. “But you are right, my daughter is too young for any formalized training.”

      “Does your grandmother have someone to help her with …” She let her voice trail off, not knowing the child’s name.

      “Nawar.