The Sheikh's Collection. Оливия Гейтс

him, seek his comfort. When had anyone ever done that? When had anyone wanted something real and tender from him? And when had he felt it in response, this yearning and protectiveness?

      He could not remember a time, and it forced him to acknowledge the stark emptiness of his life, the years of relentless and ruthless striving, utterly without comfort.

      ‘There, there, habiibii. You’re safe now. Safe.’ The words were strange to him, yet he spoke them without thinking, stroking her hair, his arms tight around her. He could feel her shoulders shake and he could tell from her ragged breathing she was doing her best to keep herself from crying. His throat tightened with emotion he hadn’t felt in decades.

      After a moment she pushed away from him, her eyes still dry, her face pale but resolutely composed.

      ‘I’m sorry. You must think I’m being ridiculous.’ She sat stiffly in his lap now, her chin lifted at a queenly angle. Already Khalil missed the feel of her against him.

      ‘Not at all,’ he answered. He suppressed the clamour of his own feelings, forced it all back down again. ‘I realise that a great deal has happened to you in a short amount of time.’ He hesitated, choosing his words with care, wanting and even needing her to understand. To believe him. ‘I’m sorry for the fear and unhappiness I have caused you.’

      For a second, no more, he thought she did. Her face softened, her lips parting, and then she gave a little shake of her head and scrambled off his lap. ‘Even though it was entirely preventable?’

      Their moment of startling intimacy was over and Khalil, half-amazed at his own reaction, felt a sudden piercing of grief at its loss.

      * * *

      Elena stood on the rock, trying to calm her thundering heart—and ignore the ache Khalil’s touch had created in her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been held so tenderly, spoken to so gently.

      He’s your captor, she reminded herself grimly. He kidnapped you. But in that moment he’d been incredibly kind, and her body and heart had responded to it like a flower unfurling in the sunlight.

      When had someone comforted her, touched her, understood her? She’d lived such a solitary existence, first as an only child, then as an orphan queen. The one person she’d let close had betrayed her utterly.

      Just as Khalil will betray you. At least he was honest about his intentions.

      Khalil gazed at her, his expression inscrutable, any remnant of tenderness erased completely from his harsh features. He glanced at her pathetic pile of plants and broken chair slats; the tiny flame she’d been kindling had gone out. ‘What on earth were you doing?’ he asked. He turned back to her, his mouth twisting with bemusement. ‘Were you building a fire?’ She didn’t answer and his mouth curved into a smile as he shook his head. She almost thought she heard admiration in his voice. ‘You were building a signal fire, weren’t you?’

      Elena lifted her chin. ‘And if I was?’

      ‘It’s the most pathetic signal fire I’ve ever seen.’ Khalil smiled, inviting her to share the joke, his teasing gentle, compassion kindling in his eyes—a compassion she hadn’t seen before and hadn’t thought he possessed.

      Elena felt an answering smile tug at her own mouth. It was pathetic. And it felt good to joke, to laugh, even with Khalil. Especially with Khalil. ‘I know. I realised it wasn’t going to work. It would be far too small if it had even caught at all. But I had to do something.’

      Khalil nodded, his expression serious once more. ‘I understand that, Elena,’ he said quietly. ‘You know, we are a lot alike. We both fight against what we cannot change.’

      ‘It looks to me like you’re trying to change something,’ she retorted, and he inclined his head in acknowledgement.

      ‘Yes, now. But there was a time when I couldn’t. When I was powerless and angry but determined to keep fighting, because at least it reminded me I was alive. That I had something to fight for.’

      And, God help her, she knew how that felt. The last four years, she’d felt that every day. ‘If you know what that feels like,’ she asked in a raw voice, ‘then how can you keep me prisoner?’

      For a second, no more, Khalil looked conflicted. Torn. Then his eyes veiled and his mouth firmed, everything about him hardening. ‘We are not as alike as all that,’ he said shortly. ‘You might be a prisoner, Elena, but you are treated with respect and courtesy. You have every comfort available.’

      ‘Does that really matter—?’

      ‘Trust me,’ he cut her off, his voice cold now, implacable. ‘It matters.’

      ‘When have you felt like a prisoner?’

      He stared at her for a long moment then gave a little shake of his head. ‘We should return to the camp.’

      She still wanted answers, even if she shouldn’t ask the questions, shouldn’t get to know this man any more. Yet she did, because he understood her in a way no one else did. She wanted, she realised, to understand him. ‘Why did you come looking for me?’

      ‘I was worried about you.’

      ‘That I’d escape?’

      A tiny smile lightened his features. ‘No, I’m afraid not. I was worried you might encounter a snake, and I was very nearly right. They like to sun themselves on these rocks.’

      ‘You did warn me.’

      ‘Even so.’

      She shook her head, her throat suddenly tight because everything about this was so strange. Khalil was her captor. Her enemy. But he’d also treated her with more gentleness than any other human being that she could remember, and if he had a legitimate claim to the throne...

      ‘What is it, Elena?’ he asked quietly.

      ‘I don’t know what to think,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t even know if I want to ask you.’

      ‘Ask me what?’

      She took a breath, let it out slowly. ‘Your side of the story.’

      Something flared in his eyes, something she couldn’t name, but it had her body responding, heat unfurling low in her belly. Then it died out and his expression hardened once more. ‘You don’t want to change your mind.’

      ‘You don’t know what this marriage means for me, Khalil.’

      ‘Then why don’t you tell me?’

      ‘What good would it do? Would you lose the chance of your crown so I can keep mine?’

      He raised his eyebrows, his expression still uncompromising. ‘Are you in danger of losing it?’

      She didn’t answer, because she’d already said too much and the last thing she wanted to do was admit to Khalil how shaky her throne really was. So far she’d managed to hide the threat Markos posed to her. If it became public, she knew it would just give him power. She could already imagine the newspaper headlines about the teenaged queen and the stupid mistake she’d made, trusting someone, thinking he loved her.

      She wouldn’t do that again.

      And certainly not with Khalil.

      Yet even so part of her yearned to tell him the truth, to unburden herself, have someone understand, sympathise and even offer advice.

      Like Paulo had?

      Why on earth was she thinking of trusting Khalil when she knew to trust no one? What about this man made her want to break her own rules?

      Because he understands you.

      ‘Like you said, we should return to the camp,’ she said and with her head held high she walked past him, back through the boulders.

      As soon as she got back to her tent, Elena stripped off her swimming costume and dressed in the clothes she’d been given that