Her Desert Prince. Rebecca Winters

      He continued to look at her with the strangest expression. She had the impression he was trying to make up his mind what to tell her. The pit in her stomach enlarged, but her natural grit came to the fore. She took a deep breath. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

      “Can you?” He’d asked the question almost seductively. Was he playing with her?

      “I’m not a child.”

      “No. That you are not.” A certain nuance in his deep voice sent a little shiver through her.

      Don’t let him get to you, Lauren. He was a doctor after all and had examined her. Those black eyes had seen everything, so there was nothing he didn’t know. “If you won’t tell me because you think I’m the fainting kind, I’ll ask your nurse. I’m sure she’ll oblige me.”

      “She’s gone back to the clinic.” The note of satisfaction in his voice set her off.

      “I will admit you’re doing a good job of frightening me.”

      He shrugged his shoulders with unconscious elegance. She watched his hands open, as if he were holding a bowl. She noticed inconsequently that those hands were used to hard work, yet his nails and cuticles were immaculate. “A thousand pardons, mademoiselle. My intent has been to save you from remembering too much at once.”

      She sucked in her breath. “You mean I have amnesia?” More silence. “But that’s preposterous!”

      The doctor cocked his head. “I’d prefer to call it a temporary lapse of memory. At the moment your mind is protecting you from having to deal with a traumatic experience.”

      “Traumatic?”

      “Very,” his voice grated. It seemed to underline the gravity of what he hadn’t yet told her. While she contemplated his unsettling response, he got up and reached for a white cloak placed over a satin loveseat. She hadn’t realized how tall he was—at least six foot three.

      He moved with unconscious male grace. When he approached her again, he let the cape fall loose. “Do you recognize this?’

      She tore her eyes from his striking features to look at what he was holding up to her. It was a kandura. Lauren had one like it. She’d purchased her desert gear after she’d arrived in El-Joktor, telling the merchant she wanted a man’s cloak for herself.

      He hadn’t wanted to sell it to her because he said it wasn’t done in his country. But she had offered him more money than it was worth and he had finally conceded to her wishes and wrapped it up for her.

       “Mustafa—”

      The camel driver’s name came out on a sudden cry of remembrance.

      The doctor’s eyes flickered. “You see? Your memory is returning. Too fast unfortunately.”

      A kaleidoscope was filtering through her mind. Bits and pieces started falling together faster than she could keep up. “The mountains were alive. They engulfed everything—Mustafa told me it was a sandstorm. I couldn’t see him—I couldn’t breathe—what happened to him?”

      The doctor’s silence puzzled her. She pushed the sheet aside and got out of the bed. Without conscious thought she grabbed his bronzed forearms. “Tell me—did he die because of me?”

      His midnight eyes seemed to bore right down into her soul. “No, mademoiselle. Death didn’t come for him because it wasn’t his appointed hour. In fact, he was the one who saved your life,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Without his quick thinking, you would have been buried alive.”

      She shuddered. “What about the others in the caravan?”

      “They survived.”

      When the words sank in, she let out a relieved cry and slumped against him. “Thank heaven no one perished. It was utterly terrifying.”

      He murmured something she didn’t understand and pulled her into him, absorbing her sobs while he rocked her for as long as she needed. She had no idea how much time passed as they stood locked in each other’s arms.

      Moments went by before she became aware of his heart pounding, strong and solid against hers. When she’d cried her tears, she eased out of his arms, cognizant of not wanting to leave them. She had to be insane.

      “Forgive me for breaking down like that.”

      “It’s the shock of your ordeal, mademoiselle.”

      “Yes.” Reeling from too many emotions, she sank down on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”

      “As you wish. I’ll have a tray sent to you. You need to eat.”

      “I don’t think I could yet.”

      “It’s the duty of the living.”

      Lauren’s head reared back, making her dizzy. But he’d already reached the doors and then he was gone. Not a minute later, a maid came in to help her to the ornate bathroom. After a shower, she dressed in denims and a pale-blue cotton top she’d brought on the trip. The sandstorm hadn’t ripped the suitcases from the camels, but it had almost taken her life.

      What was it Richard had once told her? A man who sets out on an expedition has to know he might never come back. He’d lost men on many of his expeditions, but he’d kept on going. If Richard were still alive he’d say, You knew the risk, Lauren, and took it.

      In his own way, the doctor had been telling her the same thing.

      Lauren could never be that glib about fate, but when the maid returned with a meal of lamb kabobs and fruit salad, she didn’t refuse it.

      Sometime later the doctor entered the room without her being aware of it. He walked over to the table where she was finishing her food. “Feeling better now, mademoiselle?”

      His presence startled her. And thrilled her, too, which was ridiculous. She wiped her mouth with the napkin and looked up at him. He was dressed in a linen sport shirt and trousers. Whatever he wore, he took her breath. Without clothes … he would be spectacular.

      “I feel stronger, thank you.”

      “Stronger is better, but you have a way to go before you’re pronounced fit. Your body has been through a tremendous ordeal, physically and emotionally. You must stay here and give yourself time to heal.”

      He’d brought a tray of food in with him and sat down opposite her. She bit her lip. “Tell me something. Where is here exactly?”

      “I assumed you knew,” he murmured after biting into a fresh peach. “The Oasis of Al-Shafeeq. That was your first destination after you left El-Joktor, was it not?”

      Her only destination.

      “Yes,” she whispered, shaken by the knowledge that she’d reached the place once ruled by her grandmother’s lover. “How did you know I’d come from El-Joktor?”

      He eyed her through veiled lashes. “It’s my business to know everything that goes on here. In truth, I’m not Dr. Tamam, but I let you think it for a little while until I was certain you were on the road to a full recovery.”

      What? But he’d held her hand the whole time. “Then who are you?”

      His lips twisted, as if amused by the question. When he did that, he was so attractive, she felt that her heart would fail her. “I’m the head of security here at the palace.”

      Her eyes widened in disbelief. “No wonder this room is so exquisite,” she whispered. “I couldn’t imagine a hotel that could ever look like this.”

      “The palace is centuries old,” he explained. “When I was notified of a caravan overrun by a sandstorm, I flew a helicopter to the scene. Mustafa filled me in and I brought you back here where Dr. Tamam could take care of you.”