Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 2. Susan Mallery

darkened with pain. “But we have a good sheik in their only son. Sheik Tariq will lead us out of the darkness.”

      Jasmine’s heart skipped a beat at Tariq’s name. From somewhere she found the strength to ask, “He’s ruling alone, your new sheik?”

      If the man told her that Tariq had taken a wife during the period of media blackout since his parents’ deaths, she’d get on the next plane out of Zulheil. Even now, her lungs protested every breath she took, and she hung on the edge of control.

      The look her guide threw her was assessing. He nodded sharply, but waited until they were outside before speaking. The harsh heat of the desert hit Jasmine like a physical slap, but she stood firm. Wilting was not an option, not when this was her last chance.

      There was a black limousine parked at the curb. She’d started to move away from it when her guide halted her.

      “That is your taxi.”

      “That’s definitely not a taxi.” Hope, she understood, came in many forms. Hers had arrived in the shape of a long, sleek piece of gleaming machinery.

      “Zulheil is rich, madam. These are our taxis.”

      She wondered if he expected her to believe that. Biting her lip to muffle the slightly hysterical urge to giggle, she nodded and let him put her cases into the trunk. She waited, heart pounding and mouth dry with anticipation, until he came around to the back passenger door.

      “Madam?”

      “Yes?”

      “You asked if our sheik rules alone. The answer is yes. Some say it is because his heart has been broken.” His voice was a low whisper.

      Jasmine gasped. Before she could continue the conversation, he swung open the limo door. Her mind in a whirl, she stepped inside the luxurious air-conditioned interior.

      The door shut.

      “You really did it,” she whispered to the man sitting across from her, his long legs encroaching on her space.

      Tariq leaned forward, his hands on his knees. The darkness inside the limo threw the sharp lines of his face into vivid relief. None of the softness she’d seen in her Tariq was present in this hardened stranger.

      “Did you doubt me, my Jasmine?”

      Her body went into delayed shock at the sound of his voice. It was deep and compelling. Beautiful and dangerous. Familiar yet…different. “No.”

      Tariq frowned. “And yet you are here.”

      She bit her lower lip again and drew in a ragged breath. His eyes, deceptively dark in the confines of the vehicle, were fixed on her like those of a predator waiting to pounce. The opaque partition between passengers and driver was raised, further collapsing the space, leaving her nowhere to turn.

      “Yes. I’m here.” The car moved off at that moment, unsettling her precarious balance. She fell forward and barely caught herself on the edge of the seat. Tariq’s arms came around her anyway and he lifted her into his lap.

      Jasmine clutched at his wide shoulders, the fine material of his white tunic crumpling under her fingers, but she didn’t fight, not even when he gripped her chin with his fingers and forced her to meet his gaze. He was so angry. She could see the turbulence in his vivid green eyes.

      “Why are you here?” He tightened his hold around her when the car bounced over something on the road. His muscled body was so much bigger than hers that Jasmine felt surrounded, overwhelmed. But still she didn’t fight.

      “Because you needed me.”

      His laugh was a harsh, ragged echo of pain that hurt her inside. “Or have you come to have a liaison with an exotic man, before you marry the one your family has chosen?” With an oath, he dumped her unceremoniously back into her seat.

      Jasmine pushed her fiery plait over her shoulder and lifted her chin. “I don’t have liaisons.” His distrust of her was clear, but she refused to let that silence her.

      “No,” he agreed, his voice cold. “You would have to have a heart to experience passion.”

      Her already fragile confidence was shaken by the direct hit. All her life she’d struggled to be special enough to deserve love and acceptance. Now it appeared that even Tariq, the one person who’d ever treated her as if she were worth cherishing, found her wanting.

      “You can’t hold a man like Tariq. He’ll forget you the minute some glamourpuss princess comes along.”

      Uninvited, Sarah’s spiteful words from four years ago burst into Jasmine’s mind. Back then, they’d delivered the last emotional blow to her belief in herself, coming from an older sister who knew so much more about men. What if it hadn’t just been spite? What if Sarah had been right?

      When Jasmine had made the fateful decision to find Tariq again, she’d been uncertain of her ability to reach the man she’d known. How could she hope to reach the man he’d become? Buffeted by doubt, she turned and stared out the tinted windows. There was nothing to see but endless desert.

      Strong fingers on her jaw forced her attention back to the panther lounging opposite her. His green-eyed gaze caught her own and held her in thrall. “I will keep you, my Jasmine.” It was a statement, not a question.

      “And if I don’t wish to be…” She paused, unable to think of the right word.

      “Owned?” Tariq suggested in a silky whisper.

      Jasmine swallowed. A part of her was terrified of the dark fury she saw swirling in his eyes, but she’d come too far to fall victim to her fears now. “Like a slave?” Her voice was husky, her lips parched. However, she didn’t dare moisten them with her tongue, afraid of how Tariq would react.

      He narrowed his eyes. “You think I am such a barbarian?”

      “I think you’re going out of your way to give me that impression,” she retorted, before she could caution herself not to bait the panther.

      The corners of his lips tilted upward in a slight curve. “Ah, I had forgotten.”

      “What?” She lifted a hand to his wrist and tried to break his hold on her jaw. It proved impossible. Under her touch, his pulse beat in a slow, seductive rhythm that promised her both exotic pleasures and darkest fury.

      “That the fire of your hair does not lie.” He moved his thumb over her lower lip and frowned. “Your lips are dry. Moisten them.”

      Jasmine scowled at the command. “And if I don’t?”

      He lifted one brow in response to the defiance in her tone. “Then I shall do it for you.”

      Betraying color stained her cheeks at the erotic image of Tariq moistening her lips. His intense gaze made her feel like a tasty morsel he’d be only too happy to devour. Breathing in shallow gasps, she flicked out her tongue and wet her lips.

      “Better.” His approval was apparent in the deepening timbre of his voice and the way his thumb slowly swept over her lower lip, now soft and wet. When he abruptly set her free, surprise kept her perched on the edge of her seat for a moment, leaning toward him. Sanity returned with a shock. Face flushed, she scrambled back and across the seat until she was in the opposite corner of the car.

      “Where are you taking me?”

      “Zulheina.”

      “The capital?”

      “Yes.”

      “Where in Zulheina?” She refused to back down despite his repressive monosyllabic replies.

      “To my palace.” He lifted one foot and placed it next to her right hip, effectively caging her against the door. “Tell me, my Jasmine, what have you been doing these four years?”

      It was clear that he wasn’t going to answer any more questions. Jasmine bit back her frustration, wanting to push but