Claimed by the Desert Sheikh. Оливия Гейтс

you should be rethinking. Honestly, Qadir, you don’t want to go there.”

      “The longer we are together, the more serious the relationship will appear.”

      She pointed to her stomach. “Do we have to have the ‘baby on board’ discussion again?”

      “Once you leave, people will believe the child is not mine. That will solve the problem.” He looked determined. “I want to see this through. You promised to give me at least a month. I will hold you to that, Maggie.”

      She nodded slowly. Her reluctance came not only from the potential embarrassment to herself, but also from a tiny ache deep inside. She knew that Qadir was only using their relationship to fake out his father. Nothing more. Having him talk about that shouldn’t bother her.

      But it did. It hurt and for the life of her, she couldn’t say why.

      “And if I order you not to see her anymore?” the king demanded.

      “I do not think that is a conversation you wish to have,” Qadir told his father.

      “What is the point of this? Why her? Find someone else. Someone who isn’t carrying another man’s child. What will happen if things progress? Will you marry her? Am I to accept that child as a grandchild?”

      “As’ad is adopting three daughters,” Qadir said. “You have no problem with them.”

      “That is totally different.”

      “Why?”

      “It is. Everyone knew of the girls before. They are charming.”

      “Perhaps Maggie’s baby will be charming, too.”

      His father glared at him. “You are being deliberately difficult.”

      “I am not, despite how it seems to you. Maggie is important to me. She is someone with whom I enjoy spending time. She is charming and amusing. She does not annoy me.”

      “An important consideration,” the king said.

      “Very. She is also not interested in the trappings of my position. My being a prince does not impress her.”

      “Like Whitney.”

      There were very few people who were allowed to speak that name. Unfortunately the king was one of them.

      “Like Whitney,” Qadir agreed. “But with one important difference. I do not love her. I like her. I respect her. But she does not possess my heart.”

      No one would again, he reminded himself. Once had been enough. He had loved Whitney beyond what he thought was possible and in the end, she had left him.

      He’d been stunned by her decision and the emotional pain that had followed. He’d vowed then that no woman would ever bring him to his knees again.

      “A sensible match between compatible parties makes the most sense,” his father said. “But this woman? What about the child? He or she can never be heir.”

      “I am not the eldest son.”

      “Perhaps not, but if Kateb walks away, you will be next in line.”

      There was bitterness in his father’s voice, and perhaps sadness. “Kateb means no disrespect. He has taken a different path.”

      “Into the desert. He belongs here.”

      “I do not agree.” Qadir knew his brother could never be fully happy in the city. The desert sand ran in his veins. He was only truly alive when he was there.

      “You seek to defy me at every turn it seems,” Mukhtar grumbled. “I am disappointed in you, my son.”

      Qadir looked at his father and smiled. “You are not. You are annoyed by my refusal to do as you say, but you are secretly pleased that I will stand up to you fearlessly. It reminds you that you are an excellent father and monarch.”

      One corner of the other man’s mouth twitched. “Perhaps. But that does not mean I approve of your relationship with Maggie.

      You will get distracted by her, then decide she will not do. By then it will be too late. You will be interested. So when you send her away, you will not be interested in another woman for months.” “I do not see that happening,” Qadir said, lying cheerfully. With luck, his plan was going to work perfectly.

      Maggie sat in the gardens, her eyes closed, her body absorbing the heat of the sun. It was still early spring, so the temperature wasn’t too hot. Compared to what the weather would be like back in Aspen, with snow and slush everywhere, this was paradise.

      Unfortunately her reluctance to go inside had nothing to do with the pleasant surroundings and everything to do with what would happen when she got back to her room.

      Before she could persuade herself not to put off calling Jon for another minute, a tall man in traditional clothing swept into the garden. He moved purposefully, taking long strides, his robes swirling behind him. While he was handsome, there was a deep scar on one cheek and an air of power about him. He was not the sort of man Maggie would want to argue with.

      When he saw her, he came to a stop.

      “An unexpected flower in my father’s garden,” he said.

      That made Maggie laugh. “I’m not feeling especially flowery today, but thank you.”

      “Who are you?”

      “Maggie Collins.”

      “Ah, yes. The woman who restores cars.”

      While they were guessing identities, she said, “And you would be Kateb, the mysterious brother who lives in the desert.”

      Kateb bowed low, then straightened. “Does my brother still speak of me with awe?”

      She laughed. “Not so I’d noticed.”

      “Then you must listen harder.”

      He sat on the stone bench across from hers. Although they were outside and, in theory, not lacking in space, he seemed to fill up an excess of area.

      “You are enjoying your time in El Deharia?” he asked.

      “Yes. The country is beautiful. I haven’t seen that much of it, but I hope to soon.”

      “Perhaps Qadir will show you his favorite places.”

      Maggie eyed the other man. Did he know about her deal with Qadir?

      “Perhaps,” she murmured.

      “Do you often come out to the garden?” he asked.

      “No. I’m avoiding something I know I have to do. Not my most mature decision of the day.”

      “But you will do what has to be done?”

      She sighed, then nodded. “Yes, I’ll do the right thing.”

      Kateb stared at her. “Do you always?”

      “It’s usually a goal. Is it the same for you?” she asked, knowing she probably shouldn’t but wanting to ruffle Kateb’s steely composure.

      “When it suits me.”

      “How convenient.”

      “It is. I am Prince Kateb of El Deharia. I do as I please.”

      She laughed. “My father would say you’re the kind of man whose mouth is writing checks the rest of him can’t cash, but in your case, I’m going to guess you’re telling the truth.”

      “Your father sounds like a sensible man.”

      “He was.” She stood. “It was nice to meet you, Prince Kateb of El Deharia. If you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”

      “The one you’ve been avoiding?”

      She nodded.

      He