her around. For an instant, her green eyes registered pure shock and her lips opened in surprise.
Her face softened to a smile. "Rasyn. It's you. You worried me there."
"I worried you?" He clenched his teeth. "Where have you been?"
Libby folded a silk headscarf in her hands. "I went to an orphanage with Jarah."
"Who the hell is Jarah?" Imaran's voice had an angry edge.
Libby narrowed her eyes. "He's the servant you fired because I tripped him. Completely unfair, by the way. I think he's happier working with the kids, though."
Jealousy slashed through Rasyn, but his cousin beat him to bringing it up. "You went off with a man, unchaperoned?"
"I would have if I wanted to." Libby crossed her arms. "But Umm Tariq went with us. I think she likes the kids. We all played soccer with this ball that was half-flat. Rasyn, could we send them a new soccer ball?"
Imaran interrupted them, his eyes flashing on Libby. "I had hoped you’d displayed the wisdom to leave the country. The Prince of Damali has been insulted.”
"Imaran." Rasyn tamped down on a flare of anger. "I will handle this."
"You had better teach her the Arabic for 'I'm sorry'," Imaran said. "The Prince of Damali arrives in two days. We cannot risk another incident."
The color, and the defiant expression, drained from Libby's face. She actually trembled in his arms. Five minutes ago, he had wanted to shake some sense into her. Now, all he wanted to do was hold her and tell her everything would be all right.
Libby's stomach churned inside her as Imaran strode down the hall, his blue-striped robe billowing behind him as if he were some kind of desert bandit. The prince was coming, and he wanted to speak to her. Waves of sick dread threatened to knock her from her feet.
She faced Rasyn, uncertain what to say. Imaran saw the truth that he was blind to; she was the worst possible woman for him. Maybe Imaran's problem was that he was right.
"Libby." The commanding tone of his voice painted a picture of the ruler he would be someday. As long as he didn't marry her. "Come."
She followed him. There wasn't any other choice—this entire situation was her fault. Whatever fate awaited her, she deserved it.
His crisp footsteps echoed off the high ceiling of the corridor, setting a pace that made her rush to keep up. She stared at the hem of his untucked white shirt, trying to think of something to say to make this all better.
The punishing pace had her breathless by the time they arrived at Rasyn's apartment.
He slammed the door behind her, granting them privacy. He bore down on her, his dark eyes half-lidded and filled with a dangerous gleam she'd never seen before. She'd thought Imaran looked like a bandit? Wildness radiated from Rasyn like a man possessed by a desert demon. A thrill of fear made Libby step backward, but the demon inside Rasyn wouldn't permit escape.
In the space of a thought, he whisked her off her feet and up against the carved wooden door. He pressed himself against her, his broad chest as solid as the door at her back. She gasped in shock. He was so close she could barely breathe.
He forced his mouth on hers, delving deeply with his hot tongue. She stiffened in surprise, too off-kilter to do anything but cling to his strong shoulders for support. His hands moved over her thighs, ribs, arms, as if needing the reassurance of every part of her.
But something was wrong. There was no trace of the smile that usually lurked in his eyes. Beneath the surface of his outward passion, she sensed a tinge of a darker emotion she couldn’t identify.
She put her hands on his to still them and broke the kiss. "Rasyn, what are you doing?"
He drew back and raised a midnight-black eyebrow at her. "This is an old Middle Eastern custom called 'making love to you.' It is best to put up with it so you do not offend me," he said, his tone amused. "I would tell you that it would be over soon, but that would be lying."
He bent to resume nibbling on the sensitive spot behind her ear, but she put up a hand to stop him, despite the sensual promise of his last words.
"What's wrong?" She fought the heat of her own desire and the distraction of his strong hands on her hips. "Why are you doing this?"
"We have been apart all day. I want you."
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