Guarding the Princess - By Loreth Anne White Page 0,88

a first date.

Another wave of anxiety washed through Brandt as he started down the long corridor to her room. He wondered suddenly if this was foolish, if she might have had a change of heart—if her words had all been in the heat of battle, and now that things were settling, she’d go back to her duty.

To Haroun.

To being the princess—the real Arabian queen—she was born to be.

What on earth made him think she’d actually want to stay at his farm in the remote bush? Would she really be that interested in what he wanted to show her on his land, on getting to know him better?

He nodded to the security detail he’d had posted outside her door, then paused, perspiration pricking over his body, his hand fisting around the bouquet of flowers. He should back out now. Call it quits. Save face, make it easier on both of them.

In spite of his anxiety, he raised his hand, rapped once on the door.

Silence.

Heart pounding, he glanced back down the corridor. Then suddenly he heard her voice inside and the door swung wide open.

Freshly showered, hair wet, wearing nothing but the hotel’s white terry robe and her new fiberglass cast, Dalilah stood with a cell phone pressed to her ear. She was in the midst of conversation with someone and beckoned to him to come in, mouthing, “Omair.”

“I’ll come back later,” Brandt said, hesitating.

She frowned, shook her head and reached for his hand, pulling him inside her room. As Brandt closed the door behind him, he caught the scent of soap and shampoo. Desire rushed through him.

She pointed to the bar as she walked over to the window, saying something in Arabic into the phone. Brandt felt tense—Omair was not going to be pleased when he learned that Brandt had not only saved Dalilah’s life, but now planned on keeping his sister for the rest of his life. If she’d have him.

Was this really possible? he thought for the gazillionth time.

There was a freshly brewed pot of coffee on the counter, and a bottle of whiskey. Setting the flowers down, he poured a mug of coffee and sipped, watching her talk by the window.

She’d painted her nails—fresh red. So feminine, he thought, yet she was made of stronger stuff than many men he knew.

Dalilah pushed a lock of damp hair back from her brow, glanced at him and smiled as she listened to her brother speaking. And he suddenly loved her wholly, so completely, it was overwhelming. It brought emotion sharply to his eyes and made him feel so incredibly vulnerable. This woman could kill him.

She was as rare as that Argyle diamond she’d so blithely given away.

His attention shifted to the double bed. On it she’d laid out her clothes for the day, and lacy underwear. Heat pooled low and hot in his groin and Brandt’s mind went back to her room at the safari lodge in Zimbabwe, to how he’d touched her silky underwear in her drawer while he’d been resenting the fact he’d even answered Omair’s phone call.

A lot had happened since that call. His life had changed.

Dalilah switched suddenly from Arabic to English while shooting another glance at him.

“Because he’s here, yes,” she said into the phone. “I do want him to hear what I’m going to say.” Eyes on Brandt, she continued, “I spoke to Haroun, Omair. I told him the wedding contract is off.” She closed her eyes as she waited for her brother to finish.

“Yes, I spoke to him privately first, then we had a conference call with the respective heads of state, including Zakir’s representatives from the King’s Council. There’ll be compensation, since I was the one who broke the deal. But Zakir extended an offer to continue with other aspects of the treaty. Haroun is interested in pursuing talks in that regard.”

She was silent, her eyes shining with a bright passion as she listened to her brother’s response.

“It was amicable,” she said. “Haroun’s father might have been an old-school traditionalist, Omair, but I really get a sense Haroun wants to move Sa’ud in a new direction.” She paused. “I’m not sure he wanted to marry me any more than I did. He might even be relieved.”

Brandt’s chest went tight as hope, possibility, began to race wild through his blood.

“No,” she said quietly, holding his gaze. “I didn’t break it off because of Brandt. He— This mission, my trip to Zimbabwe, the fact you all withheld knowledge of Amal from me, it all