The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition: The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition

“This way, everyone,” he called, aiming for cheerful confidence. “Celia could tell you how the city rose up out of the desert, stone by stone. She’s seen a lot more of the process than I have.”

“It’s been truly amazing.” Celia marched boldly ahead. “I was nervous that a lot of construction would destroy the site, but Salim’s crew really know what they’re doing. They were so careful to preserve the past.”

“Salim’s very big on the past.” Elan shot a narrow-eyed glance at his brother.

“Speaking of which.” Salim said as he paused in front of a two-story building of white stucco, shaded with native date palms.

Elan turned and frowned. He blinked up at the pale walls, ornamented with a strip of painted diamonds. “It looks like … our house. Where we grew up.”

“It is.” Salim paused, watching his brother’s face. “Come inside.”

He led them through the shady arched doorway, into the cool interior. “I know you don’t have the happiest of memories from here, but that house is gone now, and for some reason I wanted to recreate it here.”

Elan’s mouth hung open as he surveyed the stone floor, the smooth stuccoed walls, all exactly like the home they’d shared long ago. “Wow,” Elan said softly as he blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “This takes me back.”

“We were happy in that house once.”

Elan frowned. “When we were all together. Before father sent me and Quasar as far away as possible and screwed up all our lives.”

Salim swallowed. Their father’s action had abruptly ended their happy childhoods. With his fun-loving and energetic brothers banished to distant boarding schools, Salim lived a lonely and cloistered existence. His mother had died soon after, leaving him alone with the harsh father who never had a kind word for him.

So what? He’d survived. And prospered.

Elan cocked his head. “You’ve recreated our home, and now you’ve brought me back to it.” His eyes twinkled. “If Quasar was here, we’d be a family again. Of sorts.”

“We are a family.” Salim spoke gruffly. He was determined the Al Mansurs would face the future together. “Quasar will come one day.” Their wild younger brother was hard to keep up with. One day he’d settle down.

Or at least Salim hoped so.

Sara gazed up at the high ceilings, ringed with a simple painted frieze. “It’s beautiful. Simple and elegant. I’m sure you’ll recreate a happier version of the past here.”

“I’m not nearly that ambitious.” Salim crossed his arms, trying to ignore the rush of emotion in his chest. “It was a typical Omani building that seemed suitable for the site.”

“Sometimes you have to confront the past in order to move forward,” Elan said slowly, glancing around the familiar—yet unfamiliar—space. Salim’s stomach clenched at his words. “I avoided the past like a dog that hunted me. I just ran faster to get away from it. Put as much distance between me and … home … as I could. I locked all that hurt and disappointment away, and vowed to never feel anything like it again.”

Sara leaned forward. “Until one night in the desert, I pried open the lockbox of his emotions.”

“And I’ve been a changed—and far happier—man ever since.” Elan slid his arm around Sara’s waist.

Salim swallowed. “I’m very happy for you. Naturally, since I’ve been here in Oman all the time, I’ve been surrounded by the past and have had no need or desire to run away from it.”

He looked sideways at Celia. She stood rigid as a statue. No doubt she felt herself an unfortunate intruder in this family tableau. He quickly glanced out the window.

“Sometimes you can run from something without even knowing it.” Elan’s low voice penetrated the fog of his thoughts. “It’s even harder to find your way back, in that case.”

Salim frowned. “You speak in riddles, brother. I’m simply glad you’re here and I intend to keep you here as long as possible.”

“I’ll tell you, it feels really good to be back. We’ll have to make a habit of it.” Elan smiled at Sara.

She nodded. “I’d love Hannah and Ben to grow up knowing their Omani family, and being aware of their heritage.” Her eyes shone. “We should visit as often as possible.”

Salim watched his little niece, now crawling across the stone floor with impressive speed. His heart filled with joy, and a sense of purpose fulfilled. “You’re welcome here every single day, literally. Nothing could mean more to me than to bring our family together again.”

A sudden fit of coughing took Celia by surprise, and she struggled to get it under control. “Sorry! I don’t know what happened,” she stammered, when she finally managed to stop and take a sip from the shared Thermos.

“The dry air,” said Elan, reassuring, as usual. “Can you believe that a family of five and at least five servants lived in this house?”

Celia’s eyes widened. “Are there more rooms?”

“There’d better be.” Elan chuckled. “Can’t have men and women in the same room. Anything might happen.” He winked.

Salim narrowed his eyes. Some traditions had rather fallen by the wayside, at least in the bustling coastal cities. Still, better for Celia to see how different life was here than in the States.

Salim held a curtain aside so they could walk through the doorway into the next room. “Our room,” Elan said as he stared, then glanced up at Sara. “Though Salim forgot the bed. We brothers shared one. We used to make up crazy stories in here, while the grown-ups were still sitting out in the courtyard. Wow, that was a long time ago. Probably the happiest time of my life, until I met Sara.”

Sara glanced at Celia, who still stood there as if she’d seen a ghost. “He was far too busy working to be happy, until I sorted him out.”

“Look who’s talking, Miss Workaholic.” Elan prodded her with his fingertips.

“That’s Mrs. Workaholic, to you.” Sara gave him a playful shove. “It’s true, though. We both helped each other mellow out. I think when you enjoy your work it’s good to marry someone else who’s career-oriented. Then no one’s left moping at home. What do you think, Celia?”

Celia’s elegant throat contracted as she swallowed. “I suppose so.” Her voice was scratchy. “I’ve never been married.”

“It’s not easy to meet the right person,” mused Sara. “And sometimes they take some time to realize it themselves.”

Salim frowned. Were they trying to cook up mischief again? Couldn’t they see that Celia would rather be anywhere but here? No doubt all this talk of family and Omani traditions made her want to run for cover.

He frowned. “Let’s go.”

Salim and his family had left Celia at the site to finish her work. She’d almost died during all the talk of family and togetherness.

How would they feel about her if they knew she was hiding a member of their own family from them?

It hurt that she was depriving Kira of her own family and heritage. Not to mention depriving Salim of the family he so openly craved.

She’d decided to tell him about Kira tonight. Whatever happened between them had happened, and she couldn’t do anything about that now. All she could do was try to make the future brighter for all of them.

She was sure he’d come see her.

But he didn’t.

Probably busy with work. She knew he had business dinners several nights a week. And he did have family visiting. Maybe they needed some time to themselves.

At least that’s how she tried to reassure herself.

After a fitful night of broken sleep, she decided to go for a quick run on the beach to shake off stress. Exercise made almost anything easier to cope with.

Sensitive to Oman’s conservative sensibilities, she dressed in light cotton pants and a shirt rather than her usual jogging bra and shorts. It was actually cooler to keep herself covered, she’d discovered. Which no doubt explained why most people in this region didn’t expose their bare skin to the punishing sun.