Innocent in the Desert: The Sheikh's Impatient Virgin / The Sheikh's Convenient Virgin / The Desert Lord's Bride

Eva, who had sat quietly through the meal and was rapidly tiring of her invisible status, allowed her gaze to travel from one man to the other and back again.

‘Decided by who exactly …? I didn’t decide anything.’

King Hassan looked genuinely bewildered by the spiky comment. ‘Surely you can have no objection to seeing your family … your cousins …?’

Eva forced herself to smile at her grandfather. ‘I would just like to be consulted.’

‘Consider yourself consulted,’ Karim said, sounding bored by the entire subject. Amira’s condition ought to be occupying his every waking moment, yet he was continually distracted by the hunger of his own body. Life would be simpler if the distraction was put out of temptations way for the moment at least.

And it wasn’t just that it was the irrational guilt he was experiencing—he knew he had not trapped her into this marriage, that she had been equally culpable—but when he saw the dejected set of her shoulders he felt as though the responsibility was his.

‘We are only thinking of you, Eva.’

That, Karim thought, keeping his eyes steadfastly on Eva’s grandfather, is the problem.

‘Karim has so much on his plate at the moment, with matters of state and Amira, he is worried that he will have no time to spend with you.’

Worried my foot, Eva thought, struggling to control her temper. He wants me out of his hair so that he can pick up with whatever bimbo he’s sleeping with without worrying about his wife walking in.

Recognising the stab of jealousy that spilled like poison through her body, Eva went stiff with shock. She responded with defensive aggression.

‘Surely Karim’s father can deal with matters of state.’

It had crossed Eva’s mind a couple of times recently to ask about Karim’s father, but on each occasion she had been distracted, and now that she paused to think about it it seemed strange that he had never entered the equation.

Her grandfather’s approval had been sought, but there had been no mention of what the King of Zuhaymi thought of his son’s marriage.

An awkward silence followed her question.

It was Karim who broke it. ‘My father no longer takes an active part in government.’ His lashes came downwards concealing his expression from her as he speared a piece of food onto his fork. Then, not lifting it, he moved it around his plate.

‘Why? He can’t be that old?’

‘Eva …’ King Hassan began in a warning tone.

Karim lifted his head and said, ‘No, she should know.’

‘It may have escaped your notice, but actually I’m here in this room.’

‘My father is not old, but he was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s several years ago.’

It was still difficult to speak of recalling the first signs; watching such a robust virile man lose a part of himself everyday had been agonising.

‘He does not appear in public any longer.’ It made him feel guilty to acknowledge it, but there were times when Karim almost felt envious for those who had lost loved ones. It was, he had learnt, harder to grieve for the loss when that person or at least the shell was still alive.

‘You mean, you locked him away when he became an embarrassment.’

When Karim met her accusing stare she saw, not the guilt she had anticipated in his face, but cold condemnation.

‘When he was still able, he made it clear that once he was unable to function fully he wanted to retire from the public view. He lives today at a cottage beside the sea with a team of nurses to provide round-the-clock nursing. I see him but not as often as I would like because my presence sometimes agitates him.’ The occasional flashes of lucidity when his father recognised him made the entire situation harder in many ways.

Eva could feel the heat of her grandfather’s disapproval. Not that it made her feel any more wretched than she already did—nothing could.

‘I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing to say to you and I’m very sorry about your father.’

Karim nodded his head and said, ‘Apology accepted.’ She wasn’t sure if he meant it or if he was just going through the motions, but she felt even more of an outsider than ever.

‘I’d like to go back to Azharim with you if the offer is still open.’

Her grandfather looked at her, concern in his eyes, and said, ‘Of course it is.’

‘Right,’ she said, pushing her chair away from the table. ‘I’ll just go and pack.’ She couldn’t wait to escape the room and Karim’s disapproval.

‘Someone can pack for you,’ her grandfather protested, throwing a look towards Karim.

Eva shook her head. ‘I like to feel as if I actually have a purpose in life,’ she said, thinking, Could I sound more self-pitying?

She just made it to the door before the tears began.

The flight the next morning was an early one to fit in with her grandfather’s schedule. Knowing King Hassan’s dislike of tardiness, she was packed and ready and feeling mad with herself because she minded that Karim had made no attempt to say goodbye or even wish her a safe journey.

The Brownie points she had gained from being early were lost when, on the point of leaving, Eva realised she had left her toiletry bag upstairs.

Her grandfather clicked his tongue in irritation as she flew up the stairs two at a time.

Typically, given the urgency, she could see it nowhere; having ransacked her bedroom and bathroom she suddenly remembered the dressing room!

It was actually a small antechamber lined with mirrors that joined her suite of rooms to Karim’s. It had not seen a lot of use recently, but she had gone in trying to see the back of her hair as she had attempted a swept-up style she had copied from a magazine that morning.

It had not made her look elegant; it had made her look about five!

Had she carried the bag in there with her?

She ran through the bathroom and into the corridor. She was inside before she realised that she was not alone.

Karim was standing there wearing nothing but a very small towel looped around his middle.

‘I … I …’ Losing the fight not to look, her eyes slid down his body. Things deep inside her tightened; he really was beautiful. A deep throb of longing slid through her. ‘I left my … This … I’m late.’

He was looking at her in a way that made her heart race. He cleared his throat and ran a hand across his stubble-covered jaw.

Eva thought about the stubble grazing her skin and the tactile image was so strong she had to grab the radiator to steady herself.

‘Have a safe journey.’

The anticlimax was intense. ‘You too,’ she heard herself babble stupidly. Then she improved on her impersonation of a total fool by clutching her head and groaning.

‘Are you ill?’