“I’m naked!” she shrieked, jumping out of bed.
She lunged for her clothes on the floor, rapidly pulling on her panties. After searching frantically for her bra she remembered she’d stopped wearing one a few days before. For one thing, she didn’t need it. For another, Rafe often came up behind her, slipped his hands under her shirt and cupped her breasts. She preferred that contact when her skin was bare.
“Don’t think about it,” she told herself as she pulled a cotton sundress over her head, then raced to the bathroom to study her appearance.
She looked like a woman who had been well loved. There was no way to hide the color in her face or the contentment in her eyes. Hassan was going to guess the truth.
She hurried back into the bedroom. Rafe had already left. She followed him into the main room and grabbed his arm. “You were kidding about what you said when you first arrived, weren’t you? The part about getting your head cut off?”
“He’s not going to be happy.”
Zara didn’t find his words especially reassuring, but before she could question him further, King Hassan stalked into the room, followed by two very tall, very large guards. Behind them were the king’s secretary, Sabrina and her husband, Prince Kardal. Zara’s stomach dove for the floor.
Hassan stared at them both. Zara wanted to move closer to Rafe and slip her hand into his but she suspected that would not help the situation. There was also the fact that she didn’t know how he would react to the declaration, however small. To complicate things, she’d never faced a disapproving father before and wasn’t sure how to act.
“My daughter,” Hassan said, walking over and kissing her cheek. “The palace has been a dark place without your beauty to brighten my day.”
“Hi.” She bit her lower lip. “Thank you for understanding that I’ve needed this time to adjust to all the changes.” She suddenly felt really young and terribly guilty, which was strange. After all, she was twenty-eight years old.
Hassan studied her for a few more seconds, then turned his attention to Rafe.
“You will be banished,” he said, speaking nearly conversationally, so that Zara didn’t catch what he said at first. “At first I thought to have you killed, but Kardal talked me out of it.” He glared at his son-in-law. “Apparently, I’m known for having irresistible daughters.”
“What?” Zara asked. She glanced at Sabrina who mouthed she would explain it all later. Zara didn’t want to wait for an explanation. “What do you mean, banished?” She was going to ignore the “killed” part because she couldn’t stand to think about it.
Hassan glared at her. It was the first time he’d ever looked at her with anything but love and devotion. “You have done enough here. I trusted you both and this is how I am repaid. You are new to our ways, so I forgive you, but Rafe has been made one with the desert. He knew what he was doing. He is to be banished for all time. He will not be allowed to set foot in the kingdom of Bahania or the City of Thieves. For the rest of his life he will never see you again, and you will not see him.”
Zara turned to Rafe. Not see him? Not ever? She’d resigned herself to being unhappy, to watching him from afar, to dreaming about what might have been, but she’d never thought he would be out of her life forever.
His gaze locked with hers. In that single heartbeat she read a similar anguish in his blue eyes. A need and something more—something wonderful that gave her courage. He cared. She didn’t know how much or for how long, but he cared.
“I will not be banished,” he said unexpectedly.
He faced the king and pulled back the sleeve of his shirt. She stared at the small tattoo there—the seal of the City of Thieves.
Hassan turned away, Kardal swore, Sabrina gasped. Only the guards didn’t react, and Zara had a feeling they were as clueless as she was.
“I carry the mark of the prince,” Rafe continued. “At the time I was rewarded and made a sheik, I was offered a woman. I claimed none. I claim one now—Princess Zara.”
He’d never used the title before and it startled her, as did Hassan’s sudden expression of rage.