He led her into a luxurious compartment done in deep shades of blue and gold. A pair of comfortable upholstered chairs flanked a small sofa. Everywhere she looked she saw the embroidered image of the same fierce lion that was painted on the outside of the plane.
“The Lion of the Desert,” she said softly.
To her surprise, Nick blushed. “I suppose it seems melodramatic to someone who’s lived only in the United States, but it’s the seal of Quidar. It’s been the emblem of my people for three thousand years.”
“It’s not melodramatic at all.” Amanda looked at him. “It must be wonderful, being part of something so ancient and honorable.”
“Yes,” he said after a few seconds, “it is. Not everyone understands that. In this age of computers and satellites—”
“Of small, swift jets,” she said with a little smile.
“Yes. In these times, it would be easy to forget the old ways. But they’re important. They’re to be honored even when it’s difficult…” He paused in midsentence and smiled back at her. “Forgive me. I don’t normally make speeches so early in the day.” He bent down, pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back in a minute, sweetheart. I just want to talk with Tom.”
Who was Tom? she wondered. More importantly, who was this man who spoke with such conviction of the past? This man who’d taken to calling her “sweetheart”? It was far too soon for him to address her that way. She could tell him that, but it would have seemed silly, even prissy, and what was there in a word, anyway? He’d probably called a hundred other women “sweetheart.” Set a hundred other women’s hearts to beating high and fast in their throats.
Taken them away with him, as he was taking her.
But she wasn’t those other women. She wasn’t going to let anything happen between them. This was just a trip. A chance for her to discuss business with Nick. Business, she reminded herself when he came back into the cabin, sat on the sofa and drew her down beside him.
“We’ll be in the air in a few minutes.”
“Good,” she said, and cleared her throat. “Who’s Tom?”
“The pilot.” Nick laced his fingers through hers. “I’m usually up there in the cockpit. But today I decided I’d rather be back here, with you.”
“Ah,” she said with a little smile. “So the prince sits beside his pilot and makes him nervous, hmm?”
He grinned. “The prince sits beside his co-pilot and flies the plane himself.”
“You know how to fly?”
Nick settled back, put his feet up on the low table before the sofa and nodded. “I learned when I was just a kid. Distances are so vast in Quidar…flying is the easiest way to get from place to place.”
“My stepbrothers say the same thing.”
“It’s the logical thing to do, especially when you’re expected to put in appearances.”
“Expected?”
“Uh-huh. It was one of my earliest responsibilities back home. Standing in for my father.”
Amanda tried to imagine a boy with silver eyes taking on the burden of representing an absolute monarch.
“Back home. You mean, in Quidar.”
“Yes.” He lifted her hand, brought it to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “I’ve spent a lot of my life in the States. My mother kept a home in California even after she married my father. But Quidar has always been ‘home’. What about you?”
“Don’t…” Her breath hitched. “Nick, don’t do that.”
His brows rose. “Don’t ask about your childhood?”
She made a sound she hoped would pass for a laugh. “Don’t do—what you’re doing. Kissing my hand. You said you wouldn’t. You said—”
“You’re right.” He closed his fingers over hers, then put her hand in her lap and folded his arms. “Tell me about yourself. Where is home for you?”
Her hand tingled. She could almost feel the warmth of his mouth still on her skin.
“I don’t really think of anyplace as ‘home’,” she said briskly. “I was born in Chicago, but my parents were divorced when I was ten.” Why had she stopped him from holding her hand? There was nothing sexual in it.
“And?”
“And,” she said, even more briskly, “my mother got a job in St. Louis, so we moved there. After a year or so, she sent us—my two sisters and me—to boarding school. We’d go to visit her some holidays and my father on others.” Take my hand, Nick. It was silly telling you not to. I like the feel of your fingers entwined with mine. “So, when I think of ‘home’,” she said, stumbling a little on the words, “sometimes it’s Chicago. Sometimes it’s St. Louis. Sometimes it’s Connecticut, where I went to school. And there are times it’s Dallas, where I lived when I was married.”
“What was he like? Your husband?”
“Like my father,” she said, and laughed. “I didn’t realize it, of course, when I married him, but he was. Self-centered, removed…I don’t think he ever thought of anyone but himself.” Her breath hitched. Nick had taken her hand again. He was playing with her fingers, examining them as if they were new and remarkable objects.
“Did you love him?”
She blinked. He’d lifted his head. He was looking at her now, not at her hand, and he was still smiling, but the smile was false. She could see the tautness in his face, the glint of ice in his silver eyes.
“I thought I did. I mean, I wouldn’t have married him if I—”
“Do you still?”
“No. Actually, I don’t think I ever really…Nick? You’re hurting my hand.”
Nick looked at their joined hands. “Sorry,” he said quickly, “I just—I…” He frowned, wondered why it should matter if Amanda Benning still carried the torch for her ex, then answered the question by telling himself he wouldn’t want to bed any woman if she was still thinking about another man. “Sorry,” he said again, and let go of her hand. “So.” His tone was brisk, his smile polite. “You left Dallas and moved east. That must have been quite a change.”
Amanda smiled. “Not as big a change as it must have been for you, going from Quidar to New York.”
“Well, I spent lots of time in the States, growing up. And I went to school here.” His smile softened. “But you’re right. New York is nothing like Quidar.”
“What’s it like? Your country?”
He hesitated. Did she really want to hear about the desert, about the jagged mountains to the north and the sapphire sea to the south? She looked as if she did and, slowly, he began telling her about his homeland, and the wild beauty of it.
“I’m boring you,” he said after he’d been talking for a long time.
“Oh, no.” She reached for his hand, curled her fingers around his. “You’re not. It sounds magnificent. Where do you
live when you’re there? In the desert, or in the mountains?”
So he told her more, about Zamidar and the Ivory Palace set against the backdrop of the mountains, about the scented gardens that surrounded it, about long summer nights in the endless expanse of the desert.
He told her more than he’d ever told anyone about his homeland and, he suddenly realized, about himself. And when he fell silent and she looked at him, her golden eyes shining, her lips bowed in a smile, and said Quidar must be incredibly beautiful, he came close to saying yes, it was. Very beautiful, and he longed to show it to her.
At that moment, the phone beside him buzzed. He picked it up, listened to his pilot give him an update on their speed and the projected time of arrival. He let out his breath and knew he’d never been so grateful to hear such dry statistics. The interruption had come at just the right time. Who knew what he might have said, otherwise?
The path back to reality lay in the sheaf of papers he knew he’d find inside the leather briefcase on the table beside him.
Carefully, he let go of Amanda’s hand, reached for the case and opened it. “Forgive me,” he said politely. “But I have a lot of reading to do before we reach our destination.”
She nodded. “You don’t have to explain,” she said, just as politely. “I understand.”
She didn’t. He could see that in the way she shifted away from him. He’d hurt her. Embarrassed her. Taking his hand was the first gesture she’d made toward him and he’d rejected it.
Nick frowned and stared at the papers in his lap as if he really gave a damn about what they said. He was the one who’d direct their relationship. He would make no move unless she made it clear that was what she wanted, but inevitably, the start—and the finish—of an affair was up to him. It had always been that way, would always be that way.
Nick stopped thinking. He reached out, put his arm around Amanda’s shoulders and drew her close.
“Come here,” he said a little gruffly. “Put your head on my shoulder and keep me company while I wade through this stuff.”
“Really, Nick, it’s all right. I don’t want to distract you.”