She cried out as he grabbed the neckline of the silk caftan and tore it from the hollow of her throat to the hem. She tried to tug the edges together, but Nick captured her hands. “Don’t play the terrified virgin with me. Not when you’ve shared the intimate details of my life with millions of strangers.”
“Nick. I beg you—”
“Go on. Beg me. I want you to beg me!” He dragged her into his arms, clamped her against him, caught her face in his hands and forced it to his. “So, I’m a savage, am I?” His teeth showed in a quick, feral grin. “That’s fine. I think I’m going to enjoy living down to that description.”
“Don’t. Nick, don’t do this. I love you. I love—”
He kissed her, hard, his mouth covering hers with barely suppressed rage, his teeth and tongue savaging her while his fingers dug into her jaw.
“Don’t speak to me of love, you bitch!”
He kissed her again and again, deaf to her pleas, unmoved by her desperate struggles, lifted her into his arms, tumbled her onto a pile of silk cushions and straddled her.
“Speak to me of what you know. Of betrayal. Of mindless sex. Of how it feels to be a whore.”
The sound of her hand cracking against his cheek echoed through the room like a gunshot. Nick’s head jerked back; he raised his hand in retaliation.
“Go on,” Amanda said. Her voice trembled, but her gaze was steady. “Hit me. Dishonor me. Do whatever you came here to do because you couldn’t possibly hurt me any more than you already have.”
Nick stared down at her while the seconds slipped away. God, he thought, oh, God, how close she’d come to turning him into the savage she’d called him. He cursed, shot to his feet, grabbed Amanda’s wrist and dragged her after him.
“Abdul!” he shouted as he flung the door open.
The little man stepped forward. “Yes, my lord?”
“Bring the woman her clothes.”
“But, sire…”
Nick shoved Amanda into the corridor. “She will dress and you will take her to the airport. See to it she’s flown to Paris and put on the next plane for New York.”
Abdul bowed low. “As you wish, Lord Rashid.”
“Get her out of my sight!” Nick’s voice shook with rage and the pain of betrayal. “Get her out of my sight,” he whispered again, once he was back in his own rooms with the door closed and locked.
Then he sank onto the bed, the bed where he’d finally admitted that he’d fallen in love with Amanda Benning, buried his face in his hands and did something no Lion of the Desert had ever done in all the centuries before him.
Nicholas al Rashid, Lord of the Realm and Sublime Heir to the Imperial Throne of Quidar, wept.
* * *
An hour later, Abdul knocked on the door. “Lord Rashid?”
Nick stirred. He’d changed back into jeans—the truth was, he always felt like a fool in that silly white-and-gold robe. He was even feeling a little better.
After all, he’d get over this. Amanda was only a woman, and the world was filled with women….
“Lord Rashid? May I come in?”
It had been his mistake, that he’d opened his heart. He should have known better. Everyone always wanted something from him. The instant celebrity of being seen in his company. The right to mention his name in seemingly casual conversation. The supposed status that came of saying he was a friend or, at least, an acquaintance.
That was just the way things were. He knew it; he’d known it all his adult life. Why should he have expected things to be different with Amanda?
Why should he have let himself think, even for a moment, that she loved him for himself, not for who he was or what he might do for her?
The knock sounded again, more forcefully. “Sire. It is I. Abdul.”
Nick sighed, switched on a lamp and went slowly to the door. “Yes?” he said as he pulled it open. “What is it?”
Abdul knelt down and touched his forehead to the floor. “I thought you would wish to know that it is done, my lord. The woman is gone.”
“Thank you.”
“You need trouble yourself with thoughts of her no longer.”
“Did she…?” Nick cleared his throat. “Did she say anything more?”
“Sire?”
“Did she send any message for me?”
“Only more lies, my lord.”
“More lies…”
“Yes. That she had not done this thing.”
Nick nodded. “Yes. Of course. She’ll deny it to the end.” He looked down at the old man, still doubled over with his forehead pressed to the tile. “Abdul. Please, stand up.”
“I cannot, sire. It is not the custom.”
“The custom,” Nick said irritably. “The custom be damned!” He grabbed the old man’s arm and hoisted him to his feet. “You’re too old for this nonsense, Abdul. Besides, it’s time for some changes in this place.”
“I think not, my lord. Your father would wish—”
“My father agrees.”
“About change?” Abdul laughed politely. “That cannot be, sire. Your father understands the importance of things continuing as they always have. He may not have understood it once, but—”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Abdul bit his lip. “Nothing, sire. Just—just the meandering thoughts of an old man.”
“Well, prepare yourself for some upsets, Abdul.” Nick crossed the room and switched on another light. “My father is going to abdicate the throne.”
“Already? I assumed he would wait until he was much older, but that is good, sire. Putting the kingdom in your hands while you are still young is—”
“He’s not abdicating for me.”
The old man paled. “They why would he abdicate?”
“It’s time Quidar entered the twenty-first century. There will be elections. The people will choose a council. There’ll be no more bowing and scraping, no more—”
“That woman. May her wretched soul burn in hell!”
Nick turned around, his head cocked. “What?”
“Nothing, sire. I, ah, I’ll go and arrange for your meal to be served. You must be hungry—”
“Are you referring to Ms. Benning?”
The old man hesitated, then nodded. “I am, my lord. There is no reason not to admit it now. She was not good for you.”
“What is good or not good for me is my affair,” Nick said sharply.
“Of course. I only meant—”
“Yes. I know.” Nick sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. She’s gone. And you’re right. She wasn’t good for me.”
“Indeed, she was not. A woman who would pretend illness just to gain access to your study—”
“Access to my…?”
“The night of your birthday party, my lord.” Abdul snorted. “Such a lie, that she had a headache.”
Nick looked at the old man. “How did you know she had a headache?” he asked softly.
Abdul hesitated. “Well, I—I…You rang for aspirin, sire.”
“I rang for coffee.”
“Ah, yes. Of course. I meant that. You rang for coffee, and then you told her the story of the two-headed coin.” Abdul clamped his lips together.
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “You were listening,” he said. “At the door.”
“No. Certainly not.”
“You were listening,” Nick repeated grimly. “Otherwise, how would you know I’d told her about the coin?”
“I, ah, I must have…” A fine sheen of sweat moistened Abdul’s forehead.
“Must have what?” Nick walked slowly toward his secretary. “How could you know I told her about the coin that night?”
The old man dropped to his knees and grasped the cuff of Nick’s jeans in his fingers. “I did it for you,” he whispered. “For you, and for Quidar.”
“Did what?” Nick reached down, grabbed Abdul by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet. “Damn you, what did you do for me and
for Quidar?”