“Yes. But that won’t stop Faisal from staging a coup.” Rafi let go of her arms. “He’s waiting for news of the king’s illness and how close he is to death, but his informers can’t get into the palace. Since you refuse to tell me the name of the person who told you about the Garden of the Moon, I made an assumption that there was a connection between you and Faisal. Only a handful of people know about the Garden of the Moon.”
“You think I’m a spy? “
His eyes glittered dangerously. “Given the facts, what am I supposed to think?”
She couldn’t believe this conversation was taking place. “The person who told me about the garden is dead now.”
“If you’re not working for Faisal, then what’s the real reason you’ve come to Al-Shafeeq?”
“I’ve already told you,” she said in a low voice. “Yes, but how do I know you were telling me the truth?”
Lauren moaned. Don’t ask me any more questions. She knew he was only doing his duty for King Umar, but it hurt her so badly she didn’t want to talk anymore. He was torturing her. “Why don’t you answer me?”
“With your intelligence-gathering team, it would be a simple matter to find out.” She was getting in too deep and wanted to howl because it seemed her night of ecstasy wasn’t going to happen.
“You lied about Mustafa. Why?”
Help. “To protect someone.” Me. My grandfather. The royal family.
“You refuse to tell me who it is?”
“I can’t tell you,” she cried in anguish. “Have you never made a promise to someone you swore to keep to the death?”
He examined her upturned face, searching for any sign of weakness. After a tension-filled silence he said, “One.”
“So have I, Rafi. One promise in the whole of my life. I can’t break it, not even for you.”
“Why?”
“Because it could hurt certain people.” She drew in a fortifying breath before removing her hands to hug her upraised knees. “Believing that I have lied to you all along, why did you bring me here?”
“To uncover your secret.” His voice sounded like the lash of a whip.
“I see.” Her heart almost failed her. “Thank you for being honest with me. I thought you wanted to make love to me.”
“I do.”
“I wanted it, too,” her voice throbbed, “more than anything you could imagine. But this thing is between us now. I can’t get past it.”
“You lived with it before I asked for the truth,” he reminded her. That tone of mockery was back.
“I know this won’t help, but I’m going to say it anyway. The person who told me about the garden didn’t know this place was sacred. Now that you’ve explained, I’ll make you a promise. No one will ever hear about it from me. When I fly away from Al-Shafeeq, the desert wind will sweep all memories from my mind.”
She moved away from him and pulled the quilt over her. Beyond tears, she clutched the pillow, praying for sleep to come and bring this bittersweet night to a close.
Outside the tent she heard movement. She could have sworn he said something to the horses, then the light went out. While she lay there holding herself taut, he got in beside her, rustling her covers. He reached over and rolled her into him.
“After being outside, I need your warmth.” His mouth descended once more. It was a kiss hot with desire.
Her body quivered before she tore her lips from his and buried her face against his throat. “It’s too late. I’m a liar. You hate me for it.”
“I would love to hate you,” his voice grated, running his hands through her blond silk curls. He wrapped his arms around her. “Your body gives off heat like a furnace. Lucky is the man who warms himself next to you. I’m looking forward to holding you all night.”
Being in his arms like this was divine torture. “I’m not going to ask about the women in your life because we’ve already had that discussion.”
“You have an excellent memory.” She felt his lips kiss her hair and brows. “What will you do when you’re back in Geneva?”
“I’m not sure.” The idea of going to America and starting a new life sounded absurd now. In fact, the thought of leaving this tent was anathema to her.
“Have you no relatives to go to?”
“No. My parents died six months after I was born.” Ask me to stay, Rafi, and I will. “But I have friends and plenty of money from my grandmother.”
“Tell me how she came by her money.”
“She was a Melrose from New York. They were in the manufacturing business and they made a fortune before they sold the company, granting my grandmother an income for life. Did I tell you she was a fabulous horsewoman?”
“She taught you well. You ride like one of my countrymen.”
“I believe you just paid me a compliment.” She would always cherish it. “In New York, we rode all the time and traveled everywhere together. She willed me everything including the apartment in Montreux.”
“Why Switzerland?”
“Because it’s so beautiful. Have you ever been there?”
“Yes.”
“If I’d known you sooner, I would have invited you to the apartment. I can tell you’re a horse lover. My grandmother would have loved talking horses with you.”
His hands stopped roving over her back. “How do you know about my love of them?”
“I see the special way you care for them. A little while ago I heard you talking to them outside. There’s a bond some people have with their horses. My mother had that same bond. She and my grandmother were very close. Now they’re all buried next to each other in Montreux.”
“That’s where your roots are.”
Some of them.
“I was born in New York, but we left for Switzerland when I was a child. I suppose that when I go back, I’ll finish working on Richard Bancroft’s journals. One day they’ll be ready for the publisher.”
“The way you refer to him, I take it Richard wasn’t your grandfather.”
She swallowed hard. “No.”
“Then who was your mother’s father?”
“That was my grandmother’s secret.” Like grandmother, like granddaughter. “Celia came from a time when you didn’t talk about certain things.” Lauren had already told him much more than she should have. “Goodnight, Rafi.”
When she tried to turn away, he kept her held against him and locked his legs around hers. She was so on fire for him, she was afraid she’d stay awake the rest of the night. But she hadn’t counted on how wonderful it was to lie in his arms where she could feel his heart pounding against hers. He was a bastion of safety. The sense of being protected came as a revelation. She nestled closer to him and knew nothing more until the smell of coffee brought her awake.
Lauren sat up with a start because Rafi wasn’t still holding her. Outside the tent, the sky was blue. Inside was warm. She didn’t need her covers. No telling how long the sun had been up.
“Rafi?” She hurriedly reached for her socks and boots and put them on. He’d already been doing housekeeping chores. She wanted to help.
“Good morning, Lauren,” he said in a voice an octave deeper