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“Walking into the lion’s den unprotected, Princess?”
For Layla, princess of Tazkhan, her arranged marriage means one thing—a lifetime of cruelty and captivity. Such an unendurable prospect drives her to throw herself at the mercy of Sheikh Raz Al Zahki—her family’s greatest enemy!
Raz demands one thing in return for the safe haven Layla is seeking—this brooding desert king wants to make her his queen! Her freedom might be secured, but now her heart is at risk, for soon she’s lost to the scorching heat of their marriage bed. However, it will take more than fire to thaw her guarded husband….
‘You are reluctant to take off your robe,’ Raz said softly, ‘but once we’re married you are going to be naked when you share my bed.’
Layla felt her stomach curl. Everything inside her twisted and heated. She felt dizzy and strange.
Nerves, she thought. ‘Does this mean you’re agreeing to my suggestion?’
Without warning he lifted a powerful hand and pushed back the swathe of fabric covering her head. His handsome face was taut and unsmiling, as if he were weighing up a decision of enormous importance.
Layla tried not to flinch, even though the gentle brush of those strong fingers against her cheeks made everything inside her clench. She told herself he had every right to look at the woman he might marry.
Her heart started to pound. His forefinger traced the line of her jaw.
His eyes dropped to her mouth.
‘You have strength and honesty and I respect those traits.’ He rose to his feet, sure and confident and very much the one in control. ‘There is no time to lose. We will be married within the hour. Oh, and Princess…’ He paused by the entrance to the tent, his eyes a wicked shade of black. ‘You have no need of the Kama Sutra. When the time comes I will teach you what you need to know.’
USA TODAY bestselling author SARAH MORGAN writes lively, sexy contemporary stories for Mills & Boon® Modern™.
RT Book Reviews has described her as ‘a magician with words’ and nominated her books for their Reviewers’ Choice Awards and their ‘Top Pick’ slot. In 2012 Sarah received the prestigious RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America. She lives near London with her family. Find out more at www.sararahmorgan.com
Recent titles by the same author:
AN INVITATION TO SIN
(Sicily’s Corretti Dynasty) SOLD TO THE ENEMY WOMAN IN A SHEIKH’S WORLD A NIGHT OF NO RETURN (The Private Lives of Public Playboys)
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
Lost to the Desert Warrior
Sarah Morgan
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
‘The Persians teach their sons, between the ages of five and twenty, only three things: to ride a horse, use a bow and speak the truth.’
—from The Histories by Herodotus, Greek historian, about 484-425 BC
‘SHH, DON’T MAKE a sound.’ Layla slammed her hand over her sister’s mouth. ‘I can hear them coming. They mustn’t find us.’
She wished she’d had time to find a better hiding place. Behind the long velvet curtains in her father’s private rooms hardly seemed like an obvious place for concealment, and yet she knew in some ways this was the safest place. No one would think to look for the princesses here. They were never allowed in his bedroom. Not even today, on the day of his death.
But Layla had wanted to see for herself that the man who’d called himself her father lay cold and still in his bed and wasn’t about to leap up and commit some other sin against her or her sister. She’d stood there, hidden by the curtain, and heard him seal her fate with his dying breath. His last words hadn’t expressed regret for a life misspent. There had been no demand to see his daughters, nor even a request to pass on a loving message to make up for years of cold neglect. No apology for all the grievous wrongs. Just one last wrong—one that would seal her fate forever.
‘Hassan must marry Layla. It is the only way the people will accept him as ruler of Tazkhan.’
Hearing footsteps, Layla kept her hand pressed over her younger sister’s mouth. Her forehead brushed the curtains and she could smell the dust. The dark was disorientating and she held herself rigid, waiting for the curtains to be flung back, afraid that the slightest movement would give them away.
From behind the protection of rich, heavy velvet she heard several people enter the room.
‘We have searched the palace. They are nowhere to be found.’
‘They cannot just have vanished.’ The voice was harsh and instantly recognisable. It was Hassan, her father’s cousin, and if his last wishes were carried out, soon to be her bridegroom. Sixty years old and more power-hungry even than her father.
In a moment of horrifying clarity Layla saw her future and it was blacker than the inside of the curtain. She stared into darkness, feeling her sister’s breath warm her hand, afraid to breathe herself in case she gave them both away.
‘We will find them, Hassan.’
‘In a few hours you’ll be addressing me as Your Excellency,’ Hassan snapped. ‘And you’d better find them. Try the library. The older one is always there. As for the younger one—she has far too much to say for herself. We’re flying her to America, where she will be out of sight and out of mind. The people will soon forget her. My marriage to the eldest will take place before dawn. Fortunately she is the quiet one. She has nothing to say for herself and is unlikely to object.’
He didn’t even know her name, Layla thought numbly, let alone her view on the world. She was ‘the eldest’. ‘The quiet one’. She doubted he knew or cared what she looked like. He certainly didn’t care what she wanted. But then neither had her father. The only person who cared about her was currently shivering in her grasp.
Her young sister. Her friend. Her family.
The news that they were