Free The Sheik and the Virgin Princess by Susan Mallery Page B

leading troops into battle. No doubt he’d been cool under fire.
    “It’s a long way from the military to the wilds of Bahania,” she murmured. “Do you miss it?”
    “The States or the army?”
    “Either. Both.”
    “Sometimes. I was too much of a rebel to advance much more in my career. I got out while everyone thought I was a hero. As for missing the States, there are places I’d like to see again. I don’t have an actual home I long for. I’ve always been one to move around.”
    That sounded familiar. She’d lost track of the number of times Fiona had made them move. “What about family?” she asked.
    Nothing about Rafe changed, yet she would have sworn that an invisible wall came down between them.
    “No family,” he said easily.
    He had to have some kind of family somewhere. He hadn’t just hatched under a rock. But her years with Cleo had taught her that there were some things people didn’t want to talk about.
    Was he married?
    The question appeared in her brain, but she couldn’t force the words out. They implied an interest, which, while it might be true, made her uncomfortable.
    “Any kids?” she asked instead.
    Rafe shifted so that he angled toward her, placing one arm along the back of the bench. His fingers were millimeters from her shoulder. She almost couldn’t breathe.
    “I’m not married, Zara.”
    The statement danced against her spine like hot water sizzling on a stove. She felt herself blushing, then figured it was dark enough that it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be able to tell. Or maybe he would, she thought, glancing at him and quickly looking away when she caught him staring. He was the kind of man who just might notice everything about a woman.
    “I didn’t ask about a wife,” she clarified, as if he would be fooled.
    “Of course not.” He flashed her another smile. “So tell me about your life before becoming a princess.”
    She groaned. In the past few minutes of conversation she’d managed to forget her predicament. “Cleo already mentioned that I’m a college professor. I teach women’s studies at a university in eastern Washington state.”
    “Tell me about your mom.”
    Zara’s entire face changed. Rafe watched as the embarrassment fled, replaced by a look of love so private that he nearly looked away.
    “She was amazing.” Zara sounded wistful as she spoke. “So beautiful and talented. She was a dancer for years. After she had me, she taught dance and got involved with community theater. Eventually she started directing.”
    “Do you look like her?”
    “No.” She drew her knees to her chest, careful to keep her nightgown and robe covering every inch of her, then rested her chin on her knees. “I suppose I’m tall like her, and skinny. But she had curves, which I do not. And she was graceful. I can barely walk through a room without knocking things over.”
    “Tell me about growing up.”
    Her mouth pulled straight, then twisted. “We moved around a lot. I think my mom had a giant case of wanderlust. Part of it might have been to keep King Hassan from finding her, but most of it was that she liked to be in different places. I think in a perfect world, she would have been part of a dance troupe that traveled all the time.”
    “But she wasn’t. And she had a child.”
    Zara nodded, her long, wavy hair swaying slightly with the movement. Earlier that day, she’d worn her hair back in a braid, but tonight it was loose. Rafe found himself wanting to slip his fingers through the strands to find out if it was as soft as it looked. He wanted to breathe in the scent of her hair, of her body, and taste every part of her with—
    He grabbed hold of his wayward desire and firmly quashed it. Zara was his responsibility. No way was he going to give in to an urge, no matter how strong.
    “She really tried to stay in one place,” Zara told him. “But it wasn’t her nature. She used to apologize when she needed to move on. I was constantly the new kid,