and faster. No matter which way she looked, she saw something that trapped her. The home of her dreams. The man of her dreams. The blood on her dress…
Kareef grabbed her before she could fall. His intense blue eyes stared down at her. She dimly heard him shouting. She saw his men rushing to obey.
She saw Kareef’s lips moving, saw the concern in his blue eyes, but couldn’t hear what he was saying. She could only hear the ragged pant of her own breathing, the frantic pounding of her own heart.
Colors continued to spin around her as her knees started to slide. In the distance she saw the black marestaring back at her. Black like the horse who’d thrown her long ago. Black like the accident that had caused her to lose everything.
Black.
Black.
Black…
Suddenly, Kareef’s worried face came into sharp focus.
“You’re awake,” he said in a low voice. “Do you know who I am?”
Jasmine discovered that she was lying on her back in a bedroom she didn’t recognize. Her head was pounding; her throat was dry.
She tried to sit up. “Where—where am I?”
“Don’t try to move,” he said, pushing her back gently on the bed. “My own doctor’s on the way.”
Her head was flat on the pillow as she looked slowly around the bedroom. It was large, rustic and comfortable, with a king-sized bed and spartan furnishings. It was very masculine, smelling of leather and wood. She looked at the small fireplace made out of hewn rock. “I’m in your bedroom?”
“So you know who I am,” Kareef said, sounding relieved.
Jasmine gave a derisive snort. “The illustrious king of Qusay, the adored and revered prince of Qais, the delight of all harem girls everywhere, the…”
“How hard did that glass hit your head?” he demanded, but his mouth quirked up into a smile. He’d been worried, she realized. Very worried.
“Did I faint?” She tried to sit up, to show them both she was all right.
“Don’t move!”
“I feel fine!”
“The doctor will be the judge of that.”
“You said I have a small cut on my scalp. That doesn’t require a team of specialists. Stick a bandage on my head.”
“And you fainted,” he reminded her.
Her cheeks went hot with embarrassment. She felt sure her fainting had nothing to do with the bump on her head and had been instead some kind of panic attack—but how could she explain that without bringing up the long-ago accident she absolutely, positively did not want to talk about?
She didn’t need to bring it up. His next words proved that.
“What is it about you and doctors?” he said softly, looking down at her. “Why do you refuse to let me take decent care of you?”
Their eyes locked, and she sucked in her breath. She knew what he was thinking about.
After the horse-riding accident, he’d pleaded to fetch a doctor. But she’d refused. She been desperate to keep her shame a secret, to protect her family. Please, Kareef, just hold me, I’ll be fine, she’d cried. But when she’d started shaking with fever, he’d broken his word. He’d returned with a doctor and two servants he thought he could trust.
One of the servants had been Marwan, who’d betrayed them the instant Kareef disappeared into the desert. Her family had been devastated, nearly destroyed. Because of her.
Blinking fast, she turned her head away.
Kareef leaned over the bed. With the prison of hisarms on the mattress around her, she slowly looked up into his face.
Their faces was inches apart. Tension coiled between them.
“Here,” he muttered, looking away. “Let me fix this.”
He reached behind her and rearranged the pillows. He lifted her, and she closed her eyes, relishing the warmth and strength of his arms. Then he gently pushed her back against the pillows, into a sitting position. He stroked her hair.
“Better?” he said in a low voice.
His mouth was inches from her own. She felt the warmth of his breath against her skin. It made her shiver from her mouth to her earlobes to