“I’m fine.” He hit the switch and threw them into darkness.

  Her eyes adjusted to the moonlight filtering through the window, and Piper stared up at the ceiling. She tried to close her eyes. Once. Twice. Three times. But she couldn’t relax. And no wonder—Camil was as on edge as she’d ever seen him. He was pretending to sleep beside her, but all the lingering tension in his body was a dead giveaway. He normally relaxed quickly, the worries of the day leaving his feet and his legs and finally, with a stretch, the rest of him.

  He was doing a terrible job of faking sleep.

  And something else was wrong. He hadn’t wanted to talk to her after he turned out the light. He hadn’t so much as touched her since dinner. It was the first time he’d been so distant since she’d quietly started staying at the palace.

  Well. He was allowed to have an off night. He was, after all, the crown prince of Al-Fahr. Helping to run the country would be stressful for anyone, but twice as much for a man like Camil, who wanted to do things the right way.

  Piper closed her eyes determinedly this time.

  They wouldn’t stay closed.

  And Camil didn’t fall asleep. His breathing stayed shallow and restless.

  She’d count to a hundred.

  Piper made it to thirty before she sat up, pushing the covers back. “Tell me what’s going on,” she demanded into the dark. It wasn’t fair that even the shape of him lying there, quietly distant, was gorgeous in the moonlight.

  Camil turned over onto his back with a sigh, then pushed himself up on one elbow. “I have to go out to the desert palace. The architect wants me to walk the space and make some final decisions about the renovations.”

  It took everything she had not to roll her eyes. Of course he was thinking about business. Camil was so focused on the task of commercializing one of the greatest love stories in the world that he probably had no idea Piper was going crazy. She’d been trying so hard to figure out if she’d made some misstep, and his stress was business-related.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  His eyes met hers, and after a moment, he nodded. “You can come with me. Who knows? There could be more resources out there for your book. It’s possible not all the material made it to the archives.”

  “I would like that.”

  Camil reached for her then, pulling her in for a kiss that felt like an apology. For his stress? He didn’t need to apologize for that. But if there was something else—

  His hands worked into her hair, and Camil coaxed her lips open with his tongue. Parts of her melted, eager to lose themselves in his hands, in his lips. She loved his touch. Craved it. But something was different. Apology…or distraction?

  She tried to focus on the heat of her core as she straddled him. Camil pushed her shirt—one of his, an oversized plain T-shirt that was more expensive than any shirt she’d ever bought herself—up into her hands, and she held it there while he slipped his fingers between her legs. Oh, he was skilled at that, stroking her in ways that almost made her forget the strangeness of the night. The way he hadn’t touched her, but now he was. The way he’d pretended to sleep, but he’d been so tense.

  The palace didn’t warrant that kind of tension, did it?

  Piper shoved those thoughts away. What mattered was the slow roll of his thumb on her clit. What mattered was the way he held her hip in one hand, steadying her above him, and it made her feel safe and tended to, even though—

  Even though—

  They could talk about it later. She wished they could talk about it now, but it was late after a long day and Piper wanted more pleasure, not awkwardness. No argument could compete with the slick heat between her legs, and she didn’t want it to.

  Camil let out a breath that was pure want, a stifled impatience, and shoved down the sleep pants he wore. Piper angled herself over him and sank down. She let him fill her. She let him take up all the space in her, stretching her in a way that turned her on even more. Her nipples pebbled underneath the T-shirt, and her head tipped back with the sensation. Camil braced both hands on her hips and rocked her over him.

  Oh, he was good at that too. He seemed to know exactly which angle to use to give her more contact.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “Yes. Come like this.”

  The moment the words were out of his mouth, she didn’t have a choice. Release burst over her like a firework, shaking her body down onto Camil’s thickness, and he made his own wordless noise and held her down hard as the aftershocks came.

  When it was over, Camil lowered her gently back to the pillow and climbed out of bed. He returned with a warm washcloth and tended to her as her eyes grew heavy.

  There was still time to press him on what was wrong. She looked at him in the moonlight as he moved the washcloth in gentle strokes, the lightest pressure. There was still time—

  Piper fell asleep before she could ask.

  10

  The desert palace was smaller than the one in the city, and older, but it took Piper’s breath away.

  “Gorgeous,” she told Camil as they came through the large, graceful entrance and into the foyer. White sandstone on the outside gave way to rich, dark flooring on the inside. The foyer featured an intricately tiled wall with a burbling fountain that made the space sound lively and cool. It was cool, thanks to the modern air-conditioning system that had been put in.

  “I left this mainly as it was for the time being,” Camil said. “We’ll renovate to match the other updates.”

  She made a noncommittal noise, which was all she could muster when it came to tearing out the elegant foyer. It struck a neat balance between royal residence and private home, with a sitting area off to one side and a wide arched doorway in the back. “Have you been focusing on the grounds, then?”

  He grinned down at her, and Piper very nearly forgot to be opposed to the renovations. Camil had the most striking smile she’d ever seen. She couldn’t help but return it.

  “I take that as a yes,” she teased.

  “Let me show you.”

  The courtyards were in mid-transformation, bursting with newly planted flowers and accented with water features. Slightly modern for her taste, but not garish. Piper could appreciate the skill it had taken to tell a story with the plants as they wound through the gardens. Pops of color gave way to white, then palest purple, then a vibrant pink. At the palace entrance she squeezed Camil’s arm.

  “It’s nice work in the gardens.”

  “They were quite dead and untended before,” he pointed out. “So I’d say this is an improvement.”

  She did not say that it was possible to plant flowers without ripping out the original installations and pouring new planters. “The colors are stunning.”

  They went back inside, and Piper took in the mosaics on the walls, the sandstone, the polished floor. The home echoed as they moved through.

  As if he’d noticed at the same moment, Camil said, “No one has lived here beyond a skeleton staff in a long while. It will all need to be cleaned up when the renovations are completed.”

  “You know,” she said, as they walked under an archway with a tiled design the color of a burning sunset, “this is the kind of palace little girls dream about.”

  The tiles and sandstone came together in inconceivable curves all through the airy rooms.

  “It will be,” Camil agreed. “As soon as I’m finished with it.” He led her across an inner courtyard to another hallway, this one tiled in shades of blue that soothed and stunned in equal measure. “The sheikh’s apartments,” Camil announced. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Piper’s face heated with excitement. “I—You didn’t have to plan a surprise.”

  “It was nothing.” Camil’s smile lit her up inside, despite her nagging reservations about the changes he was making. He reached down and opened one of the wide double doors leading to the apartments.

  They were as graceful as the rest of the palace. Even more so, with long, gauzy curtains covering the enormous windows. Those curtains swayed in the breeze. Only these rooms, out of all of the spaces they’d passed by, were furnished. Someone was taking care of this space. A bouquet of fresh flowers sat on a low table just inside the door, and Piper leaned down to breathe in their scent.

  “The surprise isn’t the flowers,” Camil said, and she laughed. Oh, maybe it would be all right. Maybe he had just been stressed about this palace visit last night.

  “Then what is it, Prince Camil?”

  He drew her hand to his arm, the way he always escorted her in the city, and leaned down to murmur into her ear. “I called ahead and asked if there was anything that might have belonged to my great-grandparents. The staff mentioned a small library in the former sheikh’s rooms.”

  “Is it a state secret?” she whispered back. There was no one else in the room.

  “It could be,” he joked, keeping his voice low. “Or maybe I like the way you blush when I speak to you this way.”

  She blushed again. They stepped through another archway and into a hallway. Camil led her past one door, then two, then three, then paused outside one with a flower carved into the door. “I think this is it,” he said, and opened it.

  Piper couldn’t believe her eyes. One large wall of the room was entirely made up of bookshelves, and the bookshelves—

  The bookshelves.

  “These are—” She stepped closer, peering at the books, skimming her fingers lightly over the spines. “I think these are first editions.”

  Camil pulled one from the shelf, balanced it on his palm, and opened the cover. “You’re right.” He replaced it with care. “Go ahead and look.” He stepped back from the shelves, his hands in his pockets, and Piper pressed a hand to her chest. This was too much. All these books. First editions and rare copies and—

  “Journals,” she breathed, spying them on the end of one shelf. They were unmistakably journals, with cracked spines and paper that had wrinkled from use. Piper whirled around to face Camil. “Can we take these back to the palace?”

  “Of course.” His hazel eyes shone. “I want you to have access to anything you might need.”

  She threw her arms around him, holding him tight. “Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Camil put his arms around her and rubbed her back.

  Piper’s stomach growled, and she laughed, delighted and slightly embarrassed. “I might need some lunch.”

  “Marry me,” said Camil.

  She laughed again and stepped back to see his face.

  He looked a little surprised at himself. A little hopeful. He met her eyes with a question there and paused. Then a half-smile curved his lips. He thought she would say yes. He wanted her to say yes. He meant it.

  His expression stopped her heart. He hadn’t meant to say what he said, but—

  “Could you—could you repeat that?” She dropped her hands away from his waist. There. She’d given him an out.

  But instead of brushing it off, a slow smile spread across his face. “Marry me.”

  Her pulse banged in her ears. It was not the proposal she’d dreamed about as a girl. She was not wearing a beautiful gown, and he wasn’t down on one knee. Camil was not offering her a ring in a velvet-lined box. It turned out none of that mattered. She wanted to say yes more than she’d ever wanted to agree to anything.

  Because she was in love with him. Her heart thundered with proof. Camil might not be anything like her Prince Charming, who she’d been imagining since childhood, but she’d fallen for him.

  “Yes,” she heard herself say, and then she was back in Camil’s arms. He kissed her, joy ringing from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

  “We’ll get a ring when we get back to the city,” Camil murmured into her ear, and her face went hot at his tone. “As soon as we get back.”

  A noise down the hall interrupted the moment, and Camil laughed. “The architect,” he said. “He’ll be arriving now. And you need to eat.” Camil swept her out into the hall and called for one of the staff, who appeared as if he’d been waiting for this moment all his life. He listened intently to Camil’s request for a snack that Piper could walk with and hurried off. He returned before they reached the main hall with a yogurt parfait and spoon. Piper had the first bite in her mouth before she realized Camil was watching for her reaction—and so was the staff member.

  “It’s good,” she said. “Thank you.”

  They met the designer in the hall, Piper still eating the parfait, and the man led them into a wing they hadn’t been to before. He spoke quickly, painting a picture with his hands as they moved through the rooms.

  It was a picture of hell. The designer envisioned stripping out all the tile mosaics and replacing them with flat paint. They’d keep only sections of the mosaics in recessed areas with programmable lights that would serve as entertainment for anyone who happened to be walking down the hall. Chrome accents everywhere. Minimalist furniture. Stark white walls with edgy art.

  When was Camil going to stop this disaster? Everything out of the designer’s mouth reminded her of the Taj Mahal Casino in Atlantic City—all flash and glam, no history. No soul.

  But Camil liked it. He kept nodding and smiling, like this had been the plan all along.

  Horror settled in the pit of her stomach. This had been the plan all along.

  The three of them entered a large room, and the designer threw out his hands. “This can be divided into at least four suites. And over here, in this one, we could put a heart-shaped tub.”

  Piper felt sick. The most cliché, tacky thing a resort could do would be to put in a heart-shaped tub, and it hit her all at once.

  Camil was going to completely commercialize this beautiful desert jewel. He was going to rip out everything that had given it its character, its soul, and make it a tourist trap. He had no respect for his ancestors, for love, or even for Piper. Clearly, he hadn’t heard a word of her arguments for preserving the palace. He’d been ignoring her all along.

  She couldn’t marry him.

  “I have to go,” she blurted out in the middle of the architect’s speech, and both men turned to look at her. The architect’s brows rose—who was she to interrupt his tour?—but Camil’s drew together. He was worried for her, she realized. Well, he should have been worried earlier on. Worried that he was making a terrible mistake, which he was.

  Camil stepped close, but she took a half-step back, putting a bit of breathing room between them. “I can’t stay here another minute. You need to take me back to the palace.”

  His mouth dropped open, but he snapped it shut immediately. Shock widened his eyes, and he took her by the arm and drew her out into the hall. The architect stayed behind in the larger room. All she could see was the mosaic behind him. Another lost treasure. It would be ripped out and thrown in a dumpster like so much discarded trash.

  Camil pushed a lock of hair away from her face and Piper forced herself to stay in place, though she wanted to move—wanted to run out the front door of the palace without looking back. “Piper, what’s wrong?”

  She met his eyes, her stomach clenching. The yogurt had turned to a rock in her stomach, and she hated that she was still holding the spoon and the cup. She hated her own devastation. Hated her shock at realizing that Camil was never going to change his mind about this palace, or about anything else, and if she went through with marrying him, then she would be trapped in a loveless life. And worst of all? It would all play out in public. She would always be searching for places to hide from a country that would expect them to be in love.

  “I’ve made a mistake,” she said, head held high. “I can’t do this.”

  11

  Piper left the palace the moment they arrived back in the city, and Camil didn’t stop her.

  He wanted to stop her. He wanted to stand in her way and demand that she stay with him until they’d resolved this rift, but he did not. She was an independent woman. She was not his wife. And even if she were, he wouldn’t order her around.

  The journals arrived five minutes after she left with a palace driver. They were carried in a wooden box by a page, who was clearly looking for Piper, a smile already on his face.

  “She’s gone,” Camil said. “I’ll take them.”

  He’d never seen a smile drop away from a person’s face so quickly. “I’ll leave them for her in the archives.”

  “No.” Camil took the crate out of the page’s hands. “I’ll handle it.” He couldn’t bring himself to say that Piper wouldn’t be back. Why should she be? Her expression at the desert palace had been so horrified, so sad. Something had gone terribly wrong. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what. Camil took the crate back to his rooms, where a good half of Piper’s work was cluttering a table in his sitting room. The box fit in an empty space in the center of the table.

  He could hardly look at it.

  Camil didn’t touch it, either. It was his only hope—that she’d return for her work.

  He ignored it successfully for a few days while the gnawing ache at his core spread outward until every breath was filled with it. No answers came to mind. They hadn’t had an argument at the desert palace. He’d proposed, and she had said yes, and then—

  Then what?

  On the fourth day, Camil came back from a long day of meetings and audiences and collapsed into a chair by Piper’s table. He wasn’t looking for answers. Not here. He just missed her. He missed her so much it hurt.

  He paged through her notes, her typed observations, and the journals themselves, and for the first time in his life, Camil found himself spellbound by the story of his great-grandparents.