The Royal Affair

“It damned near killed me to leave you,” he admitted, his voice rough.

She read the truth of his words in his eyes. This strong, courageous man had exiled himself to keep her safe. And he didn’t believe he deserved her now.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he continued, his voice somber. “I’d do the same again. And you’re right to despise me. I don’t expect that to change. But for God’s sake, Maya, don’t ever think I didn’t want you.”

And then he lowered his head and kissed her—softly, tenderly, as if expressing what he couldn’t say.

She savored the sensual heat of his mouth, inhaled the intriguing scent of his skin. He angled her chin, parted her lips with his tongue, igniting a tempest of need in her blood.

He ended the kiss, but didn’t move. His uneven breath battled with hers. And raw need blazed in his eyes.

“Maya, walk away,” he rasped.

She trembled, knowing she should do it. The past was gone. They had no future together. This was a line they shouldn’t cross.

Dear Reader,

I’ve always been intrigued by the Himalayas, an exotic, mystical land filled with ancient cultures and religions, home to the most majestic peaks on earth. So what better place to end THE CRUSADERS trilogy than Romanistan, a fictitious country located high in that sacred terrain?

I loved learning about the Himalayan cultures while researching this book, and especially liked writing about Maya and Deven, two noble and courageous people. Maya dedicates herself to rescuing downtrodden women and giving them the hope and love she never had. Deven, a man haunted by dark secrets, gave up the woman he loved to save her from evil. Neither expects to embark on a dangerous journey to fulfill an ancient prophecy—a journey that will test their courage, reveal their identities, and enable them to find the love they deserve.

I’ve taken great liberties with history while writing this series, but the story of the Roma is roughly true (although the royal line and artifacts are my invention). I’m sure I haven’t done justice to the cultures involved, but I’ve had tremendous fun writing THE CRUSADERS. I hope you enjoy the conclusion!

Gail Barrett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

GAIL BARRETT

Gail Barrett always knew she’d be a writer. Who else would spend her childhood grinding sparkling rocks into fairy dust and convincing her friends it was real? Or daydream her way through elementary school, spend high school reading philosophy and playing the bagpipes, and then head off to Spain during college to live the writer’s life? After four years she straggled back home—broke, but fluent in Spanish. She became a teacher, earned a master’s degree in linguistics, married a Coast Guard officer and had two sons.

But she never lost the desire to write. Then one day, she discovered a Silhouette Intimate Moments novel in a bookstore—and knew she was destined to write romance. Her books have won numerous awards, including a National Readers’ Choice Award and Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart.

She currently lives in western Maryland. Readers can contact her through her Web site, www.gailbarrett.com.

To my sons, Joe and John K.,

with hopes that you follow your dreams!

I’d like to thank the following people for their help: Frank Henderson, for his information about helicopters; Lisa Sullivan for her invaluable insights about India; Ruchi Dahal for answering my endless questions about Nepal; and as always, Judith Sandbrook, my fabulous critique partner. Thank you, all!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

S omeone was following her.

Maya Chaudry pressed herself deeper into the dimly lit alcove, hardly daring to breathe. Cold sweat beaded her palms, and her pulse raced in haphazard spurts. She locked her gaze on the staircase behind her, struggling to hear above the dull roar rocketing through her skull.

Muted sounds drifted up from the ballroom—the high strains of the stringed sarangi, the deeper drumming beats of the mandal. Bursts of tinny laughter from the women Singh had flown into his Himalayan palace for the lavish affair.

The party was signature Singh—white truffles, vodka filtered through a hundred diamonds, Almas Iranian caviar served in twenty-four-karat gold tins. No cost spared to create that veneer of elegance and sophistication.

And mask the depravity underneath.

Maya’s belly clenched, and a fierce sense of urgency tore through her nerves. She had to hurry. She needed to find the kidnapped girl and whisk her to safety before Singh tired of the party downstairs.

But she hadn’t imagined those footsteps.

Had Singh spotted her? Had he expected her? A flurry of dread swirled through her at the thought. But breaking into the notorious criminal’s palace had been easy—far too easy, the security around the servants’ entrance too lax. And now someone was dogging her steps—hiding, biding his time, toying with her in a cat-and-mouse game that could lead to a deadly trap.