The pretence of cool could not contain her delight and she gasped, ‘Six weeks? Honestly?’
‘Honestly…and I intend for us to make full use of every priceless moment.’ Matching words to action, Shahir captured her mouth with hungry urgency and let his tongue delve deep in an exploratory foray.
Tiny little darts of flame licked low in her pelvis. The tender crests of her breasts tingled. Already she wanted to feel his hands on her again. Embarrassed though she was by her susceptibility, she couldn’t resist him.
Reaching up to him in a helplessly encouraging movement, she let her fingers spear through the tousled depths of his black hair.
Shahir lifted his head again, his dark eyes reflective. ‘You see, it will take every day of those weeks for you to learn royal etiquette and the history of our family…’
Kirsten blinked. ‘I suppose…’
‘And perhaps a little more Arabic.’
She nodded, seeing the solid sense of that as well.
Looking pensive, Shahir continued to study her. ‘As my wife you should get to know the desert. The ability to ride a horse would be an advantage…and of course I could teach you to dance…’
Kirsten turned brick-red at that low reminder. ‘It all sounds very educational.’
He unleashed his vibrant smile again. ‘And the education will continue in private as well, while you teach me what you l
ike,’ he suggested huskily, letting a caressing hand curve to the swell of her hip as he brought her closer. ‘And I teach you what I like…’
‘But I might not have the energy to learn anything after all those lessons in etiquette, history and dancing.’ Kirsten let her fingertips forge a provocative feminine trail down his taut flat stomach.
Shahir could not conceal his surprise or his instant fascination at that first show of boldness on her part. ‘We’ll make the time, aziz, ‘ he breathed unsteadily, hauling her to him with unsubtle force. ‘Even if we have to stay here for ever!’
CHAPTER TEN
THE music Kirsten’s nimble fingers coaxed from the piano keyboard in a rich flood of virtuoso notes flowed round the room and out into the corridor where the staff stood listening. The difficult technical passages of a Rachmaninoff prelude gave way to the fast upbeat rhythm of several Gershwin pieces, and finally to a dreamy waltz that soothed in the heat of midday when there was not a hint of a breeze in the air.
‘If you hadn’t married Shahir and become a besotted wife and mother, you might have become a great classical pianist,’ her brother Daniel mused, reclining back in his seat in a lazy sprawl and sipping at a chilled lemon drink.
Kirsten laughed at the idea. Glazed doors had been folded back so that the room was open to the beautiful shaded courtyard beyond. Leaving the piano, she stepped over Squeak, who was snoozing in front of a whirling fan. She strolled out to sit down casually on a low wall beside Tazeem’s pram. ‘I’m not that good a player.’
‘Oh, yes, you are. But you would have had to struggle to make a name for yourself in the music world, and you might never have got a lucky break. Instead you became a royal princess, with several palaces, legions of staff and a magnificent grand piano,’ the young blond man quipped, watching her scoop his nephew out of the pram with loving maternal hands and proceed to cuddle him. ‘There’s no contest.’
‘It’s not all about what I’ve gained in material terms…I’m just happy,’ Kirsten proclaimed a tad defensively as she dropped a kiss down on Tazeem’s satin-smooth cheek.
‘And you should be. Shahir spoils you rotten, I’ve got an open ticket to fly out here any weekend I want to see you—’
‘Hasn’t that been marvellous?’ his sister interrupted with enthusiasm. ‘We didn’t have much time together at the wedding. But since then we’ve got to know each other again.’
‘I must admit that it’s no sacrifice to leave my student accommodation and enjoy three-course meals, a choice of swimming pools and servants on tap,’ Daniel confided with engaging honesty. ‘You are living an extraordinary life here.’
‘Yes…’ Kirsten gave him a dizzy smile.
‘You wear diamonds one day, sapphires the next, and dazzling designer outfits you change every few hours. In fact you’re better turned out than any Stepford Wife.’
Kirsten reddened and focused surprised eyes on him. ‘I make an effort to look good. Is that a crime?’
Her sibling winced, looked as though he was about to speak, then apparently thought better of the idea and fell silent.
‘What’s wrong?’ Kirsten prompted
‘Well, I wasn’t planning to comment, and maybe I should mind my own business…but sometimes it seems like you’re trying so hard to be perfect at everything that you’re stressing yourself out.’
It was such an astute comment that she paled and screened her eyes. ‘Did Shahir say something to you?’