‘Exactly.’ She heard the smile in his voice but kept her eyes closed.
‘I think I’m okay now.’
‘Just lie back.’
The plane chose that moment to accelerate down the runway and Farah’s stomach revolted as they were lifted into the air. ‘Oh, no I— Oh!’
Before she registered what was happening, she was in Zach’s arms and then she was bent over a toilet bowl and emptying the contents of her stomach—which was thankfully very little, since she’d been too nervous to eat during the reception.
‘I think I hate champagne,’ she mumbled, so wretched she couldn’t even muster any embarrassment.
His soft laugh was vaguely reassuring. ‘I thought you loved it.’
‘Not any more.’
‘Unfortunately, you’re likely to feel even worse tomorrow.’
‘Please feel free to shoot me if I do.’
‘I don’t want to shoot you, habiba,’ he said so softly she almost didn’t catch it.
She took the glass of water he offered and drank deeply. When she was finished, she was only vaguely aware of him lifting her and carrying her to a cool, flat surface. She buried her head against something warm and firm. A pillow?
She felt her hair being released from the confines of her twist and moaned softly when he threaded his fingers through it.
‘I love your hair.’
She frowned but didn’t open her eyes. ‘You do?’
‘Yes. And your eyebrows.’ He swept a finger over each one. ‘Like the wings of a raven in full flight. And your nose—’
‘My nose is too prominent.’
He ran his finger down the fine blade. ‘It suits your face. And your mouth...’
Farah yawned and snuggled further into the pillow that smelled just like the prince. For some reason she felt completely relaxed and safe, as if she didn’t have anything in the world to worry about. It was such a novel experience she let it wash over her. ‘What about my mouth?’ she asked, her mind drifting toward sleep.
‘Your mouth.’ He paused. ‘Let’s just say your mouth keeps me up nights.’
‘Mmm, that’s nice.’
He chuckled. ‘I’m glad you think so.’
He stoked her hair and Farah floated into another realm, trying to cling on to whatever it was the prince was saying, but quite unable to do so.
* * *
When she finally regained consciousness she was instantly flooded with alarm. She should be helping to get water down by the well; she should be fixing breakfast. Then the softness of the bed she was in permeated her hazy state and she opened her eyes and saw floaty white curtains across the room being ruffled by a gentle breeze. Used to gaging her surroundings by scent, she breathed in deeply. The air was humid rather than dry and held a tinge of brine to it. A balminess.
Her mind started recollecting all the moments that had led to this one but there was a gaping hole between her throwing up on Zach’s luxuriously appointed plane to lying in a bed that was as big as her whole room growing up.
And where was he? Because she could already tell that he had not slept beside her last night. Rising up on her elbows, she gingerly shifted her head from side to side to test the headache. Fortunately it didn’t hurt but her mouth felt like she’d stuffed cotton into it and she was thirsty. Which was probably why she’d woken up thinking about water.
Pushing the linen sheet aside, she frowned when she realised she was only wearing her underwear. Did that mean Zach had undressed her last night or did he have an army of servants in this place, as well?
Flicking the bathroom light on against the gray haze of early morning, she was surprised to see that she looked pretty normal, except for the smudge of kohl around her eyes and her mussed hair. Wiping away the make-up, and brushing her teeth with the new toothbrush that stood in a small gold jar on the marble sink, she set about trying to tidy her hair. Deciding it was impossible, she was about to leave the room when she caught sight of herself in a full-length mirror. The underwear she’d been given for the wedding was pure white and as delicate as a finely spun spider’s web. The bra was demi-cup, the panties cut high on her hips and completely sheer, somehow making the dark curls they hid look tempting and erotic. Shaking off the unnerving spark of arousal that thought caused, she truly hoped a servant had undressed her and not Zach.
Really? A little voice taunted.
No... She grimaced at the battle inside her head, grabbed a white robe she spied hanging from the back of the door and belted it tightly around her waist. She didn’t hope that. Much to her chagrin, part of her hoped that Zach had undressed her and that he’d liked what he’d seen.