His exhalation of breath ruffles the hair on my head. “Because you’re not what I expected.”
“No?” My heart thumps.
“I thought I would hate you.”
“You don’t?”
His smile is dismissive. “Not entirely.”
“Jeez, thanks.”
He runs his thumb over my lower lip and my mouth opens on a sigh; he slides his thumb inside so I groan a little, swaying forward. “I thought I would hate you, and that I would sleep with you to cement our marriage. Now, things are considerably less simple.”
“So not hating me is a…bad thing?”
He runs his thumb down my chin and I make a soft, juddering noise. His eyes are watchful as his thumb grazes the flesh of my throat, tormenting me with the lightness of his touch, the promise in that small, gentle contact. “It changes things.”
I close my eyes, surrendering to this. “What things?” The question emerges as a tortured whisper.
“How we should proceed. Go to bed, azeezi.”
I shake my head slowly, my eyes opening to find him staring at me, eyes loaded with intent.
“Go to bed now, before I change my mind.”
Zahir
I deserve a medal. I swam for an hour after she went inside, my body pulling through the water as far as I could go before it became too shallow and my knuckles grazed the sandy bottom. Then I’d turn around and swim back the other way, hoping I could wear myself out enough to put her from my mind. What the hell is happening to me? Thirty six hours ago I hated this woman with a passion and now what? Because she’s blinked her enormous blue eyes at me a few times and played dumb about her father’s determined efforts to overthrow my government I’m wanting to see the best in her?
Since when did I get so soft? So gullible?
It’s not that I think she’s lying to me. I truly believe Amy has no idea about her father’s actions, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t do whatever she could to further his goals. The question is this: at seventy nine, with his daughter already installed on the throne as my wife, will he continue to stir up trouble? Is it possible he just can’t help himself?
My face is grim as I turn to face her. The bed is not wide enough for us. I can’t help but touch her as I lie here, my back pressed to the soft feather-filled mattress,
my breathing hushed in case I wake her. She is now sleeping on her stomach, a sight that brings a reluctant smile to my face. Her head is turned in my direction, her lips parted as she breathes quietly, in and out, over and over. My fingers ache to move her hair – it’s falling over her brow and I wonder if she’d be more comfortable with it out of her way?
But touching her would be a bad decision. Employing all my willpower, I close my eyes and keep my hands right where they are, balled into fists at my side. Ending this honeymoon as soon as possible is the last thought I form before drifting into a shallow, unsatisfying sleep, and it’s the first thought I capture when I wake, a scant few hours later.
Amy
“What do you mean, ‘go back to the palace?’”
He lifts a shoulder in half a shrug. “Is it a complicated concept?”
“We’re meant to be out here for three days,” I remind him stubbornly. “That was your decree, not mine. What’s changed?”
Unconsciously, I invoke the exact question I’d asked the night before, as he bathed naked in the oasis, beneath the stunning, full moon. Heat glows in my cheeks at the reminder of that.
“Well, quite simply, we’ve decided to shelve the matter of a baby, so I cannot see the point in remaining here.”
Indignation fires in my blood. So because we’re not sleeping together, he wants to go back to the palace and ignore me? Until when? I reject that idea immediately, refusing to let him dictate a plan that seems guaranteed to lead to unhappiness for both of us.
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Absolutely not. I refuse.”
“Amy, I’m not sure if I need to point this out to you, but you do realise –,”
“Yes, yes, I know,” I interrupt, waving a hand through the air. “You’re the all-mighty Sheikh and I’m supposed to do whatever you say, just like everyone else in this country seems to.”