He was asking to touch her, again. The small sign of respect came naturally to him.
‘Please.’ She nodded.
He reached out and took hold of her curved hips, guiding her off the horse. The act brought her body to his, sliding down his length, so a heat that was impossible to ignore began to burn between her legs. She stood there, staring up at him, the sky bathing them in shades of violet and orange, the first stars beginning to twinkle overhead.
‘Why did you bring me here?’
A muscle jerked low in his jaw. She dropped her eyes to it, fascinated. Her fingertips itched to reach up and touch, to explore the planes of his face, to feel him with her eyes closed and see him as he’d been in the maze.
‘You wanted to see it.’
Her lips twisted in a half-smile. ‘There are many things I want to see.’
‘This was easy to arrange.’
The answer disappointed her. He was right. This had been easy—a short ride across the desert. He’d undoubtedly wanted to give the bird an outing—bringing Johara was just an afterthought.
It meant nothing to him. She was embarrassing herself by making it into more.
His voice rumbled through her doubts. ‘And I wanted to see it with you. Through your eyes.’ And then, with a frown, he lifted his hand to lightly caress her cheek. ‘I wanted to see your wonderment as you looked upon the ruins. I wanted to be here with you.’
Disappointment evaporated; pleasure soared in its place.
He dropped his hand and took a step backwards. She wanted to scream. He stalked away from her, pulling the blanket from the side of the horse and removing a silver bottle. ‘Would you like some water?’
She took it gratefully, taking a drink before handing it back to him. A drop of water escaped from the corner of her lips and before she could catch it, he’d reached out, his fingertip chasing it away then lingering beside her mouth.
She was in a world of trouble.
He took the bottle, had a drink then replaced it. ‘Come on.’ The words were gruff but she knew why. He wasn’t impatient or annoyed. He was fighting himself, trying to get control of how he felt about her and what he wanted. He was fighting the same war he’d been fighting since the night of the masquerade, when they’d learned who they truly were.
It was a war, she realised in a blinding moment of clarity, that they were both destined to lose. Just as passion had overpowered them on that first night, without reason or sense, it would triumph again.
‘Do you—’
Another sentence she didn’t—couldn’t—finish.
‘Do I?’
‘Need to tie him up?’ She jerked her thumb towards the horse without looking away from Amir. His eyes briefly flicked to the animal, his lips curling when he returned the full force of his attention to Johara.
‘No. He will stay nearby.’
A frisson of awareness shifted across her spine. ‘Because you’re the Sheikh and everyone and everything in this kingdom must obey you?’
His brows lifted, amusement and something far more dangerous flickering in the depths of his eyes. ‘Because he is well trained.’ He shifted his body weight from one foot to the other, the act bringing him infinitesimally closer. ‘And yes, because he obeys me.’
Every feminist bone in her body despaired at the pleasure she took in that—the idea of submitting to this man was sensual and pleasing and answered some archaic desire deep within her. She revolted against it, blinking to clear those desperately unworthy thoughts and forcing herself to step away from him, pretending fascination with the ruins. It was a fascination she shouldn’t have needed to pretend. The ruins were beautiful, ancient, endlessly steeped in history and folklore; Johara had longed to see them since she’d first heard about them as a teenager.
Amir clearly knew them well. He guided her through the buildings, or what was left of them, describing what each would have housed. The accommodations, the stables, the hall for dining and the communal courtyard from which announcements were made.
With his words and his knowledge, he brought the ruins to life for Johara. As he spoke, she could see the colours, the people, she could imagine the noise—horses snorting and stomping, people talking, laughing. It was all so vivid.
‘I never thought they would be this beautiful,’ she said, shaking her head as he led her across the courtyard and through a narrow opening. A tower stood sentinel over the ruins.
‘For security,’ he murmured. ‘This gave a vantage point in all directions.’ The stairs were time-worn, carved into low depressions at the centre of each courtesy of footsteps and sandstorms.
‘It’s perfectly safe,’ he assured her as they reached the top and he pushed open another door to reveal a small opening. The balcony was not large—with the two of them standing there, it left about a metre’s space, and there were no guard rails, which meant Johara instinctively stayed close to Amir.