‘This way.’ She pulled him a little deeper, her other hand on the leaves as if by memory, turning a corner and then another, and as they turned once more he could hear water, faint at first but becoming louder with each step. She didn’t stop until they reached a fountain in the centre of this garden, this maze.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ she asked, turning to face him. He didn’t spare a glance for the space in which they stood. He was certain she was right, but he couldn’t look away from her. He ached to remove her mask; even if he did so, he would barely be able to see her face, given how dark it was this deep in the maze.
‘Yes.’ The word was guttural and deep.
He lifted a hand to her chin, taking it between his thumb and forefinger and holding her steady, scrutinising her as though if he looked hard enough and long enough he could make sense of this incredible attraction.
‘It’s famou
s, you know. The Palace Maze.’
He nodded. ‘I’ve heard of it.’
‘Of course. Everyone in Taquul has.’ She smiled, a flash of dark red lips. He didn’t correct her; she didn’t need to know he was from Ishkana—nor that he was the Sheikh of that country.
He continued to stare at her and her lips parted, her eyes sweeping shut so beyond the veil of her mask he could see two crescent-shaped sets of lashes, long and thick.
He should leave. This wasn’t appropriate. But leaving was anathema to him; it was as though he were standing in quicksand, completely in her thrall.
‘How long are you in Taquul for?’
Something shifted in her expression, in the little he could see of it, anyway. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t like it here?’
She expelled a soft sigh. ‘I have mixed feelings.’
It made more sense than such a vague statement should have. ‘What do you do in New York?’
Her smile now was natural. ‘I started the Early Intervention Literacy Association. I work on childhood literacy initiatives, particularly for children aged four to seven.’
It surprised him; he hadn’t been expecting her to say anything like that. She looked every inch the socialite, the heiress, rather than someone who rolled up her sleeves and worked on something so important.
‘What drew you to that?’
Her eyes shuttered him out even as she continued to look at him, as though there was something she wanted to keep secret, to keep from him. He instantly hated that. ‘It’s a worthwhile cause.’
He wanted to challenge her, to dig deeper, but he felt he was already balancing on a precipice, and that the more he knew was somehow dangerous.
‘Yes.’ Silence wrapped around them, but it was a silence that spoke volumes. His dark eyes bore into hers—a lighter shade of brown, like oak, sunshine and sand. He stared at her for as long as he could before dropping his eyes to her lips, then lower still to the curve of her breasts. The dress was black but so glossy it shimmered in the gentle moonlight.
‘This is incredible,’ he muttered, shaking his head as he ran his hand along her side, his fingertips brushing the flesh at her hips, then higher, tantalising the sweet spot beneath her arms, so close to her breasts he could see her awareness and desire, the plea in her eyes begging him to touch her there. His arousal hardened; he wanted to make love to her right here, beneath the stars, with the trees as their witness to whatever this madness was.
‘How long are you in Taquul for?’
Only as long as he absolutely needed to be.
Every moment in this kingdom felt like a betrayal to his parents and their memory. ‘Just this event. I leave immediately afterwards.’
Her eyes glittered with something like determination and she nodded. ‘Good.’ It was a purr. A noise that was half invitation, half dare. The latter made no sense but the former was an utter relief.
‘In answer to your earlier question, I don’t ever do this.’
He was quiet, waiting for her to say something else, to explain.
‘I don’t ever drag men I don’t know into the maze, or anywhere.’
Her breath snagged in her throat, her lips parted and her head tilted back, her eyes holding his even as she swayed forward, totally surrendering to the madness of this moment.