Love.
She held her breath and spun away from him, moving faster towards the palace. She didn’t see the way Raffa’s expression darkened, the way he ground his teeth together as he followed her. She didn’t know that guilt and recriminations were heavy in his chest.
But as she moved ahead of him, almost as though she couldn’t bear to be with him, Raffa knew something had to change.
“Chloe?”
She paused, without turning to face him.
Here, inside the palace, they were surrounded by servants, guests, people were everywhere.
He lowered his voice accordingly. “I have a dinner to attend this evening.”
Something like despair kicked in her gut. “Oh.” She knew she hadn’t hidden it. She kept her eyes focused on something over his shoulder.
“But there’s something I’d like to show you tomorrow. I’ve had your schedule cleared. Can you be ready at dawn?”
“Dawn?” She frowned, the surprise enquiry jerking her gaze to his. “Whatever for?”
His smile was enigmatic and gave little away; nor did it reach the depths of his swirling, dark eyes. “You’ll see.”
And then, he leaned forward, just a fraction, as though he was going to kiss her. As though he was going to press a kiss to her lips and she braced for that sweet, unexpected gesture.
Yet it didn’t eventuate. He straightened again, blinking, his smile tight. He looked, she realized, like a man with the world on his shoulders – heavy with concern. “Goodnight, Sheikha.”
“Goodnight.” The word was cool enough, but there was nothing cold about the way she felt.
She tossed and turned all night, despite the exhaustion that had chased her back from Switzerland. It was no hardship to rise at dawn – she’d barely been asleep.
She dressed in a pretty robe, a pale blue with gold leaves printed across it, and her hair she styled into a simple bun. The sun was rising and the air was still cool, hanging on to the night’s respite from that desert sun.
He opened the door without knocking, and his eyes went straight to the bed, as though expecting her to still be asleep. Was that disappointment in his expression?
She arched a brow from where she stood, sipping a sweet tea near the balcony, watching day claim its place over the formidable lands of Ras el Kida.
“You’re awake.”
“As you asked me to be,” she pointed out archly.
He nodded. “Then let’s go.”
He gestured towards the door and with no hint of the confusion she felt, she walked through it.
He showed her through the palace, towards the garden that led to the cliff the palace backed against, to the trees and the river that Amit had skimmed stones over. But instead of pursuing that path, they turned in another direction, and within minutes, found themselves at a large stone building with several arches carved into its edges.
“What is this place?”
A loud neighing sound answered and she smiled. “Never mind.”
“Do you ride?”
Chloe lifted her brows. “I grew up in Seattle. The closest I ever came to a horse was the mounted patrol.”
“Your brother’s an excellent horseman,” Raffa said with a hint of disapproval in the words. Disapproval towards her? She flicked her gaze to her husband’s face, but saw something else there. Anger. Not with her – she didn’t know how she recognized that, but she did.
“My father had horses,” Chloe said, remembering wistfully the beautiful brown beasts that she’d seen photographs of when she’d been just a girl. Perhaps eight or ten?
“Yes.” There it was again! Disapproval! But why?