“I am only teasing your wife, Mal,” Ali grinned, and Malik was impatient now for this to be at an end.
He lifted his hand to Sophia’s back and felt her tremble in response, and he understood. Heat blazed between them, just as it had in the limousine earlier that evening, just as it always did. Her eyes lifted to his and despite the easy exchange she’d just shared with Ali, there was tension in her expression now. Tension that he understood, because he felt the same.
“Are you ready to leave, your highness?” He murmured, running his fingers over her spine, feeling each ridge, each bump, each little intake of breath. The rest of the world dropped away. Ali was no longer there, nor were the other members of parliament.
; She nodded wordlessly, her eyes locked to his, and smiled. A tight smile, forced, nothing like the easy expression she’d offered Ali a moment earlier.
“Then let us leave. Excuse us, friend,” he murmured to Ali, steering Sophia away from the crowds, his expression one that didn’t invite interruption. The doors were opened for them by servants and they moved down the stairs. People were waiting, and they cheered as Sophia and Malik emerged. She smiled, lifted a hand a little to wave, but otherwise stayed right where she was, her body molded to his side, so close he could feel her breathing.
And he kept his hand clamped around her waist, glad she was at his side, but knowing he’d be gladder still when she was in his bed.
Chapter 7
“HOW DO YOU KNOW Ali?”
They’d left parliament at least ten minutes earlier and neither of them had spoken. Sophia’s heart was in her throat, desire hot and desperate between her legs. She blinked across at her husband, his question unexpected. All she could do was hold her breath and wait – wait to be back in the privacy of the palace and in his arms.
“Through Addan,” she said simply.
But it wasn’t simple. At least, not for Malik. “You mentioned last summer?”
“We spent a week on a yacht with him and some other friends,” she said, shaking her head. “Only a few months before…”
His eyes swept her face thoughtfully. “You and Addan travelled together, and still your relationship never became sexual?”
Heat filled her cheeks. “No.”
“How did he explain that? You had your own rooms, I presume, on this yacht?”
“Addan didn’t explain anything,” she said, stiffly, defensively, when she knew she didn’t need to defend Addan to his own brother. She sighed, turning to look out of the window. “I think it was just accepted amongst our friends that we were waiting until we were married.”
The words hung awkwardly between them.
“That’s absurd.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the twenty first century and you’re two consenting adults…”
“Yeah, well, I think it’s romantic,” she said quietly, not willing to hear anything approaching criticism of Addan. “And are you so very different? Would you not have expected your wife to be some innocent virgin?” Her cynicism was evident in the tone of her voice.
“Until the night my brother died, I had no intentions of marrying anyone.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He frowned. “Why would I?”
“I… because it’s what you do? Because it’s… family?”
“We’re all born alone, Sophia. We die alone. Why commit myself to someone for the rest of my life when I can do what I want? I like freedom. I like… independence.”
Something fogged in Sophia’s mind. A long-ago conversation with Addan.
“He scares me.” She whispered, beneath the sheets, the torch they’d brought with them casting shadows around them.
“Who, Malik?”