She arranged the bits that looped at the front of her dress, and made sure it sat neatly over her hair. “Is this right?”
A muscle flecked in the side of his cheek. She looked achingly beautiful. “Yes. It will do.”
“Great.” She rolled her eyes. The dress was spectacular too, now that she looked at it properly. The sleeves were the same transparent green of the headscarf, from the shoulders to the wrists. They were loose at the wrists, like bells. The dress itself though was fitted to the hips and then it flared a little, to the floor. The hem was beaded with what looked to be pearls. “I can’t wear this kind of thing every day, though. Right?”
His eyes narrowed. “You will wear what I tell you to. What I tell you is appropriate. Your ongoing cooperation is essential to our arrangement.”
She swallowed. It was not a normal relationship. They were not equal. And that very fact made her miserable. It made her stomach ache and her eyes sting. “Yes, sir,” she whispered, feeling instantly better by using the formal term of address. After all, if she remembered their formality, she wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid like to start developing feelings for her captor.
Tamir wasn’t sure why her submission angered him. It was in such stark contrast to the fire that he knew was burning within her. Hadn’t he wanted her obedience? Hadn’t he longed to control her from the moment he’d seen her? She’d played into his desires perfectly, and he had her where he wanted her. But now that he had it, he knew it felt completely wrong.
His expression was a deep, dark scowl.
“Come. Let us return to the seats.”
Tamir emerged, and said something in Talidarian, including her name – the only two words she comprehended.
The crew, gathered in the plane, all stood as one, and stared at Olivia as she passed. Her cheeks flushed, and her expression showed her confusion. Had Tamir just announced her as his mistress? Did they all think they’d just been having sex in the royal flying bedroom?
Olivia flushed and lowered her eyes, moving to the seats they’d previously occupied. “What was that?” She demanded, when she’d settled opposite him.
Tamir’s eyes met hers. “A preview.”
She didn’t understand, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking him any more questions. If he wanted to be cryptic, then that was fine by her.
It was several hours before the plane touched down on the tarmac in Liya, but Olivia didn’t sleep. She couldn’t. Though she felt tired, her mind was buzzing. Her brain wouldn’t be quietened. She had a strange sense of unease – a sense of foreboding that made her restless.
It was almost midnight, local time, when they disembarked, yet the air still sang with the day’s heat. The fragrance of the desert jasmine and fruit trees hit Olivia like a wave of the past. It was so familiar, and so intoxicating, that she actually smiled. She had loved Talidar, and being back – even in these circumstances – was surprisingly nostalgic.
As she walked down the narrow steps, from the aeroplane, Tamir put a hand in the small of her back. Possessive and reassuring, it succeeded in making her feel a greater sense of ease. Beneath them, a group of uniformed personnel were waiting, including the pilot. And almost every one of them was looking at her.
Mortification spread through her.
Everyone knew.
What must they think of her? She did her best to keep her face calm, but her insides were shaking.
Three limousines were parked alongside the base of the steps. Tamir began to move towards one, when he stopped, abruptly.
He turned to Olivia, an almost apologetic expression on his face. He seemed disconcerted. Something she hadn’t expected. “What is it?”
“My sister is here. Her husband is my primary aide. He must have informed her of my return.”
“Oh. Okay. Is that a problem?”
“Perhaps,” he said with a nod of his head. He shifted, so that his hand was pressed against her hip, holding her to his side. “Just ignore her, as best as you can. Selena is…trouble.”
On cue, a woman emerged from the second limousine. Wearing a black dress and pale yellow scarf, with shining dark hair and ridiculously oversized sunglasses given the lateness of the hour, Selena was the most beautiful and exotic woman Olivia had ever seen.
She was also, Olivia saw, furious. Her features were pinched and anger emanated from her body with every step she took.
She spoke in rapid-fire Talidarian, her voice clipped. She removed her glasses, showing her eyes to be exactly like Tamir’s. Large, almond shaped, almost black in colour and rimmed in thick black lashes.
“This is not the time nor place. And when you are in the presence of Olivia, you will use your English, Selena.”
A man appeared behind Tamir’s sister, his expression clearly apologetic. The husband, Olivia guessed. They both stared at Olivia with a confusing look of awe.
“You put her in this dress? In mother’s gown?”