Through the door they passed a book-lined study on one side and what looked like a media room on the other. They swept past a gym that gave out onto a courtyard with a massive swimming pool. Past a couple of closed doors and finally through double doors into his bedroom.
Salim paused to close the door behind them yet didn’t let her go.
Heat encircled her wrist and a shivery feeling of euphoria shot through her, tinged with just the tiniest bit of trepidation.
Rosanna wanted Salim more than she could remember ever wanting anyone or anything. Yet such intensity of feeling was outside her experience.
The snick of the door shutting them in his private domain was as loud as a gong echoing through the silence.
Rather than look at Salim she focused on the high, domed ceiling, painted the colour of the sky just after sunset, azure darkening to indigo at the top. She just had time to register a sprinkling of silvery stars against the blue when Salim led her forward.
Two large, elegantly arched windows gave views towards distant mountains. Between them stretched an embroidered coverlet of blue and gold, covering the biggest bed she’d ever seen.
Her breath caught in a gasp she couldn’t prevent.
Moments ago she’d thought of Salim as a warrior of old, stern and uncompromising, sweeping his chosen woman up and away. This massive bed perfectly fitted that desert fantasy.
‘It’s a bit over the top, I admit,’ he drawled near her ear, ‘but it’s tradition and it’s comfortable. A new one is made for each new sheikh.’
‘Imagine trying to launder the sheets.’ Rosanna’s voice sounded stretched. ‘It must be a nightmare.’
She snapped her mouth shut, realising she was babbling. The enormity of this moment thickened her breathing and revved her heartbeat to a staccato rush.
She didn’t dare look at Salim.
In case he sees how profound this feels for you?
Or in case he changes his mind?
He’d said he needed her and she felt the same. But out of nowhere, doubts assailed her. Rosanna wasn’t gorgeous or gifted. She didn’t speak five languages or heal sick children or negotiate international trade deals like the women Salim had rejected. She was ordinary, so ordinary that her ex had needed more in his life, dreaming of a glamorous life beyond their means.
Salim’s thumb stroked a tiny circle on the pulse point at her wrist, making her shiver. But instead of taking her in his arms and kissing her, he stood beside her, radiating heat and that delicious spicy scent of warm male flesh.
‘I confess, I’ve never thought about it,’ he said, ‘but I suppose you’re right. I don’t think I’ve thought about laundry since my days doing national service, washing my own clothes.’
‘You washed your own clothes?’ She turned to find him watching her, his expression unreadable.
‘Naturally. Even the son of the sheikh gets no special treatment when it comes to doing his duty. In fact, I’m sure my father instructed that the year’s military service should be as taxing as possible. He believed in toughening his sons to meet future challenges.’
Salim paused, his expression enigmatic. ‘Is this too much of a challenge, Rosanna?’ His voice dropped, the sound scraping through her, proof again of her visceral response to him. ‘Have you changed your mind? You seem nervous.’
This was her chance to back out. Because it didn’t make any sense, her with a man like Salim.
But that was the old, hurt Rosanna trying to wrest control. The one bruised by what Phil had done and crushed by guilt over his actions. The Rosanna who doubted too easily and second-guessed her judgement.
She didn’t want to be that Rosanna any more. It had been testing, but she’d revelled in the stimulation of her work for Salim and the chance to prove herself. She liked feeling competent and strong.
She liked the way Salim made her feel.
Rosanna nodded. ‘I am nervous.’ She’d never had sex with anyone but her ex-fiancé, but that would be too much information. ‘I don’t...share myself easily or often.’
‘Neither do I. There’s been no one since before the night we met in the Highlands.’
Rosanna’s eyes rounded. She hadn’t expected that. A man like Salim could have his choice of eager women.
She thought of all the things she might say. Except if she opened her mouth now she didn’t trust herself not to babble out more inanities. Besides, it wasn’t talk she wanted.
Rosanna turned to face him, planting her free hand on his broad chest. Feeling the quickened thud of his heart beneath her palm eased her tension a little, because it proved he was nowhere near as sanguine as he appeared.