Rosanna’s fingers tightened on the intricate carving. The screen was beautiful and provided a filter for the sunlight. Yet it was a reminder of a time when women lived restricted lives. Such screens had sometimes been a barrier between them and the outside world.
It was fanciful but suddenly Rosanna felt isolated and lonely. Not because of the palace’s secluded location, which actually appealed, but because Salim chose not to take her with him.
She frowned. She was used to looking after herself, holding down taxing jobs and keeping busy. She was happy in her own company. Yet none of that mattered against the fact Salim chose not to introduce her into this tiny fraction of his personal life.
She was good enough for an affair but not to meet his friends.
Rosanna’s mouth flattened. She couldn’t even be angry because Salim was right. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of her but that he was avoiding unnecessary complications. Introducing her to his friends would raise expectations and the need for explanations in the future.
He was saving both of them discomfort.
Yet it didn’t sit well with her.
Even so, it was a timely reminder of why they’d come here. And what would happen when they left.
Nothing. Nothing but the conclusion of her work then her return to London to more work for Marian.
She had to focus on that. And getting Salim out of her system as soon as possible. Because the alternative, of this affair not curing her need for him, was too frightening to consider.
‘Are you sure you feel up to a hike this morning?’
Normally Salim welcomed any opportunity to get outdoors, especially here where he had the luxury of almost guaranteed solitude. But Rosanna must be exhausted this morning. He felt the delicious lassitude that came after great sex. He wouldn’t mind basking in bed then having a late breakfast with her, and then starting all over again.
‘Of course. I’m looking forward to that view of the mountain villages you promised.’ She paused in the act of getting out of bed and slanted a look over her shoulder before her gaze slid away. ‘Unless you’d rather not.’
Rosanna’s voice didn’t sound right.
She sounded diffident.
Surely not. Not after the way they’d spent the last hour, sharing incredible intimacies and a level of bliss that astounded him. Diffidence was the last thing he expected from Rosanna. She was competent, assured, sexy and eager to make the most of this week. This woman wasn’t meek or shy.
He thought of how she’d greeted him on his return yesterday afternoon. He’d felt uncomfortable, almost guilty, returning from the warm embrace of his friends and feeling that he should have invited Rosanna to join him.
Not that she’d pushed for that. But her curiosity about his country and its traditions, plus the fact she was a guest alone in his country with little opportunity to make acquaintances, had weighed heavily on him. It had been selfish not to invite her. Because, he realised, she washissecret and, like a miser hoarding gold, he didn’t want to share her with anyone.
Maybe too he’d needed some distance because with Rosanna he’d felt unsettling emotions stir.
He’d returned, half expecting to find her brooding or sulky, maybe a little cool with him.
Instead she’d sauntered up to him with a provocative sway to her hips and a hooded, sensual look in her eyes, and invited him to join her for a naked dip. The fact she’d worn nothing but that gauzy scarlet caftan had decided the matter.
Guilt had receded, replaced by instant lust. They’d spent the rest of the evening teasing and pleasing each other. Rosanna’s single-minded focus on exploring their mutual passion had brought him undone several times. It was a miracle either of them had the energy to slide out of bed this morning.
Yet there she was, on her feet by the bed, a question in her eyes.
‘Of course I—’ he began.
‘We needn’t go as far as the villages—’
They both stopped. She thought he was afraid she’d insist on visiting a mountain village?
A bitter tang filled his mouth as he realised she thought he didn’t want to be seen with her. His chest tightened. Did she think he was ashamed of her?
‘We can go as far as you like,’ he offered. ‘I thought you might be tired.’
As he was. Not that it stopped him greedily devouring the sight of her nakedness. He’d never tire of her body. Even clothed she had a grace that caught at something high in his throat, and, he admitted, deep in his groin.
She shrugged one shoulder, making Salim marvel at how she could turn a casual gesture into something that made his whole being clench with desire. Not just physical desire either, but something more puzzling.