CHAPTER EIGHT
FOURDAYSLATERTori knew Ashraf’s patience was far stronger than hers.
Heat climbed her cheeks as she realised she almostwantedhim to break the impasse between them. She lived on tenterhooks, feeling the tension screwing tighter with each hour.
Despite her reservations about marriage, Tori couldn’t switch off her intense response to Ashraf’s magnetism. The yearning for his touch, his tenderness, his body, just wouldn’t fade. She remembered being in his arms, lost in a sensual abandon so profound the world had fallen away. The memories were fresher than ever and more tempting.
Late each day he came to her rooms to share a meal and spend time with Oliver. From that they’d begun to develop a new type of intimacy which was simultaneously challenging and precious.
Despite the unanswered question hanging over them, those hours were relaxing and companionable. Ashraf never mentioned marriage. He was an easy, amusing companion, sharing anecdotes and asking about her day, fascinated by what she and Oliver had done.
Nor did he shy from answering her questions. His frankness intrigued her, especially when she discovered areas of common ground or subjects in which their differing views led to stimulating debate.
Debate, not argument.
Unlike her father, Ashraf never tried to browbeat her into accepting his views.
It was her favourite time of the day. A time she recalled late at night, long after Ashraf had left and she’d retired to her lonely bed.
Tori shivered and stared absently at the tiny shop’s display of bright fabrics. She lifted the filigreed glass of tea to her lips. The scalding liquid warmed her and might even explain the flush she felt in her cheeks.
What she recalled most often, and in excruciating detail, was how Ashraf, after kissing Oliver on the brow, always took her hand and pressed a lingering kiss there as he said goodnight. His eyes shone like polished onyx and he held her hand so long she was sure he must feel the throb of her pulse racing out of control.
Every night she wondered ifthiswould be the moment he’d break his self-imposed distance and pull her close, giving in to the ever-present spark of desire between them.
And every night, just as she decided she couldn’t stand the suspense or the longing any more, he’d say goodnight and leave her alone in her sumptuous apartment.
‘I won’t be much longer, Tori. I promise.’
Azia’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Tori looked towards the crimson curtain that hid the small shop’s changing room and smiled.
‘Take your time. I’m enjoying all these fabulous silks. It’s like being in Aladdin’s cave.’ She nodded to the shop owner, who beamed and pulled down a bolt of sea-green silk threaded with silver before taking it to Azia.
It was a treat to be on a girls’ shopping expedition with Bram’s wife, while a nanny looked after Azia’s little daughter and Oliver. Two days ago, when Bram had introduced her to his wife, Tori had been reluctant to accept Azia’s invitation to coffee in the city. She knew all about duty visits, having done her share while supporting her father.
But Azia’s smile had been warm and Tori had longed to get away from the palace’s gilded luxury. She loved her apartment, with its pretty courtyard and pool, but she didn’t know her way around the massive building and didn’t feel comfortable wandering through it.
To her surprise, their coffee date had been fun and Tori had laughed more than she had in ages. Azia had an irreverent sense of humour and a kind heart. The next day they went to lunch and visited an exhibition of exquisite beadwork by an upcoming designer.
Today they were at the silk shops in the bazaar, where Azia was determined to find fabric for a special outfit.
‘How about this?’ The curtains swished back to reveal Tori’s new friend draped in green and silver.
Tori tilted her head. ‘It’s very beautiful...’
‘But...? Come on, tell me.’
‘Personally, I loved that bright lime-green. This one is pretty, but that bright pop of colour really complemented your colouring.’
Azia laughed, but her expression was uncertain. ‘I liked that one too but it might be a bit too bright.’
‘Too bright?’ Tori frowned. ‘Why shouldn’t you wear bright colours? You look fantastic in them.’
Her friend shrugged. ‘It’s for a royal event and...’ She glanced at the shop owner, who took the hint and moved towards the front of the shop, giving them some privacy.
Azia shrugged. ‘I don’t really fit in there. I’m not high-born and nor is Bram. Last time I went to a reception I overheard comments—’ She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. I just want to fit in.’
Her words echoed Ashraf’s, jolting Tori’s composure. Whowerethese people who busied themselves making others feel out of place? What gave them the right to judge? Because they were rich or born into powerful families?