And while bracing honesty was not something he had ever imagined would factor into his usual relationships with women, such as his betrothal, this woman was different. If she wasn’t, she would not have ended up in his dungeon. She would certainly not have been here, telling him to his face that she doubted what he said to her. His word, which was law.
He ought to have been outraged. Instead, he accepted that he had to treat his doctor...differently.
It wouldn’t be the first time in this long and difficult year that he’d had to change strategy on the fly. To set aside old plans and come up with new ones, then implement them immediately. Tarek liked to think he’d developed a talent for it.
The kingdom was ancient. Yet the King could not be similarly made of stone, or he would be the first to crumble. His father had taught him that, his mother had tried to warn him, but Tarek had lived it.
“Of course I wish that I could control what it is you might say about your time here,” he told her, and watched the shock of that hit her, making her fall back in her seat. “I have no wish to be thought a monster, and I would love nothing more than to present your emancipation...carefully and in a way that brings, if not honor to the kingdom, no greater shame. But that is not up to me.”
If Tarek was not mistaken, that dazed light in her eyes meant he had succeeded in being...disarming. Imagine that.
He continued in the same vein. “I will leave it up to you. You have no reason to trust me, so I will not ask such a thing of you. I would request only this. That if asked, you make it known that the very moment I learned that you were here, I freed you myself.”
That dazed light faded, replaced by something far sharper.
“You want me to be your press release,” she said softly.
“I would love you to be my press release.” He even laughed, and as he did, it occurred to him that he wasn’t faking this. “If there exists any possibility that you will sing wide the glory of the kingdom, I would be delighted.”
Her head tilted slightly to one side, and Tarek still wasn’t used to her direct gaze. To the way she unapologeticallyconsideredhim, right where he could see her do it. “I can’t speak to any possibilities or press releases, I’m afraid. I haven’t taken a proper shower in eight months. Much less soaked myself in a good, long bath. Or used moisturizer. Or any of a thousand other everyday things that now seem luxurious to me.”
“I understand, of course.” Tarek smiled, again astonished to discover it was not a forced smile. He did not think of honey or vinegar, bees or business. Only what he could do to make her look at him without suspicion. “You must do what you feel is right.”
He should not have taken pleasure in the way she looked at him, as if he wasn’t quite what she expected. Surely he should not have introducedpleasureinto this in the first place, no matter how tempting she was when she ate so recklessly, so heedlessly.
Tarek could not help but wonder how else she might approach her appetites. How else she might choose to sate them.
That is enough for now,he snapped at himself.
He stood, inclining his head to her in what he doubted she would realize was more of an apology than anything he might have said. Or would say.
“I will leave you to your luxuries, Doctor,” he said. He nodded toward the door. “As I mentioned before, my staff waits outside to attend to you, should you wish it. This suite has both indoor and outdoor spaces, so you need not feel confined. Should you have need of me, personally, I will make myself available to you. You need only ask.”
Her eyes darted around the room as if she was looking for a way out. Or for a lie. “Um. Yes. Thank you.”
And Tarek left her then, aware as he strode from the room that he was battling the most unusual sensation.
Not fury at the circumstances.
Not distaste at what fate had thrown before him on this day, just as he’d imagined he was over the worst of this complicated year and ready to settle into a brighter future.
Not the usual bitterness that surged in him when he thought of his brother’s betrayal.
But the exceptionally unusual feeling that, even though all she was doing was fencing words with him—with an insolence Tarek would have permitted from no other—he would have preferred to stay.
CHAPTER FOUR
THEBATHROOMALONEwas at least three times the size of her cell, and Anya intended to enjoy every inch of it.
She spent a long while in the vast shower, with its numerous jets and showerheads, offering her every possible water experience imaginable. She conditioned her hair three separate times. She slathered herself in all the shower creams and gels and soaps available. When she was done, having scrubbed every inch of her body to get the dungeon off, she drew a bath in a freestanding tub. She filled it with salts that felt like silk against her skin and she sat in the water for a long while, letting emotion work itself through her in waves. She stared out the windows, sank down deeper into the embrace of the water, and let whatever was inside her work its way through her while she breathed.
And pretended it was the steam on her cheeks, nothing more.
After her bath, she wrapped herself in one of the exultantly thick robes that hung on the wall, and sat at the vanity piled high with every hair implement she’d ever dreamed of. And a great many more she’d never seen before. Then she thought of absolutely nothing while she blew out her hair, then put in a few well-placed curls, until the woman who looked back at her from the mirror was actually...her again.
“Me,” she whispered out loud.
Her chest felt so tight it hurt to breathe, but she made herself do it anyway—long and deep—trying to keep that knotted thing below her breastbone at bay.