She took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes as the thick, fragrant brew took her back to that time, a few months after she’d returned from completing her degree at Oxford, when she and Zavian had made love for the first time. It had been here, in this castle, in the room in which she was staying. She’d lost her virginity that night to him, as well as her heart. She blushed at the memory of how completely and utterly she’d given of herself and how her surrender had been rewarded with Zavian’s generous lovemaking. That was the real reason she hadn’t slept. When she opened her eyes again, Zavian was staring at her with an easily-read expression. It was the reason he hadn’t slept either.
Her blush deepened as his eyes swept over her face. It took in the delicate shadows which had formed over the nights since she’d been told she had no choice but to face this moment, down to her lips which she instinctively moistened. Only then did he look away.
“I see you aren’t eating,” he said. “You should.” He leaned forward, his eyes hot. “We are leaving this morning.”
She put down her coffee cup. “So that was it? We come here to have the truth extracted from me, and now you know what happened, we return to the capital, I complete my contract and return home.”
“You appear to have grasped entirely the wrong idea of what is about to happen.”
She frowned. “What other outcome is there?”
“What you don’t appear to have grasped is that you’ve told me nothing I didn’t know, or at least guess, already.” He leaned back in his chair and took a long sip of coffee. “Thatis not the reason for us being here.”
“Then why go to all the trouble of leaving your work to bring me here?”
“It was the first step. I needed you to know that I knew.”
“Surely there were far easier ways of telling me.”
“The telling was not the objective.”
She shook her head in confusion. “You’re talking in riddles.”
He leaned forward, and her senses were filled with him. “This isn’t about me telling you anything. This is about you needing to understand.”
“I think you underestimate my powers of comprehension. I know you, Zavian. I know how you think, what you like, what you want.”
His lips twisted into a disbelieving hint of a smile. “And what is it that you think I want now?”
“You hate that I left you, and you want to reignite our relationship before your impending marriage—which is everywhere in the news—and then drop me when you’ve had enough and humiliate me in the process.”
He shook his head, no trace of a smile now. “For all your education and intelligence, you have no idea how a man’s mind works.”
“Then enlighten me. Because I’m dying to know.”
“We’re only here to further your education, to make you understand, not me, not the desert or the country, but yourself. To be clear, and it seems I must be, I’ve brought you here to understand the truth about yourself.”
His explanation hadn’t come close to any of the things she’d anticipated he’d say.
“Myself? You want me to know myself? That’s a bit arrogant, isn’t it? To imagine I don’t know myself? Or, as I suspect, because my thoughts don’t agree with yours, you intend to change mine, under the guise of ‘education’.” She sat back and huffed out an unfunny laugh. “Such autocratic arrogance.”
He rose. “Possibly, but that doesn’t mean to say it’s not true.” He tossed down his napkin. “Continue, finish your breakfast because you’ll need all the energy you can find.”
“What now? Have you got me on an assault course to assist me in sorting my muddled thoughts?”
“Something like that. The horses are being readied, and we’ll be leaving in an hour.”
Gabrielle hadn’t wantedto enjoy the horse ride so much. It had been easier to begin with, when she’d been able to keep her anger at the downright arrogance of the man close to her, guiding her feelings. But with each rolling canter of her horse—a sensitive Arab mare who responded to her every movement—she settled into the ride and the landscape. If it weren’t for the thud of the horse’s hooves vibrating through her body, and the astringent heat of the desert filling her lungs, she’d have thought she was dreaming. Each night of the past twelve months, she’d gone to bed with images of the country she loved so much filling her mind, hoping they’d come to life in her dreams. But this was no dream. A shout from Zavian proved it.
“We’ll ride on ahead. Come.” He gave his horse free rein, and they galloped off. Her mare could hardly contain herself, and she also charged off and was soon flying to one side, out of the cloud of sand Zavian’s horse churned up.
Gabrielle suddenly felt free of the sadness that had dogged her steps ever since a year before when she’d made that fateful decision to leave Zavian. Free of the control that had kept her focused on her work in Oxford, and free of Zavian’s control in the palace.
Exhilaration—pure and white-hot—coursed through her veins as they galloped across the desert toward a rocky outcrop in the foothills of the mountains—a place they both knew well.
Finally they slowed, picking their way up and over the outcrop and descended into the oasis where the Romans had enjoyed the hot spas.
Zavian jumped off his horse and walked around to Gabrielle, and she jumped off into his arms. She stepped away abruptly and looked around the clearing. It was exactly as she remembered it.