She couldn’t deal with this anymore. “I don’t,” she said, jumping up and looking around. The desert had always been her escape, her world where she felt safe, but now she felt exposed and confused. “I have to go.”
He rose, ignoring the curious looks from others. The music drowned out their words. “Not like this, please. I didn’t intend to drive you away. Quite the opposite. Please, sit down, and let’s talk.” His grip on her hand tightened. “Please, I need to be clear about why I brought you here from Oxford.”
She nodded reluctantly, intrigued despite herself, and sat down. “Okay, tell me what you need to tell me, and then I’m going to bed.”
He nodded and drew in a deep breath. Gabrielle could feel the effort it was taking him to do this.
“You know I arranged it all.”
She nodded. “Yes, I know now. At first, I didn’t.”
“And that was because I didn’t mean you to. But what you don’t know is why.”
“I have a good idea.”
He held up his hand. “Let me tell you. I’d arranged it to get you out of my system.” She blanched, recoiled, but he didn’t stop. “I hated the fact I wanted you so much. That you wouldn’t leave my mind. And, I thought, it was because of lack. A question of simple economics—supply and demand.” She shook her head in disbelief. “If the supply was there—”
“Me, being the supply?” she asked, incredulous.
He nodded. “Then the demand—”
“Your need for me.”
“Would diminish, yes. But it didn’t work. I’d forgotten to factor into my plan certain things.”
“What things?” She could hear the sharp edge of anger in her voice but did nothing to stop it.
He dipped his head closer to her cheek and breathed in. “Things like your fragrance. Apparently, the law of economics doesn’t apply to fragrance.”
She softened slightly and couldn’t prevent a smile from tugging at the corners of her mouth. She was about to reply, but his thumb swept across her cheekbone as his gaze deepened into her eyes.
“Nor the luminous look in your eyes.” His eyes pinched at the corners as if trying to understand something inexplicable. “It’s… unquantifiable.”
The last of her tension left her and Gabrielle laughed. She shook her head. “I’m a woman, Zavian,” she said gently. “I’m not a thing, a box to be ticked or crossed off. People are far more complex than that.”
His frown deepened for a second and then lightened, and he did something she didn’t expect. He smiled. “Apparently. Particularly you.”
“Particularly when there are feelings involved.”
He rose and offered her his hand, and slowly she stood up. The palm fronds clattered overhead, and the night breeze quickened, bringing with it the scent of blossom. There were few people left seated around the fire now, but those that were glanced briefly up at them and smiled before returning to their reveries and conversation.
“You want me to come to your bed?” she asked.
“Only if you also want it.”
“I want to, make no mistake about that. It’s whether Ishouldis the question.”
“What can I say to help you make up your mind?”
“Nothing.”
“Then I willdosomething to forget your thoughts.” With that, he slid his fingers through her hair and brought her head to his and kissed her. From the moment his lips touched hers, and she felt the sharp intake of his breath the hard knot of tangled thoughts unraveled. It was a kiss which obliterated all thought—both his and hers. It seemed, while people might be more complex, there were some things about them which were simple.
He pulled her close, as he explored her mouth with his tongue, his lips with hers, and caressed her cheek as he held her steady as if scared she’d run away. It was the last thing on her mind. It was as if he’d struck a match and tossed it into a landscape starved of water—a desert of emotion—and one which exploded at the first sign of fire. And there was nowhere else either of them could go now, except to feed that fire.
He gripped her hand, and they dissolved into the shadows away from the flickering firelight, unnoticed by the few who remained sleeping or drinking before the fire.
They wove their way through the tents until they reached his and entered the shadowy interior, lit by oil lamps, which shed a rich light onto the rugs and decorations which lined the tent.