And then Sera appeared, and the night became even more perfect.
Shyly she approached the table, her eyes cast downwards. Like a virgin, he thought. A shy and timid innocent, on her way to be sacrificed. But she was no virgin, he knew. And it was not white that she wore. Nor even black, he acknowledged with relief. The blue gown skimmed her curves, fitting without catching anywhere, the shimmering gem-encrusted silk bringing her body alive in light and shadow as she moved, the jewels around her neck turning her into a glittering prize.
His prize.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said, his voice thicker than usual, and for the first time her eyes lifted, only to widen with shock when she saw him. ‘Rafiq!’
And he smiled. ‘A fair trade, wouldn’t you say? My robe for your gown.’
‘Rafiq, you look— You look…’ Devastating. Her eyes drank him in—this man who wore Armani and turned it into an art form, this man who lifted a mere suit and made it an extension of his lean, powerful self, who looked like a god in the robes of his countrymen. The snowy-white robe turned his olive skin to burnished gold, turned his black hair obsidian. And his eyes—what it did to his eyes! They were like sapphires warmed by the light of the moon. Penetrating. Captivating.
He looked taller somehow, and even more commanding, and she had no doubt he was indeed a true prince of Qusay!
Finally she managed to untangle her useless tongue. ‘I mean, you look different—almost like you belong here.’
And he laughed as she hadn’t heard him laugh for so long, the sound rich and strong, his face turned up to the heavens and showing off the strong line of his throat. ‘My mother will be delighted to hear it. She has been on at me to wear the traditional robes from the moment I arrived. But now come. Sit. Eat. For we are far from the palace, and tonight…’ he swept his arm around in an arc ‘…this is our palace.’
His eyes seemed to glitter more brightly than any jewels she was wearing, his teeth shining white in his smile.
Staff appeared from nowhere, ready to serve and fill glasses and dishes, to perform every wish of their master, before fading back into the darkness of the night as the sea provided music, its endless swoosh and suck of the waves curling over the shore. Here, this night, she could believe he had embraced his role as prince. Here she could see the man had become more than a prince in name only.
‘Doesn’t it frighten you?’ she asked softly, when the staff had edged back into the night. ‘Knowing your brother will be king? To know that you are but one step from becoming king yourself?’
His face tightened. ‘Nothing will happen to Kareef. Before long he will marry and have the heirs he needs and I will no longer be second in line to the throne. Besides which,’ he said, attempting a smile, ‘there is always Tahir.’
‘Your younger brother? But nobody even knows where he is.’
Rafiq shook his head, not for the first time wondering where his wayward brother had got to. Maybe there would be some news when they returned to the palace. He shrugged. ‘It is all academic. Kareef will make a fine King.’
A servant bowed and approached the pair then, asking if they needed anything more. Rafiq waved the intrusion away. Neither of them seemed to be hungry, merely picking at their food despite the tender herbed meat and freshly spiced vegetables. Instead they seemed content to drink each other in with their eyes, as if that was all the sustenance they needed.
It was all Rafiq needed. To see her like this, her beauty emblazoned in colour, for once highlighting instead of dragging down her dark beauty, was enough to sustain him.
Almost enough.
‘Why did you do it?’ he asked softly, when it was clear both of them were finished with eating, even though their plates were still full.
‘Why did I do what?’
‘Why did you bother to make a deal with the women’s council? You could have accepted their position when they said they’d like to seek a counter-offer. You could have walked away then, knowing that Suleman had predicted such an outcome, knowing I’d half expected it. You could have walked away from the negotiation. After all, why should you care whether or not I got the deal? The way I’ve spoken to you, dragged you halfway across the desert against your wishes, why wouldn’t you want to sabotage my chances?’
She leaned back in her chair, her eyes thoughtful, though it was the way the fabric tugged across her breasts that captured his gaze, and he felt his hunger building—though not for food.
She paused before answering, as if measuring her words, wanting to make each one count. ‘I know it’s hard for you to believe, Rafiq, but I was hoping to make up a little for the pain I caused you in the past. I am truly sorry for what happened, and for the way you found out about my wedding.’