She swallowed and he tracked the movement in the kick of her chin and in her throat and his fingers let go of her hair to trail a line down the same way.
‘I know what you think of me—that I’m cheap and easy.’
‘I think you’re expensive and easy, as it happens. But I’m willing to pay the price you ask.’
‘Go to hell!’
‘I have no doubt that’s exactly where I’ll end up. But don’t fret, my charming wife, your reputation—or what’s left of it—is safe with me. I have no intention of a repeat of last night’s performance.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
QAJARAN CITY ROSE from the golden sands of the desert as if it had sprung from it organically, the buildings fashioned from bricks made of mud, hay and the desert sand itself, so their walls sparkled in places when the light caught on the tiny crystals as they passed, but it was the people that most fascinated Tora.
From the airport the streets were lined with people waving flags and clapping their hands—happy, smiling people. A woman in colourful robes held her young child aloft to better watch them pass, a crumpled old man leaning on walking sticks had tears running down his leathery cheeks but a smile so wide it was obvious they were tears of joy. And it struck her then that this was for Rashid—the man who might soon be their Emir, ruler of Qajaran—the man who was her new husband.
The same man whom she’d spent an illicit night of sex with.
The man who had barely an hour ago assured her there would be no repeat performance.
She trembled, the muscles between her thighs clamping down on a sudden bloom of heat in spite of his assurances. It was crazy, she should be exhausted after a night of little sleep and the drag of international flight halfway around the world, even if it was in the sumptuous surroundings of a private jet, but, looking across at Rashid, never had she felt more alive, never had she felt more aware of her sexuality.
Should she believe him when he said that it wouldn’t happen again? Or was it just that she didn’t want to?
Oh, God, it would be so much easier if she could simply hate him. He’d railroaded her into this deal, after all. Not without her agreement, but he’d done his best to make her feel small and mercenary even with that.
But...there was still that night between them—that unimaginable night of pleasure—how could she hate a man for that? And there were those moments since then when the blustering faltered and he looked lost and lonely and so achingly sad that she wanted to reach out to him. Because who couldn’t love a tiny child? What had gone wrong in his life that he felt that he couldn’t?
She wished she could hate him. Then she wouldn’t be drawn to him. Then she wouldn’t feel this damnable pull.
He’d told her there would be no repeat performance, but, when it came down to it, if he turned to her in the night she doubted whether she’d have the strength to say no to him. When she remembered back to the night they’d spent together and the masterful man he was then and all the ways he had pleasured her, it was hard to imagine why she’d even want to.
She looked out of the window at the people lining the street, all so keen for a glimpse of this man who might rule them, feeling shallow and superficial and hating herself right now. There was history being made here today and, even in her unsubstantial way, she was part of it, yet all she could think about was sex.
Well, that was Rashid’s fault, too. That night they’d spent in each other’s arms had a lot to answer for.
‘Did you arrange this welcome committee?’ she heard Rashid ask Kareem, and Tora looked at him, because his voice sounded as tight as his jaw looked, and as uncomfortable as it must feel. And for the first time, she saw Rashid looking like a man who was uncertain with his place in the world, and she was intrigued. He didn’t seem like a man who would doubt himself.
‘Good news has a way of getting out,’ Kareem answered, with a shrug of his white-robed shoulders. ‘Even in Qajaran, where the Internet is not as readily accessible as it is in the west. The people have waited a long time to see the Qajarese flag flying on a royal limousine. Your return is welcome.’
‘If I am to do this,’ Rashid said, ‘I am going to need help,’ and if Tora wasn’t mistaken there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead in this very much air-conditioned car.
Kareem smiled even as he bowed his head, as if Rashid had said exactly what he’d wanted him to. ‘I am at your disposal, of course.’