Page 47 of Queen of Barrakesch
She didn’t reply.
Wasim eased from the bed, got dressed, and left her alone.
21
The next morning, Wasim rose early. He hadn’t slept much anyway because Imani stayed on his mind. He ate breakfast and then went down to the administrative offices to work. The rooms were mostly silent, as much of the staff hadn’t arrived yet.
The IT guy bowed briefly at him as they passed in the hallway before Wasim entered his office. He sank into the chair behind his enormous desk and rubbed his bearded jaw.
Women never failed to confuse him. He thought he had done the right thing by showing Imani that he signed the blasted agreement. He assumed she’d be pleased he sent her proof and that might ease the tension that hovered like a specter over their marriage. He was certain the unsigned agreement remained a barrier between them, why she’d been withdrawn and cool except for the hot nights they spent between the sheets.
Though she did express thanks, she’d been anything but thankful. There had been no joy or appreciation in her voice. Only censure and ire.
He’d been so busy since his father’s death, tackling the daunting task of the issues at the palace. Much of his time in recent weeks had been spent reorganizing his Cabinet, and he’d removed a third of the advisors, which caused a minor uproar. He filled his time with these tasks, giving her space he thought would ease her into their marital relationship and her role as queen. Wrong again. Her comments after they had made love last night showed his thought process had been flawed. She actually wanted to spend time with him and was hurt that he’d limited the amount of time he spent with her.
Aih, he had a lot to learn.
When Talibah arrived, he told her to cancel all his plans for the following day and have Imani’s secretary do the same for her schedule. When she expressed surprise, he explained he was going to spend the day with his wife.
At her pleased expression, he gleaned that was absolutely the right answer and set out to wrap up as much as he could by day’s end.
* * *
“Where are we going?”Imani asked.
She and Wasim rode in the back of the limo, and all she knew was that they were going to the beach for a picnic. Nothing else about the day’s activities had been shared with her, and though she knew much of Barrakesch, she wasn’t familiar with the road they were on.
“Have I ever told you about Muriah Beach?” Wasim looked relaxed in his typical uniform of a white shirt and black slacks. The shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and the shirtsleeves rolled up at the arms gave a tantalizing peek at wiry forearms sprinkled with fine hairs.
“No,” Imani replied, but the name was vaguely familiar.
“It’s a private beach accessible only to the royal family. We’re going to spend the day there. There is a small house there we can use, but we’ll be entirely alone—well, except for our security, the chef, his assistants, and our help. I sent the chef and the others ahead yesterday to prepare the place for us.”
A small thrill of pleasure sparked inside of Imani. They were going to spend the whole day together. It shouldn’t matter so much, but it did.
When they arrived at their destination, the royal couple entered the so-called small house, which was actually a sprawling beach house with ten bedrooms, eleven baths, and an indoor pool.
In the great room, decorated in patterned chairs that seemed comfortable and cozy, Imani looked out at the water. Outside on the balcony, contemporary wicker chairs with teal cushions were grouped together around tables with unlit votive candles on top. Beyond that, she saw a stone pathway that led down a gentle incline, shadowed by shrubs and palm trees to the clear blue of the Gulf lapping at the shore.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed as she took in the scenic view.
“I thought you would like it,” Wasim said, right behind her.
She clasped her hands and turned to face him. “What are we going to do first?”
“How about horseback riding to start?”
A playful smile lifted the right corner of his mouth. He hadn’t smiled much recently, and the transformation in his face reminded her of the fun they used to have, before the bitterness that developed between them.
“Are you talking about a race?” Imani asked.
“You’re not ready for a race,” Wasim said dismissively.
“Oh, really?” She pretended to be affronted. “Maybe you’re not ready to lose.”
With his hands behind his back, he took two steps closer and her skin heated at his nearness. Gazing up at him, she became lost for a moment in his copper-brown eyes. Were all women this enamored with their spouses? He never failed to arouse her passions and make her heart beat with much too much speed beneath her breast.
“May the best horseman win,” Wasim said in his velvety voice.
