Page 22 of At the Sheikh's Bidding
“Maybe not.”
“Then why are you?”
He blinked twice as if something had surprised him. She sat back in her chair, suddenly realizing that he was hiding something. Something she hadn’t noticed before.
“This is the twenty-first century. Why do you feel such a need to control?” she asked again.
She was right. It was there in the swift glance at her. Something in his eyes as he looked away again. Something he wasn’t telling her.
She leaned forward, forcing him to look her in the eye. “I mean, why would you possibly feel the need to control other people?”
He looked up, and his eyes were unguarded. He rolled his lips together, hesitating, as if he were trying to conjure up words that could raise the guard which he’d accidentally let fall. Then he sighed and sat back, and she knew he’d made some sort of decision.
“Because if I don’t control things, I might let someone down. And I don’t want to do that… Again,” he added softly.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I say. Now,” he said, standing up. “It is time to return you to your apartment, because we have a busy day tomorrow.”
She hadn’t known what to expect from the evening’s end, but his returning her to her room hadn’t been one of the options. She felt ridiculously disappointed.
She jumped up. “Of course,” she said, gathering her scarf and draping it over her head and shoulders. “And I have some reading to do to prepare.”
“So conscientious,” he said. “You know, you work too hard.”
“I have to.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
He frowned. “Why?”
She was annoyed with herself that she’d let slip her need to work hard. She shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone have to?”
“No.”
She walked quickly across the room. “Anyway, you’re right. It’s time for me to leave.”
Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to get away from him. He challenged her on every level.
She opened the door and stepped out into the corridor, hurrying toward the gardens which separated her quarters from his. He caught up with her.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out and putting his hand on her arm, “what’s the rush?”
She shook her head and continued to walk. She couldn’t look at him. He’d see how agitated she was and she knew he’d have a damned good guess why.
“Hey now,” he said, stepping in front of her and forcing her to stop walking, so he could see her face in the light of the outside lamp by the entrance to the gardens. “Are you upset?”
His brow was creased with concern. She sucked in a breath and shook her head. “I’m not upset. I’m…” She shook her head in confusion, unwilling and unable to tell him exactly what she was feeling. When her brother had been little, he’d used to say he was ‘unset’ when he was upset. She couldn’t help remembering that now. The opposite of set was exactly how she felt.
“Don’t worry,” he said, mistaking her silence. “Tomorrow we will enter the harem proper and you’ll be able to get on with the work which you seem so preoccupied with.” His gaze narrowed. “I only wish I knew why.”
Her heart hammered in her chest. “Because it’s my work. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.”
“Who you are?Habibti, you are so much more than your work. And I can’t believe you don’t know that.” He swept his fingers over her cheeks. His eyes were bright with desire and something else. He was intrigued. She shook her head instinctively. She really didn’t want him to be intrigued.
“I am what I am, Amare. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“So clear-cut. So logical. So…untrue,” he said, his lips parting into a broad smile. “You are what you don’t realize you are. Not yet. But you will.”
She bridled under the presumption that only he could reveal her true identity. She grabbed his hand, which still lingered in a caress against her face, and pulled it away.
