Page 14 of At the Sheikh's Pleasure
“Why?”she asked before she could rein in her curiosity.“Have you been in love?”She regretted the words as soon as they’d slipped from her lips.
A curious look entered his eyes as he shifted his gaze away.She allowed the silence to lengthen, wondering why he’d suddenly gone quiet.Then he turned to her and gave a quick nod.
“Yes.I have.It changes people.It puts everything else about life into perspective.If Mandana loved Gleave as I once loved, then she’d have done anything—absolutely anything—to be with him.Nothing else mattered.”
The expression in his eyes was both one of passion and pain.It transformed him into a different man—a complex man, a man she didn’t dare know.“But you are unmarried.”
His expression relaxed into one of resigned amusement.“Youarea straight woman, aren’t you?Did you not know that one can love when one is unmarried?”
Annoyed by the accusation, she began to walk out the door.To her surprise, he reached out and grabbed her arm.She stopped abruptly and stared at him.
“You can walk away, Rosana, but you can’t run forever.”
“What makes you think I’m running away?”
“Everything about you,” he said enigmatically, releasing her arm.He leaned against the doorjamb.She could have continued on through but was held both by his gaze, which seemed to skewer her to the spot, and his response.Could he really see through her so easily?
“And you believe you know me so well after such a short time together?”
“I know,” he said in a low, seductive voice, “that you weren’t happy at home.You were a different girl a few years ago when you came here with your father and brother.”A small smile tweaked at his lips.“Arrogant, of course, but different.Then you were restrained.Now nothing appears to restrain you.I could see it the moment I met you, and it was confirmed when I saw how you rode your horse.You”—he stepped forward and lightly tapped her arm—“are a woman who has narrowly escaped something and is wary of ever being trapped again.”
Her breath stuttered as she drew it in, and then she shook her head, pushed past him, ran out of the door, and kept on running until she was outside, sucking in deep breaths of the hot dry desert air.She heard footsteps behind her and she was about to return to the horses when he called out.
“I’m sorry, Rosana.I didn’t mean to offend you.I guess neither of us does small talk well.We get honest too quickly.”Before she could respond, he pointed to an elevated shady stone terrace beside the water which promised to catch the slightest breeze.Beneath the spreading trees was a table laden with food and two chairs.“Please forgive my rudeness, and join me for lunch.”
She hesitated.But there was little point in insisting they return to the palace.First, he may decide not to give her access to the palace throne room she needed.And second, there was information onlyhehad, and she was here in the palace of Queen Mandana.Because, no matter how much she denied it, shewasfascinated by Mandana.And, she realized, not only with her, but with this land.With this man.
She chewed her lip and nodded, uncharacteristically hesitant.
“Lunch then?”he asked for clarification.
“Lunch,” she nodded again, more emphatically this time.
As soon as she set foot on the terrace where lunch had been laid out, presumably by the men who’d accompanied them in the car, any lingering regrets disappeared.The traditional Bedouin meal of salads and breads was laid out on a stone table covered with a fresh white linen tablecloth.Colorful cushions had been arranged on the stone seats, bringing life back to the long-abandoned buildings.It was magical, she thought with surprise.
“Something has amused you?”
She turned to see Zaire twisting the cap of a bottle of water and passing it to her.She accepted it and took a drink gratefully, needing time before she answered.
“Yes, me,” she said with a smile.
Zaire sat back and shook his head with a big smile.“You know, when you smile, your face is transformed.”
She immediately felt her smile slip.She hadn’t even realized she was smiling.
“So, what amused you?”he continued.
“The magic of this place.”
“It is, indeed, magical.But you’re surprised at this?”
“I’m surprised that I even used the word ‘magic’.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, taking a drink of water.“An objective, serious academic shouldn’t believe in magic.”He placed the bottle on the table and offered her a bowl of olives.She took one and popped it in her mouth, relishing the salty, astringent taste.“But you?”He narrowed his eyes in a way which made her stomach flip with something she instinctively recognized as desire.“Yes, I can imagine that magic is something very much a part of your soul.”
“Zaire,” she said, leaning forward, “are you flirting with me?Because all of this…”
He leaned forward too, brushing her hand—whether accidentally, she couldn’t have said—and resting it there for one long moment.“All of this is what?”he prompted.
