Page 43 of Her Vow to Be His Desert Queen

He laughed, the sound so sexy she almost shivered. ‘You are far too clear-sighted, Sidonie al Nazari. You see right through me.’

She stepped forward and lifted her hands to the buttons on his shirt, beginning to undo them, the sound of her new name settling something inside her. ‘If I saw right through you, Your Majesty, I would know why you brought me here.’ She glanced up at him. ‘This place doesn’t have happy memories for you, I know it doesn’t. So why did you choose it for our honeymoon?’

Khalil was already so hard all he could think about was having his new wife’s hands on him as quickly as possible. Everything had taken far longer than he’d either hoped or wanted, even though logically it had all happened as fast as it could.

Also, he’d wanted some degree of ceremony, because he knew Sidonie would like it. Hence the throne-room wedding in the shaft of sunlight, and the priest. Then coming here for their honeymoon...

He hadn’t expected her to ask about it, though in retrospect he should have. He’d talked to her many times about his childhood here, though not about Dusk.

He tensed slightly despite himself. ‘I wanted somewhere out of the way, where I could spend days with you without anyone else around.’

Lies. You shouldn’t have brought her here if you didn’t want to revisit the past.

Except he wasn’t going to revisit the past, or at least he wasn’t going to right now, not when he had other, more pleasant things he wanted to do.

Sidonie was looking up at him, puzzled almost. Her fingers were in the process of undoing a button on his shirt with maddening slowness, fingertips brushing his bare chest and winding his impatience even tighter, making him want to tear her hands away and take her right there on the floor.

But he didn’t want their wedding night to start with such a loss of control. That would hardly set a good precedent. He wanted something slower and more sensual to mark the occasion.

It was difficult, though, to hang on to his patience when she was standing so close and he could smell her delicious scent, feel the seductive warmth of her body. She was so lovely in her white wedding gown, with her red hair loose and covered by the white veil, the diamonds sewn into it glittering like a scattering of raindrops.

How he’d always imagined her as his bride. His to claim. And even though he’d already done so, every instinct he had was urging him to do it again.

‘I hope you do not want me to answer that now,’ he said. ‘Not when we have more important things to do.’

‘Why not now?’ She looked down at what she was doing, slowly undoing another button. ‘You obviously brought us here for a reason.’

He gritted his teeth, his muscles tensing as she brushed his chest yet again, igniting fire along all his nerve-endings. ‘Let me rephrase,’ he said tightly. ‘Ido not want to answer that question right now.’

‘We have all night, Khal.’ She undid the button and looked up at him again, her gaze searching. ‘Or is there something you don’t want to tell me?’

Telling her shouldn’t matter. The things he’d done he’d done for the good of his nation. But this was their wedding night. It was hardly the time or the place for such confessions.

She should know. She should know what kind of man she married.

Tension coiled through him, though he didn’t know why. She’d married a king, that was what he was, that was what he’d become. And he wasn’t ashamed of what he’d had to do to be that king.

She must have sensed his tension because she frowned. ‘There is something, isn’t there? What is it?’

You doubt. Even now.

Once, he had. But he certainly didn’t now. His doubt was a flaw he’d cut out of himself the night he’d walked away from Sidonie, along with the pain of leaving her, and the longing. Because Al Da’ira needed a strong king, a king without flaws, and so that was what he’d become.

Yusuf had been a sickness he’d had to cut out, a mercy he’d had to give, the same mercy he’d given Dusk.

Perhaps he should tell her after all. That way she would know exactly where she stood.

Her hands dropped. ‘I don’t have to—’

‘Did I ask you to stop?’ This wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, but he wasn’t going to let it ruin his wedding night. ‘Keep doing what you were doing.’

She searched his face for a moment and then nodded, lifting her hands to push his shirt from his shoulders.

Cool air moved over his skin, but for some reason it didn’t soothe him. Every part of him was tense. She stepped in closer and it was all he could do not to put his hands on her hips and pull against him. But touching her while he told her about all the...unpleasantness seemed wrong, so he kept them still.

‘You know about the battle of succession. About the fight between the oldest children of my father’s four wives.’

Sidonie’s stroking fingers paused. ‘Yes, I remember you telling me.’

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