Was this?
She reached for her wine, taking a small sip and replacing the goblet, her eyes lifting to Malik’s of their own volition. He was watching her, a heated possession in his gaze that curled her toes.
“I’ve always thought you hated me,” she said quietly, moving a little closer so their conversation wouldn’t carry on the desert winds to any of the tribes people.
He kept his focus on the dancers.
“But you had no reason to hate me, did you?”
“You were marrying my brother,” he said cryptically. “And I could never understand why.”
“So you acted like you hated me?”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. She lifted a fingertip to it without thinking, and his head turned slowly to hers. “I have acted as I felt,” he said simply, confusing her, because maybe she was wrong. Maybe the desire was all on her. Maybe she’d craved him for many, many years, and he’d simply resented her.
“You are a beautiful, intelligent American woman with the world at her feet. You have considerable personal fortune at your disposal, so I know you did not agree to this marriage for wealth. Why? What would make a young person decide to turn her back on her own culture and exist in the servitude of another?”
“You think this is servitude?” She asked quietly.
“It is not freedom.”
Her heart twisted. “You hate this, don’t you? Being Sheikh.”
“It is an honour,” he clipped.
“But one you could do without.”
He shook his head. “There is no sense discussing hypotheticals. The crown is Addan’s. I am simply minding it for our child. A caretaker.”
“Don’t do that,” she said, leaning forward of her body’s own volition. “Don’t diminish what you bring to this. Addan always said you were a natural leader. That you should have been the first born.”
Malik compressed his lips, and looked away. “Addan didn’t wish to rule.”
“No,” Sophia’s smile was wistful. “I know.”
Malik was quiet for a long moment. “He wanted to study. Philosophy.”
“He was a terrible philosopher though,” Sophia giggled. “He could never tell his Plato from his Ptolemy…”
Malik was still. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Kindness and goodness were his philosophies,” she said, softening, sobering. “But Malik? He was right. Between the two of you, yours is the temperament more given to ruling. And I think you know that. I think you’ve always known it. Is that why you stayed away so much? So as not to crowd him?”
Malik’s jaw tightened. “I believe we’ve discussed how I feel about you psychoanalyzing me.”
“I’m just trying to make sense of everything,” she promised.
“There is no sense that can be made of his death.” He turned to face her, and now there was a strength and determination in his expression. “Why did you agree to this marriage? Why did your mother consent?”
“My mother?” Sophia pulled a face. “My mother had very little interest in what Arabella or I did. She was just glad we were off her hands.”
“But your father actively willed this. He negotiated with my father for this event.”
“Yes,” Sophia nodded thoughtfully.
“But you were only young when he died. There was no compulsion on you to go through with it.”
“He wanted it,” she said quietly. “Your father told me again and again how they had discussed this union, imagining me on the throne.”
“I see,” Malik nodded, his brain almost visibly cogitating this development.
“I don’t think I really made a conscious decision. It just felt… right.”
“And you felt closer to your father by accepting,” he murmured.
“I…” it was perceptive. She dipped her head forward, hiding her eyes, but his finger and thumb caught her chin, lifting her face to his.
“Don’t hide from me.”
Her eyes sparked to his. “I’m not.” She sighed. “It’s just… not as simple as that.”
“So explain to me.”
It was a command, and at any other time, she might have smiled, for how it completely reinforced what she’d just been thinking, about how well he took charge, how naturally he lead.
“I… my father died.” The words were thick with grief, despite the fact it had been many years earlier. “We’d had the most perfect family, and then he got sick and everything was broken. Our mom went… kind of… I don’t know. She was different. So we didn’t just lose dad, we lost mom, too. And I had this memory of this perfect family, this sense of belonging that just evaporated overnight. Arabella went overseas, and I was so lonely.” She bit down on her lower lip, watching the dancing without really seeing.
“And then I met Addan. And I was so broken, Malik. I was so sad and lost and he was so kind and I just felt like… like I’d come home.” She shook her head sadly from side to side then brushed her cheek over her knee, turning to look at her husband. “I suppose that sounds ridiculous.”
But there was an expression on his face that was impossible to interpret.
“I never really agreed to the marriage, so much as I felt more at home here than anywhere else. I felt that I belonged. Your dad, your brother, they loved me in a way I desperately needed – they were my family. Given the choice of staying here or going back to the states, it was an easy decision.”
It was dark, but she could make out the harsh angles and planes on Malik’s face. She felt the emotions swirling through him.
“I don’t want to always be fighting with you,” she said, simply. “I don’t want our children to grow up in a war zone.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, rubbing it over his skin tentatively. She felt him stiffen and frustration gnawed at her gut. Was she only allowed to touch him in the bedroom? Her voice grew hoarse. “Your father loved me. Your brother loved me. I’m going to be the mother to your child. Can you not at least try to accept me as part of your life?”
“I married you, didn’t I?”
“Yes, and in bed, you treat me like your wife. But I want to be your equal here, too. I want this marriage to be real. I want us to be a family, Malik.” She swallowed, having not realised until she spoke those words the importance of what she was feeling. “I don’t want this to be a sham marriage.”
He turned to face her and his eyes were loaded with darkness and pain.
“I cannot give you what you want, Sharafaha. And I won’t make promises I have no intention of keeping.”
“Why can’t you at least try?” She dropped her hand from his face, turning back to the dancers, but all of her was homed in on the man beside her, every cell in her body attuned to his every movement.
“I inherited this marriage. For the sake of my kingdom and my people, we have wed. But I refuse to pretend this is anything more than it is: two people who require a child. Who have sex. Stop trying to dress our relationship up as something else. And for God’s sake, stop comparing me to Addan. You will never find what you are looking for in me.”
She had longed to see the desert, to explore all of the special places Addan had spoken to her of ad infinitum, but when morning broke, she was endlessly glad. So glad it was a new day, a day free of her foolish hopes for finding common ground with her husband. Free of any desire to make their marriage deeper, more meaningful.
All Sophia wanted, when she woke, was to get dressed and go back to the palace. Back to her own room, with all her books and her things, where she felt closest to herself. And most of all, she wanted not to see her husband.
No. That was a lie.
Even now, with her heart feeling bruised and weather-beaten, she lay on the low mattress, conscious of his every breath, feeling his body shift beside hers, and she ached for him on a cellular level.
I refuse to pretend this is more than two people who require a child. Who have sex.
What had she expected?
That they’d marry and something magical would h
appen? That all the animosity between them would dissipate? That they’d sleep together and suddenly he’d unlock all her secrets, and she’d unlock his, and their future would be rosy and safe?
Her heart felt heavier and tears clogged her eyes once more.
It should have been Addan.
True, she’d never have known the mind-altering power of truly amazing sex, nor this lurching sensation in the region of her heart. But she would at least have known contentment.
She pushed the covers off and moved out of bed, but his arm caught her, snaking out so his fingers could wrap around her wrist, surprising her completely.
She startled, looking over her shoulder, wishing she hadn’t when her heart began to pound at a billion miles an hour.
He saw everything, and she hated him that. His eyes raked her face, her body, clinging to the swell of her cleavage and then lifting to eyes that were still moist with tears.
“You’re upset.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.” She pulled away from him, standing, looking around the ornate tent. “When can we leave?”
“You were so impatient to come to the desert. You want to leave again after only one night?”
“Well, let’s see,” she put her hand on her hip and pretended to enumerate. “Since we’ve arrived you’ve left me on my own for hours, then berated me for going to explore some fascinating ruins, then told me I was being fanciful for even hoping we could have a relationship that extended beyond this,” she gestured towards the bed, the tangle of sheets proof of the way he’d ravaged her the night before. “So forgive me if I’m not finding the desert as richly enjoyable as I’d hoped.”
He pushed up to sitting, watching her through shuttered eyes.
“You knew I was coming here for business – I had no intention of bringing you, Sophia, so you’ll forgive me for not being on hand to entertain you around the clock. As for your unscheduled touristing, yes, I berated you, and rightly so. My issue was not that you went but that you didn’t have the insight to communicate your plans to a living soul. You are a person of extreme importance to this kingdom, never mind the fact you may well already be pregnant with my child.”
He breathed in and his nostrils flared; she had the sense he was trying to rein in his own temper. “I was angry with your cavalier disregard for your safety. This is important. Being here is important. I cannot do what I must do if I’m worrying about you the whole time.”
She ground her teeth together. “You don’t have to worry about me. I was fine.”
“That was better luck than management.”
“You’re so Goddamned arrogant,” she snapped, shaking her head. “You honestly think I don’t know how to look after myself?”
He clamped his lips together – she felt as though he were holding something back, something hurtful. She supposed she should be grateful he was at least trying to spare her feelings.
“I think you are a fish out of water here,” he said after a lengthy pause. “I think my brother filled your head with myths and legends and neglected to tell you the truth about these lands. I think you have lived a charmed life and see everything through the veil of your innocence and exuberance, and that you can’t perceive of a world where people do bad things, where some people are simply wholly bad.”
“I beg your pardon!” She spat, cutting him off. “You know my life has been anything but charmed.”
“You grew up in immense wealth, the adored daughter of a senator…”
“Who died when I was nine years old!” She shouted, then dragged a hand through her hair, desperately trying to cool her temper. “I lost everything when he died, Malik. I know plenty about sadness and…”
“Yes, but you do not know about civil wars and terrorist factions, both of which have existed here in Abu Faya, and within my lifetime. This country, while beautiful, is not always safe. And not for someone like you.”
She let his words sink in, her features shifting to reflect her surprise. “I know that.” She bit down on her lip. “I told you, I know all about this country’s past.”
“Then act like it,” he said firmly. “If we have a child together, you will be responsible for ensuring that child’s wellbeing. I cannot imagine you would send our heir riding off with a stranger…”
“Of course I wouldn’t!”
“Then why take that risk for yourself?” He pressed a hand to her stomach. “Even if you are not pregnant, and you may not be, you are still my wife. You are the woman this country has adopted as its Sheikha. You must protect yourself for them.”
She tilted her chin defiantly even when she felt a strong instinct to cry. “I trusted my instincts, Malik, and they were right. I liked Saliyah; I trusted her.”
“But you could just as easily have been wrong.” He ground his teeth together. “Addan loved you, Sharafaha.” He stepped back from her a little, his shoulders broad, his back ramrod straight. “He would expect me to be protecting you from any dangers. Can’t you see that? If you will not exercise caution at my behest, do so for Addan. Do it because he would have expected it of you.”
She turned away from him, moving towards the table that had a pitcher of water set up on it. She poured herself a glass and held it between trembling fingertips. “Addan trusted I could look after myself.” She turned to face him, and her expression was tense, her skin pale. “He would never have shouted at me like you did.”
A muscle throbbed low in Malik’s jaw. “No, he wouldn’t. Addan was perfect, and I am not – we have established that fact many times. I am simply trying to do what’s best for you, Sophia.”
“Don’t you think I have a say in that?”
He held her gaze for a long time and then shook his head, simply. “I am the King of this land, and you are my wife. I’m afraid when it comes to your security and protection, you will just have to get used to doing as I say.”
“So I’m, what? Yours to command?”
His eyes glinted in his face, his handsome, distracting face. “You probably do not wish to know how appealing I find that description right now.”
And just like that, the anger in her belly swirled and vibrated, morphing into something else, something far more tense and distracting, something that robbed her of breath.
His laugh was soft. “See, Sophia? Do not be so concerned by the fact we are not ‘friends’. You want me, even when you hate me. True?”
She glared at him, but her pulse was racing and there was an inferno raging between her legs. Pointedly, his eyes dropped to her breasts, and she felt the sting of her nipples as they hardened against the flimsy linen of her nightgown.
“If I touched you right now, you’d fall apart in my arms. Why do you fight this?”
Anger stoked through the desire. “Because you’re an arrogant piece of work and someone ought to put you in your place.”
He laughed at that, closing the distance between them, his powerful body dwarfing hers. “Tell me you don’t want me,” he said, simply, reaching for her nightgown and lifting it over her head.
She continued to glare at him, her lower lip very close to a pout.
“Say it. Tell me you don’t want me and I will walk out of this tent right now, and leave you to get ready for the day.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but the words died inside of her. Sophia had always been a fighter, but she couldn’t fight this. She didn’t want to fight this. In a world that had left her bereft, that had stripped her of almost everyone she loved, had made her alone and lonely, she had this. She had Malik. And he wasn’t everything she wanted, but this firestorm of need between them was – insanely – enough.
She opened her mouth to say something but could find no words to offer.
Instead, her hips moved from side to side and he laughed, a sound that invigorated her anger – but not enough. Sensual heat was drugging her.
“You cannot fight this, Sophia,” he said quietly, reaching down and lifting her up, pushing her over his shoulder and cu
rving a hand over her naked backside.
And he was right. Neither of them could. This need was as demanding of each of them.
Her stomach was in knots and her heart was squeezing painfully. She felt hot and cold and so desperately driven to this that she would have begged for him over and over and over if he’d asked it of her.
But she didn’t need to.
He dropped her down onto the mattress and followed after, his powerful body so achingly familiar, so intensely right.
“You want to hate me, but you can’t. At least, not all of me.” And he thrust into her, his hard arousal taking fierce possession of her body.
She dug her nails into his back and heard herself groan, as pleasure rolled through her in addictive, insatiable waves, “Oh, go to hell!”
Chapter 11
“WHAT ARE YOU GOING to do?” She asked, sipping her coffee, her huge blue eyes fixing to him with a look of steel. It was hard to believe that twenty minutes ago they’d been wrapped in each other’s arms, the madness of desire saturating them, cleaving them together.
She’d showered and pulled on a pale blue dress, styled her hair into a braid that wrapped around her head like a crown, and applied some gloss to her lips and mascara to lashes that were already so dark and long. She looked very beautiful, and completely untouchable.
And he wanted to touch her.
Though this was far from a conventional marriage, he understood now the tradition of a honeymoon. All he could think about was his wife, in his bed, beneath his body, calling his name into the sky… Perhaps they should have taken a month after the wedding. A month in bed, just her and him, sunshine, and sex on tap. Would that have cured him of this growing infatuation?
“To do?” He prompted, reaching for his own coffee and taking a large gulp. It tasted of cinnamon and darkness. He drank it gratefully.
“The situation here. With Laith and Saliyah?”
His frown was reflexive. “It’s complicated.”
She pursed her lips. “So you’ve said.” She leaned back a little in her chair, cradling her cup in her hands, her huge blue eyes probing his face. “She has to be allowed to go to university.”
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