by Albany, Cara
There was a low, flat table made from a rectangular, ornately carved piece of wood. Small candles had been set within holders all around the space so that the tent seemed to glow with a warm, rosy light. Tariq nodded his approval. Yes. This would be an agreeable place to pass a night with Zoe.
She moved across to the low divan and turned to Tariq. "So this is it?" she said.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
She swept her gaze around the room. "This. You and me. Alone."
"Is that such a bad thing?"
"I didn't say it was. Did you know this camp was so close by?"
"What are suggesting?" Tariq asked.
"It just seems pretty convenient that this place was so close," she replied.
"Can I remind you that there is a sandstorm currently blowing in our direction?"
As if to confirm that, there was a howl of wind and Tariq saw the walls of the tent shake.
Zoe's eyes widened. "Will this place stay upright?" she asked. Her shoulders tightened, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
"It will," he said emphatically. She gave Tariq a skeptical look. He moved toward her. "I come here frequently. This tribe has close ties with my father's tribe. They always offer hospitality. It's the way of life out here."
"Hospitality?" she replied. "Is that all?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you normally come out here on your own? Or do you bring friends?" she asked. There was suspicion in her voice. What was she accusing him off?
"I usually bring no-one," he said. "Do you think this is some kind of desert love retreat?" he said trying to word things delicately.
She laughed at his choice of words. "I seem to recall you always had your love pads in England and America."
Tariq stared at her. Was that what she thought this was? Some kind of sleazy place to bring women. Didn't she know how disrespectful that suggestion was? How insulting to him and to the tribesmen who had only moments before provided shelter and comfort without asking anything in return.
"I think you need to rest, Zoe," he stated firmly trying to restrain the urge to tell her just what he was thinking about her disgraceful comments.
Zoe stared at Tariq. "I feel fine," she said raising her chin defiantly.
He started toward the entrance. "I'll ask for some fresh water to be brought. Perhaps some food. Although I'm not sure how much I'll be able to bring you now that the storm has picked up," he said.
"I told you, I don't need anything," Zoe said standing her ground. He watched her impatiently tapping one of her feet on the thick rug.
Tariq sighed. She looked so unbelievably attractive. Especially now that she was clearly angry about the prospect of being confined to the tent with Tariq. Didn't she trust herself to be alone with him? Tariq glanced at the partition at the far end of the tent. "Let me show where we'll be sleeping," he said, knowing that he was provoking her, wary of her reaction. But, it didn't matter. She was his wife, and while they remained in this tent, he was determined to demonstrate that he expected her to follow his lead.
Zoe's mouth dropped open. "Where we'll be sleeping? What do you mean, we?"
"I can hardly allow you to cast me out of my own bed, can I?" he said. "Not with my reputation to maintain."
Zoe glared at him. "And what kind of reputation is that?"
Tariq squinted at her. "You really need to ask that?"
"That's right. I forget," she said rolling her eyes. "The sheikh has to be all powerful in everything, doesn't he."
Tariq smiled patiently at Zoe. "I didn't say any such thing."
"But, it's true, isn't it? All you're thinking of is how the tribesmen will react when they see you don't sleep with your wife."
"That was the farthest thing from my mind," he replied. "I was merely thinking of your own comfort. They know you are my wife."
"You told them?" she asked wide-eyed.
Tariq took the last few steps toward Zoe until he was face to face with her. He gazed into her green eyes. There was hesitation there, an uncertainty about what he was about to do, what he was going to say.
"You are the first and only woman I have ever brought here," he stated.
Zoe's eyes narrowed, searching Tariq's features for any hint of insincerity. Tariq met her gaze with firm resolve.
"The only woman," she said finally, testing him one last time.
Tariq nodded, meeting her doubting gaze. "The only one. Ever."
Zoe sighed and turned her head away. Tariq reached up and guided her face back to him with a finger beneath her chin. Her eyes were wide. The sight of those green jewels made Tariq's heart race, caused a firmness to take hold of his body. He glanced down at her lips, seeing the moistness on them, sensing the promise they held.
Tariq gazed at Zoe, seeing the vulnerability behind the feisty facade.
He dipped his head and claimed her mouth, savoring the sweetness of her taste, the softness of her touch. He heard her gasp slightly, but he took both her shoulders, holding her tight, making it clear he had no intention of letting go. She softened, and he closed the remaining gap between their bodies, pressing against her, making it plain just how much holding her meant to him.
Tariq probed her mouth with his tongue, and she allowed him entry. Nerves fired within Tariq's body, and he knew that the heat of his passion was becoming more obvious to Zoe with each passing moment. He drew her closer to him, the tension building inside himself, the flame starting to burn, even though he didn't trust himself to keep that raging fire under control.
Zoe's breath started to quicken. He could feel the firmness of her breasts against his chest. He wanted to disrobe her, needed to see her, but knew that he couldn't do that. There would be time for that later, when he claimed her in the privacy of the bedchamber.
He wrenched his lips away from hers, and she gasped, opening her eyes, visibly shocked at the urgency with which he had withdrawn from her. There was a flash of irritation in her eyes that momentarily inflamed his desire once again.
They both stood breathless, their faces inches from each other. They shared a wordless moment, an unspoken communication, and then Zoe shook her head, regaining her composure.
"I think I could do with some fresh water," she said running a hand through her hair.
Tariq nodded and sighed. "I'll see what I can get," he said. He turned and started toward the tent entrance. There was a howling surge as the storm lashed against the tent.
The walls vibrated, and Tariq turned back, facing Zoe. "Are you going to be okay?"
Zoe nodded.
"I'll be right back," Tariq said.
He opened the front flap and a blast of sandy air hammered into his face. He wrapped his headcloth across his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. He narrowed his eyes and stepped outside the tent, closing the flap behind him.
He gazed ahead, but could see no further than a few feet. The storm had arrived suddenly and with vicious force. Tariq stood a moment, challenging the storm to hurl him off his feet, taunting the power of this elemental tempest. Compared to the forces he'd unleashed inside the tent, this was nothing, he said to himself. A gust pounded into his body and Tariq staggered, reaching out to one of the tent supports to keep his balance. It felt good to pit himself against this force of nature.
Back inside the tent, there was another powerful, rebellious spirit that seemed hellbent on testing him, he told himself. Zoe shook him to the core as much as this storm. There was only one question in his mind as he headed toward the next tent in search of water for her.
Could he win her over?
CHAPTER TWELVE
The wind howled like a banshee. The tent walls shook. Zoe lay back on the makeshift divan and gazed at Tariq, who was seated at the far end. Zoe sank back on the pile of cushions. She moved her legs to get more comfortable, and the folds of her robe shifted, exposing her legs. She saw Tariq's eyes flash approvingly at the sight of her bare flesh. She hurriedly covered her legs and glanced at the servant w
oman who had just finished laying out some dishes of food on the flat, wooden table.
Tariq smiled at the woman and said something which made her smile. Then she bowed and left the tent.
"They have excelled themselves," Tariq said reaching across to the table and lifting up a small dish. He took some of the food in his bare fingers and scooped it into his mouth. He looked at Zoe. "Aren't you hungry?"
Zoe sighed and shook her head.
"It's a great insult to them if you don't, at least, try the food," Tariq explained. "Courtesy is what keeps us alive in the desert."
Zoe frowned and sat upright. She was only a few feet away from Tariq, but she was sure she could feel his heat even from where she was sitting. He squatted, cross-legged on the edge of the divan, bent over, eagerly devouring his food.
His body was tight, like a coiled spring. She watched him scoop the food into his mouth, savoring the sight, wondering why she found it so compelling.
Maybe he was right. It would be discourteous to the tribesmen to refuse their hospitality.
Zoe's stomach rumbled noisily, and Tariq glanced at her. "See? It looks like I was right. You need to eat. You'll need your strength," he said.
"For what?" she asked curtly.
Tariq's eyes narrowed with good humor, but he said nothing.
Zoe lifted up the bowl and tried the dried fruit, savoring the sudden sweetness.
They ate in silence for a while, exchanging glances. The food was plain, but tasted good. Her stomach stopped complaining and then Tariq poured her some very dark looking tea from the pot. She sipped it from the small cup. It tasted sweet, and she gave Tariq an appreciative glance.
"It's tea. But, they have a special way of making it. Nothing like the tea they have in England," he said frowning. "And the tribesmen don't put milk in their tea," he added with a bemused expression and a shake of his head.
There was another noisy blast from outside and the tent walls shook. It was clear to Zoe that Tariq had been right. The tent would withstand the pummeling of the elements.
Zoe leaned back after finishing her food. She held the teacup in her hand and glanced at Tariq. He looked satisfied leaning there on his side gazing along the divan at Zoe. He was still keeping his distance, and she wondered if he was thinking about the kiss they had shared. Because, right now, that was just about all Zoe had on her mind.
She had been glad of the time alone after he'd left the tent to get water for her. She'd needed to think, to understand what was happening. The way he'd kissed her had communicated something plain and very simple.
Tariq wanted Zoe.
And now she was alone in a tent in the desert, trapped by a storm and with no hope of escape.
But, why would she want to escape, anyway? Wasn't he her husband? Hadn't they been lovers in the past, and hadn't those times been utterly overwhelming?
So why was she feeling so hesitant?
She could trust Tariq, that was for sure. He'd been kind and sensitive to her, keeping her safe, tending to her every need. But, she could see the torment he was going through, being so close to Zoe and not being able to possess her the way he'd once done.
And then there had been that kiss.
The way her body had reacted to his touch hadn't taken Zoe completely by surprise. The fact was that, since she'd met him again, she had been fighting a fierce and almost uncontrollable urge to allow him to take her. Her body was betraying her; tempting her to submit to him; coaxing her to let him do what he used to do to her.
Zoe felt her face flush at the memory of the way he'd once taken her to unbelievable heights of passion.
Memories of their searing lovemaking from two years before were burned into her.
That was what she had been fighting.
The past and everything it represented to her.
She had run out on Tariq once before, convinced that she had made a mistake letting him into her heart. She hadn't been ready for Tariq then.
There was one question to which Zoe hadn't yet found an answer.
Was she ready for Tariq now?
Tariq's eyes narrowed. "What are you thinking about?" he asked.
Zoe shook her head and glanced at the gently shaking walls. "This storm is taking a while to pass through," she replied. As if in response, there was another sudden howl from outside. The candles flickered.
"It won't be long," he said.
"And then what?"
"It's already dark," Tariq said. He didn't seem too put out by that fact. In fact, Zoe thought he looked quite pleased.
"So, we're sleeping here?" she asked, already knowing how he would respond.
Tariq nodded and took a quick sip of tea. Had his face flushed slightly when she had said that? "We'll be able to make our way back when the sun comes up," he said. His voice had a hesitant edge to it that was unfamiliar. What was going through his mind?
Zoe paused and sipped her tea. "And, in the meantime, we do what?" she asked.
Tariq's gaze changed in an instant. She saw his nostrils flare, and there was a sudden firmness in his eyes. He faced her directly. Was that defiance? "We sleep as man and wife," he stated firmly.
Zoe's gaze locked on Tariq's face. Their eyes met and held, as if there was an unseen thread that connected them, holding them together. They didn't have to say anything, because they could both read the thoughts that had seized one anothers' minds. She was sure of that.
Zoe felt her heart racing faster, the pulse at her neck throbbing. Her breathing tightened, and she forced herself to sit up, leaning forward to place the cup down on the low table.
She stood up and paced slowly across the arrangement of rugs laid on the desert floor. Her footsteps felt tentative and uncertain. When she turned back to Tariq, she saw that he was watching her, awaiting her response. He was looking at her with rapt attention. There was an urgency in his gaze with which she was becoming all too familiar. He seemed to be mentally undressing her, even as she stood there in the middle of the floor. His gaze ran all the way down the length of her body, taking in every detail of her curves, or as much as were revealed by the robes she was wearing. He looked hungry and tense, like an animal waiting to pounce.
She clutched her damp hands, resisting the urge to wring them, lest she betray her inner state.
Zoe sighed and peered at Tariq. She shook her head and saw his eyes widen, his mouth open slightly in surprise.
"I will sleep alone, Tariq," she declared. She pursed her lips defiantly and stared at him.
Tariq drew in a sharp breath, tossed the cup onto the table and leapt to his feet. He started toward Zoe, but halted when he saw her take a step backwards. Her foot snagged on the rug, and she stumbled, quickly regaining her balance.
The wind roared, and the tent walls shook. It was as if the elements had sensed the obvious outrage coursing through Tariq's body. She could see him shaking, indignant, as if she had violated some unwritten law he held dear. He stood there, tall and breathtakingly handsome, and she could see that he wanted to defy her, demand that she obey him. But would not. She could not. Because she feared that if she did, her whole world would tumble into chaos.
The only sounds she could hear were the roaring wind from outside and the sharp, rhythmic gasps of her own breathing.
Tariq stood rooted to the spot. Was he frightened to come near her? Had she shocked him that much?
The candles flickered causing the light to dim for a moment. Tariq looked like a mirage as the light faded, and she wondered if he was fast becoming like a sweet illusion to her. Something ached in her heart, and she wanted to go to him, explain to him the thoughts that were driving her away, keeping him at a distance. But, the courage deserted her.
After a while, Tariq sighed and nodded. There was a heartbreaking look of resignation on his face. He glanced across at the tent wall partition that separated the living and sleeping areas. He walked across to it and tugged at the hanging fabric, revealing the large bed inside.
Zoe gazed i
nto the space where the bed lay. There was a small side table. The bed looked surprisingly comfortable. An ornately patterned cover lay on the bed and two pillows at the head.
Tariq glanced across at the divan in the living space. "I shall sleep here," he murmured. He gestured at the bed. "I'm sure you'll be comfortable there. Alone."
Zoe nodded, anything she could say in reply catching in her throat. That final word had hit her like a physical blow. Doubt tugged gently at the edge of her mind.
Then, Tariq strode past her, his head bowed. He came to the tent's entrance and started to untie the flap. He turned to her. "I have to speak with the elder of the tribe. I'll return soon."
He tugged the flap aside letting in a blast of air and sand. He stepped out and closed the tent entrance behind him leaving her standing isolated and wondering if she was going to be able to sleep that night. Alone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Silence!
Zoe awoke to an unearthly quiet and pitch blackness. She sat upright in the bed, clutching the cover to her chest. She listened intently, feeling vaguely unsettled. The storm had blown over, leaving behind it the true silence of the desert.
Zoe leaned across to the small side table and turned up the tiny battery powered lamp. The soft light illuminated the cramped interior of her sleeping area.
Zoe listened for sounds from beyond the draped fabric that separated her from where Tariq was sleeping. She could hear a soft, rhythmic breathing from over there. Tariq must be fast asleep on the divan.
She thought about earlier and how she had waited for Tariq to return. But, he hadn't, so she had turned in early and fallen asleep before he had returned. Curiosity rose inside Zoe.
She slipped out of bed. She was wearing only her undergarments, so she slipped on the robe she had worn when riding in the desert. She padded across the rug, feeling the coarse carpet against the skin of her bare feet. Zoe pulled the hanging fabric to one side and peered into the living space.
