by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
"You do not have to be a child to enjoy this swimming place," she said with a lift of her chin. "I am not a child."
He did not answer. For a long moment he just looked at her, and she realized suddenly that her mouth and throat felt dry. She saw Cade's throat move as if he had swallowed, and then she wanted to swallow, too. She felt hot in spite of the wet bathing suit she wore under her clothes, a peculiar heat that filled all her insides in ways that even Rueben's famous Texas chili had not.
"Hey, Cade, come on, man—better get yourself a plate, before it's all gone."
Leila jerked as if she'd been roused from a daydream. Rueben was coming toward them across the grass, carrying a long fork with two prongs and leather strips hanging from the handle. He looked younger today, she thought, less shy than he usually did.
Cade put out his hand and shook the older man's. "Ah, thanks, Rueben, but I better take a raincheck."
Rueben looked at him as though Cade had gone insane. "What, are you kidding me? We got plenty— steaks, chili.. .come on, you gotta eat something."
Cade was laughing, but also shaking his head. "No, really—I had a sandwich at the airport. I just came to collect my...wife." Leila glanced at him curiously. His smile seemed as though it had been carved from wood.
Rueben nodded toward Leila. "Hey—she tell you already?"
"No...tell me what?" Then Cade caught a breath and snapped his fingers. "Suki had her foal."
"Yup," said Rueben. "Nice little filly. Think she's gonna look just like her mama."
"How is she? Everything go okay?" This was man-talk, and Leila saw that Cade had already turned toward Rueben, automatically excluding her.
Leila was used to that kind of treatment. But before she could even begin to feel her usual frustration and resentment, Rueben had begun to back away. "Hey, let hertell you about it," he said. "She was there." Then he glanced over at Leila and, to her complete amazement, winked. "Lucky she was, too. Suki couldn't of done it without her.
"Well—hey, I gotta get back to my burgers—see you in the morning, boss." And he hurried off to join his family, agile in spite of his funny disjointed walk.
Leila looked at Cade, who was frowning at her as if she were a strange creature, perhaps in a zoo. He cleared his throat. "What the hell did he mean by that?"
Leila smiled, showing her dimples. "Oh, I think he was making ajoke." But pleasure was flooding through her, warming her insides the way a hot drink does when the weather is cold. "I helped a little—but only a very little. I only spoke to her—in Arabic. I think she liked that—"
"Who, the foal?"
"No, Suki—the mare. And I petted her while Rueben pulled on her feet—"
"Suki's?"
Leila gave a little crow of laughter. "The foal's. Then, after she was born, I had to wipe her nose and mouth so she could breathe. And later I fed her with a bottle because her mother did not have milk for her right away. But she is fine now. And—oh, Cade—she is so beautiful. You must see her. May we go to see her now?" And she checked in surprise, because they were standing in front of the pasture gate and she had not even realized that they had been walking.
Just then someone noticed them leaving. Many voices called out goodbyes, and Leila waved and answered with thank-yous and promises to come back and visit again some time. Cade waved absently as he opened the gate and held it for her.
"Maybe you'd better tell me about it," he said gruffly as they started up the gentle slope, walking together, side by side. His feelings were mixed, and very confusing.
He kept glancing at her as she talked, stimulated in unexplainable ways by that little burr of roughness in her voice, entranced by the way her dimples came and went, like a baby playing peek-a-boo. His heartbeat had quickened again, and he knew it was not from the exertion of the climb. He told himself he was glad to see the color back in her cheeks and the bounce in her step. He told himself he was happy to see the dimples again, and hear the musical peal of her laughter. But there was a place inside him.. .a kernel of disappointment... a leaden little cloud that wouldn' t let him forget. It's not me. It's not me. It's Suki and the foal that's made her happy, not me.
Happy? What about that? Was she happy? Whether it was Rueben and Betsy's clan, or Suki and her foal that had made her so or not, right now it sure as hell seemed as though she was. Uncertainty filled Cade's belly. His resolve to undo this crazy marriage, based as it was on the justification that Leila wasn't and could never be happy with him, trembled....
She stopped in the stable long enough to fill a can with grain for Suki. Cade stood in the doorway of the stall and watched her cross the grassy paddock, graceful as a nymph in her long wraparound skirt and sandals, T-shirt knotted at one hip, dark braid swaying as she walked. She approached the dappled gray mare confidently, murmuring in a musical language he assumed must be Arabic. How exotic she is, he thought. And yet.. .somehow she wasn't. That sunny paddock, beautiful gray mare and beautiful woman, spindle-legged black foal butting at her back.. .Cade had never considered himself a connoisseur of art, but he thought if someone were to paint this scene, it would look incredibly beautiful.. .and exactly right.
"She thinks I am her mother," Leila said to Cade as he joined her, laughing as the foal again butted impatiently at her hip. "Because I fed her with a bottle. No, no, little one, you must drink from your own mama now." And she bent down to encircle the foal's neck with her arms and press her face to the fuzzy black hide.
The hollow feeling in Cade's belly pushed into his chest, and he struggled to haul in a breath for which he had no room. "I've been thinking," he said, and because it was a lie—the idea had only that moment come to him—his voice was scratchy and filled with gravel. Still cradling the foal, she looked up at him, waiting with bright and expectant eyes. "I haven't given you your bride gift—what do they call it?—the mahr?"
She nodded, frowning a little. "The mahr, yes."
Cade tipped his head toward the foal. Nerves jumped in his belly. "She's yours, if you want her. For your bride gift."
He was unprepared when Leila sucked in air in a cry that sounded more like grief than joy. Unprepared, too, for the tears that suddenly glistened in her eyes. She looked so stricken, in fact, that he tried to apologize. "I know it isn't jewelry, or money—"
"I have no need for jewelry or money! Oh, Cade—she is so beautiful—this is the most wonderful bride gift—more wonderful than I ever dreamed of." She buried her tear-wet face in the foal's coat, then as quickly was smiling up at Cade again. "I will name her—may I name her?"
"She's yours," Cade said gruffly. "You can do anything you like."
"Then I will name her Sari," she said with a fierce, impassioned joy. "In Arabic it means, 'most noble.'" She turned to face him squarely then, smiling with a radiance that took his breath away. "Thank you, Cade. Thank you for my bride gift." And she stepped forward, put her hands on his unshaven jaws, and kissed him.
Chapter 9
Her lips were warm and soft, but with an enticing little bite to them that he recognized, even in that moment of shock, as Rueben's chili. But there was something else, too, a salty coolness he knew could only be tears. It was that as much as anything, he thought later, when he was capable of it again, that reminder of her vulnerability, the fragile state of her emotions he'd violated once before, that made him stiffen when she touched him. That made him hold himself rigid while his insides quivered with unanticipated longing, his arm muscles tensing until they ached with the control it took to keep from wrapping them around her.
"You're welcome," he said as he took her by the arms and held her where she was, a few critical inches away from him. Any closer, he knew, and he'd never be able to resist her. If he let her body touch him he was finished. "I'm glad you like her."
His thoughts were as bleak as his words were gentle, and as uncompromising as his touch. It's gratitude, nothing more. It's the gift—it's the horse she loves, not me.
* * *
I don't
understand him, this man I have married, thought Leila. He seemed so kind.. .yes, even sweet— Kitty had been right about that. But at the same time, so distant it seemed impossible that she would ever know or understand him.
What if I can't? What if I never do?
The thought filled her with the cold emptiness of panic. She could not endure such aloneness for long. And what must she do then, go running back to Tamir, to her mother and father, like a little child with a bumped knee? To even think of such a thing made her cheeks burn and her heart quicken. No—I cannot. I will not go back.
No, she was not ready to give up. Not yet.
Tonight, she had decided, she would try again to seduce her husband. Except.. .no, she did not think seduce was exactly the correct word. She had looked it up in her English dictionary, and it seemed to mean that she would be trying to make Cade do something bad. What could be bad about a man making love to his wife? No—she did not like this word, seduce. Not at all.
So, what would she call it, this business of trying to make her own husband desire her? And more important, how could she accomplish it? She had not had any success at being pushy, so it was clearly time to try something else. But what? Leila was not accustomed to having to work to get her way. All her life she had been the baby of the Kamal family, the palace darling. All that had been required in order to wrap her family and servants around her little finger was to flash her dimples, be her winsome and charming self.
Be herself. Was it possible? Could her own winsomeness and charm be enough to win over such a man as Cade? Leila didn't know, but since nothing else seemed to be working, it was definitely worth a try.
Yes, she thought, watching herself in the bathroom mirror as her small white teeth pressed into her lower lip and her dimples magically appeared. Tonight.. .Tonight, she would make herself so appealing, not even Cade would be able to resist her.
* * *
Cade was accustomed to fixing his own Sunday evening meal. He'd eat it alone in the kitchen, sometimes standing at the counter, or, if he'd remembered to pick up a Sunday paper, at the table in the breakfast room with the sports and business sections spread out in front of him. Tonight was no different, except that he had company.
Leila had come in while he was filling his plate from the array of covered containers and foil-wrapped packages Betsy had left for him, looking scrubbed and delectable in a belted robe the soft pink of wild roses. He'd tensed automatically when she first appeared, armoring himself against her appeal and gearing up to do battle with the unwanted desire for her that was beginning to gnaw at him like a hunger in his belly.
But she hadn't made any attempt to touch him again, or even get close to him, leaning instead against the counter and nibbling strawberries while she chattered on about the day she'd had. He thought he should have found her presence annoying. He wished he did. With all his heart he wished he didn't enjoy the sound of her voice so much. He wished his mouth wouldn't water at the sight of those soft lips of hers lush with strawberries.
She followed him into the breakfast room and sat down across the table from him, so he never did get to his newspaper. Instead, while he ate he listened to Leila telling him all about swimming with the children at Rueben and Betsy's, and how much she'd enjoyed meeting all the Flores family. She asked him all sorts of questions, and seemed so interested he told her everything he knew about Rueben and Betsy—how they'd grown up together in the same small village in Mexico, had married as teenagers and come to the United States not long after that, like so many others, to find work. How they'd been lucky enough to both find jobs with the same estate, Betsy as cook and housekeeper, Rueben as caretaker and horse wrangler. How they'd raised eight kids in the house down by the creek, and sent every one of them to college—they'd all graduated, too, except Tony, the youngest, who was still at Texas A&M studying veterinary medicine.
While he was telling her all this, he couldn't help but notice how the glow in her eyes had grown misty, and that her smile seemed wistful, even sad. It had a bad effect on him, that smile. It made him ashamed of himself. It made him think about his behavior toward her—especially the way he'd treated her since he'd married her and brought her here, to this place so far from her home and family. God, how lonely, how homesick she must be. No wonder she'd enjoyed Rueben and Betsy's bunch so much. And she'd never once complained. He—Cade—was a jerk, a selfish, thoughtless SOB, thinking only about how he was going to get out of this marriage mess, and nothing at all about what she must be going through.
Being thoroughly ashamed of himself didn't exactly put him in a frame of mind to be sociable, so as soon as he'd finished eating, he excused himself rather abruptly and shut himself up in his study to brood. It didn't take him long to discover that being exclusively in his own company wasn't doing much to improve his mood, and that it probably wasn't going to get any better until he'd figured out a way to make it up to Leila.
Meaning to step out into the backyard for a cheroot, he found himself climbing the stairs instead. He halted in front of the closed door to the bedroom that wasn't his anymore and raised his hand, only to discover that it still held the unlit cigar. He tucked it in his shirt pocket, then knocked.
So was his heart, knocking so loudly he barely heard Leila's musical, "Come in."
She was sitting on the bed—his bed—half-sideways to him with one leg drawn up, giving him enticing glimpses of smooth legs that were either naturally tawny or lightly tanned. There was the promise of other intriguing secrets in the deep vee of her robe, but they were screened from his view by her upraised arms, from which the sleeves of her robe had slipped down to reveal still more of that silky, cream-with-a-dash-of coffee skin. Which was more of her skin than he'd ever seen before at one time, come to think of it. His memory chose that moment to replay the thought that had struck him down at Rueben's, the incredible fact that he'd never actually seen his wife's body.
What was more incredible was the realization that, of all the women's bodies he'd seen in his life, in all stages of sexy and alluring undress, he'd never been so turned on as he was by those tiny, half-imagined glimpses of golden-tan skin.
With all that going on in his mind, it took him a minute or two to realize that what she was doing was braiding her hair. A tortoise-shell brush lay on the bed beside her and a length of pink ribbon was draped across her lap. She looked flustered, as if he'd caught her in a private act. She murmured something he couldn't hear and struggled to bring the braid over her shoulder so she could finish the task, and he murmured something back that was meant to tell her she didn't need to rush on his account. She watched him come toward her with apprehensive eyes. He wondered if she could hear his heart thumping.
She pulled her eyes away from him. Holding the braid with one hand, she picked up the length of ribbon with the other.
"You need some help with that?" His tongue felt thick; his voice sounded furry. Her eyes jerked back to him as he sat on the bed beside her and reached out a hand to take the ribbon.
For a moment she seemed mesmerized, gazing at him without comprehension. Then she gave herself a shake and murmured, "Oh, yes—thank you..." Her eyes dropped behind the veil of her lashes as she watched his big-boned hands tie the delicate piece of ribbon around the glossy rope of her hair. Her lips parted. She seemed to be holding her breath. He knew he was.
He tried to clear his throat. "Just out of curiosity, how were you going to manage this before I happened along?"
She gave him a sideways, upward look through her lashes. "Like this—" Her dimples winked at him as she demonstrated, with lips tucked between her teeth, how she would have held the braid in her mouth while she tied the ribbon around it.
He finished the task and held it up for her inspection. "Okay—how's that?"
"That is very nice, thank you."
For some reason he didn't relinquish the braid right away, but held it for a moment, staring at it and measuring the warm, damp weight of it in his hand. He had a sudden powerf
ul urge to yank off the ribbon he'd just finished tying, unravel and bury his face in the soft, fragrant mass of her hair. Your hair is beautiful. He wanted to say that to her, but he didn't.
Instead, as he felt the smooth rope slide through his fingers, he cleared his throat and said, "I've been thinking..."
With a single graceful motion the braid disappeared over her shoulder. "Yes?" Her eyes waited, expectant, vulnerable.
He knew he should be more careful with her. He knew he ought to move away, at least. But he seemed to be drowning in those midnight eyes. For one panicky moment he couldn't remember what it was he'd wanted to say to her.
"I've been thinking," he said firmly, and struggling against the spell of those eyes was like swimming up out of a whirlpool. "It's been almost a week since we left Tamir. I thought you might be feeling.. .you know, a little homesick." She straightened almost guiltily and gave her head a little shake, ready to deny it, but he checked her with a gesture. "Hey, it's natural you'd be missing your family. What I thought, is, maybe you'd like to give them a call."
She tried to catch back the cry with her fingertips, but it was too quick for her. Above her hand, her eyes were suddenly bright with tears.
"I should have thought of it before this," Cade said gruffly. "I guess I was just so busy... business... catching up..." He felt thoroughly ashamed of himself. "Anyway, if you like, we can make the call right now. It would be..." he frowned at his watch "... early in the morning in Tamir."
"I would like that.. .very much." She'd turned a shoulder to him and was trying to wipe away a tear without him noticing. Then she jerked back to him, eyes wide and stricken again. "But I do not know the number. Is that not terrible? I do not even know my own telephone number!"
"I doubt you've had reason to call it," Cade said dryly.
"Not since school, that is true. That was so long ago."
"It doesn't matter. I just happen to have it, right here."
He reached into the pocket of his shirt for the slip of paper he'd written the number down on and found his forgotten cheroot there instead. Distracted, he handed the cigar to Leila while he retrieved the paper and reached with the other hand for the cordless phone on the bedside table. He dialed the number, and while he waited for the overseas connection he looked over at Leila and saw that she was still holding his cigar. Sort of rolling it between her fingers in an exploratory way, holding it to her nose and sniffing it.
