by Lynne Graham
There was no reason why she and Zarif should share a bedroom, she reasoned feverishly. Good grief, had he taken her to the very same bed he had once shared with Azel? She swallowed hard, scanning the decoration of the rooms suspiciously and feeling very much like an intruder. Naturally she would neither ask nor expect him to put the photo away. At the same time, though it possibly wasn’t very nice or sympathetic, she worried immediately why she was so determined not to live daily with that reminder of Azel or inhabit the same rooms.
Smartly garbed in a tailored cotton dress, Ella went off to explore and soon discovered that there were so many rooms available that she could probably choose a different one for every night of the year she was to spend in Vashir. She picked a set of interconnecting rooms on the other side of the corridor and was engaged in removing her new clothes from the dressing room when Hanya joined her.
‘You are packing to go somewhere?’ the tiny brunette asked in surprise.
Ella studied Hanya for a split second, recalling the misunderstanding about how much vodka she had drunk and she still forced a smile. In the future she would watch out for Hanya but for as long as she was forced to consult the other woman as an interpreter and for advice, it would be wiser not to make an enemy of her. ‘Just across the corridor. I like my own space and Zarif likes his,’ she said lightly.
Hanya called for two maids and, without Ella having to say a word more, she and her belongings, old and new, were resettled across the corridor.
‘Queen Azel planned to turn this suite into a nursery because it had more space,’ Hanya confided. ‘So sad. I expect had my cousin survived she would have been the mother of several children by now.’
‘Yes.’ Ella refused to let the gloss be stolen from her new accommodation by the news that Azel had hoped to site a nursery there.
‘My uncle and the King were inconsolable.’ Hanya sighed. ‘I wept most for the baby. He was so little and cute.’
‘Yes,’ Ella responded a little gruffly, finding her own vocal cords tightening when she thought of that tiny face in the photo, a life taken before it even got properly going.
‘Azel was much older than I was and because of that we weren’t close,’ the other woman admitted honestly. ‘But we all knew how much she adored the King. For a long time he was lost without her.’
‘It was a huge loss,’ Ella conceded and then she quite deliberately busied herself putting away her toiletries in the cupboard in the spacious bathroom. In the same bag she came on her contraceptive pills and realised that she had missed one the day before. She took another and hoped that her having missed one would make no difference. She vaguely recalled being told something about having to try and take it at the same time every day and she shook her head ruefully. Two weddings in forty-eight hours and an apparent allergy to shellfish had destroyed her usual routine.
Around ten, Ella went to bed. She had dined with Hanya after Zarif phoned her to tell her that he wouldn’t be back until late. She wondered if newly marrieds usually went straight back to work after the wedding in Vashir. Certainly, Zarif did not seem to be acknowledging any need to change his schedule to accommodate a wife. But then why would he? she asked herself irritably. Zarif was well aware that she wasn’t a proper wife and that within a year she would be gone, so, even if it was boring and lonely for Ella, it made sense that he should see no point in altering his usual habits.
Just as Ella was contemplating reaching out to douse the bedside light her bedroom door swung open without warning. Startled, she sat up.
Zarif stood poised in the doorway, breathing heavily, his spectacular cheekbones scored with colour. ‘What are you doing in here?’ he demanded.
‘Is there some reason why I shouldn’t sleep in another room?’ Ella asked shortly, colliding with the fiery golden eyes pinned to her and challenging that look.
‘You’re my wife. I want you in my bed.’
Ella was astonished by his attitude. ‘Surely you can visit me here?’
‘But I do not want to visit,’ Zarif derided with savage distaste, stalking to the bed, thrusting the sheet back with impatient hands and snatching her up off the mattress without ceremony. ‘I want you where I know I can find you twenty-four-seven.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
ZARIF TUMBLED HER down on his four-poster bed like a stolen parcel he had forcibly retrieved. Ella sat up, honey-blonde hair fanning round her flushed face, sapphire eyes very bright. ‘What are you playing at?’
‘This is not a game,’ Zarif told her sternly. ‘Why did you move out of here?’
Ella stilled. ‘I saw Azel’s photo in the dining room—at least I assume it was her—and suddenly being here didn’t feel comfortable. This is where you lived with her.’
Zarif was rigid with tension, as he always seemed to be when she made any reference to his first wife or child. ‘No, it wasn’t. We didn’t live together in the Western sense.’
Her brow furrowed. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘My grandparents lived together, sharing the same rooms and mealtimes. That was their way. My uncle Halim and his wife, Azel’s parents, were more traditional and preferred separate accommodation. Azel was accustomed to that lifestyle and this building has so much unused space that it was not a problem,’ he explained flatly. ‘Try to remember that we were only teenagers when we married and Azel wanted her own suite where she could entertain her friends and occasionally forget that she was a queen. I doubt if she ever set foot in here.’
Ella was very much surprised by that snapshot of a marriage she had blithely assumed to be a love’s young dream of constant togetherness and suddenly she was unable to meet his direct gaze. Had she simply fled from the threat of a photograph? Was she still that over-sensitive about Azel’s unassailable position in his heart? And why was that, when she no longer loved him? She didn’t love him, had no excuse to feel jealous or possessive about a part of his past that had been written long before she even met him. What was the matter with her?
‘The presence of the photo offended you?’ Zarif pressed.
‘No, of course not.’ Ella studied her linked hands with fixed attention. Offended did not describe her feelings. She had felt irrationally threatened and hurt but that was not for sharing.
‘You’re still wearing the bracelet,’ he said in surprise.
Ella clamped a rueful hand over the glittering diamonds and went pink. ‘I couldn’t get the clasp undone.’
‘Let me...’ His dark head lowered, his luxuriant black hair almost brushing her cheek and the exotic scent of sultry spice and earthy male assailed her nostrils. Deft fingers unfastened the tricky clasp and set the bracelet onto the cabinet by the bed. ‘I was with my uncle all evening. I didn’t intend to leave you alone for so long.’
‘That’s OK,’ Ella said breathlessly as a cell phone buzzed in the tense silence.
Zarif stepped back from the bed to answer his phone. ‘I’m sorry, I must take this...’
Talking in Arabic and already, she sensed, mental miles from her, Zarif wandered fluidly across the room and eventually into the room next door. Ella slumped back against the pillows to await his return. It shouldn’t matter to him where she chose to sleep. Why was he suddenly bent on always reminding her that she was his wife? Their marriage was fake, and a temporary fake at that, and to her way of thinking she was not really his wife, so why did he feel the need to pretend otherwise? As she listened to Zarif’s call continuing and the undeniably soothing sound of his calm, well-modulated drawl she smothered a yawn and finally slid out of bed, closed the interconnecting door quietly and switched out the lights.
She had no idea what time it was when she was wakened by an arm tugging her back into contact with a hot, damp, very masculine body. ‘Oh!’ she gasped, flinching.
‘I’m sorry...I didn’t intend to wake you,’ Zarif breathed.
<
br /> ‘Then you shouldn’t have put your arm round me...and you’re damp!’ Ella complained loudly before she could think better of it because he immediately whipped his arm off her and shifted away from her.
‘Fresh from the shower. I’m not used to sharing a bed,’ Zarif sighed. ‘I kept on bumping into you and I thought that if I held you close, it would be less unsettling.’
Ella felt oddly abandoned by his retreat and she shimmied backwards until their bodies had made contact again. ‘There, now you know where I am.’
Zarif’s core temperature was so much hotter than her own that her spine felt burned by the connection, or possibly the real problem was the overheated tingles of awareness that immediately coursed through her when she felt the hard thrust of his erection against her hip. She tensed, insanely aware of the swelling of her breasts and the melting liquid sensation in her pelvis.
‘Ignore it...it’s just the normal male reaction to being close to a beautiful woman,’ Zarif informed her deflatingly.
‘I do know that much about men!’ Ella shot back, her cheeks warm in the moonlight filtering through the drapes.
‘And of course, I’ve thought of little else all day but the sheer joy of being inside you, habibti,’ Zarif confessed in a roughened undertone. ‘That doesn’t help. Even the knowledge that you did not experience the same pleasure doesn’t cool my enthusiasm.’
‘But I did...at the end,’ Ella whispered back, cheeks hotter than ever.
‘If only you had told me beforehand that I would be the first,’ Zarif groaned into her hair, his arm closing round her to pull her even closer, long finger smoothing across her shoulder. ‘Had I known, I would have been much more patient and infinitely more careful to prepare you. It might still have hurt but probably not as much.’
‘I didn’t want you to know,’ Ella admitted.
‘But why not? It was a gift I never thought to have from you. You should’ve been proud of your innocence,’ he countered in a tone of rebuke. ‘But then I should never have just assumed that you had had other lovers.’
‘But wasn’t that part of your fantasy? That I would be an experienced partner?’ Ella prompted tight-mouthed.
‘There was no fantasy,’ Zarif protested heatedly. ‘I wanted you so much I didn’t care whether you had a past or not. I am not a narrow-minded man.’
‘I’m not sure I can believe you...’ Ella hesitated but then she had to ask, ‘Was it really sheer joy for you?’
‘It was amazing for me but the fact that it wasn’t for you only made me feel worse,’ he growled with grudging honesty.
‘It wasn’t only the end I enjoyed,’ Ella confided.
‘No?’ Zarif eased his hands below the hem of her camisole top and cupped her breasts, catching the swelling sensitive nipples between his fingers and tugging gently to send curls of molten lust travelling straight to her core. Her hips squirmed, a small explosion of air dragged from between her lips.
‘It was only that few s-seconds I didn’t enjoy,’ she stammered as he began to pull the camisole up and over her head, baring her breasts for his caresses.
‘Will you give me another chance to prove myself?’ Zarif murmured hungrily in her ear, pausing to nip at the tender slope of skin between her neck and her shoulder with his strong white teeth.
Jerking with a stifled gasp, Ella laughed. ‘Now would be a good time.’
Zarif tugged up her legs to extract her from her shorts. ‘If you had said no, go to sleep, I do believe I would have killed you,’ he confided with raw amusement. ‘I ache for you, habibti.’
Ella was aching too and there was an overflowing sensation inside her in the region of her chest, emotions rolling about in wild disarray and, although she couldn’t distinguish them, she knew she was on a high and vulnerable. It was just sex, only sex, she bargained wildly with herself; there was no need to make it more than it was and little point in punishing herself for meeting the terms of a bargain she had agreed to make. He flipped her round in his arms to kiss her before she could get any further with the sensible talking-to she was giving herself and that single kiss sent every rational thought flying into nothingness. Her hand came up and speared into his thick black hair to hold him to her and the flicker of his tongue inside her mouth filled her with wild hunger.
She twisted against him, squirming, needing, in a way she had never known before. The swollen petals of flesh between her quivering thighs throbbed and when he came over her, she was more than ready for the long hard glide of his sex into hers. Delicious ripples of response fluttered within her. As he rose over her she had a vision of him soaring above the flames during the sword dance and her heart thumped out a wild tattoo.
He shifted his hips, finding another angle, and thrust into her receptive flesh. Plunged into raw excitement, she sobbed with pleasure. Every skin cell was primed to want more as she arched up to him like a cat and locked her legs round his lean hips. Need exploded in her, voracious and impatient, driving her on as she rose to meet his every thrust, helplessly reaching for the climax and revelling in the great starburst of release when it swept over her, raining down a cascade of intense pleasure that relaxed every bone in her body.
‘You are delicious, habibti,’ Zarif husked into the coconut-scented depths of her hair as he eased her onto her side to release her from his weight and kissed her shoulder. ‘Utterly delicious.’
Ella roused herself from her slump, surprised that she was still in the circle of his arms. ‘You’re holding me.’
‘Yes...’ Zarif breathed without any expression at all.
‘This morning you said it would be inappropriate.’
‘This morning I felt very much in the wrong for taking advantage of an innocent.’
‘But that’s not how it was,’ Ella countered squarely. ‘I knew what I was doing.’
‘What is done is done. But on reflection, I see no reason why we should not be together as long as we treat each other with respect and honesty,’ Zarif framed stubbornly, ramming down every misgiving, long fingers smoothing the impossibly soft skin of her slender waist while he drank in the scent of her. It was so many years since he had spent an entire night in bed with a woman. He had never slept with his lovers and even Azel had only been an occasional overnight visitor but the idea of returning to find Ella in his bed every night was amazingly appealing...although he could never afford to forget that she was a supreme indulgence that came with time limits.
‘So you show respect and apologise by giving me clothes, flowers and a diamond bracelet,’ Ella remarked gingerly. ‘Don’t you know any other way to show care or concern with a woman? Do you always just buy things?’
Zarif was stunned by the question, which cut right to the heart of his previous dealings with women. Yes, sadly he did just buy things. To say sorry for a cancellation, to express sympathy for a loss or dismissal, to say thank you for an especially good night.
In the silence, Ella gulped. ‘It just makes a girl feel a little cheap...that’s all,’ she told him abstractedly, her voice dwindling because she did not want to start an argument.
‘I have had very few...what you might term relationships,’ Zarif admitted grittily. ‘I am not trying to buy you. Why would I when I have already bought you?’
Stinging tears of painful surprise washed the backs of Ella’s eyes. She pulled away from him and turned defensively onto her side. She had spoken without thinking, foolishly forgetting how she had ended up married to him. But how could she have forgotten? How could she have forgotten for one moment how big a part his fabulous wealth had played in their relationship? Without that wealth, without her parents’ need for security, she would not be with him now.
‘You didn’t buy me outright,’ she contradicted in a small, tight voice. ‘You bought a year-long lease. That’s not the same.’
In the dimness, Zarif
suddenly grinned with sheer appreciation. He loved that distinction that she brandished like a weapon, refusing to grant him full ownership. A year-long lease? Only Ella could have come up with that qualifier.
‘And of course we both know that you won’t be extending the lease at any stage,’ Ella completed thinly, and swallowed hard before adding, ‘You know, if this is us being respectful and honest with each other, Zarif, you can keep it! We’re just tearing everything apart.’
Involuntarily, Zarif reached for her. They had both spoken the truth, although admittedly not in a productive manner, but he did, however, have a great reverence for the truth, regardless of how tactless or wounding it might be. Yet a tiny, tiny hint of a sniff from the far side of the bed sent him flying across it before he could think better of his behaviour and he tugged her small rigid body back across the divide into his arms.
‘Nothing has been torn apart. You are still the same woman. You gave up your freedom for your parents’ benefit. How can I not respect such strength and loyalty?’ he demanded.
Ella breathed in so deep she was surprised she didn’t swell up like a balloon and float away. Some of her rigidity eased and she allowed her body to bend into the heat and solidity of his. ‘You really mean that?’ she checked.
‘I do.’
‘By the way, if you decide you want to buy me something...you could make it something small and cheap,’ she told him impulsively. ‘You know, like the silver pendant and bracelet you bought me for my twenty-first birthday?’
Zarif almost laughed out loud but he held it back. Presumably she had never had that first gift of his valued nor had she studied its marks. The pendant and the bracelet were not silver, they were platinum and designed by one of the most famous jewellery designers alive. Although at the time he had not wanted to give her a gift that attracted attention by being too excessive, his desire for her had been so powerful that a small, cheap gift could never have matched what he then believed she was worth. ‘Do you still have it?’ he asked curiously.
