The Sultan's Choice

by Abby Green

  Why did it have to be Sadiq who wanted to hone in on the workings of her psyche? She looked down and pleated her napkin nervously. ‘I told you before about my stepmother?’

  He nodded. ‘You said you didn’t get on?’

  Samia nodded and looked up, took a sip of wine for fortitude. ‘I got the symbol for strength because embarking on that sailing trip I felt as if I was strong—for the first time in my life. After years of feeling weak.’

  She flashed a brittle smile at Sadiq, hating how vulnerable this was making her feel.

  ‘Alesha despised me from the moment she saw me, for all sorts of reasons, but mainly because I looked like my mother. It was common knowledge that my father and mother had shared a great love. He visited her shrine every day religiously until he died.’

  She grimaced slightly. ‘Alesha used to tell me from when I was tiny that because I looked like my mother it made it harder for my father to be around me, because I was the reason she died.’

  ‘Samia—’

  She cut him off, pretending not to hear him, not wanting him to think she was looking for sympathy. ‘Her forte was targeting people’s weak spots. She used it to chip away at my self-confidence, constantly pointing out how different I was. Things got worse when she had girl after girl and no precious male heir to counteract Kaden’s supremacy and mine.’

  Samia’s voice had become a monotone, as if she could try and hide the emotion she felt. ‘If I found anything I enjoyed doing, she’d stop me. It was a constant war of attrition and I couldn’t fight her.’

  Sadiq said dryly, but with a steel tone, ‘She sounds utterly charming.’

  Samia looked at him and was relieved not to see pity. Her heart pounded a little at the look in his eyes. ‘She was, you see—to anyone on the outside looking in. She was an arch manipulator, angry and bitter because she knew my father didn’t love her. I was meant to give a piano recital one day in our huge banquet hall, for my father and some important guests—’ Samia stopped. What was she doing, babbling on about mundane childhood incidents?

  But Sadiq inclined his head. ‘Go on, Samia. I want to hear this.’

  Cursing herself for bringing this up, she continued reluctantly, ‘I’d practised for weeks on my mother’s piano. She’d nearly become a concert pianist before she met my father, and when I played I felt somehow … close to her. Not that I had half her talent.’ She blushed, feeling silly, but Sadiq was still looking at her with something unfathomable yet encouraging in his eyes.

  Samia took a deep breath. ‘Alesha took me aside just before I went on. I don’t even remember what she said now, but when I sat down … I froze. I couldn’t remember a note of the music and I couldn’t move. All I can remember is excruciating terror, not knowing how to just get up and leave. Kaden had to come and physically lift me off the stool. I’d let my father down in front of his guests—but, worse than that, I felt I’d let my mother’s memory down. I haven’t touched a piano since.’

  She grimaced at herself now. ‘It’s all so mundane really. My childhood was no worse than many others. Alesha was just a bully. Apart from her we had a perfectly stable and secure background.’

  Almost harshly, Sadiq cut in. ‘No, it’s not. Nothing is mundane, when you’re a child and your world is threatened. You can have the most secure background and yet within that lies any number of threats.’

  Samia looked at him, her eyes growing wide. ‘Why do you say that?’

  His jaw clenched. ‘Because it’s true. My world was threatened every day when my father took his anger at my mother out on me—or her. Whoever was closest. I watched my father kick her so hard in the belly once that she lay there bleeding. But he wouldn’t let me help her. I tried to, but he beat me back.’

  Samia sucked in a horrified gasp. ‘How could he have done such a thing? And let you watch?’

  Sadiq smiled grimly. ‘So that I would know how to deal with a disobedient wife. A wife who wouldn’t give him any more children.’

  Samia shook her head, feeling sick. ‘You would never be capable of such a thing. How old were you?’

  Sadiq shrugged now. He felt curiously raw at Samia’s easy assertion that he was not like his father. ‘About five.’

  Samia shook her head. ‘Sadiq, that’s horrific. Is that why she didn’t have any more children?’

  ‘She didn’t have any more children because my father slept with mistresses while she was pregnant with me and then passed on a sexually transmitted disease to her. She wouldn’t sleep with him after that, and as a result of his pride and refusal to seek treatment he became infertile.’

  The disgust he felt whenever he thought of his father was rising inside Sadiq, and he wondered wildly for a moment how on earth they’d strayed onto a subject he never discussed with anyone.

  ‘Is that why you doubted your own fertility? Or why you can’t look at your mother? Because you feel guilty that you weren’t able to protect her?’

  Samia’s question hit Sadiq right in his gut. He saw Samia’s huge, expressive eyes shimmering suspiciously and put down his napkin. ‘I think we’ve had enough conversation for one evening.’

  Samia watched Sadiq stand up to his full impressive height. Her heart ached in a very peculiar and disturbing way. He looked so remote and proud. He was obviously angry with himself for having revealed what he had, and she’d gone too far with that question.

  But she’d been no less forthcoming—as if someone had injected her with some kind of truth serum. She could have made up any old cliché about why she’d got the tattoo. She wasn’t meant to be feeling anything for this man. When he put his hand out now she took it gratefully, suddenly as eager as he was to change the subject.

  Afterwards, when Samia’s head was on Sadiq’s chest with his strong heartbeat under her cheek, she thought of something and said, ‘You’re using protection now …’

  She lifted her head and looked at him, and a wave of shyness washed over her to think that he’d just made love to her and had done so with such passion that she was still floating in a limbo of languorous satedness. Sadness gripped her at the thought that this would not last. It couldn’t. If he wasn’t already growing bored with her limited range of responses, he would be very soon. And she hated the self-pity that that thought engendered.

  He’d gone very still for a moment, and then he looked at her, and those eyes were unreadable and his jaw was tense. He moved then, and manoeuvred them so that Samia was on her back and he was on one elbow, looking down at her.

  Her insides contracted. Lord, but he was gorgeous. It was almost intimidating. The languorous bliss in her body was dissipating slightly under the cool look in his eyes.

  ‘I thought that it would be a good idea to give ourselves some time to get to know one another before getting pregnant.’

  ‘Oh …’ Samia said ineffectually. So that was the reason for his suddenly using protection.

  Sadiq twitched back the sheet from where it covered Samia’s body and she flushed under his blatant appraisal. ‘But as you could already be pregnant, and part of the requirements of this marriage are heirs, I don’t see the advantage any more.’

  And before she could speak, or formulate a response to that, Sadiq had drawn her up over his body, legs either side of his hips, where she could feel the potent strength of him against her moist core.

  Samia had the feeling he was angry about something and taking it out on her, but she was too distracted by the feel of his erection. The sensation of hot skin to hot skin was too much. With a small groan of helpless desire she slid down onto his hard length and forgot all about anything but this delicious insanity.

  Sadiq couldn’t sleep, and he wasn’t surprised. He’d just acted like a complete neanderthal and taken his own self-anger out on Samia in a very cavalier fashion. Not that she’d complained. He’d never slept with any woman so impassioned, so responsive and so giving. His heart thumped ominously. He came up on one elbow and looked at her, skin still flushed with their lovemaki
ng, lashes long against her cheek.

  He could still see her sitting astride him, and the look of pure shocked bliss on her face as she’d realised that she could dictate the pace of their lovemaking—much to his intense torture, her evident delight and an eventual climax that had been so strong he’d blacked out for a split second. A first for him.

  With a muted groan he got out of the bed and pulled on his robe, crossing to the ornately trellised wall which surrounded their private terrace. The desert lay spread out before him. Dammit. He brought his clenched fist down on the wall. He had intended talking to Samia about birth control. He had thought it would be a good idea to wait at least for a few months, to let her get used to life at the castle.

  He was uncomfortably aware that his decision had come after that first night. After he had been driven by blind aching need and any rational thought of anything other than sating the fire in his body had precluded a sane discussion about birth control. It had only been in the sober moments during the wedding that he’d realized what a risk he’d taken.

  When she’d asked the question just now, she’d reminded Sadiq uncomfortably of his own woeful neglecting to be responsible. Guilt had struck hard, and all he’d been able to think of was everything he’d just told her, which he’d never shared with another person. She’d shared something with him so had he felt obliged to spill his guts too? Once again he’d reacted from a visceral place to the threat she was posing to his once very equable life. A life he’d naively thought wouldn’t suffer so much as a ripple due to his marriage.

  He wasn’t facing a ripple now. It was a storm of unprecendented power on the horizon. This marriage was veering wildly off the tracks from the type of marriage he’d set out to secure. He’d certainly not planned such a scenario as that dinner. His stomach clenched. When she’d told him about her witch of a stepmother he’d wanted to smash something and lift her up into his arms, cursing the dead woman for making Samia ever doubt herself, for stopping her from doing what she’d so evidently loved. He’d wager a bet now that she had been a brilliant piano player.

  He turned to survey the woman in the bed again, as if space could help him keep his hands off her. He almost laughed aloud at that. He’d never been so consumed with lust for anyone, and it perplexed him and sent tendrils of pure fear through him as well. It was like a primal need to stamp Samia as his. To ensure she never wanted to look at another man.

  Sadiq went back towards the benignly sleeping figure on the bed and silently cursed her for not being the placid, unexciting, convenient wife he’d thought he’d signed up for.

  The following morning, when the sun was high outside, Sadiq woke up to see Samia emerge from the shower, wrapping her robe around her. Immediately he felt disconcerted. He wasn’t used to sleeping while in a woman’s company—it had always made him feel intensely vulnerable. Yet another thing to add to the growing list of not so welcome experiences his wife was bringing into his life.

  He put out a hand. ‘You’re overdressed. Come here so I can rectify the situation.’

  She bit her lip and blushed, and immediately that tangled knot of emotions had Sadiq tensing all over. What was it about this woman?

  Samia felt ridiculously nervous, and unaccountably weak after a long night of being subjected to Sadiq’s personal brand of torture. But she had to clarify something, because it was only afterwards she’d realised how arrogant he’d been.

  She ignored his autocratic decree and said, ‘Look, I would have appreciated talking about birth control before we …’ She blushed and hitched up her chin. ‘Before we made love. I think it is a good idea. If I’m already pregnant we’ll know soon enough, but if I’m not then I’d prefer to use birth control for a few months at least.’

  Sadiq was up on one arm, and to Samia’s shock she saw a sheepish look cross his face before he smoothly got out of the bed and crossed to her. She tried to ignore his naked state and focus.

  ‘I owe you an apology.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I should never have acted in such a cavalier manner. It was unbelievably arrogant and disrespectful to you. And, like I said, I had intended speaking with you about it.’

  His easy apology made something melt inside her. Samia recalled the way it had felt to slide down on top of Sadiq, skin to skin, and between her legs she grew moist. If he could see inside her head she’d die of shame.

  ‘It’s fine. There was two of us there, and if I’d insisted you stop to use protection you would have.’

  Sadiq tipped up her chin and with a rueful look in his eye said, ‘I think you credit me with too much control—control which I seem to be in short supply of whenever you’re near me.’

  Samia’s heart thumped once—hard. When Sadiq’s eyes darkened and he opened her robe to push it from her shoulders she didn’t protest.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE next day Sadiq knew he was in very dangerous territory—literally and metaphorically. Samia was at the wheel of his Jeep and looking at him with a very mischievous grin on her face. They were teetering on the top of one of the steepest dunes he’d ever seen, and with not a little fear prickling his skin he cursed himself for giving in to her wish to drive. ‘You do realise that if anything happens to me the Hussein line will die out?’ he said.

  Her grin got wider. ‘Are you telling me you’re scared?’

  He was terrified. ‘Never.’

  She looked ahead, or more accurately down, and said in a grim voice, ‘Hang on tight.’

  And that was all Sadiq could do as they plunged down the sheer wall of sand. When they got to the bottom and he was still intact and breathing he opened one eye. Samia was already turning to climb back up the other side of the dune. She stopped the jeep and looked at him, ‘See? Piece of cake. Next time we do it you can keep your eyes open.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ With awesome strength Sadiq lifted her from the driving seat and scooted over, so he was in control again. He smiled urbanely at Samia’s pink indignant face. ‘You’ve made your point. You’ve demonstrated your ability commendably. If I’m ever incapacitated in the desert I’d want no-one else to drive me out.’

  She spluttered ineffectually as he expertly drove the Jeep back up the dune, and then finally he saw her smile out of the corner of his eye and heard something that sounded like, ‘Honestly—men.’

  The truth was that witnessing Samia’s ability to dune-drive almost as expertly as he did, was making him feel off-centre. He wondered just how many more secrets she was hiding, along with that tantalising tattoo just above her plump buttocks. The thought of her buttocks made him change the gears awkwardly, grinding them painfully, and Sadiq took great pleasure in wiping the smug grin off Samia’s face as they descended once again at an even more dangerous angle.

  The following evening Sadiq was waiting for Samia when she came out of the bathroom. She felt a little dazed. They’d spent most of their time in bed, apart from one or two forays into the desert. She hadn’t been dune-driving since she’d been a teenager with Kaden, and it had been exhilarating to surprise Sadiq with her proficiency. She’d forgotten the sheer joy there could be in that huge silent space. She’d seen a more carefree side to Sadiq than she would have believed existed—as if the desert injected him with some sort of relaxant—and it had only been then that she’d realised how intensely he held himself in check all the time.

  He was dressed in a long traditional robe and turban now, and looked slightly fearsome against the dusk. When she remembered how expertly he’d handled his peregrine falcon earlier, and had stood behind her to show her how to hold him, she felt weak inside.

  He smiled and flicked his eyes up and down, taking in the flimsy towel which was all she wore. Samia wished she had the confidence to let the towel drop and sashay over to him to seduce him, but he was indicating a box on the bed and saying throatily, ‘Change into those clothes and then meet me downstairs. I want to take you somewhere tonight.’

  Wordlessly Samia watched him leave
the room and crossed to the bed. Opening the box, she gasped to find a gorgeous satin dress in a dark red colour. There was underwear made of a material so fine it was like silk cobwebs. With clumsy hands and a delicious sense of anticipation Samia put the underwear on and let the dress drop down over her head. Against her pale skin it looked sinful, and clung to every curve before coming to rest on her feet.

  She found matching shoes and put them on. They were so high she teetered for a moment, before taking a deep breath and leaving the room. Sadiq was waiting in the impressively unadorned hall. Flame lanterns lit the ancient walls. As she came down the stairs his eyes widened and the beat of her heart got loud in her ears.

  She came to a stop just feet away and he took her hand to lead her ouside. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes glowed fiercely blue. Suddenly she realised something and embarrassment coursed through her.

  She stopped and Sadiq looked back, impatience etched into his features. ‘What is it?’

  Samia touched her hair and her face. ‘I never did anything … with my hair or face. No makeup.’

  She could have slid right into the ground. What kind of a woman was she? What kind of woman just forgot parts of getting ready? Alia had put together a vanity case full of makeup and hair accessories for Samia. Samia didn’t know what to do with half of them, but she could have put on some mascara, or lipstick, or something.

  Sadiq came close and took her face in his hands. Samia could see his impatience up close now and trembled—

  because it was an impatience that echoed through her own body. An impatience to be naked and alone.

  ‘You are absolutely stunning exactly as you are. I don’t want you to change one thing. You don’t need one shred of makeup.’

  And then he kissed her so thoroughly that Samia knew that even if she had remembered to put lipstick on it would be well and truly gone by now. Mesmerised by his intensity, she let herself be guided into a more luxurious Jeep than the one they’d used for the dune-driving, and Sadiq drove them for about fifteen minutes in the darkening night before she saw flickering lights ahead. She was aware of the security Jeep and bodyguards behind them, but they were discreet.