by Abby Green
She gasped when she saw what the lights were. An ornate bedouin tent, with a single palm tree and a small shimmering pool lit by the light of the full moon and flaming torches. It was beautiful—like something out of a fantasy.
Sadiq stopped the Jeep and cast her a glance. ‘It’s probably the smallest oasis in the world.’
Samia was already clambering out of the Jeep. ‘It’s perfect,’ she breathed.
She took off her shoes so she could walk in the sand, and squealed when Sadiq lifted her up into his arms. He looked down at her with mock annoyance. ‘You fool. Have you forgotten how dangerous it is to walk in the sand at night in bare feet?’
Samia scowled back at him. ‘You’re the one that gave me six inch heels. How am I supposed to walk in them?’
He grimaced. ‘You’re right. That was a stupid idea. I should have got you walking boots.’
Samia giggled to think of the incongruity of boots with this dress, and wiggled her toes deliciously. She cocked her head on one side. ‘No, actually, I think I prefer being carried by you. Much more satisfying.’
And then, after a look so hot she wondered how she didn’t go up in flames, Sadiq took her into the tent, and she had no sense of what was about to happen.
The sheer luxurious opulence of the scene took Samia’s breath away and hit her between the eyes like a sledgehammer. Her heart started thumping, hard. It was like a scene from one of her childhood storybooks. The ones with pictures of sultans and Sheikhs sitting on sumptuous cushions eating delicacies, with beautiful exotic women reclining on equally luxurious divans.
She’d never even realised she held such a vision in her head. It was as if Sadiq was seeing right inside her to a secret place she hadn’t been aware of herself, where she harboured a romantic fantasy of an idyll such as this, and was reproducing it with an ease that was truly awesome.
She tensed all over against the need to believe that this was real. When of course it couldn’t be. Not in the way she wanted it to be—and that was a very scary revelation. It was as if she were freefalling from a great height; this whole scene was making her feel weak with yearning when it shouldn’t.
An easy intimacy had stolen over Samia in the past few days, and she’d grown used to waking entwined with Sadiq, relishing his possessive embrace. But he’d warned her that he wasn’t the cuddly type. He was just doing it for her benefit, for the honeymoon. It was all an act. It had to be. The man was a consummate seducer—he knew what women wanted. Was he doing this for her because he thought she needed it? Did he see the pathetic crush she was developing on him?
He finally put her down on her feet and she felt dizzy and a little sick. Before she could make a complete fool of herself, or have him make some teasing sardonic comment, she asked in a quiet voice, ‘Why are you doing this, Sadiq? You don’t have to. We’re married. You don’t have to seduce me like this.’
‘You don’t have to seduce me like this. ‘
Sadiq felt as if he’d just been slapped in the face. He had that awful anxiety dream sensation of standing in front of a crowd of people and suddenly forgetting what he was meant to say, with everyone looking at him expectantly.
For the past few days something had stolen over him, seducing him. An intimacy he’d never experienced before. He’d found himself wanting to go deeper into the desert with Samia. Experience the vast openess with her. And, without even thinking about what he was doing, he’d arranged for this tent to be set up.
And now he felt foolish, exposed, because he suddenly realised how this must look. No wonder she was wondering what was going on. Why would she expect something like this? She wasn’t a mistress, expecting such grand gestures. She hadn’t even thought to put makeup on earlier—and why would she? She wasn’t trying to entice Sadiq. They were married.
Suddenly absurdly angry with himself, Sadiq said harshly, ‘Let’s go back, then. It was a stupid idea.’
He was turning around when he felt his arm being pulled, and looked down to find himself diving into those blue depths. ‘No, wait—I’m sorry. It’s so beautiful. I’m just a bit confused … that’s all. I’m not sure what this is.’ Before he could accuse her of thinking it, Samia said in a rush, ‘This is what you do for a lover, to seduce and entice, so what’s the point, Sadiq?’
Sadiq’s jaw clenched hard. He never acted out of blind instinct. He was always completely aware of what he was doing and why. The enormity of what he’d done sank into him and the urge to self-protect became paramount.
He pulled her into his body, where she could feel the hard ridge of his erection. Much to his chagrin, nothing could dampen that. ‘That’s the point,’ he ground out, pressing her closer, seeing how her eyes went dark with desire.
‘If it makes you feel better then I’ll tell you that I’ve brought all my mistresses here, so really it’s been no bother. I fancied a change of scenery. That’s all.’
Furious at the hurt that lanced her, mixed with relief that she hadn’t given herself away, Samia said caustically, ‘You’re right. That does make me feel so much better. I’d hate to think you went to all this trouble just for me.’
Within seconds they were kissing furiously. Samia heard her dress rip when Sadiq pulled it open but she didn’t care. All she cared about was that this mad, heated insanity was distracting her from something that felt very painful.
Their lovemaking was fast and furious, on one of the decadently sumptuous divans. When it was over Sadiq rolled away from Samia and she realised that he hadn’t even fully undressed. She felt like apologizing, but the words were stuck in her throat. She could have said nothing, but she’d been so afraid of wanting to believe that this meant something she’d had to prove that it didn’t. And she’d got her proof. Spectacularly.
Sadiq got up and rearranged his clothing. He barely glanced at Samia, who lay in what looked like wanton disarray. With a jerk of his head he said, ‘There’s a washing area behind the screen. When you’re ready we’ll go back to the castle. This was a mistake.’
Again Samia wanted to reach out and say … What? It was useless. She gathered up her dress and went behind the screen. The poor dress was so torn that Samia had to pull on a robe instead. When she emerged Sadiq was standing dressed in the doorway of the tent, the line of his back remote. It was only when Samia was walking towards the entrance that she saw the wine bucket with a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and a range of finger food delicacies.
She cursed herself for not keeping her mouth shut. Of course it wouldn’t have meant anything—why had she had to insist on hearing that from Sadiq himself?
The next morning Sadiq stood looking out over the dawn breaking. The sight had never failed to take his breath away but this morning it was failing. Spectacularly. For some reason the desert had lost its effortless allure and it felt flat and drained of colour. And he wanted to see the back of it, which was entirely unlike him. No matter what was going on he always managed to find solace in this place.
He closed his eyes but it was no good. All he could see was Samia, holding that torn dress in her hands, and the way she’d walked with such regal hauteur back into the castle last night. It hadn’t stopped him following her into the shower, though, and making love to her. The anger had still been simmering inside him, even though he’d known there was no rational reason for it. If anything, Samia had done him a favour in questioning his motives. Reminding him of what this was: a marriage of convenience.
He felt clammy now, recalling that initial feeling of exposure. What on earth had he been thinking of, organising the tent in the first place? Had his brain been so warped by a little dune driving and the hottest sex he’d ever had? Evidently.
The ironic thing about that blasted tent was that for years he’d had it in the back of his head to create some scene of seduction in the desert for his mistresses. More than one had asked him wistfully when he was going to take her to a secret desert oasis. And he never had, because at the last moment they’d always been the wrong p
erson to share the desert with. And now the first woman he had brought to a secret desert oasis had all but thrown it back in his face.
He heard a rustle of movement behind him and turned slowly to face his wife, not liking the way he had to steel himself against the inevitable effect of seeing her.
Samia woke and was disorientated to see Sadiq standing looking out over the desert, fully dressed in traditional robes. For a silent moment she regarded his impressive back, and hated the ache at the back of her throat that signalled unshed tears. She was still angry when she thought of that tent, and the fact that Sadiq had seduced hundreds of women there. And, not only that, she hadn’t been able to keep up her icy disdain when they’d returned to the castle. He’d arrogantly interrupted her shower and within seconds she’d been putty in his hands, slave to his masterful touch.
As if he could feel the weight of her gaze now, Sadiq turned around. Trying to look as composed and unmoved by him as she could, she came up on one arm, pushing her tangled hair over her shoulder. Self-conscious, and hating herself for it because she desperately craved to appear insouciant, she pulled the sheet up over her breasts.
He noted the movement with a small mocking smile, and Samia longed desperately to see him unsure of himself—just once.
He was cool. ‘Something’s come up in B’harani that needs my attention, I’m afraid we’ll have to cut our time here a little short.’
Surprise, surprise, Samia thought, and said equally coolly, ‘You should have woken me.’
Sadiq crossed his arms and rested back against the wall. ‘I was enjoying the view too much.’
Recalling that she’d woken with the sheet barely covering her lower half, Samia gave up any pretence of nonchalance and jumped out of the bed, wrapping the sheet around her to go to the bathroom. She heard a dark chuckle, and had to restrain herself from flinging something at Sadiq’s head when he stopped at the door to inform her that he’d be waiting downstairs.
The journey back to B’harani was made largely in silence, for which Samia was grateful. She felt absurdly overemotional. Raw. When they reached the castle she jumped out of the Jeep and only stopped when she heard her name. Tense all over, she turned to see Sadiq, with a bevy of aides and advisers descending on him from all sides.
He looked stern, and already more remote. ‘I’ll be working late tonight so don’t wait up.’
‘Don’t worry, Sadiq,’ she said as loftily as she could. ‘I don’t expect you to entertain me. The honeymoon is over.’
She turned away, but he called her name again. Softly. This time when she turned he was much closer and her heart sputtered. She looked up to see a feral glitter in his eyes and the answering effect on her body was instantaneous. ‘I asked for you to be moved to my rooms Samia, so make sure you have everything you need.’
Immediately she felt threatened. She’d forgotten, and the thought of coping with Sadiq every night was suddenly too much—especially feeling as raw as she did right now. She opened her mouth. ‘Actually, I’m not sure that I—’
Sadiq put a finger to her lips and said with a steel tone, ‘It’s non-negotiable, Samia.’
And then he turned and was swallowed up by the crowd of people.
Sadiq was burningly aware of Samia’s huge eyes boring into his back as he walked down the long corridor away from her, and he had to battle the urge to turn around, pick her up and take her straight to bed. He had to control himself—quash this urge to want to punish Samia for something. For making him feel? For making him fearful of the passion she inspired in him because it was making him act in ways he’d never done before, becoming irrational and impulsive? Just like his father?
Sadiq immediately dismissed the notion as ridiculous. But as the rogue thought was sinking in and taking up residence Sadiq’s steps quickened perceptibly, and the retinue of staff almost had to run to keep up with him.
A week later Samia was fired up and full of enthusiasm. She was determined to block out the fact that the distance between her and Sadiq since they’d returned from Nazirat seemed to be growing into a wedge. She assured herself that he was busy, catching up on work he’d had to sideline for the marriage. And what had she expected anyway? Romantic dinners à deux every night? Hadn’t she told him in no uncertain terms in Nazirat that he didn’t have to do that?
In the bedroom, however, there was no distance. She blushed now as she walked along the long corridor to Sadiq’s offices to think of how passionate he’d been last night. She’d been half asleep when he’d come to bed, but had soon been wide awake when she’d felt his firm, hard body curling around hers. It scared her how a warm glow seemed to infuse every cell whenever he was near or touched her. And the way everything semed to dim when he wasn’t.
She tried to tell herself that she didn’t miss the way he’d pulled her close after making love those first few days in Nazirat. She tried to tell herself that it didn’t hurt to know that it had all just been an act for the honeymoon. Now, when they made love, Sadiq rolled away, and Samia hated the longing she felt to snuggle close, feel his arms around her. She cursed him for ever giving her that experience, so that she could miss it. Some mornings, though, she woke with the sensation that he’d held her during the night. But invariably Sadiq would already be gone, and that was always a stark reminder that they had moved very definitely into the ‘convenient’ part of their marriage.
Determined to stop this dangerous line of thinking, stop obsessing over Sadiq like some groupie, Samia had got up today determined to discuss with Sadiq some ideas she had that she wanted to develop and work on. When she got to the anteroom of his office, and his secretary looked up and smiled, Samia had to quash the sudden yearning to be able to just walk blithely into his office simply because he would always want to welcome her, to see her.
Oh, Lord. She almost stumbled when the implication of what she was thinking sank in. She couldn’t deal with it now. She smiled back at the efficient secretary, pristine in a long white tunic and colourful veil.
‘Do go in, Queen Samia. He’s got a few minutes between meetings.’
Samia knocked lightly and heard Sadiq’s deep voice respond. Immediately silly little butterflies started in her belly and she cursed. Opening the door, she went in and was surprised not to see Sadiq behind a mountain of paperwork. He was standing at the window, looking very brooding.
He turned around and black brows drew together in a frown. No hint of pleasure to see her. Samia cursed herself again, and hated that she felt her old sense of insecurity come back. ‘I … I’m sorry to disturb you. I wanted to discuss a couple of things with you.’
Sadiq flicked a glance at his watch and Samia felt it like a slap. He was dressed in a suit today, and it reminded Samia of when she’d first seen him in London, which felt like aeons ago. He was so remote that she almost wondered if he was the same man who had made tears of pleasure soak her cheeks last night. Who had used his thumbs to wipe them away while they were still intimately joined. As if loath to let him leave her body she had jealously gripped his hips with her thighs, as if to stop him ever leaving.
She swayed for a moment because the memory was so potent, and instantly Sadiq was at her side, his frown even more fierce, ‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine …’ Aghast at her own wayward imagination, Samia pulled free and walked over to a chair, saying much more brightly, ‘I’m fine. I know you’re busy.’
Sadiq had walked back behind his desk and sat down, once more cool and remote, as if that little moment hadn’t ocurred. The stark reality that this would be their everyday lives made her feel slightly panicky. Which got worse when he said, ‘I have ten minutes.’
Samia sat down primly. Sadiq’s office was huge and unahamedly masculine. Dark wood and shelves lined with books. She blurted out. ‘I’d like an office.’
‘You have an office.’
Samia thought of the perfectly nice room which was essentially somewhere for her to use the internet and make phone calls. She shook h
er head. ‘No, I mean I want a proper office—like this. Where I can put my books and work on projects.’
He arched a brow and sat back, but Samia sensed the danger in his indolence. ‘Projects?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. You mentioned your environmental projects before. I’d like to see how I can help. And I want to set up some kind of literacy programme. Al-Omar is like Burquat in the fact that free education was only recently introduced—when you became Sultan. It was the same with my brother. The older generations who missed out have very low literacy. I’d like to set up workshops to encourage people to come back to school.’
Sadiq was looking at her with a funny expression on his face but she decided to forge on. ‘And I want to set up a crèche here in the castle. There is no facility to help female staff to continue working once they’ve had a child, and you employ more women than men.’
Sadiq’s jaw tensed. ‘Anything else?’
Samia shrugged. ‘Lots of things … But I’d like to start with those for now.’
Sadiq felt immediately defensive at having things pointed out to him that he’d already been aware of but hadn’t really looked at yet, due to more pressing concerns. And he was also reacting to the fact that once again Samia was proving she wouldn’t be morphing seamlessly into the role he’d envisaged his wife taking. He’d seen his wife firmly in the background, merely enhancing his role and perhaps attending some social events in his place. He hadn’t really seen his marriage as a working partnership, and his naivety and lack of foresight mocked him now.
Self-recrimination made his voice harsh. ‘The charity circuit is a well-oiled and sophisticated machine in B’harani, and there are plenty of committees of which you will have automatically become chairperson. I think, if you look at the schedule laid out for you, you’ll be kept quite busy.’
