He kept his hands on her hips, his eyes locked to hers. “It’s the water.”
“The water?” She smiled in disbelief. “It smells like raspberries.”
“It’s magic.” He was teasing her. Something in his golden eyes was mocking.
She blinked away. “There’s no such thing.”
“Ah! From the girl who ran with the fairies as a child?”
She kept her clear gaze focussed on the shimmering heat haze in the distance.
“Okay, more accurately, it’s a type of algae that grows in the water. That is a lot less romantic sounding though.”
Her lips lifted in a small sign of amusement.
“It’s harmless; in fact, it is edible. Some of our early Bedouin ancestors would come here for sustenance when making the desert crossing.”
“That’s actually beautiful. And very romantic sounding,” she corrected. Her blue eyes were so mysterious. He could have lost himself in their clear depths. How had he not understood, that first night, what mysteries she kept in her soul?
He stepped away from her, relinquishing his touch with regret. He opened the back door to the helicopter and pulled a couple of packs from beneath the seats, tossing them down onto the ground. Sand lifted in little puffs from the desert.
Laurie was keen to keep a grip on her emotions; they were threatening to run haywire. “Are there security officers hiding in these ponds or something? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your guards.”
“No.” He lifted the bags effortlessly over his shoulder and then linked his fingers through hers. “I come here often. And always alone.”
Her heart turned over in her chest, for today he was not alone. Today he’d brought her. Yes, he’d brought her, but had it only been to avert a major fall out between his wife and his mistress? She unhooked her fingers on the pretence of running her hands through her hair.
“Don’t you worry about your safety?”
His laugh was a dark rumble. “No.”
“Oh, because you’re too powerful and strong to get into trouble? Then why have security at all?”
He sobered and captured her hand once more. He brought it to his lips. “There are some things that are far more dangerous than the threat of violence. Living your life constantly surrounded by others is one of those risks. So too is a life of such abject luxury.”
“How? Why?”
He was silent for a time, weighing up his words. “Because it is not real. Only a small percentage of the world’s population can live as we do. Most are struggling to put food on the table.”
She squeezed his fingers but he didn’t release them. “You don’t need to tell me about that.”
Another pulse of silence passed between them, this one charged with sentiment. “Why didn’t you tell me about your mother’s medical expenses?”
“I tried.”
His anger was obvious. “Not hard enough. You knew what I thought of you.”
“Yes.” What he thought of her? What did he think of her now, in that moment?
He stopped walking and dropped the packs on the ground. The sun was still fiercely hot, but it was dropping ever-lower in the sky. He didn’t look to even feel the heat! He was cool and commanding.
Laurie wiped at her forehead; it was damp with sweat. “Why did you bring me here?”
“You know why.” His lips were a slash across his handsome face.
“To avert an unpleasant scene between May and me,” she said quietly. “I know.”
“Yes. Partly.” He stared at her long and hard, and a muscle moved in his strong, square jaw. Finally, he shook his head with apparent frustration and reached down for one of the packs he’d dropped earlier. He unzipped it with a harsh movement then shook it loose.
Laurie watched, her heart hammering in her chest, her body fighting a losing battle. He was just too much for her. Too much of a man, too much of a leader. He was powerful and demanding and confusing as hell. She swallowed down the feelings that were besieging her. At least, she tried to, but it was like a rising tide – briefly dissipated before returning stronger than ever. He was her husband, but she had no claim on him. He could turn her insides to a tangle of fiery desire simply by standing near her, and yet there was May. Laurie had seen the other woman’s heartbreak for herself. She’d overheard Afida talking to Elon about her. And now Afida was expecting her to believe that the other woman was an ex-lover? It didn’t make any sense.
Laurie was tired from trying to fathom out everyone’s emotions – especially her own.
Under the beating evening sun, Afida was busy turning what had, at first glance, appeared to be a piece of cream calico, into an impressive tent. Large enough to accommodate perhaps six or seven people comfortably, with a dome like structure in the centre, he had managed to erect it swiftly and still without breaking a sweat.
“Please, seek shade. It will be cooler inside.”
She swept passed him, grinding her teeth in frustration at his ongoing sense of control. Her annoyance increased when she sat in the middle of the tent and immediately felt relief, as he’d promised. Without the harsh rays of the sun on her skin, she felt instantly better. She closed her eyes for a moment, then began to pull her braid from its loose confines, so that she could bundle her hair into a sort of bun atop her head. Her neck was instantly grateful for the bareness.
The feeling of nearby movement had her turning to her side. Afida was there, crouching beside her, the fabric of his pants straining across his impressive thighs. She looked away, her cheeks heating furiously.
“Laurie,” he murmured, lifting a hand to her chin and gently tilting her face back to his. “I brought you here not only to remove you from the palace. I brought you here today because I wanted you to see the dunes of Alija.”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “And I have seen them.”
His laugh was a soft rumble that sent spirals of lust pounding across her breast. “Not sufficiently.” His remark was cryptic but Laurie was wary. She wasn’t sure she could spar with this man again and get away unscathed. So she said nothing. “Laurie, this place is … special to me. It is sacred. It has been declared a royal park, for my use only. No one comes and goes but me, and occasionally scientists and researchers who have sought my permission to tread here.”
Her throat knotted as she swallowed. “I can understand why you’d want to keep it for yourself.”
His lips compressed. “Yes. For years that has been my feeling. It is a place I can come to be alone; something I greatly value. Not even Elon has seen this for himself.”
“Really?” Her eyes were enormous. “He’d love it.”
Her assuredness sent something cold into his body. “He has many beautiful spots in his own country. He is far from deprived, believe me.”
The undercurrent of animosity was confusing to her. Had she said something to offend him? She dropped her eyes to the colourful floor of the tent, her confidence severely battered by recent events.
“Laurie,” he groaned, lifting his other hand so that he could cup both cheeks. “You are the only person I’ve ever wanted to share this with. When you spoke of the woods around your house, and the exploration you would conduct as a child, I saw your spirit and soul. You are half woman, half slakitha.”
“What is a slakitha?” She asked quietly, her heart still bearing the wounds of his first nickname for her – disturbance.
His smile was indulgent. “They are magical beings who wander the desert, thought to have been born from the brightest stars.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Out of nowhere, she recalled her mother’s words, and thought of her, shining as a star in the heavens.
“I wouldn’t have thought you likely to believe in fairy stories.”
“It is a legend of my people. Bedouins often encountered their shimmering forms in the night, and their existence passed into both legend and truth. As real to us as mermaids are to pirates who spend their lives at sea.”
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“Which is to say, not real at all.”
“Ah,” he traced his thumb across her lips, desire unfurling in his gut as her eyes flared wide in recognition. “You’re pretending to be cynical. Why?”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Of course you are.” He dropped his head, so that his lips were just a moment from hers. “You are not a mermaid, and perhaps you are not slakitha, but you are magical. What other reason is there for this?”
“For what?”
He kissed her gently and captured her hand in his. He lifted it to his chest, so that she could feel his thudding heartbeat. “I did not expect you to do this to me. I married for the most practical of reasons, and ended up with a wife who robs me of any pragmatism or sense. There is no other explanation but that you have cast a spell on me without my permission.”
Her breath was burning in her lungs, her body was hot and cold. She shook her head. It didn’t make sense. “It is you who is robbing me of sense. I can’t think straight when you’re around. Certainly not when you speak like this.”
“Then don’t think straight. Why think at all when thought is rendered unnecessary by how you feel?”
She shook her head from side to side, her brain refusing to be assuaged. “You have May. She loves you. I promised her I wouldn’t threaten your relationship with her.”
He was angry. Of course he was! But he didn’t want Laurie to feel it. He didn’t want her to know how monumentally her kind-heartedness had caused her to err.
“I do not want May. I want you.”
Laurie shook her head. “Since when?”
A frown furrowed his brow, as his glowing amber eyes sought hers, hoping to connect and find a better understanding. “You focus too much on this. I have told you before, she is nothing to do with you.”
“That’s very convenient for you, but it’s bullshit.”
His lips quirked in amusement at her acerbic observation. “Nothing about this is convenient for me, I promise.”
“No, I suppose not.” Now it was Laurie’s turn to feel the sharp pain of anger. “You said you married for the most practical of reasons. And I understand what they were, though never why you allowed them to motivate you.”
“How can that be?” He pushed, his fingers making the sensitive flesh on her face tingle.
“What happened between our fathers was … well … it happened between them. Not you, and not me.”
“How astute you are, Sheikha,” he murmured with a distractingly kind smile on his face.
Laurie tried to block him out. Thinking straight, when faced with Afida, was impossible. She shook her head, trying to catch her own thoughts. They were a spiderweb though, shaking and translucent. “I mean it, Afida. It was more than thirty years ago. Neither of us was born. And yet you allowed that one single act to drive you to this?”
“Single act?” He murmured with an amazed silence ringing through his tone. “Your father ran into a burning building because he heard my father’s voice. He suffered severe injuries but carried my father out alive. Your father is a hero to all of my people.” His eyes were aglow with intensity. “You must have seen the way people look at him? As though he is a God on earth. Do you know what it meant to bring you here as my wife? You, the daughter of a man regarded to be so courageous? His choice was an easy one. To save a man, or not. He chose the former, though it carried obvious risks to himself. He could just as easily have done what most men would have – waited. Called for help. Done nothing.”
Laurie opened her mouth to say something but he whispered a finger across it to silence her. “My father, may he rest in peace, wrote your father a cheque in hospital for two million pounds. That was a King’s ransom three decades ago.” He shook his head ruefully. “Your father was stubborn even then. He tore it up, insisting that he rather liked the idea of such a powerful man owing him a favour instead.”
Laurie’s laugh was tremulous. “That sounds like my dad.”
“Indeed. I have encountered this streak in him many times. Only now, so weakened by his financial obliteration, and secure in the knowledge that you love me with all your soul, has he agreed to my assistance.”
“But I don’t,” Laurie interjected swiftly. Too swiftly? Her heart pounded fiercely against her chest. She didn’t love him. She hardly knew him. And he was involved with another woman. Loving her husband would make her the worst kind of fool.
“No,” he nodded distractedly, as though it didn’t matter to him at all.
Anxious to change the subject, she fixed her pale, clear eyes on him. “If your dad owed my dad a favour, I wonder why he didn’t …” She squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth clamping closed with rejection of the words she’d been thinking.
“What is it, zivzel?” His voice was soft as he scanned her face thoughtfully.
“I … it’s just … my mum.” She shook her head.
“You are wondering why your father did not come to me for help.”
“Yes,” she blurted, her voice ringing with emotion. “You’re one of the most powerful people in the world, with God knows what kind of money at your disposal. Maybe you could have …”
He nodded, her anguish obvious. “If he had come to me, I would have moved heaven and earth to save her,” he promised. “But you and I both know it wouldn’t have been enough.”
She bit down on her lip, her mind racing. Wouldn’t it have been? How could he sound so certain? What if they’d come to him straight away? What if the best doctors in the world had consulted? What if, what if, what if.
“Do not go down this path, little Laurena. You will make yourself mad.”
“I must already be mad to have agreed to this.”
His smile was amused. “You think our wedding is madness?”
“Of course.” Her cheeks flamed. “I barely know you.”
“So?” He lowered his mouth to hers once more, teasing her with the lightest of kisses; a touch that spoke of promise. “Many people know one another for years before marriage, and still discover incompatibility afterwards. Do you think time is a guarantee of success when it comes to marriage?”
“Yes,” she nodded simply to break free from the kiss. But her insides were clenching and her hands were wrapping around his waist, holding his warmth close. “I think it’s a good idea. Most of what I know about you I know from Elon.”
His expression, briefly, clapped dark like a thundercloud. He pushed the emotion away with a visible effort. “Do not speak to him of me.”
“Oh.” Her blush darkened, if it was possible. “I wasn’t prying.”
His sigh was borne of total frustration. “I did not imply that you were. You need not be so defensive. I only meant that you can speak to me. About me. Or anything you wish.”
“Oh,” she repeated, feeling like a simpleton. “You’re so busy. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”
“You speak as though you are a reluctantly hosted guest, rather than my wife. Why should you hesitate to bother me? Why should you hesitate to interrupt whatever I am doing whenever you require something of me?”
“You know why,” she snapped, her eyes sparking with pain.
“Enlighten me.”
“This isn’t a real marriage.” Before he could interrupt, she shook her head. “I know you said that you want me. And if I was quizzed, I would have to give you top marks for trying to find something redemptive. But I think it’s time to accept that we’re just two strangers who wound up in this utterly bizarre situation.”
“No,” he shrugged carelessly.
“No to which part?” She was breathless and it showed. She swallowed, but her throat remained parched.
“All of it,” his smile was lightly teasing. “You have said that before. This is not a real marriage. I presume you mean our physical relationship.”
“No!” She denied hotly, warm heat running through her core.
“Yes,” he laughed again, dropping his hands to her running shirt and lifting it over her stoma
ch. His fingers on the smooth flesh were warm and fearless. She sucked in a shaky breath as he slowly skimmed his touch higher, over each small press of rib, to the undercarriage of her breasts. His fingers lingered there, pressed to the soft fabric of her exercise gear, and his eyes were taunting.
“I was not prepared for your lack of experience.”
“I realised that,” she promised.
“I hope you also realised how sorry I was for having taking that from you in those conditions.”
“Wedding night sex? Isn’t it a tradition?”
“Nothing about our lives has to be traditional.”
“Except for all those pesky royal customs,” she said with an arched brow.
He disregarded the glib comment. “If I had known, I would have been more gentle. I would have helped you acclimate to the sensations.” He lifted her shirt over her head and dropped it to the ground. Her bra was a sensible black sports crop. His fingers found the elastic and he loosened it as he spoke, his voice a husky kernel. “Laurie, I want to make love to you. Properly. I think you want that too. I know you might be a little afraid of the strength of what you desire. Out here, with just the sand and the sky as our witnesses, I want to show you how much I need you, and let you see that it is okay to need me too.”
Her lips were dry, her mouth was aching, her cheeks were flushed and her heart was pounding so hard against her body that she was sure he could hear its frantic tattoo.
But May was there, in her mind, and she groaned softly as she shook her head. “It’s so complicated.”
“Actually,” he tossed the bra away and brushed his fingers across her breasts. “It is surprisingly simple. You are my wife, are you not?”
She nodded, her blood raging in response to the feelings his light touch was evoking.
“I am your husband. I look at you and I want to have you. I touch you and I feel your body respond.” He kissed her gently, and then lowered his stubble-roughened face to her breasts, taking one aroused nipple into his mouth and tracing his tongue around it in a circular fashion. “Am I wrong, Laurie?”
“No,” she cried out, her fingers desperate now for skin. They pulled at his clothes, while her head tilted back and spirals of pleasure radiated through her body.
Bound to the Sheikh & The Sheikh's Secret Baby (Clare Connelly Pairs Book 2) Page 11