by Kristi Gold
Finding herself in a hotel room with Rafiq did not seem wise. “As far as I know, Diya has no inns.”
“Is there a family who would take us in?”
“The two of you can use my tent, Your Excellency.”
Once more, Jerome had interrupted the discourse by stealing into the area without Maysa’s notice. “Then where would you sleep, Jerome?” she asked, though she knew the answer.
He grinned. “I have made other accommodations.”
Of course he had—with the young woman who happened to be standing behind him. “I appreciate the offer, but from what I recall, your tent is not that large.” At least not large enough to house two former lovers battling chemistry.
“I disagree,” he said. “It’s very large, and it has enough room for three people, provided you’re willing to sleep side by side on the ground. Actually, there’s a sleeping bag covering the ground, and a spare should you need it. It’s really quite comfortable.”
“I really don’t think—”
“I believe it will be suitable for the evening,” Rafiq chimed in. “We appreciate your generosity, and we accept.”
Maysa momentarily gaped. “I don’t accept. I am quite capable of driving.”
“You are exhausted,” Rafiq said. “As am I. We will rise early in the morning and return refreshed and fully awake.”
She doubted she would sleep at all with Rafiq in such close proximity. “I truly don’t believe it’s necessary.”
“His Majesty has a point, Maysa,” Jerome added. “There’s no need to hurry home when you have a perfectly good tent for the night. It’s in the same location, so I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding it.”
With that, Jerome took his paramour’s hand and disappeared into the darkness.
Maysa brought her attention back to Rafiq. “I’m not certain it’s wise for us to spend the night together in a tent.”
“And I do not think it is wise to drive hours in a state of exhaustion.”
She decided to give up on that argument, in part because she was extremely tired. “All right, you may have the shelter and I will sleep in the Hummer.”
“No one is sleeping in the Hummer, Maysa. We are both adults and I vow to maintain control, if that is your concern.”
That was precisely her concern. “Do you promise to stay on your side of the tent?”
He raised a hand as if taking an oath. “I promise that I will be the gentleman Elena has taught me to be.”
Could she trust that he was telling the truth? Could she trust herself around him? Of course she could. She would keep her distance, and demand he keep his. And in the morning, she would return home without any regrets.
“All right. We’ll stay in the tent.”
And she sincerely hoped it was big enough for both of them.
Four
The shelter was much larger than Rafiq had envisioned, and not a tent in the true sense of the word. The structure was comprised of a wooden frame covered by canvas, and tall enough to allow him to stand. Yet it seemed much too small for a man who greatly desired the woman with whom he would share the space.
As he sat on the blanket-covered ground to remove his boots, Maysa stood in the corner, washing her face in a basin set out on a small side table. She had removed her blouse, leaving her clad in a fitted, sleeveless undershirt. While he continued to watch her, she slipped the band securing the braid, unwound it and then shook out her hair that cascaded down her back, the ends touching the top of her waist. He recalled that fall of hair surrounding him, flowing over his bare skin. How many nights had he imagined it happening again? Too numerous to count. And when he had made love to Rima, Maysa had oftentimes been foremost in his mind, fueling his fantasies. A shameful secret he would carry to the grave.
Maysa turned and stretched her hands above her head, drawing the shirt tighter, revealing she wore no bra. She removed a brush from her bag and ran it through her hair. “Thank you for all you did today. And be sure to thank Adan for getting word to us that both mother and child received a clean bill of health.”
“Do not forget your part in that good news,” he said as he followed the movement of her hand sliding the brush through her long locks, back and forth.
“I was only doing my job.”
She was clearly bent on torturing him at the moment.
He stripped away his own shirt for the sake of comfort, and as soon as she turned off the lantern, he intended to remove his pants, also for comfort. If that somehow offended her, then so be it. After all, she had made certain their makeshift beds were almost a meter apart. Still, the distance would not prevent his fantasies, or discourage him if she gave him the least bit of encouragement.
Wise or not, he wanted her still. He would continue to want her even after they parted ways. Yet her reaction the night before when he touched her indicated she did not want him as fiercely as he wanted her, if at all.
After replacing the brush in the duffel, Maysa returned to the pallets, lowered herself onto the blankets and crossed her legs before her. “Are you tired?”
Sleep was the last thing on his mind with Maysa so close. “Surprisingly I am not.”
“Neither am I. I thought perhaps we could talk.”
He stretched out on his side facing her, and bent his elbow to support his jaw with his hand. “What do you wish to talk about?”
“Your relationship with Rima.”
He had not expected that, nor did he care to discuss it. “She was my wife for a brief time and that is all that needs to be said.”
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk about. Why did you wait so long to marry her?”
He had had many reasons, but he chose to omit one—he had hoped Rima would eventually tire of waiting. “I attended university, and when I returned, I had to assist my father since Zain had left for the States. We had no indication when he would return, or even if he would return at that point.”
“That seems like a logical justification for a man, but I don’t understand why Rima would agree to delay a wedding for the sake of duty when your responsibility would still exist after the wedding.”
Rima had never pressured him to set a date. He had done so only because it had been expected. “She decided to travel and then after her father passed, she spent a good deal of time with her mother. We were both in no hurry.” And they had both believed they had a lifetime to spend together. A life that would include polite conversation and little passion.
“I would say that’s obvious,” Maysa said. “You waited almost fifteen years to make it official.”
In many ways, fifteen years had not been long enough. “I understand why you would be confused over the decision, considering you married Boutros almost immediately after the betrothal.”
Her gaze faltered. “I wasn’t given a choice. My father demanded I marry him immediately, per the terms of the agreement. Boutros wasn’t getting any younger, and he wanted an heir.”
“An heir you did not give him.”
“Fortunately, no.”
When Maysa began to rub her right wrist, only then did Rafiq notice the ropelike scar circling it. When he had called on her the first night, she had been wearing heavy bangles that concealed the mark. Tonight, the wound was uncovered and he needed to know its origination, though he suspected he already did.
He immediately sat upright and took her hand to study it further. “What is this?”
She wrenched out of his grasp. “It’s nothing.”
He needed more evidence to substantiate his theory. “Take off your watch.”
“No.”
“Then I shall do it for you.”
He anticipated she would fight him when he unbuckled the strap, yet she sat motionless with a blank stare, as if shielding herself from the trut
h he sought. And he found that truth when he removed the watch—another circular scar.
Rafiq bit back his anger and tempered his tone. “Did he bind you, Maysa?”
“Rafiq, I—”
“Did that kalet tie you?”
“Yes!” she said, her voice heralding her fury. “Yes, the bastard bound me. He grew tired of me fighting him.”
Rafiq gritted his teeth and spoke through them. “He forced himself on you against your will?”
“Yes, he did, and he also did this.” She twisted around and raised the back of her shirt, revealing a series of slashes across her flesh. “He tried to beat me into submission, and when it did not work, he would go for the rope.”
Unable to remain still, Rafiq stood and began pacing the area. He longed for a solid wall to hit, a means to expend his rage. “I will kill him with my own hands.”
Maysa’s laughter spun him around. “You are too late to ride to my rescue, I fear. It’s my understanding his heart is failing, though I’m surprised to learn he has a heart at all. I have no doubt it is as black as midnight.”
Rafiq returned to her and claimed the space beside her. “Did you not mention this to your father?”
“Yes, I did. He told me that to be a good wife, I would do what was required. Even Shamil sided with him.”
His respect for the sultan and his former friend plummeted. “And your mother?”
“She always left the room, most likely to hide her tears. But I never cried. I was determined not to let any of them see my tears or my weakness, especially Boutros.”
“Yet you suffered for your strength.”
She raised her chin, defiance reflecting from her eyes. “I called on that well-honed strength the night I left him.”
He needed to know all the details, both bad and good. “How did you manage to escape?”
“We were at his home in Oman. He was out with one of his many mistresses. I broke into his desk, stole several thousand riyals and caught a plane to Canada. That’s where I first met Jerome, on the plane. He assisted me in finding temporary housing. He was also instrumental in finding me employment. I worked as a waitress in a busy café, and once I’d saved enough money, I traveled to the States and began my studies.”
Her resilience amazed him. “Your father never offered financial assistance?”
“Of course not. He was furious. But my mother eventually sent me money whenever she could. She enabled me to hire an attorney for the divorce. And as they say, the rest is history.”
He formed his palm to her face. “Though I admire what you have accomplished on your own, you should have come to me for help.”
“Why would I do that, Rafiq? You all but bid me a final farewell after we spent that one night together, or have you forgotten?”
The bitterness in her tone caused him to drop his hand. “I have never forgotten that night.” Nor had he forgotten the sorrow in her eyes when he had told her they could not be together again.
“You told me we would remain friends,” she said. “Yet we never really spoke again.”
“We were forbidden to have any contact.”
“We were forbidden after you were officially betrothed to Rima, but that didn’t stop you from taking my virginity, did it?”
“And I recall you came to me willingly that night. You begged me to make love to you.”
She lowered her eyes. “Yes, I did, and I never regretted it. I only regretted…”
He raised her chin with his fingertips, forcing her to look at him. “You regretted what?”
“That we only had that one time. But it was enough to get me through those horrendous times with Boutros. I would close my eyes and escape back to that night. I reminded myself that what we shared was pure and good, not ugly and brutal. Those memories helped ease the pain and tolerate the reminders I still carry with me.”
He suspected her internal scars still ran deep. “I did the same with Rima,” he said, surprised at how easily the admission flowed out of his mouth. “She came to me willingly, and I always treated her with care and respect. Yet I sensed her thoughts were somewhere else. Perhaps on someone else, as were mine. I always thought of you.”
“And the women before Rima?”
“I always imagined you. And the men after Boutros?”
“There have been no other men.”
Perhaps that should not surprise him. “No one?”
“No. When you kissed me the other night, that was the first time since I left him. I thought I was immune to desire, but you proved me wrong.” She attempted a smile but it faded quickly. “Although when you touched me, I realized I still have lingering issues.”
He had mistakenly believed she had no intention of returning his affection. “I understand why you would feel that way, but I would have hoped the passage of time would have aided in your healing.”
Her hand went to her wrist again, as if she needed to remember. “My emergency room rotations served as a constant reminder of what I had endured. I treated women who had suffered the same, and I began to realize that marital violence spans all cultures. Some still turn a blind eye to the problem because they believe that a wife should persevere to save the marriage. Fortunately, I was wise enough to leave.”
He took her hand again and kissed her palm. “You were brave, Maysa. You still are. Braver than most men.”
He saw the first sign of tears in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. “I am also damaged, Rafiq. No man would want me.”
I want you. “You are a beautiful, desirable woman, habibti. Any man would be fortunate to have you.”
“Well, I do not intend to give anyone that option. But I do have a favor to ask of you.”
“Whatever you wish.”
“Would you hold me tonight?”
She asked so little of him, yet so much. “If that is what you desire.”
“But can you only hold me without wanting more?”
He could offer her a lie, or be completely honest, which is what she deserved. “If I said I did not wish to make love with you again, that would be untrue. But I will honor your request and be satisfied having you in my arms as we sleep. Shall I turn off the lantern?”
“I’d prefer to leave it on.”
To chase away the demons, Rafiq presumed. “Then we will leave it on.”
She stretched out on her back and sent him a sincere smile. “Then, Your Majesty, you are cordially invited to join me for an evening of celibacy.”
He returned her smile, despite his disappointment. “I accept your invitation, Dr. Barad, as long as you do not steal the blankets.”
“I will try to refrain.”
When Maysa shifted to her side, Rafiq covered them both and slid his arm beneath her. He decided to remain clothed from the waist down, at least until he was assured she slept. Then he would strip off his slacks and hope she did not notice.
Yes, she was inadvertently bent on torturing him with her request. And with the floral scent of her hair teasing his senses, her warm body fitted to his, she had succeeded in her mission.
* * *
At some point during the night, Maysa roused from a fitful sleep to the sound of steady breathing. A few moments passed before she became fully awake and turned to find Rafiq lying on his back. The lantern had begun to dim, washing his bare chest in an amber glow, yet allowing her to covertly study him. Human anatomy had been a part of her daily existence for years, but she was not immune to prime physical specimens, and the king definitely fit into that category.
His right arm curled above his head on the pillow and the other rested at his side between them. His dark lashes fanned out beneath his closed eyes, and his lips were pressed together. His clean-shaven jaw had already begun to show the signs of a light spattering of whiskers.
&
nbsp; She continued her visual journey down the column of his throat and on to the prominent pectorals that indicated he still worked out with weights. He’d developed that passion in his teen years, while his brothers had stayed in shape picking up women, literally and figuratively, according to Rafiq. He had been a serious student, so bent on earning his father’s respect. Bent on being his father in many ways. Yet she had known a different prince, the one who had spoken sweet words in soft whispers. The young man who had touched and kissed her so gently.
Those memories prompted her to reach out and touch him now. She sifted through the triangular shading on his sternum and slid a fingertip lightly down his belly, pausing where the sheet was draped loose and low, covering his hips. Realization that she didn’t see a waistband dawned on her. She rose up to view his pants piled in a heap at the end of the pallet. Only his pants?
Morbid female curiosity caused her to lift the sheet to take a peek.
Hello…
As she suspected, he was unequivocally—and beautifully—bare. And for some reason, she could not quit staring.
“Are you enjoying the sight?”
She dropped the sheet and glanced up to see Rafiq’s half smile and his open eyes full of amusement. “You’re naked.”
He propped a bent arm behind his neck. “I am, and you seem quite fascinated by that fact.”
His voice hinted at arrogance and pride and Maysa had to admit, he had much to be proud of. “The question is, why did you take off your pants?”
“I always remove them when I am in bed. Otherwise, I have difficulty sleeping. You do not remember this?”
Oh, yes, she did, though they had only slept together one time. “I remember.”
“Do you wish me to put them back on?”
Did she? “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable on my account, Your Excellency.”
“Good. Feel free to carry on, although should you proceed, you are in danger of waking the sleeping dragon.”
She sent a downward glance to the place she’d recently inspected. “I believe the dragon has already been roused.”