"Samira … I'm sorry."
Her deep-brown eyes looked up at him in surprise. "For what?"
"For making such a scene."
She once again looked down at her hands, the belt still entwined in her fingers. "There's nothing to apologize for. It wasn't your fault." She shivered slightly. "He was awful and it was all his fault."
"Yes, but I lost my temper. I lost control and that's something I try never to do."
"So, you lost control. It was no big deal." She continued to look down. "I wouldn't have minded if you'd hit him once or twice just for good measure."
He wondered if she were naked beneath the robe. If he slipped the terry material off one shoulder, would he be greeted by the straps of a gown beneath or would there only be her smooth, sweet skin?
The thought of her naked filled him with heat and he cursed himself for being an insensitive bastard. She had just been through an unsettling experience and all he could think about was capturing her lips with his, cupping her breasts with his hands and burying himself deep inside her.
All thoughts of anything sexual instantly left him as she looked up at him, her eyes awash with tears. The misery that reflected from the watery depths of her gentle brown eyes stirred a deep protectiveness he'd never known before.
He pulled her into his arms and she came willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in the front of his shirt. "I can't believe I ever let that man touch me in any way," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "I can't believe I ever believed anything that fell out of his ugly mouth."
"You don't have to worry about that ever again," Farid replied, stroking a hand down her still-damp hair. The pleasant scent of her floral shampoo filled his nose and again a wave of desire swept through him.
"He's a mean, hateful man with a black, black heart and I hate him."
Farid didn't reply, but merely tightened his arms around her.
At least she wasn't crying, he thought. Apparently all she needed was to be held, and he could do that gladly. Holding Samira was remarkably easy to do.
Minutes ticked by and he felt her slowly relaxing against him. Neither of them spoke but the silence wasn't unpleasant. After several minutes had passed, he began to wonder if perhaps she'd fallen asleep, but then she convulsed against him and released a deep, wrenching sob.
"Samira? Why are you crying?" he asked, wondering what had brought on the belated burst of tears. "Tell me what's wrong."
She shook her head and kept her face buried against his chest. "I don't think I want to talk about it," she said through her tears.
Was it possible she was crying from a broken heart? That somehow she'd entertained some kind of lingering hope about a relationship with Desmond Caruso, a hope that had been irrevocably dashed tonight?
"Samira, honey … don't cry." He patted her back, unsure what else to do. Farid didn't know how to deal with a sobbing woman.
"I … can't … help … it." Her shoulders shook with the force of the sobs that ripped through her. She raised her head and looked at him and never had he seen such abject misery on a face. "I know now why you haven't made love to me in the last week. It's because I'm … a … lousy … lay."
Without warning she jumped out of his embrace and off the sofa, then turned and raced for the bedroom. Astonishment momentarily left Farid inert, incapable of movement of any kind.
That's why she was crying? Not because her heart was broken by Desmond but because she'd believed the crazy words he'd said about her lovemaking? She had taken his foolish, hurtful words to heart?
She really believed that Farid had not made love to her after the first time because the experience had been an unpleasant one?
How on earth could she believe that? Hadn't she seen his desire for her in his eyes, felt it in his touch? Didn't she realize how much he wanted her?
His incredulity passed and he jumped up off the sofa and entered the bedroom, where she was on her tummy on the bed, her face buried in a pillow.
The room was falling into purple shadows of approaching twilight and she looked heartbreakingly tiny in the middle of the king-size bed.
He stretched out next to her on the bed and placed a hand on the small of her back, touched by how fragile she felt and vowing that no matter what happened in their future he would do his best to never allow anyone to harm her. It didn't matter whether their marriage lasted or not … he would always want to keep her from hurt … from harm.
"Samira, my sweet, innocent Samira, surely you can't really believe what Caruso said about you."
"Why shouldn't I believe it?" she asked, her voice muffled by the pillow. "We haven't … you haven't tried to even touch me in that way since that one time."
"And you have no idea how difficult it has been for me not to touch you in 'that way' since the last time we made love."
"You're just saying that," she replied.
"Trust me, Samira, I'm not just saying that. A few minutes ago while I was holding you in my arms, I was wondering if you were naked beneath your robe. I was imagining kissing you again, caressing you again … making love to you again."
She raised her face from the pillow and looked at him. Her cheeks were stained with the tracks of her tears and her bottom lip quivered with barely suppressed emotion.
"You're just being nice," she protested.
"You know me better than that," he chided gently. "I never do anything just to be nice." He reached out a finger and stroked it down her cheek, swiping away an errant tear that lingered there.
"You have no idea how much I've wanted you this past week," he said softly. "I wake up in the morning hard and throbbing with my desire for you, and I go to sleep at night the same way. I watch you shopping in the piazza and I want to make love to you. I see you sitting in a restaurant opposite me and I want to make love to you. The night that we made love, I found you to be a beautiful, passionate lover that I instantly wanted again … and again."
"Then why haven't you tried to make love to me again?" she asked, her voice slightly breathless.
"Because I didn't want to do anything that you didn't want me to. But, trust me, Samira, not a minute has gone by that I haven't been half-crazed with wanting you." He didn't wait for her to reply, but leaned forward and captured her lips with his.
The gentle kiss he'd meant to give her instantly raged into something more as she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him more intimately against her.
She returned his kiss with a fevered hunger that sent desire crashing through his veins. Their tongues battled in an erotic dance that merely heightened his passion for her.
"Farid." She tore her mouth from his, her eyes glowing in the semidarkness of the room. "I am."
He frowned down at her, finding thought next to impossible. "You are what?"
She smiled, a sexy smile that sent rivulets of electricity tingling through him. "I am naked beneath this robe."
For the second time in twenty-four hours, Farid lost complete control.
* * *
Chapter 10
«^»
As Farid removed the robe from her, kissing each inch of skin as it was exposed, all thoughts of Desmond and his mean words faded from her mind.
When Farid touched her, when he kissed her, it was impossible to think of anything but him and the wonderful, exciting sensations he evoked in her.
When her robe was gone, thrown to the floor next to the bed, he got up only long enough to remove his clothing, then rejoined her.
"Never doubt how much I desire you," he said just before his mouth claimed hers in a hot, hungry kiss.
And she didn't. She couldn't doubt his desire when it was so evident. She not only felt it, hard and throbbing against her, she also tasted it in his kiss, felt it radiating through his fingertips.
It was difficult for a man to fake desire, much easier for a woman to do so. She had faked it with Desmond to please him, but she didn't have to fake anything with Farid.
As his mouth left hers and traveled down the length of her neck, and his hands cupped her breasts, she gasped with pleasure.
She tangled her fingers in his thick black hair, lost in sensual splendor as his mouth reached where his hands were and his tongue teased first one nipple, then the other. She felt as if her breasts were electrified and each time he touched them currents of energy coursed throughout her entire body.
"Never doubt that I want to make love to you anytime, anyplace," he murmured. "You positively enflame me with desire for you."
She wasn't sure if it was his words that moved her or his continued caressing of her, but tension began to build inside her, a tension that was both frightening and wonderful.
One of his hands left her breasts and trailed down her rib cage, caressing her hip, her inner thigh, but not touching her where she needed him most.
He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes glittering with a ferocious hunger. "It has been sheer torture, lying next to you each night in bed and not touching you."
"You should have touched me," she said, gasping with the effort of trying to speak while her heart pounded frantically and her pulse raced erratically. "You should have reached out for me. I would have come to you willingly, eagerly."
"I didn't want to offend you," he replied.
"This doesn't offend me, this electrifies me."
Once again his fingers moved up the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, stopping just short of touching her intimately. It was a sensual, heart-stopping form of torture that merely served to heighten both her frustration and her utter pleasure.
She wanted to give him the same kind of fevered sensations that he was giving her. With this thought in mind, she sat up and pushed him to his back.
Her fingers trembled as she ran them across the broad expanse of his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath her fingertips and she leaned down and placed her lips on the spot where she thought his heart might be.
Moving her hands down the flat of his stomach, she felt his swift intake of breath as she avoided touching him as he had done to her.
She touched his inner thighs where she knew the skin was sensitive and a low moan escaped him and she felt the tension that surged in his body.
"Samira." His voice held both an unspoken warning and a plea.
"Farid." She answered her name with his own and smiled, reveling in the knowledge that she was giving to him the same kind of pleasure he'd given to her.
She wrapped her fingers around him and heard the hiss of his swift intake of breath. She was surprised to discover that his obvious pleasure at her touch increased her own.
She stroked her hand down the length of him, but before she could repeat the motion, he rolled her on her back beneath him.
"Are you trying to drive me insane?" he asked, his voice filled with an urgency that thrilled her.
"Yes … I want you insane with wanting me," she replied.
"Then you have succeeded, my love," he said, then crushed his mouth to hers for a kiss that stole all reason from her mind.
He eased into her, filling her up with his heat and she welcomed him, arching up and wrapping her hands around his back.
The mind-blowing sensations that soared through her half-blinded her and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to wallow in the flames of fire that filled her.
He buried himself deep within her, then pulled back until he was barely touching her. She gripped his buttocks, and pulled him back deeply into her, crying out as he once again nearly withdrew.
The teasing strokes drove her half-wild and she cried out in both frustration and ecstasy. As if her cry had broken loose something inside him, he changed the rhythm to a frenzied pace that took her breath away.
Faster and faster they moved together and the explosion of her release shuddered through her with an intensity that left her mindless.
His body went taut as a bow string and he stiffened against her, emitting a groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure with his own release.
For a long moment he remained unmoving, the bulk of his weight held off her by his arms on either side of her. Even in the near-darkness of the room she could see his eyes gazing at her. They were filled with a tenderness that surprised her, yet warmed her.
He leaned down and gave her a gentle, lingering kiss that stirred her as deeply, as profoundly as what they'd just shared. She wondered how she'd ever been able to think of this man as cold and arrogant.
He rolled over to the side of her and drew her into his arms. She curled her body next to his, her hand on his chest where his heartbeat was beginning to slow to a more normal pace.
"There's only one reason why I haven't made love to you in this past week," he said, his voice deep and soft.
She raised her head to look at him, loving the way the moonlight played across his strong features. "And why is that?"
"Because I didn't want to break the rule that you set down when we married."
She smiled and stroked a hand through the tuft of hair that decorated the center of his chest. "It was a foolish rule."
"I won't disagree with that," he replied and tightened his arm around her.
"I wish I could sleep in your arms tonight, Farid."
He smiled, that slow, sexy grin that created a new burst of heat through her. "You can sleep in my arms on the plane tonight."
"Then tomorrow night I'll sleep in your arms in our bed," she said, the thought shooting a new burst of warmth through her. She slid from his arms and sat up, eyeing the clock on the nightstand next to him. "I need to go pack up the last of my things in the bathroom."
He nodded and she felt his gaze on her as she left the bed, picked up her robe from the floor and walked to the bathroom. Once in the privacy of the master bath, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Her hair was tousled and her cheeks were filled with color. Her lips were slightly swollen and she looked as if she'd just been thoroughly and completely loved.
As she had been. Happiness soared through her as she thought of Farid's passion, how sweetly he had made her body sing in response.
She may be relatively inexperienced, but she knew instinctively that Farid was a wonderful lover. It had been foolish of her to believe they could live a life together, share the intimacies of marriage, yet not share a physical relationship.
She would have been denying herself incredible pleasure in denying them a physical intimacy. She also knew now that there was no going back. From here on out their marriage would be a real one, including frequent lovemaking.
Pulling on her robe, then a pair of panties, she realized that in the past two and a half weeks that they had been in Montebello, her tummy had grown more pronounced.
A new thought shot a touch of fear through her. Would Farid still want her when her stomach bulged and her ankles swelled with her pregnancy? Would he still desire her when she was fat and pregnant, or would he find her repulsive?
It took her only minutes to pack her toiletries into a small suitcase. When she returned to the bed, Farid was lying on his back, his arms behind his head.
He motioned for her to rejoin him. "We still have a little time before we have to get up," he said. As she got into the bed next to him he once again placed an arm around her and pulled her against his side.
His hand stroked her shoulder and although she tried to relax, she couldn't with the weight of her worry on her heart. She raised her head and gazed at him.
He touched the tip of her nose with his index finger. "What's wrong? I see a frown."
"I was just wondering if you won't want me anymore when my belly gets big and fat."
He sat up, his features registering surprise. "Is that what you're worried about? That as your pregnancy advances suddenly I won't want you anymore?"
To her surprise, he pushed up her robe to expose her tummy. Placing a hand against the tiny bulge, his gaze held hers. "I'm going to want every ounce, every pound of weight that you gain. I'm going to find you beautifu
l and desirable as the baby grows inside you."
He leaned down and kissed her lower abdomen and tears of happiness momentarily filled Samira's eyes.
Gently, he pulled her robe back down and once again drew her into his embrace against his side. "For as long as you want me, Samira, I'll want you."
She released a sigh of contentment and snuggled against him, loving the feel of their bodies so close together. She knew that all too quickly it would be time for them to get dressed and go to the airport, where the jet would be ready for take-off.
And in all probability within the next twelve to fourteen hours, she would have to face her father. Her mind replayed the scene in the restaurant and again she berated herself for being such a fool where Desmond was concerned.
"Samira, we'd better get up. A car will be here in just a few minutes to take us to the airport."
Reluctantly she once again left his arms. They both got out of bed and dressed in silence. Samira felt as if a magical time in her life was coming to an end. She only hoped the future they faced together would be as magical as these past few days with him.
They were ready and waiting when one of the royal limos pulled up to take them to the airport.
When they were ensconced in the back of the limo, Samira leaned against Farid and sighed. "I'm almost sorry to say goodbye to Montebello," she said. "These last two weeks have been wonderful."
"I've enjoyed spending time with you, Samira."
She sighed once again. "I can't quit thinking about what a horrid man Desmond is," she said. "And what a fool I was to have anything to do with him."
"Wolves often wear sheep's clothing very well. You need to stop blaming yourself for being a good and trusting human being who got taken advantage of."
She looked at him gratefully. "You're right," she agreed. "But he is vile and hateful and I'm never going to tell him about the baby – never," she finished vehemently.
"You're just upset right now," Farid replied. "The scene in the restaurant was terrible, but you know that you have to tell Caruso about the baby."
She moved away from his side and eyed him in surprise. "I know nothing of the kind. I don't have to tell him anything."
SECRETS OF A PREGNANT PRINCESS Page 12