He claimed her mouth before she could reply, and Holly let out a soft moan as she clung to him.
Needing her more than ever before, Rafiq led her to the bed. “I should have trusted you, Holly.”
Her lashes fluttered down, once again hiding the pain there. “Yes, you should have.”
“I’m so sorry. I think I wanted a reason to believe you weren’t so damn perfect, a reason to push you away.” His voice grew hoarse. “But I can’t. I need you. I need you so much.”
She didn’t reply but reached for him, pulling him down to her again. He took his time undressing her, lingering on every inch of flesh he exposed.
Rafiq couldn’t be rushed in making love to her. He teased her breasts, molding them in his hands before taking the pink tips in his mouth. Holly writhed beneath him, her pleas for more encouraging him to seek the slick folds of her sex with his fingers.
Rafiq brought her to the edge, not rushing his slow, deliberate strokes that ultimately brought her pleasure.
Finally he eased into her, taking her. Joining her. And even then there was an urgency, almost desperation to their lovemaking.
Only afterward, when she lay curled in his arms so vulnerable and sweet, did all the fears her declaration brought out rise once more. And this time, there would be no distracting him from their unsettling grip.
The dinner party was a blur of introductions and conversation. Holly knew she had a silly smile on her face, and she really couldn’t bring herself to care. She was still floating from Rafiq’s confession that he needed her and then the tender way he’d made love to her after.
With her spirits raised and her constant smile, she felt more beautiful in the gown she wore tonight than any exclusive dress she’d ever modeled. Not that this gown wasn’t expensive, but its quality and simplicity made her feel like a princess.
It was a cross between western and eastern attire. Layers of aqua chiffon did not hide her figure but revealed very little skin. It was the perfect fit for tonight’s dinner.
Her attempts at speaking Arabic had been greeted with enthusiasm and respect. If anything, it had made Rafiq’s friends and associates warm to her even more.
Throughout the dinner Rafiq would glance her way, and the smoldering intensity in his eyes would send a flush from her ears to her toes.
She’d told him she loved him tonight, and he hadn’t running screaming from the room. No, instead he’d made love to her so painstakingly slow and thoroughly she couldn’t quite convince herself this time that he didn’t care.
Rafiq did care. It showed in everything he did. The way he watched her, made love to her, held her at night. And it also made sense why he’d come down so harshly on Mahdi—who he’d ultimately promised her would not lose his position.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Holly stood from the table and strode from the exquisite dining hall to retrieve a shawl from Rafiq’s room. The air conditioning had kicked in, sending a chill through her.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
The accented voice, spoken in English, and snide words brought Holly to a halt.
She turned to find a petite woman approaching with a look dripping with disdain.
Wariness slid through her. This likely would not be a pleasant conversation. She recognized the other woman as one of the wives who’d been placed near the end of the table and struggled to remember her name.
Ah, yes. “Thank you, Mrs. Albujar, I am. And are you enjoying the dinner?”
“It would be better if certain people were not in attendance.” The other woman slid a disapproving glance over her. “So, I finally have the opportunity to meet the Sheikh’s newest mistress.”
Holly flinched at the word, but kept a smile on her face. “I find the word ‘mistress’ entirely outdated.”
“Hmm. Perhaps you’re right. Maybe you would find the term ‘whore’ more suited?”
The breath ripped from her throat at the blatant, vicious verbal assault, but the other woman wasn’t finished.
“You know, in my culture it is custom for a woman to remain pure. So that her husband will enjoy a virgin on their wedding night.”
Holly felt the heat stealing into her cheeks. The guards in the hallway must have been able to hear the conversation, though they showed no indication they listened. It would’ve been so easy to inform the woman she’d been a virgin until Rafiq, but that would only bring humiliation upon herself.
And the woman was right, in a manner. She’d been Rafiq’s virgin mistress, but would never be his virgin wife.
“You do realize Rafiq can never marry a westerner such as yourself,” Mrs. Albujar mocked. “Quite soon, I imagine, he will settle with my daughter, Nuha. Perhaps you saw her in Monaco, speaking with the Sheikh?”
The memory of Rafiq speaking to the young Arabic woman in Monaco flitted through her head, making her stomach clench.
“Did he buy you that diamond necklace?” the woman continued. “It will be a nice souvenir when you leave.”
It took everything within her not to reach up and touch the large diamond Rafiq had placed around her neck before the dinner.
Oh God, she was going to be sick. “I must go,” she whispered, and tried to step around Mrs. Albujar.
When the woman made to block her, one of the guards stepped in.
“Allow Miss Winchester to pass.”
Grateful for the intervention, Holly darted down the hall to Rafiq’s room and then closed the door behind her. Tears burned her eyes as she drew in a ragged breath, crossing to the lush settee in the middle of the room to sink down onto it.
Before that horrid woman had come along, tonight had been almost magical. Now she felt like a cheap imposter playing dress up.
Mistress. Rafiq’s mistress.
She wanted to believe the other woman was wrong—that her words had been nothing but a jealous mother who hoped her daughter would catch herself a Sheikh husband. But what if she wasn’t?
Chapter 17
Holly wasn’t aware of how much time had passed but glanced up, disoriented, when the door opened.
Rafiq strode into the room, his brows drawn together in concern. “Holly, are you all right? One of the guards informed me you were upset.”
“I…I don’t really know.”
He crouched down beside her. “What is it, habiba?”
She closed her eyes. You need to know the truth. “What am I to you?”
There was a pause.
“I don’t understand what you’re asking,” he said warily. “Please, come back to the dinner. People are beginning to wonder where you’ve disappeared to.”
“This afternoon I told you I loved you, Rafiq.” She opened her eyes again just in time to see him flinch.
“Holly…”
“I know you said you needed me, but do you love me?”
Silence, so heavy and painful, and an answer in itself. A cry of anguish built in her throat, but she swallowed it, just barely. “I see. It doesn’t matter.” She hated that her voice broke.
“Holly, please, we should discuss this later—”
“I don’t suppose it ever mattered, when the bottom line is you must marry a woman of your culture.”
“I am the Sheikh of Raljahar. I can marry whoever I damn well please.”
Holly froze at his tease words and their context. “I don’t understand,” she said cautiously. “You can marry whomever you want? But all this time you led me to believe—”
“I never led you to believe anything but the truth.”
“And what is the truth, Rafiq? Because I confess that at this point, I have no idea.”
“The truth is I will never marry you.”
His harsh words hurt more than if he’d slapped her. She made a soft gurgle of dismay, knowing her face must reflect the horror and humiliation.
He stopped pacing and turned to face her. His face was scrunched up, his mouth tight, with pain. It seemed each word hurt him equally. “I didn’t want to have this conversati
on now, Holly.” He cursed and moved away from her, his long strides eating up the room as he walked. “I can never marry for love.”
His words hit like tiny knives into her soul, even as part of her wanted to grasp at the word love. He’d used the word love. Could that mean he did love her?
“My uncle may be dead, but there are still people who would take my Sheikhdom by force if needed. Now more than ever.”
She shook her head. “How does that have anything to do with me?”
“Because they will use you, Holly. Just as they used my mother.” He returned to her, sinking down on the settee and fumbling to grasp her hands. His words held so much meaning. Insistence.
She wanted to understand—needed to understand—because there was so much she was missing. “Rafiq—”
“My mother meant the world to my father, and my uncle used that against him.” Rafiq’s fingers tightened around hers. “My father was so blind with love, she was his only concern. He let this country fall apart and ultimately didn’t see the trap my uncle set. My uncle threatened my mother’s life and my father tried to save her. In the end it didn’t matter—both my parents were killed.”
“And you nearly were.” Some of the pieces fell into place.
“I will not have you used against me. I will not place your life at risk.” Rafiq’s expression was almost pleading, a bit desperate, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as her.
He did love her, she didn’t doubt it for a moment now, but unfortunately the one emotion she’d craved from him also destroyed any hope of a future between them.
A loud knock sounded on the door. Rafiq blinked, his gaze refocusing. That solid control he wore like a cloak slipped back into place.
He released her hands and then stood. “That is probably my advisor wondering where we are. We should return to the party, Holly. We have guests awaiting our return.”
Of course. Back to the pretense she was nothing but his woman of the month. Oh, right, but it wasn’t a pretense.
A sad smile twisted her mouth. “Give them my apologies, but please let them know I don’t feel well and won’t be returning.”
Rafiq hesitated, looking genuinely confused. “Holly, what happened during the dinner? You seemed quite happy earlier.”
Earlier she’d been functioning in a dream world that didn’t really exist. “I woke up,” she murmured simply.
He didn’t respond, but gave a frustrated sigh. “I will return shortly.”
But shortly didn’t come until well after one in the morning.
Rafiq scrubbed a hand down his face, exhaustion eating at every inch of his body. He glanced once more around the empty dining hall and then headed toward his room. Part of him dreaded facing Holly again, though he assumed she would be asleep by now.
How could she not, after such an emotionally trying day? He hadn’t intended to purge all his past and fears upon her, but they’d surfaced anyway.
Perhaps it was better they had. Now there would be no more disillusions between them, no expectations. She’d said she loved him, but what if she was just confused because he’d been her first lover?
She would move on some day and forget him, but for now they could still live as lovers. That had to be enough. Everything within him wanted to crawl into bed and pull her into his arms.
He would make her forget their conversation earlier, erase the line on her forehead that displayed her unhappiness.
Already he envisioned waking her with a slow kiss and hearing the shift in her breathing as she reached for him.
Rafiq opened the door to the bedroom and stumbled over his own feet.
Holly was indeed in bed, but not asleep, and in bed was probably not the correct terminology. She sat on the edge, fully dressed, with a suitcase at her feet.
His heart began a slow thud. “Are you going somewhere, habiba?”
“I’m leaving.”
He tried to force an amused laugh, even as his stomach clenched. “Are you now?”
“Our deal expired at midnight, Rafiq. If you hadn’t noticed, it’s been three months exactly. I’m free to go.”
Had it been? No, it couldn’t be possible. Not this soon. But by the stoic determination on Holly’s face, he knew all he needed to do was find a calendar to prove her words true. “You don’t need to leave.”
“Don’t I?” She arched a brow, but he saw the pain flicker in her eyes. “Would you have me stay and handpick your future wife?”
“Of course not,” he said tersely.
“You said you needed to marry. Well, your plan worked. Mothers are throwing their daughters your way. Women watch you wherever you go—though they always have.”
He ignored her foolish ramblings and shook his head. “I want you to stay.”
“Perhaps Nuha Albujar?”
Was she trying to drive him mad? “I don’t want her.”
“No, you don’t. You want me.” It wasn’t a question, but nor was it a gloating reply. Holly spoke the word tonelessly, an indication she knew how impossible it was.
“I can’t marry you,” he choked out.
“Yes, you can, Rafiq. You admitted it hours ago, but you won’t.” She stood and reached for the suitcase next to her. “Just as I won’t be your mistress any longer. I respect myself too much for that.”
He curled his fingers around her arm as she moved past him. “You can’t leave. Not…not this time of night.”
“I’ve hired a car to take me to the airport. It’s better this way. By the time the paparazzi are aware I’ve left the palace with my bags, I’ll be gone.” She gently pried his fingers from her arm and stepped away. “My flight leaves just after dawn.”
“Please.” Desperation clawed at him as she walked toward the door. He curled his hands into fists, knowing how close he was to running to the door and blocking it.
You can’t make her stay.
“I don’t want to lose you, habiba.”
“And that’s just it, Rafiq. You don’t have to.” She paused but didn’t turn around. “You realize that refusing to marry me won’t guarantee my safety.”
Wouldn’t it? With her as his wife, she would always be a target and could always be used as leverage against him.
“I want you to realize the truth. I really do. Because you deserve happiness.” Her voice broke, showing the emotion he knew she didn’t want to reveal.
He tried to form a response, find the perfect words to convince her to stay. But they could never be the ones she wanted.
Holly’s shoulders crumpled before she again straightened them. With a slight nod, she strode out the door and out of his life.
Rafiq stared at the closed door and didn’t fight the heavy desolation that swept through him like a desert storm.
Chapter 18
She should have been terrified. Holly stared out the window of the jet over the tarmac as they continued boarding, but couldn’t summon the energy for fear.
Or perhaps her phobia of flying was nothing compared to facing the reality of leaving Rafiq. Part of her wanted to climb off the plane and take the first taxi she could find back to the palace.
But then, it would just hurt all that much more later, because someday she would have to give up being his mistress when he needed to settle down with a wife.
A sob caught in her throat and she bit her lip to swallow it. There were no more tears to cry, and at least being put through the emotional wringer meant she’d probably fall asleep after a few minutes in the air.
The engines roared to life on the plane and her heart constricted. She was leaving; it was too late now.
There was a jolt as the plane began to back up, away from the terminal.
Holly stared at the expanse of orange desert and the rugged mountains behind them as the plane moved to line up for takeoff. Shoot. She’d thought the tears had dried up. Grabbing the tissue from her lap, she dabbed the corners of her eyes again.
Despair settled over her, heavy like a wet blanket. Closin
g her eyes, she prayed for sleep to take her.
Maybe she fell asleep, or just got lost in the darkness of her thoughts, but when the hairs on the back of her neck lifted she knew something had changed.
The engines were quiet and they certainly weren’t in the air, she knew that much.
Holly held her breath as she slowly opened her eyes again.
Rafiq.
Her heart slammed against her ribcage as she saw him board the plane. He watched her as he strode down the narrow aisle, his determination apparent in the hard slash of his mouth.
Hope flared inside her, but she quickly snuffed it out. Rafiq wasn’t used to being denied, and likely he’d come to try to force her into staying. It wouldn’t work. Not this time.
He stopped in front of her row, ignoring the passenger next to her and seeking only her. “You must leave the plane at once, Holly.”
Did he think he could intimidate her in front of all these people? She shook her head. Thank God many of them probably didn’t speak English. “I’m returning to the States.”
“If you don’t leave the plane, the pilot will have you forcibly removed.”
He wouldn’t! She opened her mouth to deny it but then saw the pilot making his way down the aisle.
“You can’t do this, Rafiq.”
“It’s already done.”
Biting back every curse she wanted to fling at him, Holly unfastened her seatbelt and maneuvered her way from the seat. She would hire a car to drive her across the desert if needed, but she wouldn’t be forced to stay with Rafiq one day longer.
Rafiq plucked her bag from the overheard and indicated for her to leave first.
She strode down the aisle, her cheeks warming but her chin raised. Everyone watched them—they knew it was their Sheikh who’d boarded the plane and probably realized now who she was.
Out on the tarmac she spun on him. “Rafiq, you can’t—”
“Please, let’s talk in the limo.”
“I’m not getting in there with you.”
“Holly.” Her name was a husky plea on his lips, breaking her willpower.
Beauty and the Sheikh Page 16