“Are you okay?” he asked so that only she could hear, taking her hand and leading her off to the side.
Jabril watched as Ilara looked away from him. Interesting that she couldn’t look him in the eye, he thought. Could she have been just as blown away by that kiss as he had been?
“I’m fine,” she smiled up at him. But yet again, her eyes didn’t meet his. “This was an extraordinary wedding. Everyone in this village helped out and…they’re so desperate, and yet, they did all of this for us.” Her eyes swept over the people that were now laughing and dancing to the music.
“I agree.” He lifted his hand up to his lips, kissing her fingertips lightly. “You look lovely, by the way.”
Another brief flash of a smile. “Thank you.” Her dark eyes moved over his cargo pants and tee-shirt. “You look exactly the same,” she teased.
Jabril chuckled and moved so that he could watch the celebration, but still keep her by his side. “The men in the village didn’t think it was very important for me to dress up for the event, apparently. And besides, I think they consider you their savior.”
She looked up at him, startled by his words, and he felt her lean into him. A shift to compensate? To ease his hurt feelings over the townspeople’s disregard for wedding finery for him? Ilara was certainly a surprise, he thought. So gentle and sensitive. And yet, she was strong, both physically and mentally. Few women of his acquaintance would have endured the rough accommodations their group had endured over the past few nights. At that moment, he vowed to protect her from her more gentle tendencies.
Unless they were directed towards him, he thought and put his arm around her waist. He liked the way she leaned into him, her soft curves pressing against his side.
“The villagers are watching us,” she commented.
“Is that why you are moving closer to me?” he asked, and his whole body tensed, waiting for her response.
She bit her lip and he knew the instant she was going to lie. “Yes. Of course.”
He laughed softly, seeing the truth in her eyes. “Keep on telling yourself that,” he teased and kissed the top of her head. When he looked at her again, he saw the pink tinge to her cheeks and the tension inside of him eased slightly, but not completely! There was still a lot to do here in Ditra. Convincing Ilara to marry him had only been the tip of the iceberg, so to speak.
Although, he didn’t mind that Ilara had resisted initially. For some odd reason, he admired her optimism and trust in her uncle, even though it was misplaced. And he appreciated more and more that she’d honestly thought she was doing the right thing for her people by staying away. Possibly because she changed her mind as soon as the evidence pointed to her erroneous beliefs. She was completely on board now.
Who knew that he would find an admirable woman in the person he’d assumed was the enemy?
The wedding party continued but he and Ilara kept to the sidelines, as did his guards who stood up on the tops of buildings, looking out windows, riding out to the horizon…all to ensure that the celebration continued in peace.
Several hours later, he looked over at Ilara and found her covering a yawn. “You’re tired,” he commented, thinking about last night and their rough accommodations. “Let’s…”
“Come, my lady!” a group of the older women interrupted, grins on every face. Ilara suspected that some secret stashes of alcohol had been brought out for today’s celebration, but she didn’t mind. These people needed a break. And in her mind, it really was a relief to be married. Now all she had to do was travel to the capital city and take over control of the palace. She even knew a secret way into the palace, just in case her uncle tried to stop her from entering. Looking around at the devastation surrounding her, the broken buildings that were festive only because of the weeds and flowers that had artfully covered the damage and the broken glass, Ilara felt good about the wedding. Looking up at Jabril, she was startled to find him looking down at her, a strange look in his eyes.
“What? Is something on my face?” she asked, lifting her hand to brush her cheek.
“Not at all. Go. You’re tired. The ladies will show you where to sleep.”
She smiled up at him, thinking he was a nicer man than she’d ever realized. Scars and all, she couldn’t believe that he was so kind and gentle. Did he have a harsher side to him? She thought back to that initial meeting in her office. Goodness, that seemed like a different lifetime! But yes, Jabril was much more complicated than she’d originally suspected. He was harsh, but had a passion for protecting his people. She could appreciate that.
“Goodnight,” she whispered, wishing that he would be with her tonight. Thinking back to this morning, she laughed at the idea of sleeping in the same bed with him. He was probably safer sleeping alone, even though his body had kept her warm and safe last night. None of the harsh, confusing dreams like the ones she’d been having over the past several months.
The ladies led her up the stairs of one of the only buildings that hadn’t been damaged. For whatever reason, this building was in one piece, complete with glassed windows.
The women talked amongst themselves, but Ilara tuned out their chatter, still thinking about Jabril and sharing a tent with him last night. She’d actually slept on his shoulder! His arm had become her pillow and she’d literally been plastered up against his side. But instead of being embarrassed, she smiled at the memory. He was very kind, she thought. And now he was her husband. Wow!
Before she’d gone off to college, she’d known about the law requiring her to marry by the age of twenty-five. She’d both resented the law and accepted it, knowing that it was her destiny. Her father and uncle had both drilled responsibility into her head right along with walking with one’s head held high. It was natural to her now. Natural and accepted.
But after her father’s passing years ago and her attending Stanford, not to mention, her conversations with her uncle over the past several years, she’d slowly pulled away from what she’d always considered her destiny.
And being away in the United States, she’d found that there was no “normal” age to marry. Some women married in their early twenties, others waited until they were older, some in their thirties before marrying. Still others decided that marriage just wasn’t what they wanted for their lives. Some women might have found a significant other, someone they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with, but hadn’t needed the legality of a marriage to forge that bond.
In other words, Ilara had started to think that marriage before she turned twenty-five wasn’t the be-all-and-end-all of her options. She’d found more options, more ideas. Which is exactly what school was supposed to do for college kids. They went to school not only to deepen their education, but to expand their world, to question their values and opinions.
So after all those years of education and expansion, Ilara found herself right back where she’d started before leaving Ditra. She was married to a man to save her country. Who said life wasn’t ironic?!
One of the ladies pulled the remaining pins out of her hair while another moved in with a comb, gently pulling all of the tangles out of the long tresses. She hadn’t realized what Jabril had done to her hair during that kiss and smiled at the memory. She wouldn’t mind enjoying another kiss like that one. Although, she had no idea what Jabril might think.
Two more ladies helped to gently pull the wedding dress over her head. Ilara was only slightly self-conscious of her semi-naked state and was grateful when they brought over a nightgown, made of thin linen. So thin, it was almost see-through. One of the ladies tried to take off her bra, but Ilara shook her head.
“I think I’ll just wear this tonight,” she told the ladies. “I need to be ready for anything.”
Ilara meant that she needed to be ready to jump out of bed and escape if her uncle or his forces discovered that she was here in Ditra, and married. He would be furious, she knew.
But for some reason, the ladies thought her words were hilarious and giggled like
small children as they gathered up the wedding dress, brushes, and other small items.
“This way!” the woman who seemed to be in charge called.
A woman opened the door next to her, then nudged her inside. As soon as Ilara was in the room with the crackling fire warming the chilly, night air, she knew that she’d been had. The bed. It was sprinkled with flower petals and in the corner, someone had placed a bottle of wine.
They thought that Jabril would come to her tonight. With an indulgent smile, she walked over to the table where the bottle of wine stood and poured herself a half glass. “Ladies, you are optimists!” she muttered, then gulped the liquid. Walking over to the bed, she pulled down the sheets, grateful that there was a real mattress. Last night, Jabril had been very warm and she’d appreciated the use of his arm as a pillow, but the ground under her hips had been hard! Come to think of it, Jabril had been pretty hard as well!
As soon as she realized where her mind went, she blushed. Rolling her eyes, she walked over to the small pile of clothes she’d been wearing earlier today. They’d been washed! How sweet! Clean clothes would be a luxury! Reaching underneath her nightgown, she unlatched her bra and pulled it out the top, dropping it onto the pile of clothes, then headed over to the fire. As warm as it felt right now, she couldn’t allow it to burn overnight. The building was old and the exterior was made of stone, but the floors were wooden and would burn like a matchstick if a spark jumped further than the stone hearth.
Reaching for the poker, Ilara was just about to pull the pieces of wood apart to put out the fire when the door opened again. Turning her head, she was startled to find Jabril standing in the doorway. In just his cargo pants.
She noticed that his hair was wet, indicating that he’d bathed over the past hour.
Why was she thinking about his wet hair when his strong, muscular chest was on display? Ilara stared, not sure what to say. Yes, he was her husband. But they wouldn’t be sharing a bed tonight. Not…tonight!
“I’m sorry, Ilara. I didn’t mean to sleep in here tonight,” he said, his voice rough, as if sandpaper were hindering the words from coming out.
Then his eyes moved down her figure and Ilara stood, not sure what else to do. “Um…I guess it’s okay,” she choked.
Jabril looked at Ilara, stunned by the thin linen shift she was wearing. And nothing else! Damn, she was a beautiful woman with more curves than he’d thought possible! Her hips were round and soft, her legs long and lean. And her breasts! Damn, her breasts were more than a handful. He couldn’t see the color of her nipples through the thin material, but his mouth went dry.
He’d gone to the small pond about a mile away to wash up along with his men. They were taking shifts, walking the perimeter along with the villagers who had intelligently set up a perimeter every night. The villagers took turns patrolling and watching for threats.
Jabril hadn’t understood when the men had told him where to sleep. He’d come up here only to investigate, but had planned to slip back down to help guard the village.
But now, standing here looking at Ilara in the barely-there night gown that was sexier than any negligee he’d ever seen, Jabril understood what the village men thought was going to happen tonight. His wedding night.
Ah hell!
It had been bad enough last night when they’d shared a tent. Then he’d had his clothes, her clothes and both sleeping bags to separate them. His eyes darted over to the bed, then back to her. The small bed. Her large breasts. Small bed.
Oh hell!
“I think the…uh…villagers…assume that this is a normal marriage,” Ilara stammered out, her eyes going to his, then back down to his chest. Her eyes were like a hot caress and he wanted to strip off the rest of his clothes and make love to her.
“It is a real marriage,” he stated firmly, tossing his shirt and jacket over the back of the one wooden chair. “Wine?” he asked, gesturing to the bottle and two glasses on the table.
“Yes. It’s better that you might expect,” she told him, smiling weakly as she clasped her hands in front of her.
Jabril didn’t move. He couldn’t move. Hell, if he moved, his body might just explode. Was she standing in front of the fireplace like that on purpose? Just to torment him with her body backlit through the nearly transparent nightgown?
He tore his eyes away from the enticing shadows created by her body, ready to roar at her to stop the torment, when he looked into her face. Her lovely face. Her anxious, confused face.
Oh hell.
Moving towards her, he took her hands and pulled her away from that damn fire! He was only human and seeing her like that was more than any man should be expected to endure.
Unfortunately, when he’d been across the room, the fire had kept her body in shadow. Now that she was away from the fire, he could see…more. Details and colors, enticing shadows and…and that fascinating darkness between her thighs! Not fair, he mentally groaned.
Pink. Her pretty nipples were pink! Pink and erect and poking against that damn thin material.
Pulling his eyes upwards, he looked into her eyes. “Ilara, we will just sleep tonight.”
She looked at him, then laughed. “Um…right,” she replied finally, her eyes lingering over his bare shoulders and chest. Good, he thought with a grimace. At least he wasn’t the only one in this room struggling with the sexual tension that seemed to inch higher with every breath they took.
He released her hands and moved to the table, grabbing the bottle of wine. “Want some?” he asked, lifting the bottle higher in invitation.
“No. I’ve already imbibed enough,” she said, a twinkle to her expression that irked him. He glared at her for another long moment, then poured a large measure before lifting the glass to his lips. One more glare…or peek, he corrected…and he slammed the wine back.
“That’s not as bad as I was expecting,” he agreed, setting the glass and bottle back on the table. Unfortunately, the wine didn’t do anything to ease the ache created by that damn night gown! Maybe he should tell her to take it off.
He smiled, thinking about that. Her naked. Him naked. The bed behind her. Yeah, that sounded like a much better plan!
“What just popped into your mind, Jabril?” she asked, grabbing one of the pillows and pulling it against her stomach. Unfortunately, that still left her breasts above the cushion. And her damn nipples were taunting him! Hell, she’d been living in the United States for years. She could be doing this on purpose!
And what an ass he was! As if the women of Piara were oblivious to the ways in which to torment men? Women all over the world knew how to tempt and torment men! It was instinctive! There was nothing specific in the American culture that taught females how to drive a man insane with need.
Like now. Was she doing it on purpose? No, with that pillow in front of her, she was trying to hide herself from his gaze. It wasn’t working, but at least she was trying.
No, this wasn’t a cultural thing. Her actions were instinctive. And damn effective.
“Are you doing that on purpose?” he growled, walking over to her, glaring. Eyes that a man could lose himself in! Hell, he’d heard that line in movies and thought it was stupidly cheesy. Now he understood!
She pulled back, leaning her head way back to look up at him. “Doing what, Jabril? And why are you so angry all of a sudden? You came in here looking nice and handsome and… what changed?”
He stared at her, his mouth pressing together when he realized that she was being completely honest! Hell, she had absolutely no idea what she was doing to him! She was probably even oblivious to the material being basically see-through!
Did her being unaware of her actions make things better? Or worse?
Jabril wasn’t sure. But he was pretty sure that he should move away from her.
Or kiss her.
Kissing her when she wore that ridiculous night gown would be like sticking his finger into a socket! Yeah, it would ease his curiosity, but it might just kill him to
o!
“You’re almost naked, Ilara.”
Jabril groaned out loud when she looked down. The gasp of horror almost made him chuckle. Almost. He was still on the edge of pulling her into his arms and…well, hell!
She pulled the pillow higher, hiding those tempting nipples.
“I’ve already seen them, Ilara. Hiding them isn’t going to help because the image of your breasts is now burned into my mind.”
She harrumphed in frustration – and looked adorable doing it. “Well, what do you expect me to do? We’re here! Everyone witnessed our wedding this afternoon and now they all assume that we’re going to be…intimate! I can’t help it that those ladies insisted on dressing me in this nightgown! They literally took that wedding dress off me and they draped this over me. I could either be rude and tell them I was going to wear my original clothes, or I could wear this and please them. I chose to be kind and not hurt their feelings, so please stop growling at me!” she snapped at him, standing up, gripping the pillow in front of her like a shield.
He wanted to laugh, but he was wound so tight, knowing what was behind that damn pillow! Making things worse, Ilara was his wife! Making love to her tonight felt right! Not that he would.
Unless…she felt the need as well.
Sighing, he rubbed a frustrated hand over his face. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, so the scruff on his jawline was rough. Not a good thing for their first night of romance. Yet another obstacle holding him back.
Damn bed! Damn fire!
“Let’s just…get some sleep, okay? We have a long day tomorrow.”
“Fine!” she snapped, stalking back over to the fire, picking up the poker again.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, once again becoming entranced by the light coming through that night gown.
Resisting the Sheik's Commands (The Diamond Club Book 1) Page 7