by Trish Morey
Even after a night and morning of passion she was still burning for him. She couldn’t help it. Back home in Australia his touch would come with a government health warning—it was dangerously addictive. And after a night spent revelling in his touch, and a ride together through the desert dunes on a loping camel on their way to meet the cars, the more addicted she’d become.
It was going to be more of a wrench to leave than she could ever have imagined. Surprisingly more of a wrench, given yesterday she’d been demanding to be taken to the airport so she could leave the country immediately. She’d been so sure then, so absolutely driven to escape the first chance she had.
Why now, then, was she in two minds about leaving? Why, barely more than twenty-four hours later, was the thought of heading for the airport so much less compelling?
What had changed, other than they’d made love, out there in a tent amongst the desert sands?
Unless this wasn’t just about sex? Unless…
No way!
There was no way. Between them there was just sex. It was just a physical thing. There could only ever be just sex.
So why did the thought of leaving Jebbai, of leaving Khaled, seem to tear a hole right through her? Seem to gut her completely? Why did the closer she got to saying goodbye for ever make her less and less comfortable? It couldn’t only be put down to the best sex she’d ever had, surely.
‘What’s wrong?’ said Khaled from the driver’s seat.
‘What do you mean, what’s wrong?’ she asked, suddenly aware that she’d been shaking her head from side to side.
‘You don’t look happy. Would you have liked to stay longer in the desert?’
Heat suffused his words and swirled the depths of his eyes and she saw the pictures he must be thinking, she could feel his touch on her skin. ‘Oh, no,’ she lied, her voice shaky as the bottom fell out of her world with the power of her discovery. ‘It was an interesting trip, but it’s such a relief to be back.’
Her voice choked up on the last word but still she managed to dredge up a bright smile from somewhere. His eyes hardened, taking on a granite sheen as he measured her words, and she wished he’d look back at the road before they veered off it.
Finally he looked to the front again and she felt her smile crack and slide away. How much longer could she keep this up now that it had hit her? Now that one sight of the reflection in his dark eyes had confirmed what she’d feared was true.
Damn it all.She’d known this would happen if she’d stayed. She’d known she was in danger of falling more and more under Khaled’s magnetic spell if she didn’t get away.
And it had happened. The worst thing possible had happened.
This wasn’t about sex.
This had never been about sex.
She’d fallen in love with Khaled.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHEhad to get away. Now more than ever. No longer could she trust what she felt and she couldn’t even be sure she was thinking straight any more. She’d lost control of her life and she needed time away to try and get it back.
Away from Khaled’s influence and powerful spell she could be more objective and clear-headed. A break spent with her family in Australia would give her the distance she needed to get herself back together. She had bridges to rebuild there as it was, with her mother and sisters, before she could consider moving on. Gianfranco had to allow her the leave. He just had to.
But the first step to doing any of that was to get away from Jebbai.
She was quiet as Khaled pulled the vehicle to a halt outside the palace, reluctant to speak until he had shaken off the servants and carried her bag back to her room himself.
‘There,’ he said, opening the door to her study and putting down her bag. ‘Back safe and sound. Didn’t I say so?’ He looked around the apartment. ‘Where’s Azizah? She should be here.’
‘Maybe she wasn’t expecting us back so soon,’ she said, wishing he would go, wishing he would stay, wishing it was all over.
She glanced down at her watch, mentally adding a six-hour journey to the early-afternoon time and thinking it might still be possible to arrange a flight back to Milan today if the security alert was over. Compared to that it really wasn’t important where Azizah was in the scheme of things. It wasn’t as if she needed anyone to help her pack. And it wasn’t as if she could put off the question that had been plaguing her thoughts.
‘Is there any news of the airport reopening?’
He stiffened, the long, fluid lines of his body pulling up tall and taut.
‘Is that a passing enquiry, or do you have a more specific interest?’
She swallowed back her first response. How could he pretend not to know why she cared?
‘Why do you ask? Will it make your answer any different?’
‘I want to know. Why do you care whether the airport is open or closed?’
‘Because you said you’d give me a lift, remember? You promised to take me to the airport and put me on a plane for Milan, just as soon as it reopened.’
Silence met her words, a fat, incredulous bubble of silence.
Then it burst. ‘You’re still planning on leaving?’ Disbelief turned his words into an accusation.
‘Of course I am. I told you I wanted to leave. You told me you’d take me to the airport yourself. You promised.’
He took two strides towards her. ‘But that was before…’ His words trailed off.
‘Before what?’ she demanded. ‘Before last night? You think that what happened last night changes anything?’
His eyebrows lifted. ‘Doesn’t it?’
‘We had sex, Khaled,’ she said. ‘People do it all the time and then they walk away. End of story.’ She shrugged. ‘It changes nothing.’ She turned her head, before he could see the lie in her eyes. Before he could see how her own words tore at her heart. She couldn’t let him see what it meant to her, not when she was so vulnerable and afraid and desperate to escape.
‘Sex?’ The word erupted from him like a cannonball as her forearm was grabbed in his iron-like grasp, pulling her back around to face him. ‘Is that what we had? And all the time I thought we were making love.’
‘Call it whatever you like,’ she said more shakily than she wished. ‘You promised to take me to the airport.’ She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for him to understand. ‘And I’m holding you to it.’
He let go of her arm, wheeling away, raking one clawed hand through his hair.
‘I don’t want you to go.’
She squeezed her eyes shut, clamping back on the stinging dampness behind her lids. ‘We’ve been through this.’
He spun around to face her. ‘No, we haven’t.’
‘Khaled—’
‘No!’ he shouted. ‘When I made that promise I thought I could let you walk out of my life if you wanted to. I really believed it. But I thought it wouldn’t come to that—I thought I would change your mind about leaving—that you would decide to stay here in Jebbai with me.’
She laughed, the sound coming brittle and harsh. ‘You thought one night with you would change my mind? You really must fancy yourself as some sort of Arab stud.’
His eyes flashed with danger, his jaw rigid as concrete, and she stepped back, fearing she had gone too far.
‘Listen to me,’ he hissed, his teeth clenched, his eyes rapier sharp. ‘No one has ever felt so right in my bed, such liquid fire in my arms. That perfect moment when we two became one—you could not help but feel that. I know you felt it too. You can’t deny it.’
There was no oxygen left in the room, otherwise why was it so difficult to breathe? So difficult to think?
‘Khaled, I…’
‘I don’t want you to go, Sapphire. Even if last night changed nothing for you, it changed the world for me. After last night I know I could never live without you. The last thing I want to do in the world is to take you to the airport never to see you again. I can’t lose you now. I want you to stay here and become my wife
.’
‘No,’ she protested, vehemently shaking her head as she tried to dislodge his hand on her arm. ‘That’s crazy. That’s exactly why you brought me here in the first place! Why should this time be any different?’
His free hand cupped her cheek. She flinched, trying to pull away, but his hand remained, and against her own better judgement she found herself nestling into the warm strength of his palm. His face hovered just inches from her own, his eyes suddenly more tender than she’d ever seen.
‘Something happened to me last night, while I was out there in that desert tent with you. I discovered something momentous that I should have realised long, long ago.’
She was afraid to blink, afraid to breathe, afraid the sound of her pumping heart would drown out his words.
‘Zafeerah…’The way he said her name fed into her soul, he might have been worshipping her. ‘I’m not good at showing these things, but can’t you feel it? I love you.’
Her pulse quickened, thumping in her chest as his words hit home.He loved her? How could it be possible, after all that had happened?
‘You don’t believe me,’ he said, ‘but you must. I think I loved you from the very first time I saw you in the salon. I wanted you back then but it has taken me all this time to see the truth of what was staring me in the face all along.
‘I love you. And that’s why I cannot bear the thought of your leaving. I want you to stay and be by my side forever. I am asking you to become my wife.’
His mouth slanted over hers and she felt his lips, heated, filled with promise and expectation, moving over hers.
She felt her resolve to leave wavering, losing balance in a world she was less and less sure of. So much was changing and all too fast. Her heart sang with his revelation yet at the same time her mind reeled.
She couldn’t think straight before he’d made his announcement. How could she possibly think straight now?
He lifted his head, his hands taking hers in his. ‘Will you stay then? Will you stay, and become my wife?’
She could tell him now that she felt the same way, that she too had fallen and fallen hard, but there was still too much to think about, too much history to get over, too many things to forgive.
She started to shake her head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Please,’ he implored. ‘Please think about it.’
He was so different now. This was a man used to getting what he wanted. All he had to do was click his fingers and people came running. Yet he was asking her now, pleading with her to reconsider.
She could see what this was costing him, could see the pain and uncertainty in his features. It was a different side of Khaled—a much more vulnerable and human side than she’d seen before.
Maybe he was speaking the truth. Maybe he did love her. But how could she be sure? After all the half-truths and secrets, it was all too much to process.
‘Think about it,’ he repeated, sensing her own bewilderment. ‘I’ll leave you now. Take your time; call me on the intercom when you’ve made up your mind. The airport has reopened. I’ll have my jet put on standby. If you still want to leave, you can leave immediately. On the other hand, if you decide to stay…’
His words trailed off and she nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said, thinking how inadequate that sounded after such a conversation.
He smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead. Then he turned and left, pulling the door softly closed behind him.
It seemed like years since she’d been in the workshop, yet it was really only yesterday. Azizah had still not shown up, so there was no opportunity to distract herself with small talk and minor housekeeping issues. Instead, as she prowled amongst the worktables bearing machines all now empty and silent, her thoughts kept churning, going over and over trying to digest the impact of Khaled’s surprise declaration, trying to fit all the pieces together.
He loved her.
She loved him.
He wanted to marry her.
She wanted to get away.
Or did she?
Her reason for leaving was to keep herself safe, to protect herself from Khaled’s influence. But what would she be saving when she’d already lost her heart? What more was there to risk when her body wanted nothing more than to be pressed close next to his?
Would it be so wrong to stay and marry him? To have him as her partner, in bed and out of it for her entire life? Was that not preferable to turning her back on their love and living without him, alone somewhere and full of regrets for what might have been?
It was still so difficult to think, but maybe this was how it was supposed to be—a decision that should be made not with the head, but with the heart. What could she lose by doing what her heart knew instinctively was right?
In the corner of the room the wedding dress that had brought her to Jebbai still hung on the mannequin, its brilliant beaded and jewelled bodice gleaming even through the clear protective dust jacket. The sight of it brought a smile to her face, even in the midst of her inner turmoil.
If she’d achieved anything in Jebbai, it was this gown. It was beautiful, the most beautiful she’d ever seen and most certainly the most beautiful she’d ever made. The design was exquisite and, thanks to the skill and dedication of her assistants, the workmanship second to none.
And it could still be hers…
Sensation shimmied down her spine at the possibility and she bit down hard on her bottom lip as carefully she peeled back the protective layer, revealing the full splendour of the dress.
It had been made to her measurements, certainly, but with not one fitting. And the real test of any garment was not how it looked hanging up, but how it looked on the person it had been designed for. How well had they transformed a bare set of measurements and metres of fabric into a gown for a real woman? There was still the possibility she might leave Jebbai and never know.
There was only one way to find out.
The dress slipped sensually over her skin, cool and satin smooth after she’d stripped off the cotton shirt and chinos she’d worn for the return journey. There was weight in the gown, much more than was apparent at first glance, but the weight felt balanced in the long skirt that flared out from her hips. She did up as many of the pearl fastenings at her back as she could, thinking it would be so much easier with someone to help her but at the same time thankful there was no one to witness her folly.
There was a full-length mirror in her walk-in wardrobe. And heeled shoes. She hitched up the heavy train and headed for her bedroom, feeling heady with both exhilaration and recklessness.
She saw it propped up against her telephone as soon as she walked through the door into the office. She’d completely missed the envelope when she’d first arrived, too preoccupied talking to Khaled, her back to the desk. But from the door the angle was perfect and she could not miss it.
Who was writing to her here? Unless it was Gianfranco, although it was more usual for him just to send a fax. Curious, she picked up the envelope on the way through to her dressing room. The outside gave nothing away, the typewritten address bland and uninformative. Likewise the absence of a return address.
She shrugged and flipped the envelope down onto her bed as she passed. The letter could wait. First to the shoes. She searched her wardrobe, where her gear had been returned since her aborted attempt to leave yesterday, and hauled out the highest pair of heels she’d brought. They were brightly coloured sandals, hardly a good match, but they’d give her the extra height she needed to get the best impression of the fall of the dress.
She slipped them on, smoothing down the material, impatient now for her first glance in the mirror. She twisted her hair into a knot on the top of her head, took a deep breath and stepped in front of the mirror.
Oh, wow!
It looked—sensational.
The dress fitted her like a second skin, moulding itself perfectly to every dip, every curve, while its exquisite lines spoke elegance. She looked instantly taller, more regal. But if it looke
d fantastic, it felt even better. Even in this hurried try-on state, without make-up or her hair done properly, the dress felt superb.
More than that, it felt right.
Her teeth found her lip again. It did feel right. Just as making love with Khaled in the desert tent had felt so perfect, as if they were destined to be forever.
Maybe this wedding was preordained too. Maybe it was written in the stars and all she’d had to do was to say yes. Had Khaled felt that all along? Was that why he’d concocted his plan to lure her to his desert kingdom and win her heart?