by Mel Teshco
“The number wasn’t specified. Merely the need for an heir, but rest assured I don’t expect you to produce a child a year until that stipulation is fulfilled.”
Her face burned and it had nothing to do with the jets or the rapidly cooling water. “How generous of you.”
His smile was worthy of the devil himself. He leaned into her space and although he didn’t touch her, his body heat surrounded her in sensual wave. And then he spoke. “In the meantime, we can focus on the pleasure of conceiving these much desired offspring.”
Chapter Six
Tariq was so close to Sofia her uneven breath feathered his face. It would be too easy to steal a kiss and join her in the spa, but his damn pride forbade it.
She played the innocent so well. Her hair was piled on top of her head, but tendrils had escaped and skimmed her shoulders, and the damp curls somehow enhanced the illusion of a virtuous maiden.
Would she really make them both wait until their wedding night?
“If you don’t mind?” She sank down in the bath until the water covered her chin. “I‘d like to get out.”
He pulled his mind away from all the dirty things he wanted to do to her. “That reminds me. Your household staff arrived and they are sadly lacking.” That was the understatement of the century. She didn’t even possess a lady’s maid. “Once we arrive in Zanzar, I’ll arrange for a suitable entourage to attend to your needs.”
Her inviting lips pressed together in a mutinous line he was beginning to recognize. “That sounds suffocating.”
“No. Merely a necessity of your status.”
She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Could you please leave so I can get dressed?”
“Of course.” He picked up the discarded robe from the floor and held it out for her. “Do you wish me to send”—what was the name of the middle-aged woman who was apparently Sofia’s housekeeper?—“Luisa to assist you?”
“No, thank you.” She sounded as though she was talking through gritted teeth. “You can leave the robe on the ottoman on your way out.”
“I could. But given the nature of our relationship I see no reason for undue modesty between us.”
An enchanting blush heated her cheeks. “I’m not standing up in front of you.”
“And I have no intention of leaving until I’ve wrapped your robe around you.”
“Are you always so damn arrogant?”
“Are you always so forthright?” Yet the odd thing was he enjoyed her refusal to obey his every word. Not that it would do to let her know. She was to be his wife and, royal born or not, she needed to learn her place. If she so freely contradicted him in public once they were married, it would undermine his authority and the rulers of the hill tribes would highlight it as proof that educating their girls was a bad idea. “Would you prefer if I removed my robe first, so I don’t have you at an unfair advantage?”
Her fingers gripped the hand rail. “Please don’t.” She sounded as though he’d just offered to do something unspeakable. “Close your eyes.”
Like that was going to happen, but her insistence on keeping him at arm’s length stung his ego.
“It’s not as though you have anything I haven’t seen before.”
She slung him the filthiest look he’d ever received, which unaccountably intrigued him more than ever. But instead of responding with a cutting remark she rose from the water like a mythical sea goddess.
His mouth dried. Bubbles slid over her flawless skin and droplets shimmered on the tips of her erect nipples. She stepped from the bath, giving him an unhindered view of her luscious body, before she turned her back and waited for him to drape the robe over her shoulders.
He’d seen countless naked women. But none held a torch to the perfection of Sofia.
Without a word he wrapped the robe around her, his fists lingering on the tempting swell of her breasts. It was agony not to encircle her in his arms and press his engorged dick into the crease of her sweetly rounded ass. Would she truly push him away if he did?
“Thank you.” Her voice was smoky, and so damn sexy his dick jerked in primitive response. For endless seconds they stood, captured in a fleeting instant of time, and he hardly dared to breathe in case it shattered the ethereal moment.
Slowly she turned, and he kept his arms around her since she didn’t push him away. She gripped the front of her robe, hiding her body, but right now her upturned face was enough.
The flecks of gold in her honey brown eyes vanished like a mirage as her pupils expanded, but she didn’t sink against him.
She didn’t try and escape, either. Her game was driving him crazy, but he wouldn’t fall for her subtle provocation. If she wanted him, she had to tell him.
“Tariq,” she whispered, and it was the sweetest sound of surrender he’d ever heard. He lowered his head, lust pounding through his veins, only one coherent thought flooding his mind.
Finally…
A knock on the door barely pierced his mind, but Sofia straightened with a soft gasp. He smothered a curse. Who would dare interrupt him at such a moment? None of his personal staff, that was for sure.
“Ignore it,” he murmured, but she pulled free, tugging her robe across her like a shield. He drew himself up and managed to dredge up a smile. Heads will roll for this. “I’ll see you later, Sofia.”
***
Sofia watched him stroll across the bathroom, his naked legs muscular and mesmerizing, and she had the mortifying urge to sink onto the marble floor. If they hadn’t been interrupted, she would’ve kissed him. She wanted to kiss him, wanted his lips on hers again.
Hell, she wanted his lips everywhere.
She shouldn’t be feeling this way about a man who saw nothing wrong in using her as a baby machine. Won’t it make the baby making more pleasurable though?
She swallowed a groan of disbelief at her errant thoughts, but it was impossible to look at Tariq and not think about sex.
He opened the bathroom door and Luisa bobbed a curtsey, and once Tariq had disappeared into the suite her housekeeper entered.
“Sofia.” Luisa gave her a hug and Sofia sagged against the older woman who was more like a beloved aunt than anything else. “Are you hurt, amore?”
She knew exactly what Luisa was really asking. Despite having been her mother’s closest confident throughout her marriage, Luisa was still distrustful of Sofia’s father’s world.
“No.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “I’m sorry for this. If you’d rather not accompany me to Qutum, I understand, but—“
Luisa made a pff-ing noise of disgust. “Of course I’ll accompany you. I promised your dear mamma I’d take care of you as though you were my own, and I’ll keep that promise.” She kissed the top of Sofia’s head before stepping back and giving her a piercing look. “Is there no way out of this marriage?”
“It appears not.” Not unless she produced a couple of sons. She had the feeling that then she’d be allowed to follow her own path, within reason, but how could she return to London to continue her studies if she wasn’t permitted to take her children with her?
I’ll find a way. Too many girls were forced into arranged marriages, but unlike them she wasn’t fourteen, uneducated or dirt poor. She owed it to them to fight for their freedom. But first she needed to secure her own.
“Hmm.” Luisa narrowed her eyes. “Then there is only one course of action you must take. Make Prince Tariq fall in love with you, and then he’ll allow you anything your heart desires, just as your father did with your dear mamma.”
***
Luisa’s words were still swimming around Sofia’s head an hour later, when she was summoned into Tariq’s presence. It was a laughable notion. How on earth could she make a sophisticated man like him fall in love with her?
She might have the royal blood required, but she wasn’t the typical kind of bride he would’ve chosen. No matter how many Western women he’d dated, when it came to a wife the royal princes of her region were very specific in t
heir demands.
He didn’t seem to care about the non-virginity.
Nerves collided in the pit of her stomach. Should she tell him the truth? A shiver coursed over her arms. It wasn’t exactly a subject one could raise over dinner, was it? Oh, by the way, I’m actually a virgin.
Tariq greeted her at the double doors that connected their respective drawing rooms and offered her his arm. “Princess Sofia.”
She inclined her head and rested her arm along his. He was impeccably dressed in another designer suit, but his tie was loosened and top button undone, giving him a devastatingly rakish air.
Thank goodness she’d worn the one and only formal gown she possessed in London. Although she had many designer dresses in her father’s palace, she had no use for such luxurious items as a student. The navy, off the shoulder dress clinched her waist and flowed in soft folds to her ankles, and the silver sandals complemented her silver jewelry and matching clutch.
He led her across the drawing room. “You look particularly lovely this evening.”
“So do you.” She met his amused smile with one of her own. Remember who he is. But it was hard, when his focus was entirely on her, and who could resist when such potent charm was directed her way?
“I’ve never been called lovely before. Are you insulting my masculinity?”
She laughed before she could stop herself. Why do I want to stop myself anyway? This was her life, for at least the foreseeable future. She needed to make the best of it.
“Are you fishing for compliments, Your Highness? Trust me, your masculinity is in no danger.”
“I’m relieved to hear it, Your Highness.” His wicked smile stole her breath and her knees had the unforgivable urge to crumple. “I’d never wish to give you any cause to question such a thing about me.”
Was it hot in here or what? Before she could drag her enraptured wits together to formulate a smart retort, two servants opened the double doors that led into the sumptuous dining room.
The heat fizzing through her breast froze at the sight of six men in flowing white robes standing on the other side of the banquet table. For a few magical moments she had forgotten the nature of her relationship with Tariq.
This wasn’t an intimate date. It was a business dinner. She should have known, but had allowed his charm to blindside her.
I won’t let that happen again.
The men all bowed as they entered the room, and Tariq led her to the head of the table, where a servant pulled out a chair for her. She waited until Tariq took his place at the head, before she sat down at his right.
Once he was seated, he proceeded to introduce the six men, who were all government officials, and their unsmiling greetings didn’t inspire her with confidence. It was clear her dress style and uncovered head wasn’t well received.
The men all sat and servants brought out the first course, which included smoked salmon and grilled seafood. She glanced at Tariq. Had he specifically requested the menu reflect her Italian roots?
It’s probably coincidence. She wouldn’t read more into it, even if she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“Your Highness.” The official seated on Tariq’s left leaned toward him in a confidential manner. Instead of taking Tariq’s lead and speaking in English he spoke in Qutum, almost as if he didn’t expect her to be fluent in it, and she quashed the flare of resentment at his deliberate attempt to exclude her from the conversation. “We weren’t anticipating that Her Royal Highness would be present at this gathering.”
That caught her attention, but she refused to glance up, in case he noticed she could understand more than he realized. Perhaps she’d learn something to her advantage if she pretended ignorance.
“Since these matters involve Her Highness, it’s only right she attend,” Tariq said, in English, and Sofia almost choked on a prawn. He turned her way with a bone melting smile. “We’re discussing the arrangements for the wedding.”
She dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin and swept her gaze along the line of men. All but two appeared deeply affronted by the prospect of her being present at such a meeting.
For one wild moment she almost told them she didn’t want a wedding; that she wasn’t going through with it, but while she might say such things to Tariq, she would never disgrace herself in public. They may well still be in London, but in this room they were in Qutum, and Tariq had clearly defied tradition by inviting her to attend this dinner.
Maybe he really does want equality for his homeland. She inclined her head and gave the men sitting along the opposite side of the table a regal glance. They would find no fault with her behavior tonight.
Chapter Seven
After the last of the tiramisu and coffee had been cleared away, Tariq smiled at Sofia. It had been a gamble inviting her tonight, when he knew of her unguarded tongue, but her behavior had been impeccable.
Which was more than he could say of some of his government officials, who’d eyed the Italian themed menu as though it offended their sensibilities as deeply as Sofia’s presence.
To hell with them. Within a few years he intended to replace the dinosaurs with forward thinking men—hell, even women—who shared his vision for a new future. But these things took time, and he couldn’t afford to alienate his current advisors.
“Excuse me for a moment, gentlemen.” He stood and took Sofia’s hand. “Allow me to escort you to your suite.”
Once they’d left the dining room she gave him a sideways glance. “The wedding is to take place in three days time? That’s horrifyingly short notice.”
“Thank you for not voicing your concerns. I don’t believe a couple of my ministers’ hearts could’ve survived the shock of hearing a woman disagree with them.”
She laughed, and then slapped her hand over her mouth as though it had caught her unawares. “I’m sorry. But several of them appeared to think I shouldn’t have opened my mouth at all. Well, except to eat.”
“Don’t worry about them.” He led her into her drawing room, where Luisa waited for her. “Despite some of the company, I hope you enjoyed the meal.”
“Yes, it was…” she hesitated for a moment. He’d wanted to show her he respected her dual heritage by presenting a typical Italian dining experience, but perhaps she hadn’t appreciated it. Hell, maybe she hadn’t even noticed. “Yes, thank you. It was altogether unexpected.”
He had the crazy urge to sweep her into his arms, march into her bedroom, and fuck her so thoroughly that she couldn’t wait until they were formally wedded. And if it wasn’t imperative that he return to the meeting in order to hammer out another detail of the marriage contract, he’d screw his pride and spend the rest of the night seducing Sofia until she begged him to take her.
He let out a tortured breath before kissing her hand. Tell me to come back later. He looked into her desire darkened eyes, but she didn’t say a word. Damn her games.
“I bid you goodnight.” He gave a formal bow, before turning on his heel and returning to the dining room. This was going to be fun.
***
Two hours later and it still wasn’t fun. But he’d finally got his way, and changed the clause in the marriage contract that had irked him since he’d first read it two weeks ago. The open-ended requirement for heirs—number unspecified—during the course of the marriage could be interpreted and manipulated in too many ways. It needed amendment.
If, within five years, Sofia had given birth to two children, whichever their sexes, her reproductive duty was discharged. Two of his advisers were visibly reeling from the knowledge he wouldn’t insist she breed until a son was born, no matter how many pregnancies that involved, and two others were disapproving of his refusal to extend the timeframe to ten years and five children.
To hell with that, and their backward thinking. Two heirs were enough.
***
Back in his bedroom he tossed back a brandy and stared moodily at the doors that separated him from Sofia. He was edgy from the excess of di
plomacy he’d needed to convince his advisers on the clause amendment, and fired up from the evening spent with Sofia so close to him, and yet so far.
Had she gone to sleep yet? Or was she still awake, lying alone in that big bed, waiting for him to claim her?
He tugged off his tie and flung it on top of his jacket, swiftly followed by his shirt. Tomorrow he returned to Zanzar and another round of diplomatic maneuverings and he needed to be fully alert. But he baulked at the thought of sleeping alone tonight.
The vision of Sofia’s wet, naked body as she’d risen from the tub flooded his mind. Her soft curves and the tantalizing glimpse of her pussy had haunted him throughout the evening.
He strode to the doors that separated them before common sense kicked in and he came to an abrupt halt. He never begged for a woman’s favors. Barely even had to ask. He wasn’t going to start now, but that didn’t mean he should avoid her. Hell, if he wanted her to fall in love with him, what better way than to go to her tonight and charm her until she was mad with desire?
She was made for pleasure and damn it—she was his.
He pulled open one of the doors—and Sofia stood there in a virginal white negligee, her hand raised, as though she had been about to do the very same thing.
***
Sofia froze, and her heart banged against her ribs at the sudden appearance of Tariq. He stood in the doorway and the light from his room spilled through, illuminating and enhancing his tough warrior body and casting his face in mysterious shadows.
For a long moment he didn’t move, as though he was savoring this moment. Slowly she dropped her arm back to her side. Even now she wasn’t sure whether or not she would’ve actually knocked on his door. For the last hour she’d tossed and turned in bed as sleep eluded her, her mind filled with Tariq, her body hot and needy for his touch.
I wasn’t going to him for sex. Of course not. Her face heated, regardless, and for the life of her she couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Sofia.” His voice was deep and husky and caused sensuous shivers to race over her flesh. “Do you want me?”