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“It’s beautiful but very remote.”
He studied her face for a moment. “Was it not a good day?”
“It was a rather long day. I got lonely.”
“I’m sorry. I expected to be free sooner.” He pressed another lingering kiss to her lips before rising. “I’m going to go shower and change. Join me soon. I’ve asked for some drinks and a light meal to be sent to our room since I haven’t eaten anything today.”
She reached for his hand, catching his fingers, preventing him from leaving. “What’s happening at the office?”
“A problem, not an emergency. Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
He squeezed her hand and then let it go. “I have one of the administrative assistants in the office taking care of some things for me and soon we’ll have your replacement. It’s just a temporary stress, nothing to trouble you.”
And then he was gone, striding toward the Kasbah, his long white robe swirling, reminding her of a powerful desert warlord just returning home while she very much felt like a concubine with no purpose other than being available to please her master.
She grimaced, frustrated, not wanting to be shut out from his life, or his business. She’d worked with him for years and had enjoyed the partnership. What were her responsibilities in this new role of hers?
Poppy pushed off the chair and went to her room to shower and change before going on upstairs.
“Where did you change?” Dal asked her when she entered his suite of rooms.
“My room.”
“This is your room now,” he said. “I expected you would have the staff move your things today.”
“You never said anything.”
“You are my wife. This is the master bedroom suite. This is where you belong.”
“How do I know if you don’t tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
Poppy compressed her lips, not liking his autocratic tone. “This is all new to me, Dal. You’re going to have to communicate a little bit.”
“You’re upset with me?”
She fought to keep her voice steady, not wanting to sound hysterical on their second day of married life. “You were gone when I woke up. You didn’t leave a note, or tell me when you’d return.”
“I didn’t know myself.”
“In England you communicated far better.”
“In England you were my secretary.”
“Maybe I liked being your secretary better than your wife!”
He gave her an intense, brooding look. “Really?”
Her pulse quickened, her chest tightening. “I don’t want to be shut out of your life.”
“You’re not. You are the very center of my world now.” And then as if to prove his point, he swept her into his arms, carrying her to the bed where he tossed her, pinned her down and kissed her fiercely, deeply, the scorching kiss torching her senses.
As he kissed her, he slid a hand between her legs, caressing her thighs until she opened them for him. He leaned over and kissed the top of her thigh, and then the inside of her thigh and she trembled.
“I’m not sure I can handle this,” she murmured unsteadily as she felt his fingers slide over her, lightly tracing her folds and then lightly, lightly parting her before placing a kiss on her, and then another kiss, followed by a flick of his tongue across her clit.
She gasped as sharp, delicious sensation shot through her and when he covered her there with his mouth and sucked, her hips jerked up of their own accord. Dal shifted his weight, clamped an arm across her pelvis, holding her open and still while he kissed, sucked and licked her to an orgasm so powerful she dug her nails into his shoulders and screamed his name.
The orgasm was so intense she felt almost broken. The intensity of the sensation made her feel emotional and undone. Flushed, spent, she felt him stretch out next to her and pull her to his side. He left his arm around her, his palm covering her breast.
“I want to be in you,” he said, “but I don’t want to hurt you. Maybe tomorrow.”
She nodded, glad he couldn’t see the tears filling her eyes.
She hadn’t thought sex would feel like this...physical and carnal but then afterward, painfully empty.
It was hard to love someone who didn’t love you back.
“Poppy?” he asked, shifting her so that she lay on her back. He pushed her thick hair from her face and then untangled a strand still clinging to her damp cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Something is. You’re far too quiet.”
She looked up at him, seeing his strong brow and the high, hard lines of his cheekbones. She loved his face. It was so very beautiful and familiar. But the rest of this...it was new and overwhelming. In bed, he was overwhelming. The sex was overwhelming. His body was so big, and powerful and sexual. He was so very sexual. But then after all the physical intimacy there was no emotional intimacy. If anything, after sex, she felt even further from him than before.
“Is this what you thought marriage would be like?” she asked carefully.
“No. It’s better.” He smiled crookedly. “You’re not just my friend, but now you’re my lover.”
“So you’re satisfied? Happy you married me?”
“No regrets.” He rolled onto his back and pulled her toward him so that she was lying against his side, her cheek on his chest. “And you? Regrets, my sweet Poppy?”
It took her a moment to answer. “No regrets,” she said unsteadily. “But I think I may be a little homesick. We’ve been gone a long time.”
His hand stroked her hair and then trailed down her spine. “What do you miss most? Winchester? London?”
“My flat.”
His hand stilled in the small of her back. “Why your flat?”
“It was cozy and familiar. I felt...safe...there.”
“But Poppy, your home is with me now. I have promised to take care of you, and I will. You must know you are safe with me.”
She nodded, eyes closing, holding back the hot emotion, because despite his words, she didn’t feel safe. She didn’t feel secure. She didn’t have what she needed—love.
Sex was good and fine, and pleasure was definitely nice, but what she needed most in the world was to be truly needed, to be truly special, to be truly loved.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEY FELL INTO a pattern over the next week, a pattern Poppy did not enjoy. Dal would be sequestered in his office working while she drifted around the Kasbah trying to find ways to occupy herself. She’d asked if she could work with him, or assist him like she used to, but he curtly reminded her she was his wife now, not an employee.
After that he seemed to withdraw even more, at least during the day when he was distant and unavailable. But then in the evening he emerged from his office and was warm and charming and always he’d make love to her. The sex was incredibly hot, and he never failed to make sure she climaxed, but the long days of being alone followed by the carnal lovemaking was breaking her heart.
He’d take her body, and pleasure her body, but that was all he wanted from her.
And that was also all he’d give her.
“We will leave here soon for Gila,” he said on the ninth night of their honeymoon, in that quiet aftermath that followed their lovemaking. “I thought perhaps we could look for our home in Gila together. Would you enjoy that?”
Her brow creased. “Are we going to live in Gila?”
“I’d like to have a home in the capital. Maybe something modern, or if you prefer classical architecture—”
“What about England? What about our home there?”
“My intention is to divide our time between the two. I want my children to know Mehkar and be comfortable in both places.”
“They would
be my children, too,” she said in a small voice.
“Of course. I meant our children.”
She wasn’t so sure he did.
Poppy couldn’t sleep that night, but she didn’t lie awake tossing and turning. No, she spent the long, quiet hours of the night making a brutal but necessary decision.
She’d given Dal what he’d needed. She’d protected his lands and title. But now it was time she protected herself.
In the morning she would leave, and she wouldn’t go in tears. She was going to leave strong and proud and focused on her future for a change, not his.
* * *
He was at his desk when she entered his office. He didn’t even look up for a minute, so engrossed in the document he was reading.
She watched him read, feeling a pang of love and regret, recognizing the Randall Grant focus.
No one could compartmentalize like Dal.
