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“I just wish…”
“Yes?”
“I wish,” she said softly, “oh, I wish…”
“I know,” he said, and despite all his good intentions, he drew her into his arms and kissed her again, his kisses deepening, his body quickening as she responded to him.
“Cameron,” she whispered breathlessly, and he forgot everything but this, the feel of her as he guided her over him, the heat of her as he brought her down onto his erection, the look on her face as he filled her.
“Salome,” he said, and she shuddered, flung back her head and rode him until the universe shattered.
A servant girl, eyes downcast, brought them clothes.
“My mistress wishes to know if you would like to take breakfast in the garden.”
Cam said they would, and she bowed her way out.
They bathed, and diligently kept their hands off each other. Then they dressed. White linen trousers and a matching silk sweater for Leanna, chinos and a white T-shirt for Cam. There were leather sandals for them both.
His Salome looked beautiful in the new outfit, so beautiful that it was hard to leave the little world they’d created, but Cam knew they had to.
He knelt beside the bed, felt underneath it for the gun he’d stashed between the mattress and the springs. Leanna watched him tuck it into his waistband, then pull his shirt down over it.
“Do you think—do you think something’s going to happen this morning?”
“What I think,” he s aid quietly, “is that it’s best to be prepared.” He hesitated. “Why don’t I go downstairs, have a little talk with our hostess, check things out and then you can join me for… What’s the matter?”
“You’re not going downstairs without me.”
He decided not to argue. Until he knew more, he’d feel better keeping his Salome close. Not that he’d be much protection to her if Asaad’s men stormed the palace, but he had a gun.
He’d use it against the enemy…and use it to keep Salome from falling into the sultan’s vicious hands, if it came to that.
What he was thinking must have shown in his face because she came close to him and put her arms around him.
“No matter what happens,” she whispered, “I want to be with you.”
“Sweetheart.” Cam cleared his throat. “If things should go bad—if there’s no way out—”
She drew his head down to hers and kissed him. “I know,” she whispered, and when he looked into her eyes, he realized that she did.
They ate on the terrace, under a clear blue sky. A lattice-work of vines arched over their heads, shielding them from the sun. Birds fluttered in the trees, and brilliantly hued butterflies swooped over a bed of pale pink roses.
Shalla appeared while they were having their coffee. Was everything to their liking? The food, the clothes? She sounded like the friendly proprietor of an upscale B and B, Cam thought, and admitted to himself what he’d known all along.
He didn’t trust her.
All the more reason to phrase his question carefully.
“I don’t see any vehicles,” he said. “Surely there must be some.”
“Vehicles?”
“Yes. Trucks. Cars.” When she looked at him blankly, his voice hardened. “Something that brings in supplies.”
“Ah. We are self-sufficient here, my lord. We grow our own food, shear our own sheep. Everything you see was made by us.”
The silk and linen clothing? The ornate furnishings? The exotic foods? Cam wasn’t buying it but he knew better than to call Shalla a liar to her face.
