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The distinctive American term reminded her where he’d grown up. ‘Did you go to the States after...after what happened to your parents?’
‘I couldn’t stay here. Not unless I wished to invite another attempt on my life.’
She gasped. ‘You mean your uncle intended you to be killed too?’
‘He had his eye on the throne. That meant doing away with everyone who stood in his way, including the boy who would grow to be the man with the rightful claim to the throne. He’d meant to have us all killed that night. My father shielded me with his body and his aides managed to raise the alarm before Khalid’s men could finish the job properly.’
The matter-of-fact way he relayed the tale didn’t stop her from seeing the pain in his eyes.
‘What...what happened after that?’
‘Khalid’s hands were tied. He couldn’t very well execute a child without incurring the wrath of his people, even though everyone knew how he’d become Sultan. Some things are unforgivable. I was delivered to my maternal grandmother and given safe passage out of Ja’ahr on condition that we would never return, and a murderer and despot took power and ruled Ja’ahr for twenty years. The rest, as they say, is history.’
For several minutes, she absorbed the stomach-turning news, a few pennies beginning to drop.
‘That’s why you became a lawyer, isn’t it? To put criminals like your uncle behind bars? Perhaps to challenge his rule when the time came?’
A bitter smile cracked his lips, but it was gone in the next instant. ‘I dedicated every day of my life after I was tossed out of the only home I’d ever known to honing judicial weapons that would right the wrongs done to my parents and to me. Except Khalid had the audacity to succumb to his excessive indulgences and die of a heart attack caused by a clogged artery before I got the chance to see justice done.’
The cold observation sent a shiver through her. So did the stark confirmation of why Zaid was a formidable opponent to have. The harrowing wrongs done to him as a child, and to his people in the years following, was the reason some viewed him as a ruthless ruler now. It was also the reason he didn’t trust anyone.
But most of all, Esme knew, staring at him, that it was the reason he could never find out about her past. Those few weeks with Bryan and how everything had ended would never be struck from her copybook, no matter whose fault it had been. She didn’t know what would happen to her father during his trial, but she instinctively knew that the reluctant concession Zaid had granted her father would be withdrawn the second he found out.
Unease whispered up her spine at the thought of discovery. And this time not even reminding herself that she was no longer that person could wash away that sensation.
But still she met his gaze, infused truth into her words. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I didn’t mean to drag all of this up for you.’
‘Curiosity is a natural occurrence when swimming in the getting-to-know-you waters, at least on the part of women, is it not?’
The tiny mocking voice inside her head that irked her for wanting to know just how many women he’d got to know was smothered in favour of a much more persistent and powerful emotion. One that had her shifting sideways, the better to see his face, she told herself. What she didn’t account for was her hand disobeying her brain to slide over the seat and come to rest on top of his. ‘As is sympathy. I’m sorry for your loss.’ Her voice was a husky murmur, reflecting her lingering regret at bringing up memories that must be hard for him to recall.
Zaid didn’t answer. Instead his gaze dropped to the pale hand she’d placed over his brown one. To the fingers starting to tremble as that blasted, ever-present hyperawareness thickened in the space between them.
Still without speaking, he turned his hand over, splaying it open until his larger palm was pressed firmly against hers, dominating her small one. Heat singed their touching flesh as acutely as if a naked flame had been held against it. The sight of their clasped hands shouldn’t have been so basely erotic. But it was.
He moved, sliding his skin more firmly against hers. Esme gasped as the sensation lodged low in her belly, then unfurled throughout her body, concentrating with shameless urgency between her thighs.
She dragged her gaze up a breathless second before she realised his intention. She had time to move, time to duck her head or vocalise her denial. But she didn’t draw away. Because she didn’t want to.
She stayed put, breath strangled to nothing, as Zaid slid his fingers through the loose knot of her hair and drew her firmly, inexorably, towards his kiss.
Just like the man, the kiss was unapologetically dominant, his mouth owning hers the moment they touched. He tasted of Ja’ahrian coffee and an elusive spice. He tasted like all the forbidden desires she’d sworn off years ago. But the formidable man who’d already taken up far too much room in her head was impossible to deny.
Hot, hungry, and intent on conquering her, Zaid pressed her back against the seat, angled his lips for a better fit and charged through her feeble defences.
Within seconds, her lips were parting beneath the possessive pressure of his, letting him in when he demanded entry. The slow, glorious slide of his tongue against her lower inner lip elicited a moan she couldn’t have suppressed if she’d tried. As if the sound pleased him, he repeated it again and again, before catching her plump lip between his teeth. The nip of his teeth sent sparks racing through her system. She was chasing that unfamiliar strain of delight when he delved deeper between her lips. This time, his tongue slid boldly against hers. Pleasure arrowed straight between her legs, plumping up her most sensitive flesh, turning her slick with shockingly demanding need as the fingers in her hair drew her even closer.
On a desperate whimper that echoed through the enclosed space, Esme opened even wider for him, the hand lying against his on the seat shifting to grip him tighter. Zaid gave a thick groan, then meshed his fingers through hers. He brought their clasped hands up between them, then pressed his body against hers.
The feel of his heart beating against her hand, hers beating against his, caused something to lurch alarmingly inside her. Reluctant to explore why in that moment, she chose a different type of exploration. With her free hand, she slid her fingers over one strong bicep. Sleek muscles immediately rippled beneath her touch. Emboldened, she caressed upward, over the broad curve of his shoulder, to the neck opening of his robe. At the first brush of her fingers against his bare nape, Zaid muttered a thick, foreign imprecation. The sound was smashed between them as his kiss took on a frenzied, bone-melting intimacy. Something jolted inside her again. Only she realised a moment later that the movement wasn’t just inside her.
The sound of the pilot’s door sliding open announced their arrival back at the Royal Palace. She jerked back from Zaid, then pushed frantically at his muscled chest when he didn’t budge. His fingers convulsed in her hair for a charged second before he drew back. But although he sat back in his seat, his hand held hers for another moment, his gaze tracking over her face with blatant hunger before he released her.
‘Come. We will continue this inside,’ he instructed in a rough, hoarse voice, then lifted his hand in a signal to his guards.
The notion that he just expected her to fall into his lap...or his bed, struck a fiery nerve, but, with the usual clutch of staff accompanying them, she had no choice but to swallow her irritation as she walked silently at his side.
Lost in her ire, Esme didn’t realise where they were until the scents of mouth-watering spices and cooked meat hit her nostrils. Surprised and curiously out of sorts, she glanced around the dining room.
