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‘We’re having dinner?’ she asked the moment his ever-present entourage were dismissed and they were alone.
Faint amusement drifted over his features, although his eyes retained a turbulent heat and his body a banked tension that suggested he was still caught in the throes of what had happened in the helicopter.
‘Did you think that I intended to whisk you straight into my bed and have my way with you?’ he drawled.
Heat flared up to stain her cheeks at his accurate reading of her thoughts. All the same, she r
aised her chin. ‘You say that as if it would’ve been a foregone conclusion.’
He sauntered towards her, removing his keffiyeh and tossing it on a nearby surface. His outer robe followed, leaving him in only his muscle-skimming tunic and trousers. With his magnificent body on display, Esme couldn’t fault his powerful animal grace, the lithe movement effortlessly trapping her attention, capturing both her mind and body.
She held her breath as he reached out, lazily, assuredly, and trailed his thumb over the mouth he’d kissed so thoroughly barely fifteen minutes ago. The mouth he eyed hungrily for a long moment, before his gaze met hers.
‘I am not ashamed to admit that I desire you, Esmeralda. You captivate me. What took place a little earlier tells me the feeling is mutual. Where that captivation takes us is a destination I intend to thoroughly enjoy exploring.’ His voice was full of erotic promise, of heady delights that had her body throbbing anew, setting off sensual fires that thrilled and terrified her.
It was the latter emotion that had her stepping back. ‘It won’t take us anywhere,’ she blurted, as much out of the need to spell it out for herself as it was for him.
Pure male arrogance blazed from his eyes. When his gaze dropped to her lips again, it was all she could do not to tug the still tingling flesh into her mouth. ‘Are you sure about that?’ he challenged, his voice low, laced with sensual danger.
Alarm growing, Esme took another step back. ‘Yes, I’m sure. What happened tonight was a mistake. Rest assured, it won’t happen again.’
It seemed almost superhuman, the way he concisely eradicated every vestige of arousal from his face. It didn’t happen immediately, so she had time to wonder why her disappointment was so cutting, why she was already mourning something she’d rejected so definitively.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT TOOK A considerable amount of effort to lock her knees to stay put as his hand dropped.
‘Very well. But we still need to discuss the flip side of our arrangement,’ he said, his tone brisk as he spun on his heel and walked to the head of the table. ‘We’ll do that while we eat. Unless you object to dinner too?’ he threw over his shoulder.
‘No, dinner is fine,’ she said, scrambling to gather her wits.
She followed at a slower pace, properly taking in her surroundings for the first time. This dining room was different from where she’d shared breakfast with him a week ago. It was also different from where she herself had eaten her meals every day for the last week.
‘Where are we? I mean, which part of the palace?’ she asked when they were seated at the table.
‘In my private wing.’
Which included his bedroom, she concluded on a dizzy, unwelcome thought. Were they, even now, a stone’s throw from where Zaid slept? And did he sleep alone? It was the first time Esme had given herself permission to dwell on just who shared the enigmatic Sultan’s bed. But now that she’d made it clear she had no intention of falling into his bed, her brain couldn’t let go of wondering just who he would invite there instead.
She hadn’t seen signs of it because she’d been preoccupied with other things, namely her father, but did the Ja’ahrian Royal Palace, as with most Sultanates, possess a harem?
The strong urge to ask hovered on her tongue. She bit back the impulse and helped herself to the platter of fragrant couscous served with salad and an assortment of sliced meats. From previous meals, she knew the meats had been slow roasted for hours with honey, spices and nuts. The promise of the melt-in-your-mouth offering reminded her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
‘That isn’t too much of an inconvenience for you, I hope?’ he said blandly, and she realised he’d been watching her, waiting for a reaction to his answer.
‘Not at all,’ she offered boldly.
The twitch of his lips told her he didn’t entirely believe her. But he didn’t contradict her.
They ate the first course in silence, the uneasy tension building until chewing and swallowing each morsel of the delicious food became a chore.
‘As of this afternoon, I have recused myself as your father’s prosecutor.’
It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. But once absorbed, the statement should have brought relief. Instead, her senses tingled with a not so terrifying warning. ‘Why?’
‘I want there to be no conflict of interest arising from my association with you.’
‘But...we have no association.’
