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And then Elena’s laughter stopped abruptly as he did precisely that—showing her with his mouth, his hands and body. And he showed her very well indeed.
CHAPTER NINE
KHALIL AWAKENED TO sunlight streaming into their tent and Elena’s hair spread over his chest. He’d slept the whole night with his arms around her, his body entwined with hers, and it had felt good.
Unbearably good.
What on earth had possessed him to participate in her little game? Pretend to be in love? And, never mind the danger involved in that all too enjoyable charade, what about the fact that he’d slept with her at all? That he’d taken her virginity? No matter what she’d assured him about understanding the emotional risks, he knew it was dangerous. Dangerous for her, and even dangerous for him, because already he wanted her again—and not just in bed.
In his life.
And there was no place for Queen Elena of Thallia in his life.
The next few days and weeks were crucial to his campaign to retake the throne that was rightfully his. He couldn’t waste a moment’s energy or thought on anything but his goal, a goal he’d nourished and cherished since he’d been seven years old and had been dropped into the desert like a dog no one wanted. Treated like one too, kicked and beaten and abused.
And, in any case, he didn’t do love. He didn’t know how. Trusting another person with anything, much less his heart—dried-up, useless organ that it was—was next to impossible for him. He wanted to trust people, men like Assad who had sworn their loyalty to him, but he still always felt that prickle of wary suspicion between his shoulder blades. He was still, always, waiting for the sudden slap, the knife in the back. The betrayal.
When you lived your life like that, love had no place in it. Relationships had no place, save for expediency.
And as for Elena? He glanced down at her, her face softened in sleep, her dark, lush lashes feathering her cheeks. Her lips were slightly pursed, one hand flung up by her head. Despite his mental list of reasons to walk away right now, desire stirred insistently. He knew just how he could wake her up...
Swearing under his breath, Khalil extracted himself from Elena’s embrace and rolled from the bed. He heard her stir behind him, but he was already yanking on his clothes, his back determinedly to her.
A serving maid entered, blushing, with a pitcher of hot water and inwardly Khalil swore again. The news of their night together would spread throughout the whole tribe. They would know he had consummated a union that he intended to reject shortly.
And his plan to explain later why he’d been travelling alone with Elena would no longer work. He’d acted dishonourably and the tribe would know it. When they found out he and Elena weren’t married, they would feel both betrayed and angry, and how could he blame them?
It was a fiasco, and all because he’d wanted her so damn much. How could he have been so weak?
‘Khalil...?’
He turned to see her sitting up in bed, her dark hair tumbling wildly about her shoulders, her hooded grey eyes sleepy but with a wariness already stealing into them.
‘We need to get moving,’ he said brusquely. ‘Assad is coming with a vehicle this morning. He’ll take us to a new camp and then we’ll move onto Siyad. You’ll be back in Thallia this time tomorrow, I hope.’
She looked away, hiding her face, but he still felt the hurt he knew he’d caused her. Damn it, he’d warned her about this. He couldn’t blame Elena, though. He could only blame himself. He’d known she was a virgin, inexperienced and innocent. She was bound to read more into their night together, even if she’d said she wouldn’t.
Hell, he’d read more into it. Felt more than he was comfortable with.
And now he had no idea what to do, how to make things right: with Elena; with the tribe; with this country of his that teetered on the brink of civil war, made worse by his own foolish choices.
What an unholy mess.
* * *
After Khalil had left the tent Elena rose slowly from the bed and reached for the Bedouin-style dress he’d stripped from her body the night before.
Had it only been the night before? It felt like a lifetime ago. Felt like a different life, one where she’d known pleasure, joy and love.
It was only pretend, you idiot.
Sighing, she slipped on the chemise, only to see her Western clothes lying neatly folded by the pitcher of water. She took off the chemise and washed quickly, scrubbing the scent of Khalil from her body, before putting on the clothes she’d come here in.
Time to return to reality.
By the time she’d eaten breakfast—with the other women, Khalil not in sight—some of her equilibrium had been restored, along with her determination.
She’d had setbacks before, been hurt before. And this time she had no one to blame but herself. Khalil had been honest with her, unlike Paulo had been. He’d told her what she could and couldn’t expect, and he’d been true to his word. She could not fault him.
And so she wouldn’t. She’d had her night, her fantasy, and she’d treasure it—but she wouldn’t let it consume or control her. Life had to go on and, with the end of her captivity looming ever nearer, she needed to think about her return to Thallia.
Just the thought made her feel as if she’d swallowed a stone.
After breakfast Khalil came for her, his thobe billowing out behind him, the set of his face exceptionally grim. Even scowling he was handsome, with the dark slashes of his eyebrows and those full, sculpted lips. His eyes seemed to glow fire.
‘Are you ready? We should leave as soon as possible.’
Elena rose from where she’d been sitting by the fire and brushed the crumbs from her lap. ‘I’m ready now.’
Nodding, Khalil turned away, and wordlessly Elena followed him. Assad was waiting by an SUV with blacked-out windows. Elena slid inside, fighting a weird sense of déjà vu. She’d been driven in a car like this when she’d first been captured. Now she was being driven to a freedom she wasn’t sure she wanted.
They rode through the unending desert, Assad driving while Khalil and Elena sat in the back, not speaking, not touching.
Despite the ache Khalil’s stony silence caused her, Elena forced herself to think practically. In two days she would, God willing, be back in Thallia. What would Andreas Markos have done in her absence? Would he have heard of her abduction, or would Aziz have managed to keep it secret?
She’d only been in the desert for a handful of days, even if it had felt like a lifetime. Perhaps Markos and the rest of her Council weren’t yet aware of what had happened.
‘Have you heard any news?’ she asked Khalil abruptly, and he turned, eyebrows raised. ‘Has Aziz admitted that I’m missing? Does my Council know?’
‘Aziz has admitted nothing. I doubt your Council is aware of events.’
‘But how has he explained—?’
‘He hasn’t. He hired someone to pretend to be you and it seems everyone, including your Council, has believed it.’
Shock left her speechless for a moment. ‘He did? But—’
‘They appeared on the palace balcony two days ago. From a distance the woman fooled the people, or so it would seem. That’s all I know.’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘Your Council wasn’t expecting to hear from you, I presume?’
‘Not until I returned.’ She’d been meant to be on her honeymoon. ‘You should have told me,’ Elena said and Khalil eyed her coolly.
‘What purpose would it have served?’
‘It just would have been good to know.’ She stared out of the window, tried to sift through her tangled feelings. She wasn’t exactly surprised that Aziz had come up with an alternative plan; she’d suggested as much to Khalil. She wasn’t hurt by his actions either. But she felt...something and with a jolt she realised it was hurt—not for what Aziz had done, but for what Khalil hadn’t. Not telling her had been a tactical move, a way of treating her like a political pawn rather than a—what?
Just what was she to him now?
Nothing, obviously. She closed her eyes and thought of him covering her with kisses last night, both of them laughing. It was pretend. You knew that.
But it still hurt now.
‘I’ll be able to tell you more when we return to camp,’ Khalil said. He drummed his fingers against the window, clearly restless. ‘What will you do when you return to Thallia?’ he asked. Elena opened her eyes.
‘Do you really care?’
‘I’m asking the question.’
‘And the answer is, I don’t know. It depends what state my country is in. My government.’
‘Your Head of Council won’t have had time to call a vote to abolish the monarchy.’
‘No, but he will as soon as he can.’
‘You could marry someone else in the meantime.’
‘Suitable husbands are a little thin on the ground.’
‘Are they?’ He turned back to the window, frowning deeply. Elena had no idea what he was thinking. ‘Just what was your arrangement with Aziz?’ he asked, still staring out of the window.
‘I told you.’
‘I mean in practical terms.’
Bewildered, she almost asked him why he wanted to know. Why he cared. Then, with a mental shrug, she answered, ‘It was a matter of convenience for both of us. We’d split our time between Thallia and Kadar, rule independently.’
