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‘You don’t like your mother?’
‘Oh, no. Don’t get me wrong. Pearl is lovely. It’s just hard to come to grips with the idea that I have a mother at all. For years we thought she was dead. And now she’s there and it’s just not the same any more. Opal has a baby girl, Ellie, who’s toddling now, and Pearl and Opal are very close. And Ruby works in Broome and is just so very far away.’
He curled his arm around her shoulder, gathering her in close to his chest, stroking her hair.
‘I see,’ he said, softly kissing the top of her head. ‘You’ve gained a mother, yet it feels like you’ve lost your sisters.’
She blinked against the warmth of his skin, surprised that he understood so much. ‘Yes. That’s exactly how it feels—except it’s still not like I can even accept her as my mother. She was gone too long. And now I don’t even know my sisters. Does that make sense?’
‘It makes sense. It is never easy to lose the ones we love,’ he said, his words trailing off, his hand stilling in her hair.
She almost groaned out loud when she realised. Here she was feeling sorry for herself and Khaled had known real loss. Both his parents, killed in tragic circumstances. He’d probably give anything for his mother to be alive. And yet she was acting as if her mother’s return had ruined her life.
‘Khaled,’ she said, lifting herself up so she could see him, ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.’
Even in the dim lights, his eyes shone bright and glossy, their dark depths granite-hard, his chin set rigid as he stared unseeing at the ceiling. Then he looked at her and something inside them slowly peeled away.
It wasn’t her fault. He looked into her concerned blue eyes, his hand resuming its stroking motion of her hair, and knew that, despite her associations, it had nothing to do with her. It was Paolo who was to blame, it was Paolo who would pay. Already he would be suffering, his imagination no doubt conjuring up all sorts of despicable ways in which Khaled would be taking advantage of his one-time fiancée.
He allowed hi
mself a smile. It was almost funny. How much worse was Paolo going to feel when he discovered the truth—that he hadn’t needed to take her by force? That it was Sapphy who’d asked him to make love to her. How much worse would he feel when he discovered that she was not a prisoner—but that she had decided to stay in Jebbai, as she surely now would, of her own accord?
No doubt the irony would not be lost on Paolo.
But then, in another way, it didn’t matter what Paolo thought. For right now he didn’t matter. Sapphire was here with him now, it was his scent she would smell on her, it was his body holding hers.
‘It must have been a dreadful time for you,’ she said, the breath behind her words falling like warm caresses on his skin. He sucked in a breath. She was much too special for anyone else. He could listen to her gentle words all day. He could watch the way her rounded breasts, her nipples peaked and taut, brushed against his chest forever. That was, unless he was doing something much more satisfying.
‘It wasn’t a good time,’ he agreed, feeling his need rising with the sudden urge to do something much more satisfying. He flipped her over onto her back again, enjoying her whoop of surprise and the way her eyes widened first with shock and then with anticipation.
‘But right now is a whole lot better.’
He made love to her then, slowly, deliberately, taking his time, exploring her body and sharing the initiative with her when she chose to explore his. And this time was even better than the first, more tender and yet more passionate, more exploratory and yet more focused. She was everything he thought she’d be as a lover and more.
And only when finally they’d both tumbled over the edge of reason again, only when he’d seen the blue facets of her eyes spark and flare into a fire that consumed them both, did he follow her into sleep.
The goats woke her—with their early-morning bleating for attention and the soft jangle of their bells as the first hint of dawn light permeated the tent’s walls, reminding her of where she was. But once awake, it was the heated body of the man who slept alongside her amongst the tangled sheets and the musky scent of their lovemaking that proved the distraction.
She propped herself up on one elbow and drank him in. He lay on his stomach, his head to one side, his arms high on the pillow. The remnants of one sheet was slanted across his thighs, so that his well-defined back was exposed from his broad shoulders to his tight waist and even tighter mounds of his rump below. She sucked in a breath.
How could he do that? How could he look so damned sexy when he was still asleep?
Memories of the night’s activities came flooding back in a rush of heat, bringing a smile to her mouth. Hot memories. Her flesh quivered at the images playing over in her mind, at the same time rarely used muscles ached their protests, bringing to mind more of Khaled’s seductive night moves.
Her muscles would recover. In a day or two they’d forget and be back to normal. Not so her. Last night would be a night she’d remember for a long time to come. And after last night, normal was going to seem exceedingly dull.
What would it be like to have Khaled in her bed every night? To share passion and desire with him, night after night and then to wake up with him alongside her every morning? What would that be like?
She’d thrown away the chance to find out.
Realisation hit her like a cold shower. If she’d agreed to become his wife she could expect that—Khaled in her bed, every night, every morning, every way.
She’d had the chance and she’d thrown it away when she’d thrown his crazy marriage plans back in his face.
She sighed and eased herself back down onto her pillow, staring up at the tent’s ceiling. She’d done the right thing. It had been a crazy marriage plan—he’d been way out of line, scheming and conspiring to make her his wife in his own version of an arranged marriage—and she’d had no choice but to refuse. Any sane person would.
Why had he ever imagined she’d go along with it? It didn’t make sense and the more she came to learn about Khaled, the less sense it made. He was a strong leader, respected and loved by his people. She’d seen this with her own eyes, he was both fair and good in dealings with them. He was no petty despot.
