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“Two actually.”
“How you love to have the last word.”
“No more than you do.”
“There you go again.”
Smiling, she clasped his face and kissed him deeply, giving him her heart not with words but actions. He had to know how she felt about him. He had to know that she couldn’t imagine not being here, not being his. “Maybe just a little of what you say is true,” she whispered against his mouth.
He laughed softly, the sound of deep rumble in his chest. “So you’ve finally come to your senses.”
Tally loved the feel of his chest against her own and the way her legs tangled with his. If this is life this is all she wanted. To be loved and held. Kept. Savored. Treasured. “I think you’ve taken my senses, that’s what I think.”
Laughter rumbled through him again and the sound was alien and yet right. Tair should laugh more, she thought. Tair deserved more happiness and turning her head, she found his hand and kissed his palm. “Make love to me again.” Her gaze lifted, her eyes met his and her lips curved slightly. “Please.”
Tally spent the night in his bed, sleeping close to his side, his arm around her waist holding her firmly against him. He was warm and hard and she found it difficult to sleep with his big body so close to hers but it was a wonderful strangeness, the kind of strangeness that brought comfort. Peace.
Peace.
And holding that warmth and peace in her heart she finally closed her eyes and fell asleep. Life was good and life could only get better.
Tally’s feeling of goodwill did not last long. When she woke she discovered that Tair was gone, and not just out of the bed gone, but gone gone. He and a number of his men had left for El Saroush and wouldn’t be back for days. Maybe a week.A week!
Back in her room, Tally paced the room, her bare feet silent on the thick wool and cashmere rug. Why hadn’t he told her he was leaving? He’d had plenty of time last night to update her with his schedule. Or did he think she wouldn’t be interested? That she had so many friends and interests here at Bur Juman that she wouldn’t notice he’d left?
Furious, simply furious, Tally marched across the room, alternately balling her hands and flexing them, trying so hard to contain her temper when all she wanted to do was let out a scream.
He’d brought her so far, taken her from what she’d known, made love to her and then left. Left and left her here, behind, alone without him?
He was a beast, an absolute beast and she hated him. She did. It wasn’t love she felt, it was hate. There was no way she was going to love a man who didn’t talk to her, communicate with her. She refused to love a man who would just come and go and expect her to stay behind, happily waiting.
Wrong. He was wrong, wrong, wrong and considering he had an English mother and education he should know that Western women don’t just wait for a man. They don’t just sit around and drink tea and wait for life to come, wait for life to happen.
A flutter of pink-gold caught her eyes. The breeze was blowing through the open French doors, lifting the delicate pink-gold sheer curtains hanging inside and Tally watched the petal-pink and gold sheers swirl, the gold starbursts in the sheer curtains catching, reflecting the fading sunlight. It was beautiful, the bursts of gold and pink, beautiful in a way that filled her heart with pain.
She felt so much her chest ached. It actually ached and Tally put a hand to her mouth to hold back the sadness swamping her.
Oh, she didn’t like feeling this way. Didn’t like feeling left, forgotten.
Fighting tears she spun on her heel, and her silky robes flared out. Tally could feel the delicate fabric brush her bare calves but the wispy caress of fabric maddened her, just as the tender aching in her chest infuriated her. She didn’t want to feel. Not if feeling hurt. Not if feeling made her feel worse.
This is why she’d left home. This is why she’d become an adventurer, explorer. Far better to risk life and limb than sit captive, passive, then sit with hurt and heartbreak.
Tally reached the wall and turned sharply to retrace her steps. Come on, Tal, she said to herself, trying to be reasonable not emotional. He won’t be gone a week. He’ll be back soon. He will.
But it didn’t help. And it wasn’t that she couldn’t go two days, or even five days, without his blasted company—God knows it’d be a relief not to have to endure his sarcasm and mocking smiles—but he should have told her. He should have communicated with her. He should have told her himself.
