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On the third day of Tair’s absence Tally permitted the ladies to henna her hands, her wrists and the soles of feet. It was a lengthy process but it took up one day and part of the next. The women giggled as the designs took shape and Tally had to admit she liked it. It was like getting a dramatic tattoo, but this one would eventually wear off.
That third night lying in bed Tally lifted one hand up, letting the moonlight illuminate the intricate patterns on her palms. It was really beautiful and she was glad she’d had it done. Even if she hated Tair.
Smile fading, Tally finally drifted off to sleep.
Tally’s mood took another dramatic turn when she woke to discover that Tair had returned in the night.
Leena, Tally’s attendant, brought the news along with the breakfast tray to Tally on her patio adjacent to her room. “His lordship is back,” Leena said, arranging the plate and cup and small pot of Turkish coffee. “He arrived with many men last night.”
Tally’s heart jumped. She felt a thrill of pleasure which quickly faded as she remembered how angry she was. She wasn’t going to have this kind of relationship with a man. She wouldn’t be a woman that just sat around and waited to be noticed. Waited to be remembered.
“That’s nice,” Tally said striving to sound indifferent even as she added sugar to her coffee. She wasn’t going to get excited about his return. She wasn’t. But as she carried the small cup to her lips her hand shook and the coffee was tasteless in her mouth.
Food was just as bad. Blah, bland, might as well be cotton or sawdust. And yet she forced herself to eat, forced herself to act nonchalant despite the wild beating of her heart.
She wasn’t entirely surprised when his shadow stretched on her sun-drenched patio. His huge shadow seemed nearly as big as that first day she met him in El Saroush. What a huge horrible man.
She’d never love him. She wouldn’t.
“Good morning,” Tair greeted, pulling a chair out but not immediately sitting.
She didn’t know what he expected. A kiss? A warm tender embrace?Hmph. He certainly wasn’t getting it. “You’re back,” she said coolly, somehow managing to hide her flurry of hope, hurt and nerves.
The corner of his mouth tugged and he sat down. “I didn’t die, no.”
Tally forced herself to take another bite of her sweet roll but it was nearly impossible to get it down, swallowing suddenly a skill she hadn’t mastered.
“Everything all right?” he asked, accepting a coffee from Leena.
“Just dandy.”
His lashes dropped, concealing his expression but not before Tally saw the gleam in his eyes. He was laughing. At her.
She clenched her jaw, anger building. Who was he to laugh at her?
Tair suddenly looked up, into her eyes. “What’s wrong? You’re fit to be tied.”
She was. She was having a fit if nothing else. A fit of madness for ever agreeing to go to bed with someone who had to be the most arrogant man on earth.
“You look beautiful,” he added kindly. “Absolutely radiant. Have you been visiting our baths?”
She glared at him. “Yes.”
“Milk baths?”
Her glare deepened. “Yes.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, and then reaching out, he took her hands in his, first one and then the other. She jumped at the touch, hot sparks shooting madly from her palm through her wrist and up her arm.
Tair turned her hands over and looking at her palms, one black eyebrow lifted.
“What?” Tally demanded, immediately defensive. She didn’t know why he did that to her, didn’t know why she cared what he thought. His opinion didn’t matter. What he thought was of no consequence.
“Nothing,” he answered but she heard the mocking note in his voice, his tone indicating that he knew something she didn’t—and whatever that something was, she wouldn’t like it.
“I think the women did a lovely job,” she said, still sharp, still defensive.
“Yes, they did.”
“It’s an art form.”
“Yes, it is.”
“So why the smirk?”
His upper lip curled. “I’m not smirking.”
“You are.”
He shook his head, lips twitching.
Tally tugged on her hands but he wouldn’t release her. “Tell me.”
His broad shoulders shrugged and a small muscle pulled in his jaw, his lips battling the smile that wanted to be there. “It’s just that the design on your hands says something.”
