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Tally’s belly clenched and she knotted her hands, a silent protest at his expert seduction. It wasn’t fair that he could just look at her, study her, say a few words and she’d feel this way. Feel this hot and anxious, this tight and unsatisfied, muscles snapping, pulse racing, temper flaring. It wasn’t fair that he created so much tension in her and that she’d want him to relieve it. Want him to satisfy her. Appease the hunger, satiate the ache.

“You don’t marry a woman just because she kisses good.”

“Of course you do.”

“Tair—”

“Come, think like a man. If you kiss like that, God, can you imagine what a delight you’ll be in bed?” He forced her head back and his mouth descended, his lips covering her, overwhelming her, lips ruthlessly parting hers to plunder the softness and sweetness inside.

Tally grabbed at Tair’s robe, clutching the fabric with every bit of her strength. She didn’t want to want him, didn’t want to feel like this, didn’t want to give in but as he shaped her body to him, she could only feel and feel how much she craved him.

His hands slid down her body, molding her curves, lingering on her breasts before setting fire to her spine and hips. His lips found that electric spot on her neck and she felt her legs nearly buckle beneath her. But he didn’t let her fall. He just took his time with her, breaking down her defenses, weakening her resolve with expert touch.

Shuddering she buried her face against his chest as his palm pressed against her pelvic bone and then down over her mound, cupping the warmth of her. He didn’t press into her, but then he didn’t need to. It was obvious to both of them she wanted him and for Tair that was victory enough.

“You are mine,” he said, lifting his head, his dark eyes burning with the same heat and desire that filled her. “Your body knows it even if your mind refuses.”

“It’s a physical thing,” she flashed, even as she struggled to clear her head, all her senses shaken, her legs weak.

“Fine. I’ll take whatever I can get.” He started to walk away but turned at the doorway. “For your information, it was a ceremonial bath you took two days ago, and the henna party yesterday? Another prewedding ritual. Here in Ouaha the bride is always painted before the ceremony.” His expression hardened, features grim. “You might not want to be a bride, and might not feel like marrying me but the Mullah is here and you’ve been prepared.”

He inclined his head once. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

Tally sagged, clutched the wall behind her. Couple of hours?Hours? “We’re getting marriedtoday? ”

“Yes. Leena has your dress.” His granitelike jaw shifted, upper lip curling. “It’s not black, blue or white.”

Tair was right. The dress, part traditional caftan and part Western evening gown, was a lovely golden beige silk trimmed in velvet green and studded with silver and jewels along the dramatic velvet neckline.

The dress wasn’t snug or revealing and yet the sumptuous fabric and ornamentation made it elegant and the color suited Tally’s coloring, turning her eyes a darker shade of green and heightening the cream in her complexion.

Leena wanted to do Tally’s eyes and makeup, and while kohl rimmed eyes and a pale face might be tradition in Ouaha, Tally didn’t want the make up. She wanted to be herself. Needed to be herself. Besides, she didn’t trust her eyes not to tear and the last thing she wanted was streaks of black on her cheeks.

Wrists laden with wide gold bracelets, and a gold headpiece that held a pale ivory silk veil, Tally was led to the formal reception room downstairs in the main building.

She sat while Tair and the Mullah discussed the marriage contract. Finally it was time to begin the actual exchanging of the vows.

The Mullah looked at Tair. “Are you Zein Hassim el-Tayer?”

“I am,” Tair answered.

The Mullah turned now to Tally. “Are you Talitha Elizabeth Devers?” he asked slowly in broken English.

“No.”

“She is, your Honor,” Tair answered, giving Tally a sharp look.

“I’m not, your Honor,” she answered giving Tair an equally disapproving look. “My name isn’t Talitha, it’s Tallis. Tallis Elizabeth Devers.” She looked back at Tair, her eyebrows lifting as if to say,so there.

The Mullah didn’t look pleased with the interruption but continued on with the ceremony. “Are you, Tallis Elizabeth Devers, being coerced into this marriage?” his voice was stern as he fixed Tally with his hard gaze.

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