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She giggled. Giggled, she thought, and giggled again. Last night, she’d felt as if the world had come to an end and now…
Now, she was so happy it frightened her.
“My lord? I have brought coffee.” The doorknob rattled and Megan dived under the blankets. “Shall I—”
“No!” Caz shot from the bed, searched for his trousers and settled for a silk coverlet he wrapped around his waist. “Leave it in the hall.”
“But highness…”
“Leave it,” Caz said sharply.
“As you wish, sir.” Hakim paused. “I’ve told your pilot to be ready in an hour.”
“Yes, yes.” Caz glanced at the bed and opened the door just enough to take the tray. “Thank you, Hakim. That’s’ all.”
Hakim followed Caz’s eyes. “I trust your plans are unchanged, Sheikh Qasim,” he said coldly. “That we are, indeed, leaving this place this morning and not lingering for further…festivities.”
“Watch yourself,” Caz said sharply.
Hakim flushed. “I have only your interests at heart, lord.”
Caz elbowed the door shut. “The hell you do,” he muttered, and slammed the tray on a table near the bed. After a minute, he sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Sweetheart? He’s gone.”
Megan sat up slowly. Her face was pink; the look in her eyes started his anger all over again.
“Kalila,” he said, and went to her. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, pulled back as he tried to embrace her. But Caz was persistent, and the need to be close to him won. Sighing, she put her arms around him and rested her head against his chest.
“Hakim hates me.”
“It’s not you. It’s what you represent. What he sees me doing. All the changes I’ve made, the changes I intend to make.” He cupped Megan’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “He served my father.”
“And now he serves you.”
“That’s just the problem, sweetheart. He wants me to be like my father, but I’m not.” A muscle knotted in his jaw. “And I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for the foreign blood that runs in my veins.”
“Foreign…? Oh. Your mother.”
“Yeah.” A smile curved his lips. “You’d have liked her.”
“But she left you.”
“She left Suliyam.”
“Why? If her husband was here, and her son—”
How did you explain to your American wife that your American mother couldn’t handle the heat? The desert? The boundaries set by centuries of tradition?
A few words would have done it, but for some reason he couldn’t quite comprehend, Caz didn’t want to lay all those things out for Megan’s inspection. And that, he knew, was foolish. Megan wasn’t really his wife, not by the law of her land. He didn’t have to worry about putting ideas in her head. She was going back to her own people, leaving Suliyam…
Leaving him.
The realization stabbed through his heart.
“Come here,” he said gruffly, enfolding her in his arms. “Why should we waste time talking about other people?” He bent his head, brushed his mouth over hers. “For now, there’s only you and me.”
“But Hakim said—”
