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“Mmm.”
Caz propped himself on his elbow, smiled as he traced the tip of his finger down her nose, over her lips and down her chin.
“Come on, kalila. Stay awake. I have something important to discuss with you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, I want you to pay attention.”
“No.” She rolled on her belly, pushed him back against the pillows and folded her arms on his chest. “Ka-lee-lah. What’s it mean?”
“You don’t know?”
“Uh uh. I’ve meant to ask you endless times.”
“You’ve picked up so much of my language…” He grinned. “But then, I don’t suppose any of the men we’ve met with address each other as ‘sweetheart.’”
“Sweetheart?” He nodded; she smiled. “It has a lovely sound.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
Megan nipped his bottom lip. “Don’t take that smart-alecky tone with me, Lord Qasim.”
“Smart what?”
“You understand what I said. You’re as American as I am.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
He smiled. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. “Megan? Do you miss America very much?”
“A little,” she said, with the honesty he loved. “But I have you, and you mean more to me than anything else.”
Caz pressed a kiss into her hair. “I promise, we’ll go back for a visit very soon.”
‘And I’ll introduce you to my family.” Megan’s smile faltered. “I’m not looking forward to that. Oh,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I only meant…They’ll be hurt, that I didn’t tell them we were getting married.”
“Well, we’ll explain that we didn’t know about it until it happened—unless you don’t want them to hear that part.”
“That you married me to save me from the big, bad wolf?” She laughed. “Of course I want them to hear it. They’ll love it. My brothers will take you straight into the O’Connell clan because you’re so macho, and my sisters will ooh and ahh. It’s not every modern-day woman finds her own knight in shining armor.” Megan tucked a fingertip into a soft curl on his chest. “I guess what’ll upset them is that they weren’t part of our wedding. Well, I’ll just point out that they couldn’t have been.”
“No,” Caz said wryly, “not with Ahmet standing in for best man.”
“And maid of honor.” Megan giggled. “There’s a thought. Ahmet, in a bridesmaid’s gown. Can’t you just see it?”
“What I can see,” Caz said, getting up and scooping her into his arms, “is you in white lace, me in a tux, your sisters—how many are there?”
“Two,” she answered, puzzled, “but—”
“Two sisters in pink or yellow or whatever you like best, and those three brothers-in-law of mine in tuxes.” He grinned as he carried her into the adjoining bathroom and set her on her feet next to the step-up marble tub. “If I have to wear a monkey suit, so do they.”
“I’m sure they’ll love you to pieces for your kindness, but what are you talking about?”
“Our wedding, kalila. What else would impel a sane man into wearing a tuxedo?”
“We’ve already had our wedding.”
