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Beth gasped, looking at the high ceilings, the patterned stucco of the walls. “It’s beautiful.”
“The most beautiful room in the palace. Except for the queen’s.”
“Separate bedrooms?”
“Tradition,” he said huskily. He cupped her cheek. “There’s a connecting door.”
But as he lowered his head towards hers, she abruptly pulled away, looking as if she were about to cry. Turning, she walked out onto the balcony.
The air blew in fresh from the sea, making the white translucent curtains undulate in the soft spring breeze. Beth gripped the edges of the balcony, looking out at the sparkling water with haunted eyes.
Omar came up behind her, putting his hands against the balcony railing around her. Directly below the tower were the palace gardens, with trimmed hedges and palm trees, and a profusion of roses in bloom. To the right and left of the palace, he could see the prosperous city, stretching out in old buildings of squat clay beside steel skyscrapers.
“I always see you with flowers,” he said huskily. “Like where we first met.”
She glanced back at him. “In the garden in Paris.”
“I noticed you at once.”
She gave a low, rueful laugh. “Because I was stupid. I was the only person who didn’t recognize you.”
“You spoke to me as an equal,” he said. “Not seeing me as a prize to be won.”
“My equal?” Beth shook her head sadly. “No. Not at all.” A small smile traced her lips. “But I tried to forgive you. I told myself it wasn’t your fault you were good-looking.”
He gave a low laugh. “Then imagine how I felt when I met you.”
She blushed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Omar looked down at Beth, dressed in the traditional headdress and gown of a Samarqari bride. Electricity pulsed through his body. All he wanted to do was kiss slowly down the length of her naked body. He was hard and aching to claim her as his own. But their wedding was still a month away.
Omar whispered, “You were the sexiest woman I’d ever seen.”
Beth looked at him sharply, as if she thought he were mocking her. Then her eyes widened.
Glancing back at his bedchamber, he gave her a crooked grin. “This tower used to be the king’s harem.”
She snorted. “Harem?”
“The palace is hundreds of years old. It’s been built and rebuilt, from the time caravans traveled the old Silk Road. But harems were outlawed a hundred years ago.”
“Too bad,” Beth said, flashing him a teasing grin. “You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble by just bringing all twenty women here directly.”
He returned her grin, then his expression changed.
“But I only wanted one.” Pulling her into his arms, he looked down at her, cupping her face with his hands. He whispered, “I only wanted you...”
And he lowered his mouth to hers.
He felt her shock, felt her hesitation when he kissed her.
Then he felt her body rise. Her small arms reached up to his shoulders, and she kissed him back with answering need, as the salty sea breeze whirled around them.
Breaking off the kiss, he whispered against her lips, “I want you, Beth. Now.”
He heard her intake of breath, and felt her tremble as she gripped his shoulders desperately, holding him close.
It was all the permission he needed. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her back into the bedchamber, to the enormous royal bed upon which no woman had ever slept. Omar had never brought a mistress here. This bed wasn’t meant for any temporary lover, quickly discarded.
