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He’d decided long ago it would only be shared with his wife. His queen. It was the bed upon which they’d conceive their children. He’d saved it only for her, as a sign of respect.
Setting Beth down on her feet beside the bed, Omar gently tugged off her elaborate headdress. In the light from the windows, her light brown hair shone gold as it tumbled down her shoulders.
Walking around her, he slowly undid the ties that held together her traditional Samarqari gown, allowing that, too, to fall in a whoosh to the priceless rug on the cool marble floor.
Beth stood before him in only a simple, traditional cotton shift. His body stirred, and he knelt at her feet, pulling off her shoes. But as he rose to take her in his arms, she stopped him with an intake of breath.
“I can’t. We...” She swallowed. “We can’t.”
Omar drew back.
“Why?” His jaw tightened as he said harshly, “You do not want me?”
She shook her head with a low laugh filled with desperate regret. “You know I do.” She looked at her feet. “I never imagined you might choose me, in spite of everything. If I had...”
His heartbeat had recovered from the sickening lurch, and he came closer. “If you had?”
“I never would have come to Samarqara. I...” She took a deep breath, then whispered in a voice almost too low for him to hear, “I’m not who you think I am.”
“Why do you persist in thinking so little of yourself?” he said incredulously.
“I’m not being modest.” This time, her laugh was bitter. “You think I’m some world-famous genius.”
“No.”
She looked up at him. “No?”
“You’re more,” he said quietly. “You’re the woman who made my people love you in the space of an hour. The woman who risked her life to save a child. A woman who wants the best for everyone, except perhaps herself.” Reaching out, he ran his hand softly through her hair. “The woman who will be my wife, and the mother of my children.”
She shivered, her lovely face stricken as she lifted her gaze to his. “How can I even tell you?”
What could be troubling her? Then, looking down at her, Omar suddenly knew.
Gently, he took her hands in his own. “If you’re worried because you’re not a virgin, Beth, don’t be.” He snorted. “That’s one old custom no one expects. Me least of all.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
“You’re sexually experienced. That’s fine. So am I. It doesn’t make you unworthy. It doesn’t make me want you less.” Cupping her cheek, he said in a low voice, “It only makes me want you more.”
That was a lie, Omar thought. Nothing in this moment could make him want her more.
Her eyes looked shocked. She looked quickly away.
“Isn’t that what you wanted to tell me?” he asked, confused.
She shook her head, her expression anguished. She clasped her hands, twisting them together.
“I...the thing is, I’m not...” She focused on him abruptly. “I’m actually a virgin.” Her gaze fell to his lips. “So I couldn’t possibly please you in bed, anyway.”
Shocked, he stared at her, hardly able to believe her words. “You’re a—virgin?”
“Yes. Another reason I can’t marry you.” Tears filled her eyes. “So call the other women back. Tell Laila you changed your mind. It’s not too late to make a better choice!”
As he stared down at her, all he could hear were her words echoing in his brain. I’m a virgin.
Unthinkable. In this modern world, his bride would be coming to his bed a maiden? Untouched by any other man?
“How is it possible?” he breathed, searching her face. “Are all the men of Houston such fools?”
