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But she didn’t think she could fight it.
“You’ve gone to so much trouble,” she said stiffly, turning away from him, both grateful for and hating the way she could seem so unaffected. Would life be easier if she weren’t so naturally cold? Would their relationship have been different if she’d worn her heart on her sleeve more? “It would be rude to ignore that.”
His guttural noise was one of impatience. “I do not care for good manners. You are my wife. Say what you want!”
She startled, his outburst totally incongruous with the pleasant time they’d been having. She blinked, staring at him thoughtfully, completely hiding the way her heart was rabbiting in her chest. “I just did.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw as he met her gaze, his own laced with steely intent.
“Fine. Are you ready?”
She nodded, holding the water bottle out for him to take. He curved his fingers around it and pulled, so that she moved towards him instinctively. His head was angled towards hers and up close, she could see that his breathing was rushed.
Her own matched it, in and out, but her lungs couldn’t gain sufficient air.
“Well, Sheikha? Are you ready?”
Ready? For
what? Her brain was mush. He bent down, lower and lower, so his face was only an inch from hers and she could smell him and taste him and she needed him so badly she groaned, swaying her body forward.
But he didn’t kiss her. Instead, his hands curled around her hips and he lifted her over his shoulder, his hands resting on her bottom as he moved towards the horse. He deposited her onto its back with a lack of ceremony that had her glaring at him – and craving him all at once.
He lifted up behind her, his strength apparent in every movement he made.
“Where are we going?” She asked, as he reached around her and took the reins, needing to have some kind of sensible conversation before she said what she was thinking – that she wanted him to take her there, on the sands of the desert, in the shadows cast by the ruins of this great, old town.
“To see a myth.”
She frowned, but there was no opportunity to question him further. He kicked the horse’s flank and said something loud and deep in his native language, and they were off once more. The sun was higher than it had been earlier, and the heat was more intense, but the speed with which the horse flew across the desert brought the relief of a breeze so Chloe found herself smiling. Smiling at the sensations, and at the way his hand rested on her thighs when he relaxed the reins, and the way that didn’t even feel weird or wrong.
It all felt so good and right. If their relationship could be defined purely by sex then she knew they’d be a match made in heaven. The sex stuff they had worked out.
It was this. The time together, the talking – that was harder.
And yet, it wasn’t even that, was it?
She liked spending time with him, she loved talking to him. She even liked sparring with him – as a verbal preemptive to their sensual heat.
But she didn’t trust him not to hurt her, she didn’t trust him to want her like she wanted him, and she had every reason to feel like that. He didn’t want her. This day notwithstanding, he had made his desires abundantly clear.
She couldn’t have said how long they rode for. The horse moved easily through the desert and eventually Raffa tacked them in a different direction. There was nothing for miles, just sand and a blisteringly blue sky. But eventually, shapes appeared on the horizon, and as he drew closer, she was once again breathless with surprise – the beauty of what she was seeing was something she could only ever have imagined. As if from picture books or fairy tales.
A tent had been erected in the middle of the desert. Not a tent, more of a calico home, for it was enormous, and while the tent itself was a pale cream colour, there were colourful tapestries laid on the ground around it, and a series of smaller tents sat on the edge – four in total. Several hundred metres away, there was one other tent, and she could see people moving in and out of it.
“What is this place?” She asked, not loud enough for him to hear.
He answered anyway, her curiosity apparent. “From time to time, I like to get away from the palace.” He had to say the words close to her ear to be heard above the galloping of the horse.
“This is for you?” She asked louder.
“For us.”
Chloe was struck dumb. It was perfect – perfect in every way. He brought the horse to a stop on the edge of the settlement and now she saw that the people milling about were servants.
“There are facilities in here,” he nodded, pulling the fabric curtain aside to reveal a small copper basin, a toilet that looked to have its own independent plumbing, and a table with creams and oils.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, shaking her head.
