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Whatever she’d been feeling moments ago was gone completely. ‘Is that necessary?’
‘Do you intend to stay hidden here for ever?’
She considered that. Did she? These last three weeks had been blessedly quiet but she’d been cognisant of the fact she was dodging her responsibilities, hiding from the world she knew to be out there.
‘Do you care? About the rumours?’
He frowned. ‘No.’
‘So why does it matter?’
‘Rumours in foreign papers that speculate on matters I know to be false? This is laughable. But you are the Emira of the RKH and my people must respect you; they must accept our child as their future ruler.’
A prickle of danger shifted through her. ‘You’re worried they might not? That this baby might not be accepted as your heir?’
‘I’m not worried.’ Nor did he look it. ‘But I do not wish your life, or his, to be harder because of steps we could easily take now to smooth the way of this transition.’
It all made so much sense. She knew she should agree, but agreeing with Sariq stuck in her craw, so she maintained a somewhat dubious silence.
‘Malik is organising the ball. I’ll have Zahrah notify you of the details in due course.’
He couldn’t sleep. Hours after he’d last seen Daisy, and he felt a curdling sense of foreboding, a kernel of worry he couldn’t dispel. Telling himself he was being melodramatic, he threw his sheet back and stood, pacing to the small timber piece of furniture against the wall, lifting the ancient pewter jug and pouring himself a glass of water. In the distance, through the open doors of his bedroom, he could hear the familiar call of the nuusha bird, the night creature’s song a cross between a bell and a whip. It was delicate and resounding, reaching across the desert from their nesting grounds in the cliffs of sand to the west of the palace.
He’d promised her he wouldn’t touch her, but, oh, how he’d ached to do exactly that. When he’d seen her that afternoon, her cheeks pink from the heat, her hair so beautifully intricate but in a way he’d needed to loosen, so that he could remember the way it had fallen around her face when they’d made love...
He shouldn’t think about that. He couldn’t. Those nights were from a different lifetime, when he was free to act on impulse and she to indulge her desire.
He’d promised he wouldn’t touch her and yet he’d come so close that day. He’d ached to kiss her. He very nearly had. And now, memories of her kept him awake, tormenting him, so he had a keening sense to go for a run, or a ride, to leave this gilded cage of a palace, to throw off the expectations incumbent upon him and be his own man. For one night. He strode onto the balcony, his eyes finding the looming shape of the caves, tracing their outline, wondering if he could absent himself from the palace for the four days it would take to make the round trip. There was an oasis there; he’d camped at its edges often.
Her strangled sound of surprise was barely audible at first, swallowed by the gentle breeze and the bird’s cries.
It was as though he’d thought of her so hard and so often that she’d miraculously appeared before him. She wore a simple cream shift, barely covering her beautiful body, so he strained to keep his eyes on her face rather than allowing them to dip to the swell of cleavage revealed there. After their contact that day, seeing her like this was the last thing he needed. Knowing he had to be strong didn’t alter the fact he wanted, more than anything, to drag her against him and make love to her.
‘I...’ Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips, just as it had earlier that day. His cock hardened.
‘You couldn’t sleep,’ he murmured, knowing he should stay where he was, even when other forces were pushing him forwards, closing the distance between them.
She shook her head. Her hair was loose now, just as he’d wished it to be, and the breeze caught at the lengths, lifting them so a skein of the moon’s light cut through it. Silver against gold. Magic and captivating.
When he’d read the articles, only one had caught his attention, only one had played on his mind as being worthy of examination. ‘Tell me about your ex-husband.’
Even in the scarce light thrown by the full moon, he could make out the shift in her features, their arrangement into a mask of surprise, at first, and then hesitation.
‘Max? Why do you want to know about him?’
‘Did you love him?’
Her smile was cynical. ‘I’m not like you, Sariq. Love is the only reason I would have ever married anyone.’ And then, quickly, with a look of mortification, ‘Present circumstances excluded, obviously.’
‘Obviously.’
She turned away from him then, but her profile was all the more alluring for she was hiding herself from him. He had to move closer to see her better. He caught a hint of her delicate fragrance and his body tightened. His fingers ached to reach for her.
‘And what happened to this great love, then?’
She angled her face to his, her clear eyes analytical, studying him in a way few had ever dared. It was unusual for Sariq to have an equal. Most people feared his power even when he wielded it so rarely, but Daisy was unflinching in his presence, and always had been.
‘We got divorced. End of story.’
