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Hakim’s bedrooms were accessible to her through a concealed doorway, located in the harem. She hadn’t used it before, but she knew it existed, for he’d told her so. Stealing her courage, she pushed into the room and hovered on the thresh hold. The last time she’d been in the room, she had been a virgin. Now, she had been awakened to what her body was capable of, and the room held an entirely new fascination for her.
She pushed the door closed behind her, sealing herself into a private vault.
Heart pounding, she walked slowly around the border of the large space. The bed, she understood. Even the restraints on the posters were self explanatory. The chair… she ran her fingers over the polished leather arm. She wondered what it would be like to be made love to in that position. What being restrained would feel like?
With a shake of her head, she moved past the chair, to the golden doorway. Hakim had explained to her that the Sheikhs of the past had liked to be able to visit the harem unseen. So the doorway provided intimate access.
Tentatively, she pushed it. To her relief, it opened easily. Straight into another bedroom. Hakim was standing, his back to her, his shoulders rigid, his bearing unmistakably tense. His attention was focused on the window.
Phoebe felt foolish, suddenly. She blinked, wondering what had possessed her to come barging through to see him. Quietly, she moved back to the doorway, and began to pull it closed. To her annoyance, it made a small rustle of timber on timber that instantly drew his attention. He angled his head, fixing her with a dark, brooding stare. Immediately, he seemed to wage some kind of mental battle, as he pushed his feelings aside and feigned civil pleasure at seeing his bride to be.
“Am I interrupting?” She asked quietly, lowering her eyes.
“Actually, you look like you’re escaping,” he quipped, crossing the room and drawing her into it.
She laughed. “Guilty as charged. I hadn’t realized the door would open straight into your… um… bedroom.”
“It’s convenient, isn’t it?”
She lifted her eyes to his, and some of her concerns must have been evident there. He pushed aside his jokes and gripped her close. “What is it, habibte?”
“I just… It suddenly occurred to me that I don’t know anything about you. Talking to Becca really clarified to me that we’re complete strangers.”
He opened his mouth to point out they were way past that but she stalled him, by pressing her index finger to his mouth. “Not in all ways,” she foreshadowed his interjection. “But truly, I don’t know any of the important stuff.”
“Why do you need to?” He asked logically.
“I just feel like I should know the little stuff.” She clasped her hands together, to stop them from fidgeting. “Like… knowledge forms the tiny bricks that build a wall, and that wall is what makes a marriage.”
His smile was indulgent. “We do not need bricks, habibte. We are bigger than a wall. We are a house.”
“You are a palace,” she responded, with a shake of her head.
“And you are its princess. So stop worrying so much.”
“I’ll stop worrying when you fill in some gaps for me.”
“What do you want to know?” He asked, putting an arm around her waist and propelling her to his bed.
She sat on the edge of it, fiddling with her skirt.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “When’s your birthday?”
His face crinkled into an expression of mirth. “June eleventh.”
“June eleventh?” She looked at him strangely as she did a quick calculation. “That’s just been. That was… the day we…”
“Became engaged.” He said, with a wink, his smile broadening as a pink blush spread across her cheeks.
“Yes, got engaged. I didn’t know. I would have given you a present.”
“You do not think you gave me a present that day? I think you gave me several.”
“Oh.” She looked away. As if a light had been switched on, she realized she was sitting with her fiancé, on his bed, alone. And that she wanted him, very, very badly. Regardless of how little she knew about him.
“What about family?” She forced herself to ask, ignoring the way her fingers were tingling with the desire to reach out and touch him.
Hakim rested his hand on her thigh. “My father I lost two years ago. Heart attack.” At her sympathetic look, he tilted his head. “It was a surprise. My mother moved to Tikrit, a small province down near the canals of the south. She likes the water, and strives to live a quiet life. It is not easy when you are my mother.”
