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“I would like to request the honor of dancing with you, anisdi.”
Anisah didn’t even hesitate, saying politely, “I beg your forgiveness, alshaykh, but I am currently on duty.”
“Is that so?”
“Nem, alshaykh.” Yes, sheikh.
Like hell she was, Tarif thought in amusement. Since he had a copy of her work schedule for the entire year, he knew she was lying, and strangely enough, he found this endearing...and arousing. Taking a step closer towards her, he asked cajolingly, “Surely you can spare a few minutes for a dance?”
“I truly beg your forgiveness, Your Highness—-”
The sheikh’s eyes gleamed at the way she took a step back as she spoke.
“But it is also because I would rather not risk causing you dishonor.”
Now that was new, Tarif thought, and dealing Anisah a curious glance, he asked, “In what way do you believe you will dishonor me?”
Where did he want her to start, Anisah wondered exasperatedly. She was neither a princess nor an heiress, was neither exceptionally beautiful nor famous for anything, and most importantly of all, she wasn’t even dressed for the ball.
Making a gesture towards her serviceable-looking robe, which she had so donned because she had only a night of observation ahead of her, Anisah said emphatically, “Please consider what I’m wearing, Your Highness. It would not be appropriate for you to be seen with someone dressed—-”
The sheikh interrupted her with a rather unexpectedly inelegant snort. “And you think I would care about something like that?”
“It would be ideal if you would, Your Highness,” she said seriously. “Dressing up for a ball such as this isn’t only about one’s physical appearance but a matter of showing your respect for the king and queen. It is your duty, sheikh, to uphold the standards of the royal family in every way, and this definitely includes ensuring one is suitably attired at all times, most importantly on occasions where the ruling family is expected to present a show of solidarity to the world.”
Silence.
And then—-
“And here I thought you were just fishing for compliments,” Tarif said silkily. “Instead, I find myself lectured by the court tutor about social etiquette.”
Oh! Anisah colored furiously at the realization she had overstepped her bounds. Bowing her head, she apologized stiffly, “I am terribly sorry, Your Highness.”
“How sorry are you?”
The sheikh’s calm tone only made her feel worse about getting carried away, and she bowed her head in apology, saying, “Very much so, Your Highness.”
“Sorry enough to dance with me?” Her head jerked up, and a look of comprehension dawned on Anisah’s lovely face, and she finally realized he had only been pretending to feel offended. She scowled, and he grinned, asking, “So how about it then, anisdi? Will you dance with me?” He offered his hand and almost howled with laughter when Anisah gazed at it with visible distaste.
This, too, was as strangely endearing as it was unquestionably arousing, and if he had any doubts of how much he wanted this woman in his bed – he had none of it now. Poor sweet puritan, Tarif thought in amusement. It was clear that Anisah believed her constant rejection and troublesome ways would eventually turn him away for good, but it only achieved the opposite.
Her every resistance only further whetted his appetite for her, and unfortunately for her, it also made him more impatient to have her.
“One dance, Tory.”
Anisah blinked at the way the sheikh had addressed her, and she asked blankly, “Tory?
“Nem. Tory.”
“My name is Anisah—-”
“And your second name is Victoria, is it not?”
Oh! Her lips pursed as she struggled under a turbulent mix of annoyance and embarrassment. “It is not proper to have you address me so, sheikh.”
“A nickname is not proper?”
“It is not when it implies intimacy where there is none—-”
