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‘Anything,’ he said as she set both her hands on him, exploring, tracing every detail, setting his skin alight, turning his voice to gravel. ‘Name it.’
‘Make me forget him. Make love to me again. I mean, when it is possible.’
He growled low in his throat and, still holding onto her, flipped onto his back so she straddled him, his eyes drinking in the sight of her rising up from him, his hands drinking in her satin-smooth skin.
‘Oh,’ she said, her eyes widening as she realised he was already primed beneath her, ‘I thought it would be too soon.’
‘No,’ he said as he encouraged her hips higher so he could position himself, loving the way she so naturally assisted with the movement of her lush body to find her centre. ‘With you, Aisha,’ he said, as he drew her down his long length, ‘anything is possible.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
FOR the first time in days she felt that things were finally going right and falling into place. They had woken in the tent to the sound of waves breaking on the shore. They had made slow, lazy love as the sun had risen over the horizon. They had held hands while travelling across the sands to the Blue Palace.
And now, sitting in the front row of the Blue Palace’s magnificent twelfth-century arched reception hall, grandly fitted out for the coronation of Al-Jirad’s new king, she felt not only happiness but immense pride as well.
For in front of her stood Zoltan, now only minutes from being crowned King of Al-Jirad. The building was full of assembled guests from countries near and far, and her father sat alongside, beaming widely, no doubt at the knowledge he would be keeping his crown and that the Jemeyan legacy and the pact between their two countries would live on.
As for Aisha? She was so full of the new wonders of love-making that she could not begin to describe how she felt: glowing. Buzzing. Electric, with a heightened awareness of all things of the flesh. For Zoltan had awakened in her the pleasures of the flesh in a way she had never dreamed possible. She smiled to herself, thinking of the latest way he’d pleasured her—asking her to don the gossamer-thin robe she’d been gifted, pleasuring her with his clever tongue and seeking lips before taking her again. Was there no end to his talents?
Not so far, apparently.
He had told her that with her all things were possible. Could it be true? Could they find love out of the madness of a forced marriage neither of them had wanted? Might Zoltan grow to love her as she so wished to be loved?
Last night he had made it seem possible.
Only one thing could temper her joy this day and it was that there was still no word from Marina. She tried to tell herself not to be surprised—it was Marina, after all, and she had never been one for protocol and obligations, especially when it involved anything remotely connected to duty. But still, after all that had happened, Aisha had so very much wanted to have the chance to talk to her sister again.
Around her the formalities dragged on longer than she expected, and she zoned out, listening with only half an ear. It was not entirely intentional, but there was only so much pomp and ceremony one could take in when one had other, much more carnal pleasures on their mind, and right now she had the memories of last night’s activities to savour as well as the upcoming night’s activities to anticipate.
And there was really no need to listen. It was all just a formality, after all. And it was all so long …
Until she heard the name of her island home mentioned, and the pact. She blinked into awareness and she realised why the ceremony was taking so long, because an extra segment had been added to the ceremony due to the unusual circumstances of the ascension, a series of declarations Zoltan was required to respond to.
‘And do you solemnly swear,’ the Grand Vizier said, ‘on the covenants of the Sacred Book of Al-Jirad that you have married a Jemeyan princess?’
She glanced from her father to Zoltan, not knowing she would be mentioned as part of this, and suddenly wishing she’d paid more attention, for neither of them looked surprised or perplexed.
‘I declare it to be true,’ Zoltan said.
‘And do you also solemnly swear, on the covenants of the Sacred Book of Al-Jirad, that you have impregnated with your seed the Jemeyan princess you have married so that Al-Jirad and Jemeya might both prosper into the future just as your family will prosper?’
‘I declare it to be true.’
‘Then you have fulfilled the covenants of the Sacred Book of Al-Jirad and I declare …’
But Aisha heard nothing more. For her blood had turned to ice and the thunder of it in her ears drowned out the proceedings while her mind focused on the words you have impregnated with your seed the Jemeyan princess …
