He sank onto his haunches, surprising her a little, and then set her heartbeat soaring by bringing his masculine perfection even closer. His clean, musky aftershave drifted over her, sending vivid images of how shamelessly she lost herself in it when they made love.
‘Do yourself a favour and ignore them,’ he dismissed offhandedly. ‘You don’t need the headache, and I don’t want an overwrought wife on our honeymoon.’
‘I like to think I’m made of sterner stuff than that.’
‘Then why do you have shadows beneath your eyes?’
She stiffened. ‘Is that your way of telling me I look a mess?’
‘It’s my way of saying you should’ve taken your secretary’s advice and gone upstairs to bed.’
She wasn’t even going to ask how he knew that. ‘Are you here to order me to bed?’ she retorted, cringingly noting the huskiness in her voice.
His eyes blazed for a moment before they cleared. Rising gracefully to his feet, he held out his hand. ‘That is precisely what I’m doing. We don’t land for another three hours. I’ll make sure you’re woken before then.’
Disappointment followed hard on the heels of the breathlessness that seized her. She was so busy trying to hide it she let herself be pulled up and tugged up the stairs.
The bedroom took up the whole smaller top deck of the plane, and was so dreamily, jaw-droppingly beautiful, Niesha would’ve been completely lost in it had Zufar’s riveting presence beside her not commanded her attention.
She barely heard the door snick shut behind her, but she was intensely aware of his overwhelming presence, the dizzyingly broad width of his shoulders as he drew her towards the bed. Her heart began thundering as he plucked the tablet from her hand and deftly tossed back the coverlet on the king-sized bed.
The jacket of the stylish navy trouser suit she’d worn for the flight came off neatly under his ministrations, leaving a cream silk camisole that suddenly felt too hot against her skin. Her nipples were beginning to pebble and that dragging sensation had started low in her belly.
Niesha shook her head when his hands went to her hair, intent on removing the diamond clip holding it up. ‘I really don’t need help undressing. Nor do I need to rest at all. I’m f—’
‘You’re not fine,’ he interrupted. ‘You spent the night tossing and turning.’ The grim set to his face told her he wasn’t pleased. ‘Another nightmare?’
It was easier to nod to that than admit that her suspicion of her new condition was what had disturbed her sleep. ‘I’m sorry if I bothered you.’
He dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand, and stepped forwards with renewed intention of freeing her hair. This time he succeeded. ‘How long have you had them?’
She steeled herself against the clutch of pain confessing the truth brought. ‘For as long as I can remember. I think the only thing that will stop them is a full account of the years I lost before I ended up in the orphanage.’ She wasn’t sure why she let that slip but once it was out there, she couldn’t take it back.
He stilled. ‘Perhaps you should consider reconciling yourself to the possibility that you might never know,’ he suggested after a moment.
Hurt lanced through her. Her heart thundered louder as she took in his grim expression. Would this flaw in her lineage reap consequences down the line? Make her a damaged queen? ‘You think I haven’t tried? That I want my subconscious to keep dredging it up every night?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Calm yourself—’
Hurt built up higher. ‘That’s easy for you to say, isn’t it? You’ve had your whole life documented a few hundred different ways from the moment you drew breath. All you need to do is pluck a book off a shelf and you can refresh your memory on even the tiniest detail. Well, I’m glad you can be so glib about me forgetting my past but you’ll excuse me if I don’t feel the same!’
‘Enough, Niesha. I won’t have you distressing yourself,’ he commanded with a bite to his deep, masterful voice.
But she wasn’t in the mood to heed this warning. ‘And I won’t have you ordering me about, telling me when to go to bed or telling me how to feel!’
Perhaps it was the reality that she might be pregnant that sent her emotions into free fall. Or the dire predictions for her spotting she’d foolishly looked up on the Internet. She’d done it as a means of alleviating her worry but had ended up even more distressed.
Because thinking about the child she would possibly be having nine months from now, she’d been confronted with the fact that one day her son or daughter would ask about her past. And she wouldn’t have an answer for them. One side of their family tree would be full to brimming with generations of history, and the other side, hers, would be woefully empty.
Zufar started to raise his hand.
She shook her head wildly, knocking his hand
away. ‘I don’t want your sympathy. Or your directives. I want... I want you to leave me alone!’
He completely disregarded her request, strong hands gripping her shoulders to pull her into his hard, brick-wall body.
One hand was splayed on her back while the other captured her nape, trapping her against his impressive length. Before she could protest, both hands began a languorous kneading, digging with gentle pressure into muscles knotted tight with tension.