At least it wasn’t cold. She’d stay outside until the last possible moment before going into the tent. With luck, he’d be asleep by the time she joined him.
‘Nice to know you can function without staff.’ She watched as he lit a fire and proceeded to cook their supper. He’d thrown a rug on the ground and she knelt on it, watching as the flames flickered to life. ‘So we should reach the oasis tomorrow? What if she isn’t there?’
‘I think she will be.’
‘You could have just asked your security team to check it out.’
‘If I’d done that it would have been impossible to keep this situation contained. I want to keep this as quiet as possible.’
‘To protect your ego.’
‘To protect my bride, at least until I’ve decided how best to sort this out.’ He cooked without fuss, lamb with spices chargrilled over the open flame and served with rice. And because she was trying hard to make the whole experience less intimate she insisted on cooking her own, even though she did nowhere near as good a job as he did.
She burned the edges but still it tasted good and Avery ate hungrily until she caught him looking at her. Immediately her appetite vanished, as if someone had flicked a switch.
‘What? It’s delicious.’
‘It’s hardly gourmet. You eat in five star restaurants all the time and fly in celebrity chefs to cater for your parties.’
‘Yes, but that’s my work. This is different. There’s something about food eaten outdoors in the desert. I’ve always loved it here.’ Immediately she regretted saying it out loud because everything she’d loved about the desert was entwined with everything she loved about him. Not love. She corrected herself quickly. Felt. Everything she loved about the desert was entwined with everything she felt about him.
Because she knew he was looking at her, she kept her eyes on the view and that was no hardship because she could have stared for hours at the desert landscape that altered minute by minute under the fading light. The area he’d picked for camping was rocky, but they were still on the border with Zubran and dunes rose ahead of her, dark gold under the setting sun, the beauty of it holding her captivated until the sun dipped behind a mound and darkness quickly spread over the desert.
Grateful for that darkness, she lifted her eyes to the sky and picked a neutral topic. ‘Why do the stars always seem so much brighter out here?’
‘Less pollution.’ His tone short, he rose to his feet, doused the fire and gestured to the tent. ‘We need to get some rest. I’d like to leave at dawn.’
So he didn’t want to linger any more than she did. Didn’t want to prolong the time they spent together. The knowledge should have brought a feeling of relief but instead she just felt hollow and numb.
‘Dawn is fine with me.’ Anything that meant less time in the tent with him had to be good.
She wiped her bowl clean, nibbled on one of the dates he’d left out on a plate and tried not to think about their first trip into the desert together. It had been at the beginning of their relationship, during those heady first months when they’d been consumed by their feelings for each other. He’d been so frustrated by the unrelenting demands on his time and privacy that he’d arranged a secret trip. They’d joked that he’d kidnapped her, but really they’d stolen time away, as normal couples did all the time. He’d dismissed his security team. She’d left her phone behind. It was the first time they’d really been on their own, away from the craziness of his existence and the craziness of hers.
It had been the happiest week of her life.
Thinking about it now brought a lump to her throat. The ache in her chest felt like a solid lump and she sneaked a glance towards him, only to find him watching her, that dark gaze fiercely intense.
‘Say it.’
‘Say what?’
‘Say what you are thinking.’
Avery swallowed. ‘What am I thinking?’
‘You are thinking of that week we spent together. Just the two of us.’ His voice was rough and suddenly she couldn’t breathe and the panic pressed down on her because that was exactly what she’d been thinking.
‘Actually I was thinking how bleak it is here.’
His expression told her that he didn’t believe her but he didn’t push her. Instead he turned away, leaving her feeling more vulnerable than she ever had before.
Now what?
Not speaking about her feelings didn’t change the fact they existed. And the thought of going into that tent—of being so close to him—kept her sitting outside long after she should have gone inside. She postponed the moment as long as possible. Postponed the moment when they’d be forced together in that cramped, confined space that was designed to force intimacy even between two people who were avoiding it.
Would she have insisted on joining him if she’d known about the sleeping arrangements? No, probably not. Self-preservation would have outweighed the guilt she felt towards Kalila.
Kalila. He was goin