“Good. It gets cold in the hills. We will need them.”
She stood quietly for a long moment, her eyes adjusting to the dark. He was lying on his back, his head pillowed on his arms. Time seemed to slow. She was aware only of him, his flat, emotionless voice, and of her pounding heart. He was trying to protect her, she knew, from herself and from his feelings, feelings he believed exclusive to him.
“Kamal?”
“Yes?” He sounded impatient, angry.
“I would rather have you than the blanket.”
Why was she pushing him, damn her? He jerked himself up on his elbow, wishing he could see her face clearly. “I would suggest that you lie down, and go to sleep.”
“Very well.” She eased down close to him, but not touching. She pulled the blanket over her. He could hear her breathing, and he forced himself to turn on his side, away from her. Then she spoke again. “Do you really love me?”
“No, dammit. I tell all my women that—it is what they want to hear.”
There was absolute silence.
“By Allah, do you wish to strip all honor from me?”
“No,” she whispered.
He cursed fluently in Arabic and drew her roughly against him. He did not immediately realize that he was stroking her hair, placing light kisses on her temple. She turned her head and his kisses fell on her cheek and her mouth.
“Please, Kamal, love me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m hurting now.”
It seemed perfectly natural for him to slip his hand inside the robe and stroke her. She arched up against him and pulled his head down. The touch of her mouth made him frantic with need for her.
“Tell me what to do. I want to please you as you do me.”
“To feel you moving against me, to hear you moan, to taste you is the greatest pleasure you can give.”
When they finally lay locked together, still kissing each other softly, languidly, he said, “Arabella? Did you mean what you said?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what you said?”
“I love you,” she whispered. At her simple words, she felt a great weight slip from her mind. “I love you.”
He clasped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, bringing her on top of him. “I will never let you forget it, madam,” he said, and kissed her.
“Kamal,” she said after he allowed her to catch her breath, “why do you love me?”
“Because you’re a witch and have cast a spell on me.”
She was silent for a long moment. Finally she said, “I’m not always a nice person.”
“True. But you are also never boring.”
“Oh. I will make you suffer, sir, if you don’t tell me the truth.”
“Because you’re so damned honest,” he said at last. “And so loyal.”
Arabella buried her face in his throat. “What are we going to do?” she whispered.