She couldn’t help returning the smile.
*
Sayed hadn’t been exaggerating. The royal family’s retreat was like a set from Arabian Nights, only every silk hanging and antique Turkish carpet was genuine.
They spent three days exploring the desert, Sayed showing Liyah the beauty of his country in his own unique way.
And they made love. Often and in romantic settings she would never have envisioned.
The last day, he took her to an oasis where he had a semipermanent tent set up. He said the herdsmen used it, but when he took her inside it smelled of sweet jasmine and was filled with silk blankets and pillows.
She twirled around, her silk abayah flowing gently around her. “This is no herdsmen’s tent.”
“No, today it is the tent for the emir and his lover.”
She didn’t deny the label like she might have three days before. Their affair might be short-lived, but she would never be the same and she didn’t think he would, either.
They made love that night into the wee hours. Stars glittered in the cornflower-blue sky as they cuddled, facing the pulled-back curtains of the tent opening.
Security guards were in smaller tents around, but she’d learned to forget they were there. Strange how quickly a person could become adjusted to things like that.
She curled around his body, his arms holding her with fierce possessiveness and a sense of security no weaker for its lack of permanence.
“When is the blood test?” she asked.
“Dr. Batsmati will draw a sample tomorrow morning.”
“And the blood test is one hundred percent accurate?”
“This one is, yes. It’s why we had to wait a minimum of five days from making love.”
“Then I guess I’ll move to a hotel soon.”
“You are assuming it will be negative.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No,” he said, shocking her. “I’ve prepared for a positive result.”
“What do you mean? What will happen if I am pregnant?” The question was academic as far as she was concerned.
Her body had already started responding as it usually did the week before her period.
“A royal wedding.”
“What? What are you saying? We aren’t getting married.” Considering her feelings for him, she should have been thrilled at his words, but panic made her heart race instead.
She didn’t want him trapped into marriage.
“If you are pregnant with my child, it is the only course of action open to us.”
“But I took the pill. I’m not pregnant.”
He shook his head. “One thing you learn in high-level politics is how real a chance even five percent, much less twenty, can be.”
“But marriage? You can’t be serious.”
“Never more so.” He looked down at her, his expression too shadowed to read in light provided by the moon and stars. “Don’t you want to marry me?”