She took the meal onto the balcony. In the scented gardens below, someone was playing the oud—a sweet melody filled with longing. Closing her eyes, she touched her fingers to her lips and thought of Arif. The song seemed to echo his kiss—and the poetry he had quoted to her.
I would split open my heart with a knife, place you within and seal my wound, that you might dwell there.
What a wildly romantic notion—the idea of being able to keep someone within your heart. Tess might be able to inspire such notions, but Christine knew she was not made of such legendary stuff. Arif was probably interested in her simply because she was different—and she'd said no. He looked the type who would enjoy the chase far more than a relationship. If only…
No, she wasn't going to start daydreaming. That led to disappointment.
She gave a shiver and tried to shake off the mood. It was just the music and the moonlight and the perfume from the flowers rising up to her room. That was all. And she was tired. That was an even better reason to start being a little too emotional. Time to shift back to the academic she'd been raised to be.
She'd gotten a good start today. Tomorrow, she'd do more. She headed back into the bedroom. Changing into her T-shirt, she snuggled into bed and fell asleep to the plucking of the oud.
She managed two more days buried in the archives, but on the third, she stepped out of her room in the morning and almost walked straight into Arif's arms. She fell back and blinked up at him.
"Uh…is something wrong?" she asked.
He grinned and shook his head. "Not at all. But this is a deal. You have access to the archives, and in return, I am allowed to court you. And I have this day planned for courtship."
Christine blinked up at him. This wasn't what she'd planned, and she was having a hard time adjusting. On the other hand, she could actually do with a break—she'd been working too hard and starting to hit dead ends. Meaning she needed to regain some perspective. Sheikh Arif also did not look as if he would take no for an answer.
She glanced at his clothes—impeccably cut linen trousers in a soft beige, an open-necked polo shirt, loafers that looked soft, sinful, and Italian. She suddenly felt underdressed in her black trousers and the T-shirt she'd thrown on. With a nod, she made up her mind. "Give me ten minutes to change."
Chapter Six
Arif paced the hallway. He was tired of waiting. He had given his Christine three days without interruptions. That had been relatively easy, since his government work had demanded his attention. Nasim was supposed to be handling most matters, but his cousin had dumped a pile of documents onto Arif to read and review, saying reports fell under the department of education.
However, after three nights with an empty bed and Christine so nearby, he knew his control was to the breaking point.
Last night, he had dreamed of her riding across the desert naked, her body moving with her horse. He had woken with the desire to have her riding him instead. In his dream, she had ridden to the tent where they’d dined, had stepped inside, and had stood naked and pale, silhouetted against the desert heat. She had come to him and spread herself on the carpets, her legs open to him, offering him the most desirable meal ever. In the dream, he had knelt before her, put his mouth onto the honey dripping from between her legs. He had plunged his tongue into her, finding her wet and welcoming.
He had woken hard and sweating, with only his own hand to please himself. With two fast strokes, he had come with a groan, muttering her name. Lying on his bed, the sweat cooling on his skin, his heart slowing again, he’d decided it was time to move things along a little faster. He needed more than a dream.
And now he was hoping his Christine would fall in love with him by first falling in love with Zahkim.
Amazingly, she came out of her room in far less than ten minutes. A vivid blue scarf circled her neck, and she had changed from the T-shirt she'd had on—something with a university logo—to a black silk shirt that fluttered around her hips and thighs. She'd put on her golden sandals as well, and even something on her lips that made them seem even more pink.
He took her hand and started to lead her to the front doors. "We start with a tour of Al Resab, which is somewhat modern, and then to the old souk to see the spices and clothes."
Her hand began to drag at him, and he glanced back to see her frowning at him. They'd reached the front doors of the palace, and he stopped to see why she hesitated.
"I'm not really much for shopping." She slipped her hand out of his, bit her lower lip, and then blurted out, "Actually, I'm on a tight budget and didn't bring much cash with me."
With a laugh, he caught her hand again. "Have you never heard the joys of window shopping? Besides, you are an honored guest of Zahkim. You will find the merchants willing to gift you anything so that they might earn the pleasure of the royal house."
Eyes wide, she stared up at him. "That sounds even worse. I can't just take things without paying for them."
He shook his head and led her out to where his car waited. "You will offend everyone if you don't accept graciously. But if you wish it, you have but to take my hand, and I will find a way to both decline the gift and at the same time offer up assurances that it is not due to the quality of the merchandise."
"You can do that?" she asked. "Okay, that's something I have to see for myself."
The drive into Al Resab did not take long. Arif liked to drive himself instead of having a driver as so many others in the royal family preferred. He'd acquired a black Tesla Model X, and it never got out of the garage enough. Soon they were swallowed up by traffic and high-rises, the noise of the city kept distant by thick windows and the pop music Arif had playing on the satellite radio. Tess Angel's music had become a huge hit, and her new label was star
ting to turn out Middle Eastern pop-rock that Arif quite liked.
Christine glanced out the window, and Arif offered up what he hoped were interesting facts about Zahkim, its hot climate, its lack of access to the shore, the hopes of a stronger economy with better education for the young, the recent reforms enacted by Tarek and Tess. Christine nodded and seemed to be listening, but Arif could tell she was only being polite. Her mind was probably back in the archives with those dusty books.
He reached his destination—his downtown office—and changed his mind. He had thought to start here and end the day at the old souk—Al Resab's old marketplace. Now he could see that very little of the modern city would catch Christine's attention.
Driving to a nearby parking garage, he left the Tesla with a valet and took Christine's hand. A few blocks later, they stepped into a narrow lane. Two more turns and they had stepped back centuries. Next to him, he could almost feel Christine's energy pouring out, setting the air tingling. Her eyes had gone wide and bright, and a smile lifted her wide lips.