The excitement didn’t wane—not even a flicker. Mackenzie simply put her glass down on the nearest table and said, “Let’s go.”
She followed him down a hall to another private staircase. The moment they were enveloped within the quiet, Issam felt the weight on his shoulders. It was the weight of all the tension still strung between all the countries involved in the land dispute.
It was simply no time to be swept up in planning a wedding.
“Adira is lovely,” Mackenzie was saying, and he realized she’d been talking since they left the party. “And your mother is so enthusiastic about planning. I’m not sure I’ll have any decisions to make at all, and honestly, I don’t mind.” She laughed. “I’d much rather plan a wedding than…” They turned the corner into the wing of the palace that housed his quarters, and Issam stopped in front of one of the doors.
“These are your rooms.” He pressed open the door and led the way into a suite smaller than his own but no less well appointed. It smelled as fresh as a spring br
eeze, and he could tell from the shine on the graceful mahogany furniture that someone had been in very recently to make sure it was perfect.
Mackenzie stepped inside and ran a hand over the crisp white bedding. “This is a far cry from that holding cell,” she said softly, and it hit him again. Things were far too dangerous to worry about planning a wedding.
“Yes,” he agreed. “So we need to focus on keeping you out of it for good.”
Mackenzie turned back toward him, her face gentle. The wall sconces were turned down to half-power, and it was lovely mood lighting for her.
“You’re stressed,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She reached for his hand. “Come on, sit down. Sit down.” She pulled him toward the edge of the bed, put her hands on his shoulders, and pressed until he was seated at the foot of the bed. Then she kicked off her shoes and clambered up behind him.
“What are you—oh.”
Mackenzie was rubbing his shoulders. Skillfully, in fact. He felt the tension releasing with every roll of her hands.
“It’s no wonder you’re feeling pressure,” she said, her breath tickling the back of his neck. “You don’t have time for all this. None of us do. Politically, things are…you’re right. It’s a dangerous time.”
She was perceptive. Most people couldn’t guess what he was thinking, yet here she was, giving him a massage and reading his mind.
What should he say to that?
“I can help,” she went on, her voice low and smooth. “I’ve been studying the history of the no-man’s land between the two countries. I’ve done all the necessary research to help you—both of you—negotiate an agreement. That’s why you’re marrying me, after all.” She laughed, and the sound gave him a flush of pleasure. “So you can resolve this peacefully.”
“I’m marrying you so that you don’t die. Help with the land dispute is a silver lining.” Of course, no matter what Mackenzie said, he wasn’t going to bring her in on the actual negotiations. They’d have to send someone else for that. Mackenzie’s conflict of interest would be a problem for both Al-Dashalid and Al-Madiza. He’d need to give her another job.
“You could look at it that way,” Mackenzie said neutrally.
“What I really need,” he said, leaning back into her hands, “is for someone to take charge of the wedding. My mother will quickly get out of hand. Do you think you could manage that planning to royal standards?”
“What?” The mattress dipped as she climbed off the bed and came around in front of him. “Your standards?” There was high color in Mackenzie’s cheeks. “You don’t know me very well, Issam. I never fall below anyone’s standards because my own standards are so high.”
“Oh?”
She was determined. “Yes. I’ve always insisted on doing the best, getting the best. I fought my way into a full-ride scholarship at Notre Dame, and do you know what? I went to law school at Yale. I made them pursue me. An Ivy League university!”
“Wow,” Issam said.
“There hasn’t been a day since I passed the bar that I haven’t thrown all of myself into my work. I researched you before I ever set foot into Al-Dashalid. I’m always prepared.”
“You weren’t prepared at that intersection.”
“I couldn’t have predicted that someone would run the red light.” Mackenzie stepped forward so she was standing between his legs. “And you—” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Should be grateful that I’m a quick thinker. I saved more than one life. I sacrificed myself for those children. I made that choice in an instant. And you think I can’t plan a wedding to your standards?”
She shook her head, eyes blazing.
It was sexy.
She was strong, she was bottled lightning, and Issam wanted more of her. Here was a woman who could hold her own in discussions with him. No, Mackenzie was a person with an edge of her own. He’d lost track of what she was saying—he was too consumed by the flash of her eyes, the toss of her hair, and the way her body brushed against his thighs. He was hard as a rock. Another inch, and she’d feel it. Pure need rushed through him, and he raised his hands to her waist. She kept talking, kept arguing, right up until the moment he pulled her in and silenced her with a kiss.
A hard, hot kiss, his lips firm against hers. She felt so good under his hands, and the moment their lips crashed together she threaded her arms around his neck and kissed him back harder. His cock twitched against the fabric of his pants. She was holding nothing back, and he tightened his grip around her waist. Pulled her in closer. Ran a hand up her back to thread his fingers through her hair. Closer, closer. He took that same hand and put his thumb on her chin, tugging her lips open so he could push his tongue inside, exploring.