He’d take no chances.
A shadow flickered in his soul and a chill crept up his backbone, lifting the hairs on his nape one by one. He drew a slow breath, not quite managing to dispel the fear he’d fail Samira as he’d failed Jasmin.
‘Yes.’ Samira shook her head, her brow furrowing. ‘No. Not just sex.’
Tariq waited. Her shoulders lifted and dropped and he swallowed hard as those lush breasts jiggled temptingly.
‘I want...’ She shook her head and again he caught the perfume of her skin.
Everything about his wife—from her voice, the perfume of her skin, the taste of her on his tongue, to the lush perfection of her body—made him want more. Made him want in ways too numerous to calculate.
Tariq’s hands clenched on the edge of the worktop. ‘You want...?’
‘I don’t think I can put it into words.’
Despite his certainty that it would be better for them both if he found an excuse to leave, he didn’t shift. How could he look after her if he didn’t understand her?
‘Try me.’
* * *
Samira looked up at him watching her, the intensity of his gaze wrapping around her, making warmth curl within. Yet he gave nothing away.
She’d come this far. All she had to do was be honest. Share yourself, Jacqui had said.
Unfortunately Samira had little experience of that. She’d learned to keep herself to herself in the ways that really mattered. But if it was worth having it was worth fighting for. Tariq, and the precious sense of wellbeing he’d given her before, were worth having.
‘You know Asim and I weren’t close to our parents?’
Tariq’s eyebrows slanted in surprise at the change of subject. ‘I knew.’
‘You’ve heard their marriage wasn’t easy?’ Asim wouldn’t have discussed it and Tariq wouldn’t have asked, but he’d have to have been deaf not to hear the whispers.
‘I don’t listen to rumour. I prefer to deal in facts.’
Samira compressed her lips. Was he being deliberately unhelpful or just chivalrous?
‘They lived in a world of their own. When all was well I never saw them because they were wrapped up in each other. But more often it was a war zone. Screaming rows and doors slamming, glass smashing and angry tirades.’ She brushed her hands over the shivering skin of her arms. ‘They were jealous and suspected other lovers. The best times were when they were away and we were alone with the staff.’
‘I’m sorry. That must have been hard.’
Samira hesitated, groping for words. ‘I’m not telling you this to get sympathy, but so you understand what it was like.’
‘I understand.’
But did he?
‘The thing is...’ She looked down to see she’d bunched the rich satin into a taut knot. Instantly she opened her hands and smoothed out the crushed fabric. ‘The thing is, they didn’t just play out their dramas between them. They used us.’
Samira kept her eyes down, not wanting to read Tariq’s expression as acid memories made her flesh crawl.
‘Each used to interrogate me, trying to use me as a spy against the other. I found out years later that a diplomat was dismissed because I told my father how he smiled and laughed when he was with my mother. I thought it nice someone laughed in the palace but my father was convinced they were having an affair. Possibly because he was having one with my nanny at the time.’
‘You shouldn’t have had to go through that.’ The rumble of Tariq’s voice drew her head up. His expression was sombre.
‘It could have been worse.’ She paused. ‘It took me a long time to learn to be cautious but I learned my lesson when I was thirteen.’ Samira stopped and focused on trying to slow her too-fast pulse.
‘My mother invited me to tea with a friend and I was so excited to be included I didn’t realise what was happening till too late. Her “friend” turned out to be a journalist, pumping me for information about my father. She took innocent anecdotes and twisted them into the worst kind of slimy innuendo about my father. The more I tried to set the story straight, the worse it got, with my mother putting words in my mouth and it all going down on record.’
Samira sank back in her seat, hating that it had been her mother of all people who’d made her feel unclean.
‘My father managed to quash the story but my parents separated. Publicly the story was they were busy with regal responsibilities in different places.’
She met Tariq’s grim stare and shrugged. ‘I blamed myself but I finally learned to keep myself to myself.’