To Touch a Sheikh (Pride of Zohayd 3)
Page 50
After looking so deep into her eyes that she knew he’d examined her soul, marveled at how kindred it was to his, Amjad sighed, turned to his family. “Take a good look at the king you’ll have. A susceptible madman willingly rolling over at his mistress’s merest command.”
A commotion of relief and elation exploded.
Maram jumped on him in delight. “Merest, you breath-depleting man? I’ve been begging you for eighteen months.”
“You never struck the right chord. You didn’t say ‘for me.’ Then you did, today. All was lost then.”
“You mean you intended to accept ever since I said that?”
“Yes.”
Maram gaped at him. “And you made us beg to convince you!”
His lips quirked on his trademark goading. “Just rubbing your noses in the error of your ways. And messing with you.” He pressed her closer. “And needing to hear once again how much you love me.”
She cried out in chagrin, laughed, hugged him as his family milled around, celebrating what they all felt would be a new era of limitless prosperity for Zohayd under Amjad’s leadership.
For with Amjad there were no limits.
And she could and would love him more. And to infinity.