“Leave it,” he ordered, sinking into one of the massive chairs, his golden gaze hooded, his expression impossible to read. “The servants will do that. You, come sit here with me.”
She wiped her hands on a damp towel and moved slowly toward him. Kahlil’s good mood was gone. He exuded anger, barely leashed tension. What had she said? What had she done?
She smoothed her skirt, preparing to sit in one of the leather chairs.
“Not there. Here.”
Bryn hesitated uncertainly, glancing at his long, powerful legs, the ground, the circle of chairs. “Where?”
“Here,” he repeated, pointing to the carpet. “At my feet.”
“On my knees?”
“Yes.”
Color swept through Bryn’s cheeks, humiliated by the request. She didn’t move. She couldn’t. She stood rooted to the spot, trembling with shame and rage.
Seconds passed, long seconds passed, one after the other. She swallowed hard. A minute must have finally squeaked by.
Kahlil pointed to the carpet at his feet.
Nerves screaming in protest, she forced herself to move, walking slowly toward him and painfully lowering herself to the floor.
“Closer,” he commanded.
She resisted yet again, smoldering at his imperial tone. He waited. She hesitated.
“Do you have a problem doing my bidding?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know why you want me to sit on the floor when you’re inviting your cousin to join us. A chair would be more appropriate, don’t you think?”
“It strikes me you’re more interested in pleasing Amin than in pleasing me.”
“That’s not so—” She broke off at the sound of footsteps echoing on polished marble.
Amin had arrived. Kahlil gestured for him to come forward.
“Please let me up,” she softly pleaded.
“No.” Kahlil gazed down at her, utterly expressionless. “Stay where you are.”
“You’re unfair.”
“One more word and I shall use you as a footstool!”
Blushing furiously, she slowly sank down, her white silk skirt beaded with pearls billowing gently.
“Closer.”
Blood surging from her neck to her hairline, Bryn slid forward on her knees. Kahlil pointed to the navy cushion decorated with immense gold tassels wedged between his feet. “Here.”
She cast an indignant glance at the pillow. Not just at his feet, she noted, clamping her jaw tightly together, but between his feet, like a dog panting for his master. Kahlil really was taking this king role to an extreme!
Her hesitation didn’t go unnoticed. Bending down, Kahlil tapped the pillow twice, a wordless command. All in front of Amin.
It was like pouring salt in tender wounds.
Her flashing blue eyes met Kahlil’s and his thick black eyebrow lifted, I’m waiting, he seemed to say.
His dominance mortified her. She couldn’t believe he was forcing her to submit in front of Amin. Torture, that’s what this was, torture.
Irritably, her temper barely controlled, she scooted forward until she finally knelt between his legs, her hands balled in her silk-covered lap.
“That’s better.”
“For whom?” she gritted.
“Shh,” he replied, pressing a finger to her lips. “You don’t want me to enforce my threat, do you? Because surely, laeela, you’d feel even more inelegant as a footstool.”
Amin laughed.
My God, he laughed.
She closed her eyes, held her breath and prayed for the ground to open.
It did not.
CHAPTER NINE
COFFEE was poured by a servant, desserts were passed, and Bryn sat during the boring conversation staring at the carpet in front of her. Amin droned on about his life in Monte Carlo: girls, cars, gambling in the glittering casinos. But finally conversation dwindled and Kahlil eventually bade Amin good-night.
As the door closed behind Amin, Bryn jumped to her feet, her legs stiff, her knees aching. “Well, that was quite impressive! Amin must be amazed by your mastery.”
“Mastery of…?”
“Me,” she snapped, banging her thumb into her chest.
Kahlil leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger to his lips. “Do I have mastery over you?”
“That’s not my point—”
“It’s exactly my point,” he interrupted. “You promised me you’d change, assured me of your loyalty. Tonight was a test. I wanted to see how you’d behave around Amin.”
“Did I pass?”
“Yes. Beautifully.”
“Next time, tell me your intentions. I might be able to fulfil your imperial expectations.”
“Why tell you? So you can play a little game, pretend to obey? Laeela, I don’t want pretense. I want the real thing.”
“Obedience.”
“Surrender.”
She shrugged impatiently. “I’ve given you my body. I’ve agreed to renew our vows. What else can you want? What other proof do you need?”
“Yet you’re angry.”
“Yes, I’m angry. I’m angry you think so little of me that you find it necessary to make me sit there like a lapdog, panting at your feet.”
His golden eyes suddenly gleamed, otherwise his expression remained neutral. ?
?One wouldn’t have known you objected to my attentions—”
“Inattention.” She interrupted, correcting him with a scowl. “I wasn’t part of the conversation. You didn’t once look at me.”
He reached out, caught her hands in his, brought one wrist to his lips, kissing the tender skin on the inside. “I’m paying attention to you now.”
“I don’t want the attention now!”
A small muscle pulled in his jaw. “Strangely, darling, your behavior leads me to believe otherwise. Your color is high. Your breathing quick, your lovely lips parted. Truthfully you appear…exhilarated.”
Truthfully she felt overwrought. She was torn between excitement and anger, her skin acutely sensitive to him, her nerves too taut. Just the press of his lips to her wrist sent shiver after shiver streaking down her spine. And now, just like every other time, his touch undid her, her mind going blank, her body throbbing to life.
Dragging her gaze up, her eyes met his. His eyes, amber and flecked with bits of pale gold, glowed. She imagined she could see the fire behind the gold, the passion simmering within. He’d taught her everything about making love, made her body an instrument of pleasure…hers and his. She blushed, heat scorching through her skin, heightening the color in her cheeks.
He kissed her wrist again, his lips lingering against the slender bones, before linking her fingers in his. “We’ll marry,” he said quietly. “We’ll try again to make our marriage work. But first, I think we should discuss a few things, air grievances, wipe the slate clean. Let’s start with you. Why did you leave me three years ago?”
Did they have to do this now? It had to be close to midnight, she was dead on her feet and wanted nothing more than to creep into bed. “Can this wait, Kahlil? I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept well in days.”
“We can’t start a marriage with ghosts hanging over our heads.”
“Perhaps then, we should take some time to explore this, but not so late at night after the most impossibly long couple of days, and not after your cousin has spent two hours bragging about his gambling debts!” She felt her cheeks burn, her temper close to erupting. “Why do you tolerate him away? He’s a leech, Kahlil, he doesn’t even work.”