Duty, Desire and the Desert King
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ON RETURNING to the palace they retreated to Zayed’s wing, where his rooms were dimly lit by the soft glow of candles and smelled faintly of fragrant sandalwood.
“It’s nice,” Rou said, taking in the way the candlelight flickered, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls and stone floor.
“I think my valet is determined to help me in the romance department,” Zayed said wryly. “He was worried when we didn’t spend last night together.”
She set her small gold bag on the table behind his blue velvet couch. “He said that?”
“No, but he asked enough indirect questions to make me understand that he was concerned and ready and willing to help, should I only seek his advice.”
Her lips curved. “I take it you did not ask for any.”
“I did not,” he affirmed, approaching her.
Rou’s pulse jumped as he neared. When they were sitting down with a table between them he was so much less imposing, but standing, he was tall and muscular, handsome and elegant, and the combination of all those factors made him far too intimidating.
He reached for her, putting an arm around her waist, and then drawing her toward him. The flutter in her middle became a wild thudding. The whole body contact thing was still alarming. As was the relationship itself. She still couldn’t quite believe they were together…married…and she didn’t quite know how to reconcile herself to the concept of married life.
His head lowered, his lips brushed her ear. “I can see the wheels turning, Dr. Tornell. You live in a state of constant analysis.”
His body was hard and yet warm, and that warmth penetrated her dress and skin, sinking all the way into her bones. It was such a seductive heat, promising all kinds of ease and pleasure. “I like to use my brain.”
“It’s an excellent brain, but your body is excellent, too.”
Her heart hammered. “Maybe we should spend a little more time getting to know each other before we start getting to know each other’s bodies.”
He kissed the side of her neck. “We can’t do both at the same time?”
How could just one kiss on her neck make her so weak? It wasn’t fair that he seemed to know where every nerve ending lay, too. Rou closed her eyes, trying to block the delicious sensations coursing through her so she could focus on what was important—and that was their relationship. “It’s not quite as effective. The body is easier to gratify.”
He tilted her head back, kissed beneath her jaw. “I don’t know about that. You’re quite a challenge, my dear doctor.”
If only he knew the truth, she thought, her breath catching as his lips moved along her sensitive jaw, and the curl of desire turned into something hotter, sharper, more urgent.
He’d always been gorgeous, but these past few days he was more than just a physically attractive man. He appealed to something deeper in her, appealed to a part of her that no one else could touch. It was bittersweet to know that he had such power over her, too.
What if she fell for him the way Angela did? What if she fell hard?
Her breath came shallowly as he kissed the corner of her mouth and his hands slid up her back, shaping her to him.
He was making her remember needs and emotions, making her want those needs and emotions, and yet he’d never once promised anything other than respect and protection. But they would be cold bedfellows.
Be careful, a little voice inside her head warned her. You’re so close to disaster here. So close to total destruction.
Rou’s self-preservation struck back, chasing away the fog of desire. She couldn’t afford to give him all the power. She had to remain an equal, a true partner. It was the only way for their relationship to survive. She pushed back from him now, creating space so that she could think properly.
“It’s late,” she said, hoping her voice was even, hoping he wouldn’t know how difficult it was to break away from him. “I should return to my room.”
“But these are our rooms now. Everything has been brought here from your suite, and that wing of the palace has been closed again.”
She took another step back in her high, slim heels, her hands going to her hips. “Is that why you took me out for dinner? So the staff could scurry around and move me into your rooms without me protesting?”
“Laeela, we are married, it’s proper that we share rooms.”
“Your valet’s peace of mind is more important than mine?”
Zayed laughed, a low, husky, sexy laugh that sent a ripple of awareness through her. He was so very male, and so very primal, and so very comfortable. Too comfortable.
“I’m not trying to be funny, Zayed,” she added, feeling ridiculously emotional, which meant she was tired. She only became emotional when she needed sleep, and after two sleepless nights, sleep was what she craved most right now and there was no way she could get the sleep she needed in Zayed’s bed. “I haven’t slept well in days.”
Zayed, with that uncanny ability of his to read her mind, smiled down at her. “You will be able to sleep here in our room just fine. I won’t bite you, and I promise not to pounce on you.”
She never understood how he always knew what she was thinking. “It’s just that I’m used to sleeping alone. I’ve never spent the night with a man.”
He gold gaze warmed. “It’s not much different from napping with me, except the night is longer.”
“But I’ll feel you in the bed. I’ll know you’re there.”
“Can’t that be a good thing?”
A disturbing thing, she answered silently, aware that he still held her in the crook of his arm, aware that her pulse was now pounding like mad. Looking up into his face she felt an inexplicable tightness in her chest, which made catching her breath a struggle.
How was it possible that this man, this gorgeous man, this king, was her husband?
“Shall we go to bed?” he asked, his voice deepening.
“Only if we can build a wall of pillows between us,” she answered coolly.
“What are you afraid of? I’ve promised you I won’t seduce you tonight. You’ll sleep unmolested, laeela.”
What was she afraid of? I’m afraid of you, she wanted to tell him. Afraid that I’ve fallen in love with a man who will never love me back. But she held back the words, keeping the truth to herself as she understood the importance of appearances and the need for dignity.
With her emotions now well under control, she managed a mocking smile. “Just afraid of not getting the rest I need. But know that if you do get amorous I will poke you, and it’ll hurt.”
And Zayed, he of the ghosts and dark, haunted past, laughed, a rich, boyish laugh, which made his lips curve and his eyes light up. “You know, you are the first woman who has threatened me if I touched her.”
“Because I’m the first woman you’ve tried to seduce that has any common sense.”
Rou saw his eyes warm, the golden depths gleaming, and she realized belatedly that he loved the challenge she presented him. It stirred him, brought out the primal male in him. Not something she wanted before she slipped between his sheets. “I hope Manar remembered to pack my nightgown,” she said.
“I would hope not,” he answered. “You’ll sleep better naked—”
“Ha!”
“But if she didn’t,” he continued with a grin, “I’m sure I can find a shirt for you to sleep in. But there is your closet. Have a look, see what you can find.”
Rou opened the doors to the closet and was greeted by a rainbow of color and a low dresser filled with her silk and satin underwear, which did include a nightgown or two. She grabbed the first gown she found, a sleek ivory number made of silk with the thinnest of shoulder straps, and after changing in the ensuite bathroom, Rou cleaned her teeth and combed her hair, giving the blond strands a vigorous brushing before heading for Zayed’s oversize bed.
Leaving the bathroom, she walked toward the bed as though she didn’t have a care in the world, walked as if it were a Sunday stro
ll in the park, walked as if oblivious to the fact that Zayed sat in an armchair watching her, a smile playing at his sensual mouth.
Beast, she muttered to herself. He’s no gentleman, she added, as she reached the bed and realized she didn’t know which side he preferred to sleep on.
Rou hesitated, and, gritting her teeth, turned toward Zayed, aware that she was giving him an eyeful of silk-clad curves. The nightgown was ridiculously form-fitting and far more sheer than a nightgown needed to be. “Which side do you sleep on?”
His gaze traveled slowly, appreciatively, from her head to her bare feet and then back up again, lingering indecently long at the juncture of her thighs and then her breasts. “I usually just sleep in the middle.”
She could feel her nipples harden beneath his gaze, and it took all of her self-control not to cover herself. “Unfortunately tonight you only get half the bed. Which half is it to be?”
“The half you’re sleeping on.”