His Defiant Desert Queen
“You’re lonely?”
She nodded. “Yes. I miss what I had. Not the things, but the friends, the activities, the energy. I used to wake up every day, excited to see what the day would bring. Now I just get by. Push through.”
“Once we return to Ketama, once everyone knows of our marriage, you will discover that doors presently closed to you, will open. As my wife, you will be welcome everywhere. As my wife, no one would dare to shame you, or exclude you.”
Jemma popped half the cookie in her mouth and chewed, but her mouth had gone dry, and the cookie tasted like sawdust. “I don’t want to be accepted because people are afraid of alienating you. I want to be accepted because people like me.” Her eyes suddenly burned and she took a sip from her golden goblet. “It hurts to be scorned.”
“Which is why you need my protection. I do not want you to suffer more than you have.”
His gaze met hers and held. His dark eyes burned into her. She felt her pulse quicken, and butterflies flit wildly in her middle, her body humming with awareness.
Mikael would be a protective husband. He would probably be generous to a fault. He’d already showered her with gifts and trinkets, and was good at paying her compliments.
She wondered what marriage to him would be like. Not the honeymoon part, but the ever after part.
What kind of husband would he be?
Would he have expectations for his wife’s behavior? Rules for the relationship? What would he not permit, or tolerate?
Mikael’s eyes met hers, and held. “You have something on your mind.”
“You can read me too easily. Have you always been so attentive to women?”
“No. Never.” He leaned over and refilled her goblet. “I’m usually accused of being insensitive and self-absorbed.”
“Are you different with me?”
“It would seem so.”
“Because I am your wife?”
“Because I can’t help but pay you attention. You command it.”
“I command it. Interesting.”
“You are a queen now. You are in a position of significance.”
“Careful. The power might go to my head.” But she was laughing as she said it, and from his lazy smile, she knew he was amused. “Do you enjoy your power?”
He thought about the question for a moment and then nodded. “Sheikhs are allowed to be as demanding as they like. It is the benefit of being royal. But power carries responsibility to provide for one’s family, and people, and protect them as well. This is where my father failed. This is where I cannot fail.”
“I do not think you will. You have the right mindset. You are focused on the right goals.”
“I am less focused now that you are here,” he admitted. “With you here I find I only want to think about you.”
“It is your honeymoon.”
“Our honeymoon,” he corrected, reaching out to stroke her cheek, and then press his thumb to her lips.
Heat raced through her, followed by a frisson of sensation that made her breasts tingle and her legs quiver. She felt so aware of him and the awareness was a bittersweet tension, her body humming in response. She ached inside, at the place where her thighs joined, and she hated wanting...needing...
Jemma squeezed her thighs together, denying the need, and struggling to ignore the way her skin tingled, sending fresh darts of sensation from her breasts to her belly.
His gaze met hers and held, and he couldn’t know what she was thinking or feeling, but she blushed anyway, heat racing through her, making her hot and cold.
She was attracted to him. She was responding to him. It crossed her mind that she just might be in over her head.
“Yes, laeela?” he asked, reclining against the cushions. “What are you thinking?”
She shouldn’t have agreed to this. She shouldn’t have played this game. It was a game she could lose. “You...your government,” she stuttered, thinking she could never admit that sex was on her brain. Sex, seduction, sensual lovemaking...no, better to keep the conversation away from the personal.
“Our government?” he repeated, eyes crinkling. “Politics intrigue you?”
No, but you intrigue me. You make me wonder about everything I do not yet know. Instead she crossed her legs and tried to calm herself. “Did you inherit your power?”
“Yes.”
“Because you were first born, of the first wife?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“Yes. Many.”
Interesting. “Are any of them in a government position?”
“There are three that have inherited significant tribal power and wealth, but so far these half brothers prefer to avoid work and responsibility.”
“They are the sons of your father’s second wife?”
“She had three boys in quick succession. They are handsome, popular, and quite headstrong.”
“You like them?”
“I love them.” He hesitated, smiling wryly. “And I imagine I will like them even better once they begin to grow up.”
She grimaced. “It’s easy to be self-indulgent when you’re given everything. I grew up in a wealthy family, surrounded by peers from equally wealthy families. It’s not the real world. As difficult as it’s been this past year, I’m glad to be living in the real world. I know now who my true friends are. I know what matters.”
“I hope one day my brothers discover what’s true, and real.”
“Perhaps they need an incentive to mature. Perhaps it’s too easy for them...being young, handsome, and wealthy.”
“They do have it too easy. Nothing is worse than a spoiled, billionaire prince.”
“Were you ever like that? A spoiled, billionaire prince?”
“It was different for me. I’ve always known I would be king. And I’ve always been conscious that I was the son from the bad first wife, the American wife. I’ve tried hard to do the right thing, to avoid additional scrutiny and criticism.”
She studied him, still warm, still so fascinated by this man and how he made her feel things and want things. But she had to be careful. She needed to remain in control. “We don’t hear much about Saidia in the news in the US.”
“That’s because we try to stay out of the news, and we are a stable country. Historically, the Karims have gone to great lengths to ensure our people’s happiness.”
“So people are happy?”
“Yes. We have excellent schools and health care. Girls are actively encouraged to attend school, even pursue higher education. Marriage is forbidden under the age of eighteen, without parental consent.” His dark eyes glowed. “Does that answer all of your questions? Or is there something else you’d like to know?”
The gleam in his eye was dangerous. It made her pulse leap, and her stomach lurch. Just like that, she felt him...near her, around her, as if they were connected. One. Which was ludicrous. She barely knew him and they weren’t touching. He was reclining four or five feet away.
And yet her skin tingled and her insides felt strange, her nerve endings wound too tightly.
The desert wasn’t safe. Not with Mikael in it.
“And what are you thinking of now?” he asked, his deep voice pitched low, making her think of dark sensual things that she shouldn’t be thinking, not when alone with him.
“What is your seduction plan?” she asked. “What’s supposed to happen tonight?”
He didn’t smile, but she could have sworn he was laughing at her.
“What do you think is going to happen?”
She hated it when he answered her question with another question. “No idea. That’s why I asked.”
“I have an idea of how I think the evening will go,” he said, watching her with that lazy interest, which she knew now wasn’t lazy at all.
He was paying close attention to her, listening attentively to everything she said, observing everything she did.
He, too, was aware of the energy between them. Something was happening. She felt the heat and tension, the prickling awareness. It was sexual. And tangible. Her gown which had been so comfortable earlier now felt hot and tight, constricting.
“You are impossible,” she whispered, breathless. He made her breathless.
Did he know the effect he had on her? Did he know that he made her curious? Weak?
She felt weak now, and hot, so hot, as tiny tongues of desire made her nipples tighten inside the delicate fabric of her dress.
“Yesterday was touch,” he said. “I gave you a massage.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “It was an incredible massage, too.”
“Today...what have we done so far?”
“Kissed,” she whispered.
“Exactly. Today I can only kiss you.”
“Oh.” She tried to stifle the stab of disappointment.
“Fortunately, there are many different ways I can kiss you.”