The Sultan's Choice

Samia shook her head. ‘Sadiq, that’s horrific. Is that why she didn’t have any more children?’

‘She didn’t have any more children because my father slept with mistresses while she was pregnant with me and then passed on a sexually transmitted disease to her. She wouldn’t sleep with him after that, and as a result of his pride and refusal to seek treatment he became infertile.’

The disgust he felt whenever he thought of his father was rising inside Sadiq, and he wondered wildly for a moment how on earth they’d strayed onto a subject he never discussed with anyone.

‘Is that why you doubted your own fertility? Or why you can’t look at your mother? Because you feel guilty that you weren’t able to protect her?’

Samia’s question hit Sadiq right in his gut. He saw Samia’s huge, expressive eyes shimmering suspiciously and put down his napkin. ‘I think we’ve had enough conversation for one evening.’

Samia watched Sadiq stand up to his full impressive height. Her heart ached in a very peculiar and disturbing way. He looked so remote and proud. He was obviously angry with himself for having revealed what he had, and she’d gone too far with that question.

But she’d been no less forthcoming—as if someone had injected her with some kind of truth serum. She could have made up any old cliché about why she’d got the tattoo. She wasn’t meant to be feeling anything for this man. When he put his hand out now she took it gratefully, suddenly as eager as he was to change the subject.

Afterwards, when Samia’s head was on Sadiq’s chest with his strong heartbeat under her cheek, she thought of something and said, ‘You’re using protection now …’

She lifted her head and looked at him, and a wave of shyness washed over her to think that he’d just made love to her and had done so with such passion that she was still floating in a limbo of languorous satedness. Sadness gripped her at the thought that this would not last. It couldn’t. If he wasn’t already growing bored with her limited range of responses, he would be very soon. And she hated the self-pity that that thought engendered.

He’d gone very still for a moment, and then he looked at her, and those eyes were unreadable and his jaw was tense. He moved then, and manoeuvred them so that Samia was on her back and he was on one elbow, looking down at her.

Her insides contracted. Lord, but he was gorgeous. It was almost intimidating. The languorous bliss in her body was dissipating slightly under the cool look in his eyes.

‘I thought that it would be a good idea to give ourselves some time to get to know one another before getting pregnant.’

‘Oh …’ Samia said ineffectually. So that was the reason for his suddenly using protection.

Sadiq twitched back the sheet from where it covered Samia’s body and she flushed under his blatant appraisal. ‘But as you could already be pregnant, and part of the requirements of this marriage are heirs, I don’t see the advantage any more.’

And before she could speak, or formulate a response to that, Sadiq had drawn her up over his body, legs either side of his hips, where she could feel the potent strength of him against her moist core.

Samia had the feeling he was angry about something and taking it out on her, but she was too distracted by the feel of his erection. The sensation of hot skin to hot skin was too much. With a small groan of helpless desire she slid down onto his hard length and forgot all about anything but this delicious insanity.

Sadiq couldn’t sleep, and he wasn’t surprised. He’d just acted like a complete neanderthal and taken his own self-anger out on Samia in a very cavalier fashion. Not that she’d complained. He’d never slept with any woman so impassioned, so responsive and so giving. His heart thumped ominously. He came up on one elbow and looked at her, skin still flushed with their lovemaki

ng, lashes long against her cheek.

He could still see her sitting astride him, and the look of pure shocked bliss on her face as she’d realised that she could dictate the pace of their lovemaking—much to his intense torture, her evident delight and an eventual climax that had been so strong he’d blacked out for a split second. A first for him.

With a muted groan he got out of the bed and pulled on his robe, crossing to the ornately trellised wall which surrounded their private terrace. The desert lay spread out before him. Dammit. He brought his clenched fist down on the wall. He had intended talking to Samia about birth control. He had thought it would be a good idea to wait at least for a few months, to let her get used to life at the castle.

He was uncomfortably aware that his decision had come after that first night. After he had been driven by blind aching need and any rational thought of anything other than sating the fire in his body had precluded a sane discussion about birth control. It had only been in the sober moments during the wedding that he’d realized what a risk he’d taken.

When she’d asked the question just now, she’d reminded Sadiq uncomfortably of his own woeful neglecting to be responsible. Guilt had struck hard, and all he’d been able to think of was everything he’d just told her, which he’d never shared with another person. She’d shared something with him so had he felt obliged to spill his guts too? Once again he’d reacted from a visceral place to the threat she was posing to his once very equable life. A life he’d naively thought wouldn’t suffer so much as a ripple due to his marriage.

He wasn’t facing a ripple now. It was a storm of unprecendented power on the horizon. This marriage was veering wildly off the tracks from the type of marriage he’d set out to secure. He’d certainly not planned such a scenario as that dinner. His stomach clenched. When she’d told him about her witch of a stepmother he’d wanted to smash something and lift her up into his arms, cursing the dead woman for making Samia ever doubt herself, for stopping her from doing what she’d so evidently loved. He’d wager a bet now that she had been a brilliant piano player.

He turned to survey the woman in the bed again, as if space could help him keep his hands off her. He almost laughed aloud at that. He’d never been so consumed with lust for anyone, and it perplexed him and sent tendrils of pure fear through him as well. It was like a primal need to stamp Samia as his. To ensure she never wanted to look at another man.

Sadiq went back towards the benignly sleeping figure on the bed and silently cursed her for not being the placid, unexciting, convenient wife he’d thought he’d signed up for.

The following morning, when the sun was high outside, Sadiq woke up to see Samia emerge from the shower, wrapping her robe around her. Immediately he felt disconcerted. He wasn’t used to sleeping while in a woman’s company—it had always made him feel intensely vulnerable. Yet another thing to add to the growing list of not so welcome experiences his wife was bringing into his life.

He put out a hand. ‘You’re overdressed. Come here so I can rectify the situation.’

She bit her lip and blushed, and immediately that tangled knot of emotions had Sadiq tensing all over. What was it about this woman?

Samia felt ridiculously nervous, and unaccountably weak after a long night of being subjected to Sadiq’s personal brand of torture. But she had to clarify something, because it was only afterwards she’d realised how arrogant he’d been.

She ignored his autocratic decree and said, ‘Look, I would have appreciated talking about birth control before we …’ She blushed and hitched up her chin. ‘Before we made love. I think it is a good idea. If I’m already pregnant we’ll know soon enough, but if I’m not then I’d prefer to use birth control for a few months at least.’