The Sultan's Choice

And then he kissed her so thoroughly that Samia knew that even if she had remembered to put lipstick on it would be well and truly gone by now. Mesmerised by his intensity, she let herself be guided into a more luxurious Jeep than the one they’d used for the dune-driving, and Sadiq drove them for about fifteen minutes in the darkening night before she saw flickering lights ahead. She was aware of the security Jeep and bodyguards behind them, but they were discreet.

She gasped when she saw what the lights were. An ornate bedouin tent, with a single palm tree and a small shimmering pool lit by the light of the full moon and flaming torches. It was beautiful—like something out of a fantasy.

Sadiq stopped the Jeep and cast her a glance. ‘It’s probably the smallest oasis in the world.’

Samia was already clambering out of the Jeep. ‘It’s perfect,’ she breathed.

She took off her shoes so she could walk in the sand, and squealed when Sadiq lifted her up into his arms. He looked down at her with mock annoyance. ‘You fool. Have you forgotten how dangerous it is to walk in the sand at night in bare feet?’

Samia scowled back at him. ‘You’re the one that gave me six inch heels. How am I supposed to walk in them?’

He grimaced. ‘You’re right. That was a stupid idea. I should have got you walking boots.’

Samia giggled to think of the incongruity of boots with this dress, and wiggled her toes deliciously. She cocked her head on one side. ‘No, actually, I think I prefer being carried by you. Much more satisfying.’

And then, after a look so hot she wondered how she didn’t go up in flames, Sadiq took her into the tent, and she had no sense of what was about to happen.

The sheer luxurious opulence of the scene took Samia’s breath away and hit her between the eyes like a sledgehammer. Her heart started thumping, hard. It was like a scene from one of her childhood storybooks. The ones with pictures of sultans and Sheikhs sitting on sumptuous cushions eating delicacies, with beautiful exotic women reclining on equally luxurious divans.

She’d never even realised she held such a vision in her head. It was as if Sadiq was seeing right inside her to a secret place she hadn’t been aware of herself, where she harboured a romantic fantasy of an idyll such as this, and was reproducing it with an ease that was truly awesome.

She tensed all over against the need to believe that this was real. When of course it couldn’t be. Not in the way she wanted it to be—and that was a very scary revelation. It was as if she were freefalling from a great height; this whole scene was making her feel weak with yearning when it shouldn’t.

An easy intimacy had stolen over Samia in the past few days, and she’d grown used to waking entwined with Sadiq, relishing his possessive embrace. But he’d warned her that he wasn’t the cuddly type. He was just doing it for her benefit, for the honeymoon. It was all an act. It had to be. The man was a consummate seducer—he knew what women wanted. Was he doing this for her because he thought she needed it? Did he see the pathetic crush she was developing on him?

He finally put her down on her feet and she felt dizzy and a little sick. Before she could make a complete fool of herself, or have him make some teasing sardonic comment, she asked in a quiet voice, ‘Why are you doing this, Sadiq? You don’t have to. We’re married. You don’t have to seduce me like this.’

‘You don’t have to seduce me like this. ‘

Sadiq felt as if he’d just been slapped in the face. He had that awful anxiety dream sensation of standing in front of a crowd of people and suddenly forgetting what he was meant to say, with everyone looking at him expectantly.

For the past few days something had stolen over him, seducing him. An intimacy he’d never experienced before. He’d found himself wanting to go deeper into the desert with Samia. Experience the vast openess with her. And, without even thinking about what he was doing, he’d arranged for this tent to be set up.

And now he felt foolish, exposed, because he suddenly realised how this must look. No wonder she was wondering what was going on. Why would she expect something like this? She wasn’t a mistress, expecting such grand gestures. She hadn’t even thought to put makeup on earlier—and why would she? She wasn’t trying to entice Sadiq. They were married.

Suddenly absurdly angry with himself, Sadiq said harshly, ‘Let’s go back, then. It was a stupid idea.’

He was turning around when he felt his arm being pulled, and looked down to find himself diving into those blue depths. ‘No, wait—I’m sorry. It’s so beautiful. I’m just a bit confused … that’s all. I’m not sure what this is.’ Before he could accuse her of thinking it, Samia said in a rush, ‘This is what you do for a lover, to seduce and entice, so what’s the point, Sadiq?’

Sadiq’s jaw clenched hard. He never acted out of blind instinct. He was always completely aware of what he was doing and why. The enormity of what he’d done sank into him and the urge to self-protect became paramount.

He pulled her into his body, where she could feel the hard ridge of his erection. Much to his chagrin, nothing could dampen that. ‘That’s the point,’ he ground out, pressing her closer, seeing how her eyes went dark with desire.

‘If it makes you feel better then I’ll tell you that I’ve brought all my mistresses here, so really it’s been no bother. I fancied a change of scenery. That’s all.’

Furious at the hurt that lanced her, mixed with relief that she hadn’t given herself away, Samia said caustically, ‘You’re right. That does make me feel so much better. I’d hate to think you went to all this trouble just for me.’

Within seconds they were kissing furiously. Samia heard her dress rip when Sadiq pulled it open but she didn’t care. All she cared about was that this mad, heated insanity was distracting her from something that felt very painful.

Their lovemaking was fast and furious, on one of the decadently sumptuous divans. When it was over Sadiq rolled away from Samia and she realised that he hadn’t even fully undressed. She felt like apologizing, but the words were stuck in her throat. She could have said nothing, but she’d been so afraid of wanting to believe that this meant something she’d had to prove that it didn’t. And she’d got her proof. Spectacularly.

Sadiq got up and rearranged his clothing. He barely glanced at Samia, who lay in what looked like wanton disarray. With a jerk of his head he said, ‘There’s a washing area behind the screen. When you’re ready we’ll go back to the castle. This was a mistake.’

Again Samia wanted to reach out and say … What? It was useless. She gathered up her dress and went behind the screen. The poor dress was so torn that Samia had to pull on a robe instead. When she emerged Sadiq was standing dressed in the doorway of the tent, the line of his back remote. It was only when Samia was walking towards the entrance that she saw the wine bucket with a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and a range of finger food delicacies.

She cursed herself for not keeping her mouth shut. Of course it wouldn’t have meant anything—why had she had to insist on hearing that from Sadiq himself?

The next morning Sadiq stood looking out over the dawn breaking. The sight had never failed to take his breath away but this morning it was failing. Spectacularly. For some reason the desert had lost its effortless allure and it felt flat and drained of colour. And he wanted to see the back of it, which was entirely unlike him. No matter what was going on he always managed to find solace in this place.