Catherine stared at him. Their marriage? This joke had gone far enough. “Stop teasing. We’re not really going to be married.”
Hakim’s black eyes snapped at her and the darkly dangerous side to his nature she had first suspected became all too real. “When you promise me something I expect the same from you. We will be married.”
“But why?” It had to be obvious to him that he didn’t have to marry her in order to make love to her. She was way too vulnerable to her desire for him and after what had happened on the couch, he had to know it.
He tapped the end of her nose with his forefinger. “Are you so uncertain of your own appeal you must ask this question?”
“But you’re a sheikh for goodness’ sake. Don’t you have to marry a princess or something?”
“We are not quite so medieval in the royal family of Jawhar. Catherine, it is my desire to marry you.”
A twenty-four-year-old children’s librarian who had never even been kissed by a man before that night? “I don’t think so.”
The gentle touch of his palm against her cheek mesmerized her. “I want you, Catherine. I thought that was obvious.”
Was it true? Felicity had told Catherine many times that she no longer the girl too tall for her age or whose face was pockmarked with severe acne. But Catherine had never stopped feeling like that girl.
He tilted her head toward him. “Accept that it pleases me very much to make you my wife.”
But why did it please him? The only logical answer that she could think of was so beyond the realm of reality, she felt shock thrill her even contemplating it. Yet, she could think of only one reason for a man like Hakim to marry a woman like her. She had no diplomatic pull, could not increase his cache with his people and while her father was wealthy, Hakim was wealthier.
Love.
He had to love her. It was the only thing that made any sense of their situation. He’d never said the words, but maybe that was a cultural thing. Or an alpha guy, totally in charge and too cool to admit to really tender emotions kind of thing. Whatever.
When she remained silent, stunned by the thoughts racing through her mind, he sighed and rolled onto his back. “The time has come for me to marry. It is my uncle’s wish I marry now.”
“And you picked me.”
“You are my chosen bride, yes.”
She thought of the years since her laser treatments during which her father had thrown men at her head, men interested only in what they would gain materially from the marriage. Men who had not stirred her emotions or her senses as Hakim did. Not only did he stir her emotions, he returned them.
A glorious smile broke over her face. “I want children.” Family who would love her and accept her love unconditionally.
“As do I.”
Then a sudden thought assailed her, one she could not dismiss. Not when he’d withheld the words of love so there was this little niggle of doubt way down, deep inside. “You have to be faithful. No mistresses. No other wives.”
He didn’t smile, didn’t make a joke of it as some men would have. In fact, his expression turned even more serious, his mouth set grimly. “Polygamy is not practiced in Jawhar and to take a mistress would be to compromise my own honor as a prince among my people.”
“Then I will marry you.” Even as she said the words, she had a hard time believing them.
“Then I am content.”
The words were a little disappointing. I am content did not sound nearly as romantic as I love you, but what did she expect with a sophisticated guy like Hakim? A brass band?
“It is time we slept.” He kissed her briefly and it was all she could do not to follow his lips as they pulled away from hers.
“All right.”
Although, he did not pull her into his body, he did lay one arm across her stomach and it felt so nice, she wasn’t even tempted to slip into fantasizing herself to sleep. For once, reality outshone anything her imagination could conjure.
A featherlight touch on his cheek wore Hakim. He waited to open his eyes to see what she would do.
Her small hand settled on his chest, her fingertips touching his collarbone. And then nothing. No movement of any kind, but he could feel her gaze as if it were an electric current directed at him. Opening his eyes, he found her looking not at his face, but at her hand against his chest.
“Good morning.”
Her gaze rose to his and the wonder in the blue depths of her eyes did strange things to him. “Good morning, Hakim.”
She was closer than she had been last night, her warm, womanly body pressed against his length and his morning erection tightened to urgent need in the space of a heartbeat. She could not help but notice, the small gasp and perfect “O” of her lips confirming she had indeed felt his body’s response to her nearness.