7
Rebecca had fumed the entire way back to the hotel. She could not believe that he had actually locked her in his quarters as if she were some sort of criminal. Vowing to spend as little time alone with him as possible, she dressed for tonight’s dinner with the delegates, smirking at Zaid’s potential responses when he found out that she had managed to outmaneuver him and leave the palace.
She didn’t think much of it when the young man at her door told her he’d been sent to escort her to dinner. Given what happened in Rajak, she assumed it was another way for Zaid to exert his control over the tour and she was delighted at the idea of him seeing her in the black gown she was wearing to dinner that evening. She couldn’t wait to feel his eyes following the subtle curves of her petite body in the form-fitting blac
k fabric, as she kept her distance.
When she realized the driver was taking her to the palace instead of to dinner with the tour group, she was tempted to tell him to take her to the restaurant but she thought better of it. He’d figured out a way to get her to go along with him after all, it seemed. She wanted to be upset with him but she couldn’t bring herself to be. While she had been angry with him for locking her in his quarters, she also knew that it was his way of trying to keep her safe. After the incident that afternoon, she wasn’t sure who was more worried Zaid or her.
Looking down at her gown, she smirked knowing how much he would appreciate it as she contemplated ways to arouse him at dinner. If he was going to try to push her around, she was prepared to retaliate in the best way she knew how.
The driver pulled up to the palace and another staff member escorted her from the car to a rooftop terrace overlooking the rest of Sharjah, where a table for two had been prepared. Zaid waited with his back to her, wearing a suit with his traditional headpiece. Turning, he pocketed his cell phone as his gaze swept over her appreciatively. Walking toward him, he murmured his approval, as he greeted her with his warm, welcoming smile. She had never been able to resist that smile.
“I’m glad you could make it,” he said walking in a circle around her, admiring her gown. “You look good enough to eat.” His comment had her wondering what he had planned for dessert.
“Cute,” she replied, moving toward the table so he couldn’t see the flush creeping across her cheeks. “You do realize I didn’t have a choice, don’t you?” she threw over her shoulder as she neared the table.
Before she could sit on her own, he was suddenly beside her, holding her chair out for her. “You could have told the driver, no,” Zaid reminded her standing close enough to her that his suit jacket brushed against her bare arm.
“I’m guessing he didn’t speak English,” she commented, reaching for her napkin, but he beat her to it, again, shaking it with a flourish and setting it across her lap.
“This from a woman who speaks Arabic,” he murmured against her ear before walking to the other side of the table to sit down.
Ignoring his comment about her language skills, she pressed him. “He presented himself as picking me up for dinner with the tour,” she argued wanting to be angry but finding it increasingly difficult.
His dark features seemed infused with pride. “You still could have told him you hadn’t arranged for a private driver to your dinner,” he teased.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Either way, you’ve got me here, now.”
He laughed, a warm and hearty sound. “I’m pleased,” he said again, and she could see in his dark eyes that he meant it. He wasn’t simply teasing her as he had been at first.
“I am, too,” she admitted. “I’m pleased we’re finally getting to do this. I’m not happy about missing dinner with the tour group, but it’s not the first time we’ve skipped out on an important dinner together is it?” She felt herself blush at the memory of that night all those years ago, the last night they’d spent together.
“No, I guess it’s not,” Zaid agreed.
She looked out over the city from the rooftop terrace. The sun was setting, lighting the sky on fire and setting the city aglow with its golden light. It was easy to see why so much of the Sultan’s world was decorated in gold. It mirrored the beautiful radiance of the Arabian sun.
“So, what’s on the menu tonight?” Rebecca asked. She drank in his imposing physique in his tailored suit.
“Well,” he started, picking up his glass of red wine and raising it to her, “I thought we’d start off with a drink.”
She grabbed her glass. “Wine? I remember you telling me that your father didn’t allow alcohol at the palace,” she said.
“He doesn’t,” he answered with a wink. “Technically, we aren’t in the palace.”
She chuckled as she sipped her red wine.
“I’m surprised your father hasn’t already arranged a marriage for you, to preserve your wealth and status,” she said. If she were honest with herself, part of the reason she’d never contacted him after she’d learned she was pregnant was because she knew there was no chance of a future between them. At the time, she’d thought it was better to let their feelings for each other fade, than to risk the pain of being separated again. She hadn’t known then how often she would think of Zaid in the years that followed. How often she would see him in Calum.
“It’s a long story, and you would have enjoyed being here for it,” he told her, “but I’m allowed to choose my own wife.” His eyes leveled on her as he spoke, drawing the blush out in her fair cheeks.
“I see.” She cleared her throat. He couldn’t possibly be hinting…besides, there was no way she could uproot Calum, take him from everything he’d ever known for a man she hardly knew anymore. Hell, for a man she’d never really known well. She filled the awkward silence. “So, what’s the main course tonight?”
“Lamb with grilled vegetables and rice,” he answered. Her heart raced, but he seemed not to notice how she’d changed the subject, or the impact of his words. She was making too much of his revelation, clearly.
And yet, it hadn’t escaped her notice that it was the same dinner he’d arranged for them in the States five years ago on their last rendezvous. It also wasn’t lost on her that they were wearing the same clothes they’d worn on that fateful, magical night.
She sat quietly with Zaid as a maid brought out a mezzes platter with different flavored hummus, fresh pita, stuffed grape leaves and marinated olives. The silence between them felt awkward, as if neither one of them knew what to say to the other over their wine and the sunset.