The Sultan's Choice (11 page)

He wanted to go and pull Samia back into his arms, carry her into the shower and wash her from head to toe himself. And then he wanted to take her back to bed and pleasure her until she couldn’t move a muscle. But something in her rigid stance made him stop. He might have suspected that he’d hurt her, but he’d felt the powerful contractions of her orgasm. She would be sore, though. She’d been so tight.

This intensity of feeling … it had to be because she’d been a virgin.
Had to be.
He hadn’t even used protection, and as much as he wanted heirs he certainly hadn’t planned on
this.
This surge of a desire so strong that there’d been no time for a rational discussion about anything.

Feeling exposed in a way that was becoming horribly familiar with this woman, he put down the towel and said, ‘You should have a shower. You’ll be sore.’

Samia flushed with embarrassment and silently pleaded with Sadiq to leave so she could be alone and make sense of what happened. ‘Yes … I will.’

She felt rather than heard him come close, and despite
the tenderness in her body she was already melting and responding. He tipped up her chin so she couldn’t avoid his eyes and she cursed him inwardly. For a moment he didn’t speak, and tension coiled deep in her belly. His eyes were stormy again, and there was some emotion that made her hold her breath. Finally his mouth quirked in a tight smile. ‘I don’t think I handled that very well.’

Samia blinked. She would imagine he hadn’t had to say anything like that to a woman for a long time—if ever. ‘What do you mean …? It was …’ She blushed even harder. ‘It was fine.’

It had been more than fine. Sex with Sadiq had exploded the very secret fear that she might be frigid and she’d tasted paradise.
Fine
was a ridiculously ineffectual word for what had just happened.

His jaw clenched. ‘I meant afterwards … I’m not the cuddly type, Samia. And I’m sorry you bled. I hope you’re not too sore. But I’m not sorry we slept together. And when we return from our honeymoon you’ll be moving into my rooms.’

Samia’s face was stained a delicate pink that had Sadiq almost carrying her back to the bed to take her again, even though he knew he couldn’t. She had to recover. She bit her lip and looked away, before looking back with such artless sensuality that his body throbbed painfully.

‘I’m not sorry we slept together either … and the pain … it wasn’t so bad.’

Sadiq could remember the way her eyes had watered, beseeching him to ease that pain. He gritted his jaw to stop himself from bending down to kiss those swollen lips. He backed away while he still could, because despite what he’d just said he was suddenly feeling the urge to offer to spend the night in her bed, just
sleeping.
‘Get some sleep, Samia. You’re going to need it.’

It was only when Sadiq had closed her door behind him that he realised he’d not planned on sharing his rooms with his wife at all. He’d planned on keeping his own private space, anticipating that the marriage bed would be purely a functional place. But suddenly everything had changed, and there was no way he could contemplate that Samia wouldn’t share his bed for the foreseeable future. He was going to find it hard enough to get through the wedding without touching her.

He reassured himself as he walked to his own room that once his desire for her diminished they would renegotiate sleeping arrangements.

Samia looked at the henna tattoo as the hot water sluiced down her body in the shower and saw that some of it had run and become smudged. She’d have to ask Alia to get the women to refresh it in the morning, and she wondered if they’d be able to tell what had happened.

Her head and heart were all over the place. She wasn’t sure how she felt any more—about anything. She thought of Sadiq’s stark statement that she’d be moving into his rooms, and the prospect of repeating the intensity she’d just experienced night after night was overwhelming.

The whole anatomy of this marriage was changing almost by the minute, resembling nothing close to what she would have imagined in London. She put her hands to her belly under the spray, recalling the warm rush of his release deep inside her. Her heart clenched. His obvious lack of concern about contraception said it all. Not to mention her part in that unforgivable oversight. But in all honesty she’d thought that they’d discuss things rationally before embarking on the physical side of things. There had been nothing rational about tonight.

Her hands trembled on her belly and Samia turned and
rested her forehead against the marble wall while the water sluiced down her back. She could already be pregnant with Sadiq’s baby. She knew that for him it would be a mere tick on the list of his things to do after marrying his convenient wife, but for Samia the future wasn’t looking so black and white any more, and she had an awful sick feeling that all her lofty notions about love were about to be seriously challenged.

O
N
the final and last evening of the wedding celebrations Samia felt wrung out and extremely on edge. She was sitting alone for a rare moment, in the palatial banqueting hall where she and Sadiq had repeated their vows earlier in the day for the second time, in front of a huge crowd. The wedding band was heavy on her finger, glinting in her peripheral vision like a brand. She was now married to Sadiq. He was her
husband.

He was just feet away, talking to her brother, his broad back to her, making her think of what it had been like to rake her fingernails down it to his muscular buttocks, when he’d shattered her in pieces the other night.

She sighed deeply. She wondered now if it had been a distant dream. Sadiq hadn’t shared her bed again since then, and Samia would like to be able to say that she’d been relieved—but she couldn’t deny that at every moment over the past three days she’d been acutely aware of Sadiq and had had to battle flashbacks to the sounds of their hearts beating in deafening unison and the way he’d felt between her legs.

It had felt wickedly decadent to know that they’d already been intimate, but that had quickly turned to frustration as Sadiq had seemed determined to keep Samia at arm’s length—sometimes visibly flinching if she touched him, even in the rare moments they’d been alone. As a result she
now felt incredibly sensitive and raw. Especially after seeing all the beautiful female guests one by one making a beeline for Sadiq. She’d had to wonder which of the more cloying ones had been his lovers.

Adding to her sense of dislocation and being on edge had been the fact that her brother had turned up with the last woman Samia would have ever expected to see him with again. The Englishwoman who had broken his heart years before. When Samia had raised an enquiring brow as Kaden had introduced Julia to Sadiq, he’d just quelled her with a fierce look, and she hadn’t had a chance to question him since then.

The first ceremony had been the most understated—the two of them alone in a room with a handful of official witnesses who had listened to them pledge their vows. The stark language and lack of frills had made it somehow more moving and momentous in a way which she knew it shouldn’t have been. After that, they’d been married. But that short ceremony had been only the start of the most colourful and frenetic seventy-two hours of Samia’s life.

It all felt slightly unreal now, like a blur. She’d gone through the motions, saying her vows to Sadiq for a second time in the more grandiose western-style service earlier. She’d been relieved when it hadn’t had the same effect as the first time round, afraid that some emotion would rise up unbidden and reveal something she wasn’t ready to share with herself, never mind the vast ogling crowd.

For the first two days she’d been relatively demurely dressed, in a selection of traditional Al-Omari kaftans and veils that had been made in Paris, and had changed into more elaborate couture gowns for the evenings. She’d been absurdly happy and touched to see that Sadiq had asked Simone to come for the wedding. The no-nonsense Frenchwoman had been on hand to help her in and out of the umpteen changes
all weekend, and had just helped her out of the ornate wedding gown and into a dark blue evening gown.

Her husband turned now, and those blue eyes seared right through her. Samia knew she was in a dangerous mood because she was feeling so sensitive and self-conscious. Three days of being under intense scrutiny was pushing her to her limit. He walked towards where she sat and a hush fell around the room. Sadiq was resplendent in the Al-Omari military uniform, a sword hanging by his side in a jewelled scabard. He put out a hand and Samia placed hers in his palm. It was time for their first public dance. It would be their most intimate contact in days.

Trembling all over, from fatigue and something more volatile, she let him lead her to the dance floor. With distinct irritation in his voice Sadiq said near to her ear, ‘If it’s not too much trouble, do you think you can manage a fake smile at least? There are about five hundred spectators watching our every move. I know this is trying for you, but it’s nearly over.’

They were practically the first words he’d directed at her since they’d exchanged vows earlier. Inexplicably it made tears smart at the back of Samia’s eyes, because she felt as if she’d been playing the role of a lifetime, smiling and pretending that crowds of people didn’t terrify her; the only thing keeping her going had been Sadiq’s solid presence by her side. But with those few words Sadiq was letting her know that her innate discomfort in this milieu had been all too evident, and their intimacy of the other night felt even more like a distant dream.

Samia hated this rollercoaster of emotions she seemed to be on, and, feeling very shrewish, looked up, her long dress not diminishing the powerful feel of Sadiq’s body one bit. ‘And of those five hundred I’d suspect that at least three hundred are lamenting the loss of a lover.’

Sadiq’s hold tightened almost painfully, and with a dangerous smile on his face he looked down and said, ‘Jealous, Samia? There’s actually only two hundred women here, so unless you’re counting some of the men as conquests of mine also …?’

His cool arrogance made her want to spin out of his arms and leave the dance floor. Heat and tension surged between them, and then he uttered something guttural in a dialect that Samia didn’t even recognise and he was kissing her. She wasn’t aware of the tumultuous applause. She was only aware that she’d been waiting like a starving person for Sadiq to kiss her again properly. The chaste touches of their lips after the vows had been like a form of torture.

When he finally broke the kiss she was pliant in his arms, staring up at him, dazed. He looked impossibly grim.

‘Do you really think I would be so crass as to invite ex-lovers to our wedding and put you in a position where people could talk or mock? And, while I’m flattered that you think me capable of it, the number of women who have graced my bed is far less than you seem to imagine. The only woman here that I want is standing right in front of me.’

Samia was stuck for words, feeling incredibly chastened even as an illicit bubble of joy rose upwards. Before she could make a complete ass of herself Sadiq continued dancing, as if the explosive moment hadn’t just happened.

Somehow Samia got through the rest of the evening, buoyed up by Sadiq’s words and the way he clamped her to his side.

Later, when he walked her to her room, Samia felt remorse clawing upwards. She knew the past few days had been trying for him too. She was also terrified he might read something into her jealousy. She turned to him outside her door and bit her lip before saying in a rush, ‘I’m sorry … about earlier. I don’t know what got into me. I’m just … a bit tired.’

Sadiq’s jaw was tense. And then he sighed deeply, raking a hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to be critical. I know how hard it must have been to have everyone staring at you like an exhibit in a zoo. And you’ve been amazing.’

Samia immediately felt a warm glow infusing her whole being. Shyly she said, ‘Really?’

Sadiq looked tense again. ‘Yes. Really.’

For a moment Samia thought he was about to kiss her, but then he stepped back and said, ‘Tomorrow morning, early, we leave for Nazirat. Be ready.’

Sadiq stood outside Samia’s closed bedroom door for a long moment while the waves of desire pounded through his body, not abating one bit. He’d never wanted a woman so badly. A mixture of ambiguous feelings made him wary, though. The past three days had not been the tedious ritual he might have expected. As he’d been saying his vows at that first ceremony, looking at Samia’s veiled and downbent head, a completely unexpected wave of emotion had surged up. He’d put it down to gratitude that he’d found the right bride for him.

And she had been … amazing. Cool, calm, dignified. The perfect bride. More than he could have hoped for. Every atom of her being exuded her lineage and background with effortless grace. He wouldn’t have believed the transformation if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, but she was no longer the awkward woman he’d first met. It hadn’t stopped him feeling inordinately protective, though, because he’d sensed it was a brittle shell hiding her insecurity.

The only time she’d shown a hint of strain had been this evening, and he cursed himself now for being so harsh on her. But when he’d seen her pale, unsmiling face, he’d thought back to how reluctant she’d been to marry him. Guilt had surged upwards. And that had brought too many unwelcome
reminders of his own parents’ marriage. His mother’s reluctance and his father’s vitriolic rage.

Sadiq kept assuring himself this was different—because he wasn’t obsessed with Samia the way his father had been obsessed with his mother. And yet with an uncomfortable prickling feeling Sadiq knew that the passion he felt for Samia was close to bordering on the obsessive. He assured himself again: he respected Samia and they both knew where they stood. This
was
different.

He thought of her comment earlier on the dance floor; she’d been
jealous.
Normally when a woman exhibited that emotion it made him run fast in the opposite direction. But with Samia … it had enflamed him. Turned him on. And he’d kissed her in front of that crowd of relative strangers like a starving man falling on a feast.

He finally backed away from the door and smiled grimly when he thought of the honeymoon ahead. One week with Samia alone in an oasis paradise in the desert. One week to get this fixation out of his system so that when they returned to B’harani his desire would not be this all-consuming need and he would be able to get on with his job.

Samia realised that Sadiq hadn’t been joking when Alia woke her at five the following morning. She was hustled out of bed, dressed, and was blinking in the dawn light outside when Sadiq pulled up in a Jeep, looking dark and gorgeous in jeans and a casual jumper. Instantly Samia was awake and on high alert.

Sadiq barely looked at her though, brusque to the point of rudeness, and they drove to a small landing pad where a helicopter was waiting.

After a thirty-minute journey over the undulating landscape of the desert that changed colour as the sun rose, they
landed near a modest-sized castle. Sadiq took her arm in a firm grip.

Samia figured that the only possible reason for his bad mood had to be because he was dreading the idea of spending a week in the desert, alone with her. Familiar insecurity constricted her insides. How could it be anything else? She was so inexperienced; he was highly sexed. The other night had to have been a disappointment for him.

She cursed herself again for having shown that she was jealous. She’d let fatigue and tension get to her, and she couldn’t let that happen again.

But as soon as they were alone in a huge and stunning bedroom which seemed to open out directly onto the vast desert he turned to her with ferocity in his eyes.

‘Come here,’ he ordered in a rough voice, and Samia moved to him as if in a dream, half scared at the look on his face and half thrilled.

As soon as she was close enough he pulled her to him and his eyes roved over her face as if he’d never seen her before. His hand was busy undoing her hair so that it fell in thick waves down her back.

‘That’s better. I was afraid to speak on the way here in case I started kissing you and couldn’t stop. The last three days have been the longest days of my life.’ He tipped up her chin. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to watch you parading around in those stunning dresses and not pull you behind a column so that I could strip you bare and make love to you until you were screaming my name and I couldn’t remember who I was?’

Heat flooded Samia and confusion reigned, along with an awful burst of hope within her breast. ‘But … last night you didn’t …?’ She bit her lip for a second and blurted out, ‘I wanted you to make love to me. But I didn’t want to … ask.’

Sadiq smiled, and it looked slightly pained. ‘I don’t know
how I walked away from you but I wanted to make sure you were fully recovered. Because I don’t intend to let you out of bed for this whole week. Starting now …’

And he took her face in his hands and kissed her until she was boneless. When he picked Samia up and carried her to the bed she was trembling all over with the anticipation and build-up of the last three days.

Later, with no idea how much time had passed, Samia woke but kept her eyes closed. She was naked, face-down in a soft bed, and she’d never felt so completely and utterly—

‘Good evening,
habibti … how
are you feeling?’

Samia smiled. She couldn’t keep it in. But she didn’t open her eyes for fear of making this dream end. Her voice sounded indecently husky. ‘I feel like I won’t be able to move ever again.’

A dark, sexy chuckle was accompanied by a hot kiss on her bare shoulder, and then the bed dipped and Sadiq got out. Reluctantly Samia opened her eyes and watched the impressive back view of her naked husband as he walked across the luxurious room to the
en suite
bathroom. Whatever she’d experienced that first night in Sadiq’s bed had been surpassed, and she knew with a little shiver of pleasure that it was only going to get better. Never in her wildest dreams or fantasies had she imagined that sex could be so … amazing.

Samia turned onto her back and looked out to see dusk falling over the dunes in the distance through the open doorway. They’d been in bed all day. And they were utterly alone, utterly remote. No one but them and the discreet staff and some of Sadiq’s security men in another lodging nearby. They were deep in the desert interior of Al-Omar, majestic in its isolation. The closest civilisation was the oasis town of Nazirat, some twenty miles away.

This ancient fortress castle had been built on a small
neighbouring oasis some three hundred years previously, but Sadiq had made improvements along the way and now it was a luxurious hideaway. Alia had told Samia that apparently one of his ancestors had built it for a favoured wife. The romanticism struck a dangerous chord in Samia.

Through the open doors she could also see the still water of their private pool, the low divans around it piled high with opulent cushions and throws. Candles flickered softly in tall glass lanterns. The gentle breeze was warm. A feeling that she’d never experienced before stole over her. Samia frowned, trying to pinpoint what it was, and with a flash realised that it was contentment. And peace.