The Sultan's Choice (13 page)

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.’

Sadiq was up on one arm, and to Samia’s shock she saw a sheepish look cross his face before he smoothly got out of the bed and crossed to her. She tried to ignore his naked state and focus.

‘I owe you an apology.’

‘You do?’

‘I should never have acted in such a cavalier manner. It was unbelievably arrogant and disrespectful to you. And, like I said, I
had
intended speaking with you about it.’

His easy apology made something melt inside her. Samia recalled the way it had felt to slide down on top of Sadiq, skin to skin, and between her legs she grew moist. If he could see inside her head she’d die of shame.

‘It’s fine. There was two of us there, and if I’d insisted you stop to use protection you would have.’

Sadiq tipped up her chin and with a rueful look in his eye said, ‘I think you credit me with too much control—control which I seem to be in short supply of whenever you’re near me.’

Samia’s heart thumped once—hard. When Sadiq’s eyes darkened and he opened her robe to push it from her shoulders she didn’t protest.

T
HE
next day Sadiq knew he was in very dangerous territory—literally and metaphorically. Samia was at the wheel of his Jeep and looking at him with a very mischievous grin on her face. They were teetering on the top of one of the steepest dunes he’d ever seen, and with not a little fear prickling his skin he cursed himself for giving in to her wish to drive. ‘You do realise that if anything happens to me the Hussein line will die out?’ he said.

Her grin got wider. ‘Are you telling me you’re scared?’

He was terrified. ‘Never.’

She looked ahead, or more accurately down, and said in a grim voice, ‘Hang on tight.’

And that was all Sadiq could do as they plunged down the sheer wall of sand. When they got to the bottom and he was still intact and breathing he opened one eye. Samia was already turning to climb back up the other side of the dune. She stopped the jeep and looked at him, ‘See? Piece of cake. Next time we do it you can keep your eyes open.’

‘I don’t think so.’ With awesome strength Sadiq lifted her from the driving seat and scooted over, so he was in control again. He smiled urbanely at Samia’s pink indignant face. ‘You’ve made your point. You’ve demonstrated your ability commendably. If I’m ever incapacitated in the desert I’d want no-one else to drive me out.’

She spluttered ineffectually as he expertly drove the Jeep back up the dune, and then finally he saw her smile out of the corner of his eye and heard something that sounded like, ‘Honestly—men.’

The truth was that witnessing Samia’s ability to dune-drive almost as expertly as he did, was making him feel off-centre. He wondered just how many more secrets she was hiding, along with that tantalising tattoo just above her plump buttocks. The thought of her buttocks made him change the gears awkwardly, grinding them painfully, and Sadiq took great pleasure in wiping the smug grin off Samia’s face as they descended once again at an even more dangerous angle.

The following evening Sadiq was waiting for Samia when she came out of the bathroom. She felt a little dazed. They’d spent most of their time in bed, apart from one or two forays into the desert. She hadn’t been dune-driving since she’d been a teenager with Kaden, and it had been exhilarating to surprise Sadiq with her proficiency. She’d forgotten the sheer joy there could be in that huge silent space. She’d seen a more carefree side to Sadiq than she would have believed existed—as if the desert injected him with some sort of relaxant—and it had only been then that she’d realised how intensely he held himself in check all the time.

He was dressed in a long traditional robe and turban now, and looked slightly fearsome against the dusk. When she remembered how expertly he’d handled his peregrine falcon earlier, and had stood behind her to show her how to hold him, she felt weak inside.

He smiled and flicked his eyes up and down, taking in the flimsy towel which was all she wore. Samia wished she had the confidence to let the towel drop and sashay over to him to seduce him, but he was indicating a box on the
bed and saying throatily, ‘Change into those clothes and then meet me downstairs. I want to take you somewhere tonight.’

Wordlessly Samia watched him leave the room and crossed to the bed. Opening the box, she gasped to find a gorgeous satin dress in a dark red colour. There was underwear made of a material so fine it was like silk cobwebs. With clumsy hands and a delicious sense of anticipation Samia put the underwear on and let the dress drop down over her head. Against her pale skin it looked sinful, and clung to every curve before coming to rest on her feet.

She found matching shoes and put them on. They were so high she teetered for a moment, before taking a deep breath and leaving the room. Sadiq was waiting in the impressively unadorned hall. Flame lanterns lit the ancient walls. As she came down the stairs his eyes widened and the beat of her heart got loud in her ears.

She came to a stop just feet away and he took her hand to lead her ouside. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes glowed fiercely blue. Suddenly she realised something and embarrassment coursed through her.

She stopped and Sadiq looked back, impatience etched into his features. ‘What is it?’

Samia touched her hair and her face. ‘I never did anything … with my hair or face. No makeup.’

She could have slid right into the ground. What kind of a woman was she? What kind of woman just
forgot
parts of getting ready? Alia had put together a vanity case full of makeup and hair accessories for Samia. Samia didn’t know what to do with half of them, but she could have put on some mascara, or lipstick, or something.

Sadiq came close and took her face in his hands. Samia could see his impatience up close now and trembled—

because it was an impatience that echoed through her own body. An impatience to be naked and alone.

‘You are absolutely stunning exactly as you are. I don’t want you to change one thing. You don’t need one shred of makeup.’

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.

He closed his eyes but it was no good. All he could see was Samia, holding that torn dress in her hands, and the way she’d walked with such regal hauteur back into the castle last night. It hadn’t stopped him following her into the shower, though, and making love to her. The anger had still been simmering inside him, even though he’d known there was no rational reason for it. If anything, Samia had done him a favour in questioning his motives. Reminding him of what this was: a marriage of convenience.

He felt clammy now, recalling that initial feeling of exposure. What on earth had he been thinking of, organising the tent in the first place? Had his brain been so warped by a little dune driving and the hottest sex he’d ever had? Evidently.

The ironic thing about that blasted tent was that for years he’d had it in the back of his head to create some scene of seduction in the desert for his mistresses. More than one had asked him wistfully when he was going to take her to
a secret desert oasis. And he never had, because at the last moment they’d always been the wrong person to share the desert with. And now the first woman he
had
brought to a secret desert oasis had all but thrown it back in his face.

He heard a rustle of movement behind him and turned slowly to face his wife, not liking the way he had to steel himself against the inevitable effect of seeing her.

Samia woke and was disorientated to see Sadiq standing looking out over the desert, fully dressed in traditional robes. For a silent moment she regarded his impressive back, and hated the ache at the back of her throat that signalled unshed tears. She was still angry when she thought of that tent, and the fact that Sadiq had seduced hundreds of women there. And, not only that, she hadn’t been able to keep up her icy disdain when they’d returned to the castle. He’d arrogantly interrupted her shower and within seconds she’d been putty in his hands, slave to his masterful touch.