Читать книгу Mills & Boon New Voices: Foreword by Katie Fforde - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 13

HE’D lied. Zafir lay in bed, staring up at the ornately carved wooden canopy, and listened to the soft breathing of the woman beside him. He’d told her she wasn’t that good, but the truth was he’d been so hot for her that he’d been unable to make the trek to the bedroom the first time.

He’d wanted her so much that having her then and there, in the courtyard, had seemed the only way to assuage the heat boiling inside him.

Except that it hadn’t. It had only made the need worse.

She might have had sex with him for the temples, but he’d done it because he could not do otherwise.

But Genie Gray had certainly not lost sight of what she wanted, and that made him angry.

He had no right to be angry with her. He was the one, after all, who’d suggested that the only way to win the commission was to sleep with him. He’d wanted to punish her, and he’d ended up punishing himself.

She’d pretended to be insulted, but she hadn’t resisted when he’d carried her into the bedroom and made love to her again. No, she’d melted beneath him, her body as soft and welcoming as it had always been. Her body was paradise, and he lost himself in it.

They’d fallen asleep much later, exhausted, but now that he’d awakened again he couldn’t get back to sleep.

What was it about her that made him so crazy? That made him feel as if he’d come home after a very long time away?

It had to be the connection to the past, to a simpler life. But this need was only temporary. Though he wanted Genie more than he could remember wanting any woman he’d ever been with, there was no future in it.

Soon he would have to let her go.

The light slanting through the curtains and across the bed was not the light of early morning. Genie blinked and sat up. Muscles she’d forgotten she had ached. Zafir had been intense last night, making love to her as if it was the first and last night he would ever do so.

The thought gave her a chill. She’d loved every moment of it, even if he had told her she wasn’t that good. She’d been hurt at first, but she’d quickly recognized that he was lashing out at her. Just as she’d done when she’d asked if he would now give her the commission.

They’d gotten past that very quickly—at least physically. But now Zafir was gone and she wasn’t certain what to do. Even if she did manage to find the dress and put it back on, she wasn’t sure she would remember how to find the harem. And she definitely didn’t want to run into anyone in the passageways.

“As-saalamu ’alaykum, madam.”

Genie’s head snapped up to find Yusuf patiently standing in the entry. He didn’t seem at all flustered by her appearance in his king’s bed, though she could feel the heat of a blush all the way to the roots of her hair. The problem with being a fair-skinned redhead was the ease with which she turned pink, she thought.

She returned the ritual greeting and waited.

“His Majesty bade me bring you clothing, madam. You will find a selection of items in His Majesty’s bath chamber. If you would care to dress, I will bring you something to eat in half an hour.”

“Thank you,” Genie said, and the old man bowed and disappeared again. She waited a full five minutes before she got out of bed—stark naked—and raced into the bathroom.

When she emerged again, showered and dressed in a silk pantsuit and ballet flats, she didn’t expect to find Zafir waiting for her. Her heart did a little flip at the sight of him. He was once again dressed in traditional robes and headdress, and the sight of him literally took her breath away.

“You slept well?” he asked.

“Yes. And you?”

His grin was sudden. Wicked. “I was quite exhausted, I assure you. Thank you for a most pleasurable evening.”

A most pleasurable evening.

She didn’t like the way that sounded—as if she were someone who got paid to provide a service. But then, here in this place Zafir was far more formal than she remembered him ever being when they were at university.

Perhaps that was all it was.

“And how are your negotiations with the Sheikhs going?” she asked, wanting to change the subject before she mentally undressed Zafir and climbed on top of him.

“Eager to leave?” he said, his eyes growing shadowed.

“You know I want to go back to my dig, but that’s not why I asked.”

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged and walked toward the small table that she only now noticed was set with plates and food. “Come, eat. And after this I will take you to the temples.”

She joined him at the table, keeping her gaze from his while he once more dished out food for her. “I asked about the Sheikhs because I wanted to know,” she said when he’d finished. “It seems a dangerous situation, and I hope you are able to end the hostility.”

He sighed. His eyes, she noted, were troubled.

“I am working on it. In the old days I could have had them both executed. But times have fortunately progressed—even if I have often missed having that kind of absolute power while dealing with these two old fools. They grumble, but they will fall in line.”

She had the distinct feeling there was something he wasn’t telling her. “This isn’t at all what you wanted to do, is it? Be a king, I mean?”

“It was not my choice to make.”

“But if it had been?”

His dark gaze was sharp, assessing. “I would still be a Prince of Bah’shar, Genie. And I would still have duties to my nation.”

And she would still be Geneva Gray, a girl who’d had to work hard for every opportunity she’d ever had. She speared a piece of mango with her fork. “I guess we can’t ever change who we really are.”

“No.” He looked thoughtful. “But who are you inside, Genie? What can’t you change?”

She swallowed. Who was she inside? She’d thought about it a lot lately, especially since coming here. “I suppose the greatest constant in my life was uncertainty.”

Uncertainty over whether her father would come visit, whether her mother would make it to her school play or drop everything to be with the man she loved. Would Genie have to stand on the school steps long after the other kids had gone home and wait because her mother had forgotten again?

“I need control of my life. I get nervous when I’m not in control.”

“Your parents were divorced,” Zafir said, as if it explained everything.

Genie gritted her teeth. Why not tell him the truth? Why not let him see how devastating his revelation about an arranged marriage had been to her?

“That was a lie,” she said, lifting her chin. “A fiction I made up in order to keep from telling anyone the awful truth.”

“And what was the truth?”

She glared at him. “My mother had a decade-long affair with my father, a married man. He set her up in an apartment and came to visit us whenever he could get away from his real family.”

Zafir looked stunned. “You never told me this before.”

“Would it have made a difference?” she tossed at him, the old anger of her childhood and the disappointment of her relationship with Zafir mingling into an acid stew inside her. “When my father tired of us he had no problem walking away. My mother was too depressed to go after him for child support. She took odd jobs to make ends meet, and there were times we went without heat or groceries because she barely had enough to pay the rent.”

“I am sorry—”

“Yes, well, you can certainly understand why I wasn’t prepared to put myself in the same position.”

“I would have never abandoned you, habiba,” he said fiercely.

“I imagine that’s what my father said too.”

Zafir came and sank onto a chair close by, tossing one end of his headdress over his shoulder with a practiced movement that was too sexy for words.

Sexy? Genie looked away, studied the food on her plate. How on earth could she find him sexy at a time like this?

“I would change the past if I could,” he said, “but what I asked of you was not an insult in my world. I would not have forced you to stay with me once the marriage finally took place.”

Genie tossed her fork aside. Now, why did that knowledge sting? “Very noble of you, Zafir.”

She shoved to her feet before she lost her mind. She’d have never agreed to be a mistress, no matter what. But isn’t that what you were, Genie, considering he always intended to marry another?

She pressed two fingers on either side of her forehead to stem the rising headache. “Look, can we just stop talking about this and get to the temples?”

“We will go soon. You need to finish eating.”

“I’m not hungry. And I don’t need your pity,” she practically growled.

Zafir stood, his tall form suddenly towering over her. He was all formality once more, his robe draped over one arm, his eyes glittering dark and hot as he stared at her.

“As you wish, habiba.”