Читать книгу Midnight in the Desert Collection - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 62

FOR the next two weeks, the days followed the pattern set on that one.

Asad and Nawar accompanied Iris and Russell to their survey sites. Against all expectations, Iris had never enjoyed her job more and found it surprisingly easy to accomplish what she needed to, despite their presence. And that of the unseen guards who joined them every day.

Both she and Russell couldn’t help taking time to show the curious little girl how they used their portable geological equipment. And somehow there was always time for play, as well.

Iris found herself falling for the child every bit as heavily as she’d fallen for the father. Her wish that she had been Nawar’s mother grew daily, but she kept it hidden. It was dangerous, but Iris allowed herself to wallow in what it would feel like to be a real family.

She thought sometimes that Nawar was doing the same thing, and that both delighted and frightened her. She didn’t want Asad’s daughter hurt when Iris had to leave.

Iris was currently showing Nawar how to identify a rock, Asad having asked her to watch Nawar while he took a call on his satellite phone. “The first thing we look at is color. What color would you say this is?”

“Brown.” Nawar squinted at the rock, as if determining the correctness of her answer.

Iris hid her grin and nodded as solemnly as she could. “Very good. Now feel the rock—is it smooth or rough?”

“It’s bumpy.”

This time Iris let herself smile. “Right. We can do a test on the rock to see what kind of minerals are in it to get a proper identification.”

“What’s a min-rall?”

Russell laughed, showing he had been listening.

Iris smiled a little sheepishly. “Minerals are things like iron and zinc.”

“Like my vitamins?” Nawar asked, proving she was a very intelligent child.

“Yes, exactly like that. Who told you your vitamins had iron and zinc in them?”

“Papa said I need my iron to grow strong.”

Iris remembered Asad saying that Nawar didn’t care for meat and ate a practically vegetarian diet. Considering the other foods that comprised the Bedouin diet, she thought she understood why he would want his daughter to take a minimal iron supplement in her children’s vitamin.

“He’s right, of course.”

“Oh. I want zinc in my vitamins.”

Iris had no idea if children’s vitamins had zinc in them. She would have to do some research before making any promises. “I’ll talk to your daddy about it. If you need zinc, I’m sure he’ll make sure you get it.”

“A mommy would make sure, wouldn’t she?”

“I … um … I suppose so.”

“Papa said I’m going to have a new mommy soon.”

“He did?” Iris asked faintly, a band squeezing tightly around her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Nawar nodded solemnly. “He said it was time.”

“That’s good.” The words cost her, but not nearly as much as the even tone Iris used to say them.

“I’m ever so excited.” And Nawar looked it, her eyes so like her father’s—even if they didn’t share the genes to make it so—glowing brightly with happiness at the thought. “He said I would like her very much.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me, too. Grandmother says Papa is lonely. My mommy will be his wife.”

Oh, gosh, she was going to be sick. “Yes, I do believe that’s how it works.”

“Do you think she’ll be a princess like my other mother?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t care. She doesn’t have to be a princess.” Nawar gave Iris a look she had no hope of understanding.

Not in her current state. It was taking everything she had to remain pleasant and smiling with the little girl so blithely shredding hopes she’d been so sure she hadn’t let herself entertain once again.

Badra wasn’t the idiot; Iris was.

“I’m sure whoever she is, she’ll be a very good mommy,” Iris said softly.

“Yes. She’ll like me and want to spend time with me.” Nawar was back to looking too serious for her years. “Papa promised.”

“He loves you very much.”

“I love him. He’s the bestest.”

“He is a wonderful man.” Even if he was making plans to marry someone else while sharing his bed with Iris. Again.

Iris wanted to curse her own stupidity and Asad’s plans in equal measure, but she bit back words not appropriate for little ears.

Russell’s expression of concern was not helping. She frowned at him and shook her head, her eyes warning him not to say anything.

Asad hadn’t made any promises and she’d gone into this thing with him knowing it had a sell-by date of weeks, not even months. So it was no one’s fault but her own that hearing of his plans to marry someone else was ripping her apart inside.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way this time. Somehow she had to get a handle on her emotions, but Iris couldn’t help her quiet over lunch.

She ignored the looks of question Asad kept sliding in her direction. Doing her best to bring her emotions into line, she determinedly focused on eating and not throwing up.

After they’d packed away the lunch things, Asad put Nawar down for a nap and then asked Iris to take a walk with him.

But she shook her head. She wasn’t ready to be alone with him, not yet. “I need to work and so do you.”

“Nevertheless, we will go for a walk.” The set of his jaw said while he’d phrased the initial offer as a request, they would indeed be going, one way or another.

With pictures of herself dangling over his shoulder as he marched along the path, she reluctantly nodded.

Refusing would only delay the inevitable anyway. Iris couldn’t hide her upset at Nawar’s news and Asad wasn’t about to ignore it.

He offered his hand, but she pretended not to see it.

“We’re back to that, are we?” he asked as he led her on a narrow path she had noticed earlier doing some measurements.

Iris wanted to deny it, or simply ignore it, or anything but deal with it, but that wasn’t going to happen.

“Nawar tells me that you promised her a new mother soon.” And the news should not bother her—she knew it shouldn’t.

This time around, she had known they had no future. But the hurt was there all the same. This man had always been able to get past her defenses and believing this time would be different had been more than shortsighted of her, it had been criminally stupid.

“Yes.”

When he didn’t say anything else as they followed the trek through some trees and up the side of the mountain, Iris contemplated demanding answers and/or kicking him in the shin. Neither prospect promised to have an advantageous outcome.

“It’s true, then?” she asked regardless.

“It is.”

“So this is just like six years ago?”

“No.”

She stopped and grabbed his desert robe to halt him, as well. He turned to face her, his inscrutable sheikh face firmly in place.

“How is it different?” she demanded. “You’re having sex with me while planning to marry another woman.”

For a moment something like pain flared briefly in his espresso gaze. “No.”

“No?” Iris asked sarcastically. How could he say that? “You don’t have another woman picked out and waiting in the wings to step in as Nawar’s mommy?”

As his wife.

“No.”

“But …” She did her best to assimilate the meaning of his answers in the face of what Nawar had said.

Asad had promised his daughter a mother. He did not deny it. Yet he hadn’t said he knew who that woman was going to be. In fact, if he did, wouldn’t Nawar have already met her?

He loved his daughter too much to choose a wife without insuring she was compatible with his daughter.

So the replacement had not been chosen. Inexplicably, that knowledge lightened Iris’s heart immeasurably. “I see.”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Just blind.”

She let go of the hold she still had on his sleeve and took a step back. “I stopped being blind six years ago.”

“Six years ago I was the blind idiot, not you.” He turned and started back on the path.

Feeling uncertain, yet oddly hopeful, she followed him. “Yes, well … we both learned our lessons I guess.”

“Did we? I’m beginning to wonder.”

“So, where does this path lead?”

“To an overlook popular with shepherds and lovers.”

“Um … okay.”

They’d been walking in an unexpectedly companionable silence for several minutes when he observed, “It bothered you to think I had plans to marry another woman.”

Technically he still did, but she didn’t want to get into that discussion. “I would never willingly be the other woman.”

“No, you have too much integrity for that.”

“I was, though, six years ago.”

It was his turn to stop their progress. He turned to her, his expression grim. “No, you were not.”

“You said—”

“That I had plans to marry Badra, not that she’d accepted my proposal. My plans were not hers, nor were they set in stone, no matter that my will insisted it be so. In fact, the first time I asked her, she told me with great contempt that she would never tie herself to an ignorant goatherd.”

That explained his oversensitivity on the topic, but Iris couldn’t help feeling pleased at the knowledge she had never truly been cast in the role of mistress.

“You were in line to be sheikh, though.”

“Of a Bedouin tribe.”

“What difference does that make?”

“I live in a beit al-sha’r, the house of hair. Not a palace.”

“By choice.”

“It was not a choice Badra approved of.”

“Even if she hadn’t been a cheating abandoner of children, you two would have been a really bad match.” Iris hoped Asad could see that now.

He really had been every bit as blind as she was six years ago.

“You think she abandoned Nawar?” he asked curiously.

There was no doubt in Iris’s mind, or her heart. “Didn’t she? Badra signed over parental rights in exchange for a cushy lifestyle and the promise of freedom at the end of five years.”

It was only as she said the words that she realized that Asad’s parents had done much the same to him.

“You mean like my parents,” he said, proving that just like in the past, their brains often traveled down the same paths.

“No. I’m not saying I could or even would have made the choices your parents made, but they kept loving, kept wanting to be part of your life. I get the feeling Badra was a little more like my parents, completely uninterested in having her daughter in her life.”

“Nawar is my daughter and you are absolutely right.”

“You protected Nawar because you understood what it felt like to have your parents put your interests second,” Iris said in sudden understanding on a burst of emotion she didn’t want to name.

“I did not consider it in the same light. I always had my grandparents and my place here among the Sha’b Al’najid.”

But his parents had traded the right to raise their oldest son in their home for the ability to have that home where and at the level of luxury they wanted it. The desire to reach out and comfort him was too strong to deny and she took his hand.

He said nothing, but his grip on her hand was strong.

They continued their walk in silence, Iris’s brain too busy to truly appreciate the beauty around her. She could not stop thinking about the fact that if Asad was not actively looking for his next wife, he would be soon.

Not until after Iris had left Kadar, though … from his attitude she was pretty certain of that.

A small voice in her heart asked why that woman could not be Iris? For once, her usually analytical brain could not give an adequate answer. Why couldn’t she be Nawar’s mom and Asad’s wife?

Iris would love Nawar as if she’d given her birth; she was close to doing so already. There was something about the small girl that Iris identified with, a vulnerability she understood all too well. Iris knew what it was to be abandoned emotionally by a parent; she would never let the little girl experience that pain at her own hands.

Beyond that, their relationship six years ago had proven she and Asad were compatible in and out of bed. They had been best and truest friends. That compatibility was very much in evidence again today. As was their friendship, maybe even a deeper one.

They’d shared things they never would have six years ago, being open in ways that they hadn’t been then.

And it felt right and good.

So, why not her?

Iris might not be a snooty Middle Eastern princess, but that was a benefit to her way of thinking. Neither Nawar nor Asad had done so well the first time around with one of those. Genevieve hadn’t been either and Asad claimed she’d been the most beloved Lady of the Sha’b Al’najid in generations.

His grandfather certainly didn’t seem disappointed in his wife’s lack of Middle Eastern heritage or pedigree.

Surely Asad had to realize that a woman who loved him and Nawar would be better than any pedigreed pretender.

And Iris did love him, totally and completely. It was inevitable. Staying out of his bed would not have prevented it, because Russell had been right. There had been no danger of Iris falling in love a second time when she’d never stopped in the first place.

No amount of will could prevail against the depth of feeling she had toward Asad.

This time around, she knew she had to fight for what she wanted, that the possibility of having it taken away again lurked around the next bend in the road.

She had to show him that she would make him a better wife than any other woman ever could, just as he would be the ideal husband for her. He might not realize he loved her, but he couldn’t make love to her the way he did and feel nothing.

She’d thought at one time he had done, but now she knew it had cost him to leave her. That he’d never forgotten her. He’d even named his daughter after her. And he’d wanted her back in his bed enough to cajole his cousin into making sure she was the geologist sent for this survey.

Any way Iris looked at it, Asad felt more for her than he realized.

Marrying him might mean Iris giving up her current job, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t start something new. Living among the Sha’b Al’najid and exploring the world they lived in could take a lifetime for even the most devoted geologist.

Six years ago Asad hadn’t considered Iris a candidate to become part of his family, but he’d admitted to having been blind and stupid. He implied he wasn’t either any longer.

If that was true, then she had a few short weeks to show her new and improved, open-eyed sheikh the light.

It had taken Iris twenty-four years to give up on fighting for her parents’ affection. She could be stubborn and determined with the best of them, even if others rarely saw that side of her.

It was time Asad did, at least.

When they reached the overlook, Iris had no trouble understanding why it was popular with lovers. “The view is magnificent,” she said with an awe that was becoming familiar.

Asad might not live in a palace, but his home was one of the most beautiful places on earth.

“It is. I come here to think, to ponder my people’s needs in the face of the modernization of our world.”

She let her gaze travel over the panoramic vista. Off in the distance, she could see a herd and she bet they were animals cared for by the Sha’b Al’najid. “Seeing all this, it helps you keep perspective, doesn’t it?”

“You know me well.” He turned to face her, his eyes smiling even though his lips were still.

It reminded her of how he used to be at university.

“I want to.” She reached up and cupped his face between both of her hands, loving the feel of his closely cropped beard against her fingers. “I want to very much.”

He nuzzled into her touch, turning his head so he could kiss each of her palms. “You do?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t any good at the games women played with men, and she didn’t want to be, either.

If Asad decided he wanted Iris in his future, he would have her as she really was, not something she pretended to be to gain his attention.

He gently pulled her to him, his desert robe enveloping them both. “There is one way you know me better than anyone else.”

“Really? No other lovers have learned all your body’s secrets?”

“No. You do not know them all though, either, not yet.”

“Maybe I could learn some more right now.”

He jerked as if startled by her suggestion, but then he smiled. “I thought we both had work to do?” he asked, sounding bemused.

“My work can wait a little. Can yours?” She reached up and kissed the underside of his chin.

He shuddered. “Yes, my dove, for you … for this, it can.”

“Good.”

“It will be.” He started to undress.

But she stopped him. “Let me.”

Silent, his eyes darkened by lust, he nodded.

She took her time, removing each of his desert layers with intermittent kisses and caresses until he stood naked before her, the timeless Bedouin sheikh.

She took off her own clothes while he stood watching her, his erection so hard it was nearly parallel to his stomach. They had only made love that morning, but clearly something about this was exciting him beyond bearing.

And then she realized it was the first time she’d initiated the lovemaking since they’d renewed their intimacy.

Apparently he missed her feminine aggression.

She let her last garment fall to the ground and stood proudly naked before him. “I want you.”

His entire body shuddered at her words, his nostrils flaring, his eyes narrowing, his gut tightening. Her gaze skimmed lower and she noticed a pearl of preejaculate on the end of his penis. More evidence of sexual desire at its peak. She reached out, swiped it with her finger and then brought the bead of viscous fluid to her mouth.

It was sweeter than when he climaxed, which she preferred not to swallow. He never seemed to mind, but was always complimentary and grateful when she took him in her mouth at all. Even though he gave her oral almost every time they made love.

One thing he had taught her to appreciate six years ago was that if they both enjoyed it, then whatever they did was beautiful.

She loved tasting him and the way he lost himself to her touch when she took him into her mouth. She felt like he truly belonged to her for those frozen minutes in time, no matter what their future held.

She went to drop to her knees in front of him, but he grabbed her under her arms and stopped her.

“Why?” she asked, not understanding.

He loved this.

“You will hurt yourself.”

She looked down at the hard ground and shrugged. “I’ll survive.”

“No. We will fold my robe into a pad for your knees.”

She smiled, realizing the man wasn’t turning her down, just taking care of her. “All right.”

It took only a moment and then she was where she wanted to be. Wrapping her fingers around his engorged member, she said, “Today you are mine.”

“You are not usually so possessive.” The bemused tone was back.

She looked up and met his dark gaze. “You don’t know what goes on in my head when we make love.”

“Perhaps I should.”

She just shook her head before leaning forward to lick delicately at the tip of his hardness. He groaned, his hips jerking forward. And she did it again. She loved this game, where she licked and mouthed, but didn’t quite take him inside.

After a few minutes of that treatment, he cursed. “You are such a tease.”

“Am I? I thought a tease did not follow through.”

“My knees will give before you are done playing.”

“Poor sheikh … his knees are going weak.”

He growled and she grinned and then pushed his foreskin back to take him fully into her mouth. She could never take much of him, he was too big, but she didn’t need to. Coordinating the movement of her hands and mouth, she soon had him gritting out a warning that he was close to coming. She pulled her head away to finish him with her hand.

She liked being able to see his face as he climaxed, as well. The ecstasy there always excited her and touched something deep in her heart.

He looked down at her as his body went absolutely rigid, their gaze locking in primal connection. He whispered her name reverently and his ejaculate exploded like a geyser between them. He wasn’t inside her, but it felt like their very souls connected in that moment.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely, his eyes devouring her naked body kneeling before him.

She kissed the glistening tip and then licked her lips, the flavor more salty and bitter now that he’d come. “I like it.”

“You are a very giving lover.”

No. She simply loved him. Someday he would understand that, but she swallowed the words back. It wasn’t the right time to admit her emotional vulnerability to him, no matter how close she felt to him in that moment.

She let him tug her to her feet and bring her body flush with his, his expression intent and deliciously predatory. “It is a good thing that my powers of recovery are beyond average.”

“I would expect nothing less from the lion of the Sha’b Al’najid.”