Читать книгу Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 2 - Susan Mallery, Alexandra Sellers - Страница 15

By the time Tariq returned from a last-minute consultation with one of the guides, Mina was curled up and half-asleep. No light from the campfire reached their bed and neither did the voices of the men. He stripped down to the loose pants designed by his ancestors to offer respite from the unrelenting heat of the desert, glad for the small lagoon that had allowed the entire party a chance to bathe.

Memories of watching over his wife while she swam sent familiar need racing through him, but it was clear that Mina was exhausted. Tenderness overwhelmed him. She looked so small and fragile, and yet she made him feel so much. Too much. Heart clenching with emotions he didn’t want to accept, he lay down beside her, wrapped her in his arms and let her rest. For a while.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get to wake her with slow, sensuous caresses as he’d wanted, because deep in the night she jerked upright beside him, and he could almost smell her fear. He reached up to pull her back into his arms.

“Tariq!” She turned blindly toward him.

“I’m here, Mina.” He succeeded in trapping her fluttering hands and held her tight against his body, disturbed by the too-fast thudding of her heart.

“Tariq.” This time her voice was a husky whisper, but no less desperate than her first fearful cry. She clutched at his shoulders with small hands.

“Hush. You are safe, my Jasmine.” He stroked the curved line of her spine, trying to calm her. When she continued to shiver, he flipped her over onto her back and pressed his body along the length of hers. Some of her tension seemed to seep out of her at the full-body contact. “Mina?”

“They hurt you.”

“Who?”

“The men in the trucks. I thought they took you from me.”

He hadn’t thought that his revelation would have this effect. “I am safe. They did not succeed. You did not lose me.” When she looked as if she disagreed, he held her tightly. “You will not worry about these things.”

Wrapped in Tariq’s strong arms, Jasmine felt her fears start to dissipate. “I’ll try. It was probably because I was tired.”

“We will not talk of it anymore.”

“Wait—” she protested.

He squeezed the breath out of her. “I have decided. You may sulk if you wish, but we will not talk more of it.”

“You can’t just decide that on your own,” she snapped.

“Yes. I can.” His voice was neutral, but she heard the steely determination. When he closed his eyes, she knew that any further words would only strengthen his resolve. Sighing, she conceded defeat…for tonight.

Wide-awake, she thought back over her nightmare. Unlike the dream, the real assassins hadn’t succeeded in killing him, but they’d broken the connection between her and Tariq, torn the emotional threads. Their taunts had destroyed whatever had been left after she’d walked away.

A man’s pride was a fragile thing.

A warrior’s pride was his greatest weapon.

A sheik’s pride upheld the honor of his people.

She had to learn to deal with the power of all three.

“We’re going to finish what we started last night.”

“No. I will not have you disturbed.” Though Tariq wasn’t surprised by Mina’s stubbornness, his first duty was to protect her. The memory of how she’d trembled in fear made him hug her against his body as the camel picked its way across the golden sand.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

“No.” He would not allow her to be hurt.

“Tariq! Don’t do that. Don’t protect me by keeping me in ignorance.” In his arms, her small body was stiff with anger and frustration. “I’m not eighteen anymore.”

Her perception about his motives startled him, proving the truth of her words. “Perhaps not,” he allowed.

“Then the assassins—”

“You know all there is to know, Mina.” This time he acknowledged the quiet pain of the memories. “You know”.

After a small silence, she leaned back in his embrace. “I’m sorry.”

Unable to bear her sorrow, he held her close and told her stories of the desert and his people, and after a long time, she smiled again. And as they rode, he considered her persistence. Four years ago, she would never have challenged him. Since she’d returned to him, she’d never stopped fighting him. Some men would have been dismayed by the change. Tariq was intrigued.

On the morning of the fourth day, they rode into the small industrial city of Zeina. Despite their functional nature, the steel and concrete buildings of the city had been designed with curved edges and flowing lines. Overlaid with the omnipresent sand, the low-rise structures almost blended into the desert. The two-lane highway snaking out of Zeina in the opposite direction from their route showed how oil was moved out of such an isolated spot. To Jasmine’s surprise, they continued through the city and a good distance beyond, to where a number of huge, colorful tents sprawled across the desert sand.

“Welcome to Zeina,” Tariq whispered against her ear.

“I thought that was Zeina back there.” She jerked her head to indicate the city they’d passed.

“It’s part of Zeina. This is the heart.”

“No houses, just tents,” she mused out loud.

“Arin and his people prefer it this way. As they are happy, I have no right to question.”

She pondered that for a moment before asking, “I assume many of them work in the industrial section—how do they get there?”

Tariq chuckled. “There are camels for those who prefer the old ways but also several well-hidden all-terrain vehicles.”

“Why didn’t we travel in those?” She scowled at the thought of the abuse her rear had suffered.

“Some of the areas we passed through are too treacherous to trust even those vehicles. They also cause much damage to the delicate ecosystems of the desert. But, for commuting the distance to the metal city, they are useful,” he explained. “Arin’s people may be old-fashioned but they are also eminently practical. See the pale blue tents?” He pointed.

“There’s quite a few.”

“They appear the same as the others, but look closely.”

Squinting, she did. “They don’t move with the wind! What are they, plastic?”

“A durable type created by our engineers,” Tariq confirmed. “Each houses sanitation facilities for use by four closely related families.”

Given the dimensions of the tents and the typically small size of Zulheil’s families, the allocation appeared generous.

“How ingenious.” Jasmine was impressed by the way old and new had been merged so creatively.

“Arin is certainly that.”

She met the intriguing Arin minutes later. He was a huge bear of a man with a short, neatly trimmed beard, but his warm smile took the edge off his menacing appearance.

“Welcome.” He waved them both inside his large tent after exchanging greetings. “Please, sit.”

“Thank you.” Jasmine smiled and sat down on one of the luxuriant cushions arranged around a small table.

“I forbid you to smile at this man, Jasmine.”

Jasmine stared at her husband in shock. “Did you just forbid me to smile at the man in whose home we are guests?”

Her subtle reprimand made her husband’s lips curve in an inexplicable smile and Arin howl with laughter. She looked from one to the other, belatedly aware that she’d missed something. When Tariq continued to smile with that hint of mischief in his eyes and Arin to howl, she threw up her hands. “You’re both mad.”

“No, no,” Arin answered, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “This one is just afraid of my power over women.”

Intrigued, Jasmine turned to Tariq for an explanation, but he just grinned. Shaking her head, she busied herself trying to follow their conversation, which could not be undertaken in English, as their host wasn’t fluent enough for the subtleties required.

“My apologies.” Arin seemed discomfited by that fact.

“Oh, please don’t say that,” she said earnestly. “This is your land. I should be the one to learn your language. While I’m learning, it would be better for me to be surrounded by it.”

The big man looked relieved. Tariq squeezed her fingers once in silent thanks. Warm, strong, male, his hand represented so much of who he was.

If she concentrated, she could follow the bare bones of their talk. They appeared to be catching up with each other’s news but there was an undercurrent of seriousness. The sheik was asking after the health of his people.

As she listened, the changes in Tariq struck her again. When they’d first met, he’d been every inch a royal, but more relaxed, having the support of his parents, a much-loved royal couple. Now the mantle of authority sat on his shoulders alone, and he wore it as if it had been made for him.

He’d always been touched with the promise of greatness. Before her eyes, that promise was being fulfilled.

“Enough,” Arin announced at last in English. “I am a poor host to keep you so long even before the dust is gone from your clothes.” He uncurled his legs, incredibly graceful for such a big man, and began to stand.

“Terrible,” Tariq agreed, but his eyes were full of laughter as he followed their host’s example. Jasmine’s guess that the two were good friends was confirmed by the back-slapping embrace they exchanged, before Arin led them toward the much smaller tent that had been prepared for them. Members of Arin’s council had greeted Tariq’s advisors upon arrival, and it was likely that they’d all settled in by now.

“Your tent should be larger. I would give you mine but your husband, he is not wanting to be treated like royalty.” Arin scowled at Tariq over Jasmine’s head. The two men had bracketed her between them as soon as they’d exited. She felt like a shrimp between two very large carnivorous beasts, but one of the beasts was hers and the other appeared friendly.

“If I am in that cavern you call a tent, people will not come to me as willingly as they do if I am in something approximating their own homes.” Without breaking his stride, Tariq reached over and tugged Jasmine’s headgear around her face, protecting her from the sun. “With you it is different. They have known you their whole lives.”

With a sigh, Arin abandoned trying to get Tariq to change his mind. “This—” he waved to a small dun-colored tent “—is to be your home for the next three or four days.”

Despite the dull exterior, the interior was beautifully appointed. Colors created bright splendor through the room, in cushions scattered about and gauzy silk hangings decorating the walls. Delighted, Jasmine peeked around the partition dividing the space and discovered a sumptuous sleeping area.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful,” she exclaimed, bestowing a dazzling smile upon Arin. He looked taken aback.

Tariq scowled. “You will go now,” he ordered. “I wish to talk to my wife about the smiles she gives away so easily.”

Arin laughed good-naturedly and left, but not before he threw Jasmine a wink. She ran to her husband and tugged his head down for a kiss. He picked her up off her feet to facilitate the soft, urgent caress.

“That is permissible, Mina.” He set her down on her feet. “You are welcome to kiss me at any time.”

“Gee, thanks.” She stepped back to escape him but he was too quick. Tariq held her against him, his hands splayed over her bottom. When she wiggled, he took mercy on her and slid his hands to her waist. “Why did you forbid me to smile at your friend?”

“Because women like him too much. It is very provoking.” His complaint was without heat.

“I think he’s nice.” Her husband’s playful mood was a rare treat, one she fully intended to enjoy.

He lifted her up until they were eye to eye. “Really?”

“Mmm.” She wrapped her arms and legs around him. “But I think you’re the nicest of all.”

Tariq’s grin was pure male. Her reward for her honesty was a kiss that was so hot, she felt singed.

They ate dinner with Arin and other members of the camp in Arin’s huge tent. Jasmine liked being able to watch her sheik among his people. He was magnificent. Charisma flowed from him like a physical substance, bright and clear and utterly seductive. People listened when he spoke, and answered his questions without hesitation, basking in his attention.

“Your accommodations are suitable?” Arin asked.

She had to force herself to look away from her husband, aware that the moment she did so, Tariq glanced at her. His obvious awareness of her, even in the midst of a busy dinner, warmed her to her toes.

“They’re lovely. Thank you.” She smiled. “I’ve been forbidden to smile at you because women like you too much.”

Arin stroked his neat beard. “It is a curse I must bear. It makes finding a wife difficult.”

Jasmine thought she’d misunderstood. “Difficult?”

“Yes.” He looked mournful. “How can a man pick one lovely fruit when every day he is confronted with an orchard?”

She clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her laugh at his outrageousness. No wonder he and Tariq were friends. Right then, her husband tugged at her hand. Though he was talking to someone else, it was an unmistakable sign that he wanted her attention on him. She knew that he wasn’t really worried about Arin’s affect on women, so his possessiveness puzzled her.

“He is like a child, unwilling to share you,” Arin whispered, leaning over. “He is correct in this.”

She ignored the last part of that statement and concentrated on the first. It was true. Tariq was unwilling to share her—sometimes. He liked having her interact with his people and make friends such as Mumtaz, so he was no controlling oppressor. However, he seemed to want to keep her close.

What she didn’t know was whether he wanted her near because he needed her, or because he didn’t trust her out of his sight. She swallowed her hurt at the possibility that it was the latter, and smiled brightly at the woman sitting across from him. Taking that as a sign of encouragement, the woman drew Jasmine into conversation.

“Today, I intend to view several Zulheil Rose mines.” Tariq finished his breakfast the next morning and stretched. The power and beauty of his impressive musculature made Jasmine catch her breath. “It will require hard riding, so unfortunately you cannot accompany me.”

She scowled in disappointment. “Maybe next time. After we get back home, you have to teach me to ride those beasts.”

He smiled at her mock shudder. “I’ll do that, Mina. While you are here, you may wish to…I do not know the word, but it would be good if you would walk among the people.”

“Oh, you want me to mingle?”

“Yes. Especially with the women. Out here in the desert, a lot of them tend to be shyer than their city counterparts.”

“So you want me to talk to them and make sure they’re doing okay?”

He nodded. “You are a woman and you are friendly, especially as you continue to smile at everyone.” His tone was disgruntled but his expression approving. “Most of the Zeina citizens will try to come to meet us. It is the way we strengthen the bonds that tie our land together. The men tend to wait for me, but the women will feel easier with you.”

Jasmine bit her lip in sudden indecision. She felt more than saw Tariq’s relaxed body tense.

“You do not wish to do this?”

“Oh, I do. It’s just that…do you think I can? I’m just an ordinary woman. Will your people talk to me?” All her life, she’d never been good enough. Sometimes the past threatened to overcome her hard-won self-esteem.

“Ah, Mina.” Tariq tugged her into his lap and held her close. “You are my wife and they have already accepted you.”

“How do you know?”

“I know. You will trust your husband and do as he bids.”

His autocratic command made her want to grin. If he trusted her with this, then he had to have some faith in her. Perhaps it was even the beginning of a deeper kind of trust. The flame of hope inside her, which had been threatening to go out ever since he’d revealed the assassination attempt, started to flicker with fiery life.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” She adopted a meek expression that made him laugh and kiss her.

He rode out ten minutes later into the crisp desert morning. After waving him off, Jasmine took a deep breath and began to walk toward the heart of the camp. Within moments, she was surrounded by Zeina’s women, surrounded and welcomed.

It was only as dusk began to descend in purple strokes across the desert that she returned to their quarters. After washing the grit and dust of the day from her body, she dressed in an ankle-length skirt and fitted top in a beautiful shade of gold and lay down on one of the low couches to wait for her husband. Lulled by the soft chatter outside, she closed her eyes, intending only a moment’s rest.

Once again, Tariq found Mina asleep. This time he needed to wake her, to satisfy not carnal hunger, but something far more dangerous. “Wake up, my Jasmine.” His voice was rough.

“Tariq.” With a wide smile she opened her eyes and her arms and tempted him into her embrace. “When did you return?”

“Perhaps forty minutes ago. Now you must awaken so we can eat.” Nevertheless, he leaned toward her and let her put her arms around him. Spending the entire day apart from her for the first time since their marriage had brought old pain to the surface—raw, jagged pain that mocked him for pretending he didn’t need her. The truth was that he needed her far more than she would ever need him.

“With Arin?”

“No.” He smoothed the tangled strands of her hair off her face. “Just me. Tomorrow we’ll dine with our people again.”

Not wishing to face the emotions she aroused, he started to leave. She held him tight. “Don’t go. I missed you.”

“Did you, Mina?” He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. He needed her, but would never again chance entrusting her with that knowledge.

“Yes. I kept looking for you all day.” Her eyes were soft, her body warm from sleep.

“Show me how much you missed me, Mina. Show me.” He clasped her to him possessively, the wounded beast inside him unsatisfied with less than complete surrender.

He stripped her so quickly that she gasped, but made no protest. He laid her down on the thick rug on the floor, inflamed by the sight of her creamy skin and fiery hair against the scarlet-and-gold material. She was like some pagan fantasy, a dream designed to drive men wild.

Wrapping his hand around her neck, he kissed her, claimed her. He tasted every corner of her mouth while his free hand roamed her body, then covered the soft mound of one breast, making her whimper. Finally breaking the kiss, he bent down to take a tightly beaded nipple into his mouth. He sucked. Hard.

She bucked under him and her hands clenched in his hair. “Please…please…”

The broken sounds urged him on. Nudging apart her legs with his knee, he settled in between them, opening her to him. One hand flat on the rug beside her, he raised his head and looked down at her as he moved his other hand to her stomach and inexorably lower. Sky-blue eyes bled into indigo and lush lips parted in a fractured breath as he found the small nub hidden in her curls.

Though he was careful not to hurt her, this woman of cream and fire, his strokes were firm. Mina clutched at his arms and he could feel pleasure exploding inside her. He stroked harder, leaving her only for the instant it took to lift her right leg and place it over his hip, giving him full access to her secret places.

Her moan when he touched her again wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed Mina’s utter and total submission. He needed her to hold nothing back from him. Needed her to need him like he needed her. Needed her to love him so much she would never leave him again.

Reaching lower, he slipped a finger inside her. Her body jerked. Her skin dampened. Then he lowered his head and lightly, carefully, bit the underside of one plump breast. Around his finger, her muscles clenched in an intimate fist so tight he was drenched, surrounded. It was at that moment, as she shoved a fist in her mouth to muffle her cries, that he removed his hand, released himself from his pants and surged into her. Unable to control the spasms overtaking her, she held on to him, biting his shoulder to silence her gasps and moans.

He welcomed the sweet pain. Mina had fallen over the edge and he could feel it beckoning, but he wouldn’t surrender. Not yet. Gripping her hips, he thrust hard. Fast. Deep.

Branding her.

“You’re mine, Mina. Only mine.” The words were wrenched out of the part of him that raged to claim her for all time.

Only when she lost the battle to muffle her pleasure and her cry rode the night air did he allow himself to fall into the beckoning void.

It was at the final dinner with Arin that Jasmine learned about the relationship between the two men. While Tariq was deep in conversation, Arin answered her questions.

“Tariq spent time in each of the twelve tribes after he turned twelve. This was to teach him about his people.”

Jasmine thought that the experience must have been unutterably lonely. He would have been one of them but also, as their future leader, set apart. Her heart ached for the boy he’d been, but she could see the results of his training. Tariq mixed as effortlessly with these desert dwellers as he did with his people in the city.

“He came to Zeina at fifteen and we became friends.”

Arin’s words were simple, but she understood the depth of that friendship. Her husband didn’t bestow his trust lightly. And once that trust had been breached…

“And you’ve remained friends.” She swallowed her sudden apprehension and turned a bright smile on Arin.

The big man nodded. “He is my friend, but he is also my sheik. Make him just your husband, Jasmine, not your sheik.”

His advice echoed her thoughts of not so very long ago. She knew that Tariq needed freedom to lay aside the heavy burden of leadership, even if only for a few hours each day. It was easy to say but hard to put into practice, especially where her stubborn husband was concerned. Without warning, he could change, seeing in her the shadows of the past.

A memory of the bittersweet glory of their lovemaking yesterday flickered through her mind. The complex man she’d married, a man even more fascinating than the prince who’d been her first love, would give neither his trust nor his love into her keeping, unless she proved herself worthy. But she refused to quit trying to breach the walls around his heart. She could be just as stubborn as him.

That night, Jasmine sat cross-legged on their silken bedding and watched Tariq undress in the warm glow of the lanterns. He turned and motioned her over with a tilt of his aristocratic head. She rose and walked toward him. Without words being exchanged, she knew what he wanted. She began to help him remove his clothing. His back was golden heat under her light touch, his body beautiful to her.

“You’d make a perfect harem slave,” he commented, tongue in cheek.

She bit him on his back for that remark. “I don’t think this primitive desert atmosphere is good for you.”

He chuckled at her response. She drew back when he was dressed only in loose white pants. To her shock, he held her gaze and pulled them off in one smooth motion. She couldn’t move as he threw the last piece of his clothing aside and stalked to her. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen him naked, simply that he had never acted with such sexual aggressiveness. Even his furious loving last night hadn’t been this…blatant.

He was a sleek, muscled warrior, rippling with strength kept in check for his woman. She knew that Tariq would never physically hurt her, which only made his maleness more compelling. Lips parted with sensual longing, she raised her head to meet his green eyes, shadowed in the dim light from the lanterns.

“You’re overdressed for a harem slave,” he murmured, and tugged her nightshirt over her head, leaving her naked.

“What about women?” she managed to ask, though her throat felt dry with need and her thoughts were scattered like tangled skeins of thread.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled her neck. It was, she was beginning to realize, one of his favorite preludes to lovemaking, as well as a gesture of affection.

“Did they have harems?”

He raised his head to meet her laughing eyes. “You wish for a harem, Mina?”

She frowned as if considering it. He squeezed her tightly. “Okay! Okay! I think I can handle only one of you at a time,” she stated.

“You will only ever handle me,” he said with a masculine growl.

Jasmine smiled and, without stopping to consider her words, said, “Of course. You’re the only one I love.”

Tariq turned to stone. She wanted to take back her hasty declaration. He wasn’t ready; she knew he wasn’t ready. But the words had welled up in her heart and escaped before she could control them.

“You do not need to say such things.” Under her hands, liquid silk turned to steel and his warm flesh was suddenly searingly cold.

“I mean it. I love you.” There was no going back. Throwing away her pride, she gazed at him, silently begging him to believe her.

Tariq’s eyes were midnight dark in the lantern light. “You cannot love me.”

“How can I make you believe I do?” She ached for the loss of their joy, their laughter, their blindingly beautiful love.

Too late. She was four years too late.

He shook his head, answering her with silence. In the past, his control over his emotions had fooled her into thinking that his feelings didn’t run as deep as hers. Only now, when it was too late, did she understand that she’d hurt him more than she could have believed possible. He’d given her his warrior’s heart and she’d thrown it away in her ignorance of its value.

How could he possibly believe the truth after such a betrayal? And yet the truth existed. Her love for him was deeper, richer, more intense now. The child-woman who’d first loved him had matured into a woman who loved him so much she sometimes thought she’d die from the sheer intensity.

When he kissed her, she gave herself up to his embrace, swallowing her tears. Tariq played her like a well-tuned musical instrument, drawing every note of pleasure out of her. But he didn’t give her his heart. Her warrior didn’t trust her not to hurt him again.

Long after he’d fallen asleep, Jasmine lay awake, thinking of the past and how it had indelibly marked her future. Her husband’s distrust was like a razor in her chest, making each breath incredibly painful. Even worse was the knowledge that he believed love weakened him.

“…You’ll never again allow me close to your heart?”

“Yes. I will not be such an easy target a second time.”

The memory of his implacable expression and his determination to never again fall prey to love haunted her. How could she fight her warrior’s pride and his distrust in her loyalty at the same time?

Jasmine woke to find Tariq gone. She missed him. Missed his smile, his morning caresses, his body sliding into hers, completing her in a way that she’d never known was possible between a man and a woman. When their bodies were one, it was as if she could see into his soul for one blinding instant. But only sometimes. Last night he’d shut her out, loving her body with exquisite care but giving her nothing more than his physical passion.

She stood up and quickly ran through her toilette when her musings threatened to make her teary. Then she pulled on a long skirt in a soft peach fabric over her naked skin. She felt exposed even in the confines of the tent and wanted to get covered before she worried about underwear. In her rush to dress, she forgot that they were traveling today and she would need to be in pants.

Her fear was justified. She was reaching for a bra when the tent flap opened behind her and a warm breeze touched her back. Apprehensive, she glanced over her bare shoulder.

“Oh.” Relief flowed through her.

Tariq raised a dark eyebrow. “You were expecting someone else?” The flap closed behind him, hiding the incipient brightness of the day.

She blushed. No one would dare enter without his express permission. “I just can’t get used to the openness of these tents.” With a shake of her head, she turned and picked up the bra.

“Leave it.” Husky and rough, Tariq’s unexpected command startled her into dropping the piece of lace and satin.

The feel of his naked chest against her back startled her even more. He’d been fully dressed when he’d entered, and she’d turned her back on him only a few seconds before. Unlike last night, this morning his hands were impatient, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples with more heat than expertise, while he kept her trapped in front of him. He was a little rough and most possessive.

She felt a hot rush of liquid heat between her thighs. It was as if Tariq knew. He slipped one hand under her skirt. Continuing to caress her breast with the other hand, he slid a single finger through her curls.

“You are ready.” His husky voice held a note of satisfaction, as if he was pleased at her responsiveness.

Before she knew what was happening, he pushed her skirt up her back and bared her buttocks to him. Too needy to be embarrassed, she gripped his thighs when he put both hands around her hips and pulled her onto him, sliding her down so slowly she thought she would go mad.

“Tariq, please, please,” she moaned. “Oh, please.”

From the way he growled in approval and gave her what she wanted, she knew that he liked her obvious need, liked the way she wriggled on him and urged him to go faster. Out of nowhere, an image of what Tariq had to be seeing as their bodies joined in wild surrender burst into her mind. It was the final erotic stroke. Her climax was thunder and lightning. She knew that she took him with her, his throaty cry mixing with her scream of release.

Afterward, he held her in his lap, their bodies still joined. She tilted her head back against his firm shoulder and tried to get her racing heart to calm down. A long time later, she swallowed and wet her dry lips. “Wow.”

Tariq chuckled against her ear and nibbled on the soft flesh of her earlobe. “Not too fast? I hear women like it slow.” His tone was pure provocation, daring her to deny the way she’d burned like wildfire in his arms.

She nudged him with an elbow. “You’re a horrible tease, but I’m too sated to argue with you.”

She heard his smile in his reply. “So this is what I must do to get your complete cooperation. It could become exhausting.”

Jasmine laughed. Tariq closed his hands over her breasts in a final sweet caress before he reluctantly pulled away. “We must prepare to leave, my Jasmine. It is time to go home.”

Just before they left the tent, she took a deep breath and put her hand on his muscular forearm. Under the white material of his shirt, skin and muscle moved over bone, seducing her with their effortless flow.

He gave her an indulgent smile, still enjoying the aftereffects of their wild mating. “What is it? I promise you we can play when we get home.”

His sensually teasing response made her blush. It was as if last night had never happened. She had her husband back. The shields had dropped, but only as far as they had been before her declaration. It wasn’t enough. If she let him deny her love, then this half-life would be all she ever had. And she was tired of never being good enough. Tired of never being loved. Perhaps her flaws made her unworthy of love, but until there was no hope, she would try. This time, she wouldn’t let anyone, even Tariq, keep her from fighting for their love.

“Your eyes are getting bigger and bigger.” He raised one finger and ran it across her lips.

“I meant it. I love you.”

His face underwent a sudden change, from open and teasing to totally reserved. “We must go.” He turned away without another word and preceded her outside.

She sucked in a breath of air that felt like a knife blade slicing across her heart. Oh, it hurt so much to have her love not even acknowledged. But her struggle would be worth it if she succeeded in getting back what she’d lost so carelessly in her naiveté.

Tariq waited for Jasmine outside their tent, careful to keep his emotions from showing on his face. It would not do for his people to see their leader in turmoil.

Why did she do this?

Did she truly believe that she could control him with a declaration of love? Words so easily said…promises so easily broken. He’d offered her his very soul four years ago, and she’d thrown it back at him as if it was a worthless token, after promising him forever. Though he would never let her know it, he still hurt from that emotional blow.

Part of him wanted to believe her, whispering that she was no longer the scared girl who’d crumbled under the slightest pressure, but a woman strong enough to fight him at his angriest. However, Tariq refused to listen to that voice. His heart was still raw from her rejection, not yet convinced of the depth of her commitment.

More than once, when she’d thought him occupied, he’d glimpsed shadows in his wife’s blue eyes. His pride had stopped him from hounding her, as he had in the desert, but the knowledge ate away at him. Even now, even after he’d told her so much, she kept her secrets, and that he could not forgive. Women’s secrets had always caused him pain.

By force of will, he buried that part of him that had become entranced by her. It shocked him just how close he’d come to laying his heart at her feet once again, even when it was clear that she didn’t trust him. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice. He couldn’t. Not when his vulnerability to her ran so deep it had become his greatest weakness.