Sheikh's Defiant Wife: Defiant in the Desert

He held out his arms and she felt as if she’d lost some kind of battle as she went to him, loving the way the flat of his hand smoothed down the spill of her hair as she climbed into bed beside him. She loved the feel of his naked body entwined with hers. She snuggled up to him, hoping that her closeness would distract him enough to stop asking questions she had no desire to answer. But no. He tilted up her chin, so that there was nowhere to look except into the ebony gleam of his eyes.

‘Want to talk about it, princess?’

She shook her head. ‘Not really.’

‘Shall I guess?’

‘Please don’t, Suleiman. It’s not important.’

‘I think it is. You’re falling in love with me.’

Sara flinched. Maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding her feelings as she’d thought. But then, neither was Suleiman as clever as he thought. He’d got the sentiment right—but the tense was wrong. She wasn’t ‘falling’ in love with him—she’d always been in love with him. Fancy him not knowing that. She gave him a cool smile. ‘That’s an occupational hazard for you, I expect?’

‘Yes,’ he said seriously. ‘I’m afraid it is.’

She shook her head, laughing in spite of everything. ‘You really are the most arrogant man I’ve ever known.’

‘I have never denied my arrogance.’

‘Admitting that doesn’t make it all right!’

She was trying to wriggle out of his arms, but he was having none of it. He captured both her wrists in his hands, stilling her so that their eyes were on a collision course.

‘I can’t help who I am, Sara. And I have enough experience—’

‘And then some.’

‘To recognise when a woman starts to lose her heart to me. Sweetheart, will you please stop wriggling—and glaring—and listen to what I have to say?’

‘I don’t want to listen.’

‘I think you need to.’

She stilled in his arms, aware of the loud thunder of her heart. His hard thigh was levered between her own and a sadness suddenly swept over her—because wasn’t she going to miss being in bed with him like this? Cuddled up in his arms and feeling as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. ‘I don’t want to turn this into a long goodbye,’ she whispered.

‘And neither do I.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. ‘I thought I did.’

‘What do you mean, you thought you did?’

Suleiman stared at her, as if unsure how much to tell her. But this was Sara—and hadn’t his relationship with her always been special and unique? The usual rules didn’t apply to this blonde-haired beauty he’d known since she was a mixed-up little kid. ‘Usually when a woman reaches this stage, I begin to grow wary. Bored.’

‘This stage?’ she spluttered indignantly. ‘You mean, as if this is some kind of infectious disease you’re incubating!’

He laughed. ‘I know that sounds like more arrogance but I’m trying to tell you the truth,’ he said. ‘Or would you rather me dress it up with lavish compliments and make like you’re the only woman I’ve ever been intimate with?’

‘No,’ she said, unable to keep the slight sulk from her voice.

‘At this stage of an affair,’ he said, though his mocking smile didn’t lessen the impact of his words, ‘I usually recognise that it must come to an end, no matter how much desire I’m feeling. Because an inequality of affection can prove volatile—and I have never wished to play games of emotional cruelty.’

‘Good of you,’ she said sarcastically. Her heart was beating painfully against her ribcage as she waited to hear what was coming next. But she kept her face as impassive as possible because she wasn’t going to give him the chance to reject her. Not a second time. And if that made it seem as if all she cared about was her pride—so what? What else was she going to be left with in the long, lonely hours when he’d gone?

She forced a smile, hoping that she seemed all grown up and reasonable. Because she was not going to be the woman with the red eyes, clinging to his legs as he walked out of the door. ‘Look, Suleiman—you’ve been very honest with me, so let me return the compliment. I’ve always had a crush on you—ever since I was a young girl. We both know that. That’s one of the reasons that kiss when I was eighteen turned into so much more.’

‘That kiss changed my life,’ he said simply.

Sara felt the clamp of pain around her heart. Don’t tell me things like that, because I’ll read into them more than you want me to. ‘This time in Paris has been...great. You know it has. You’re the most amazing lover. I’m sure I’m not the first woman to have told you that.’ She sucked in a deep breath, because she was sure she wouldn’t be the last, either. ‘But we both know this isn’t going anywhere—and we mustn’t make it into more than it is, because that will spoil it. We both know that when something is put out of reach, it makes that something seem much more tantalising. That’s why—’

He silenced her by placing his finger over her lips and his black eyes burned into hers. ‘I think I love you.’

Sara froze. Wasn’t it funny how you could dream of a man saying those words to you? And then he did and it was nothing like how you thought it would be. For a start, he had qualified them. He thought he loved her? That was the kind of thing someone said when they took an umbrella out on a sunny day. I thought it might rain. She didn’t believe him. She didn’t dare believe him.

‘Don’t say that,’ she hissed.

He looked startled. ‘Even if it’s true?’

‘Especially if it’s true,’ she said, and burst into tears.

Perplexed, Suleiman stared at her and tightened his arms around her waist as he felt her tears dripping down his neck. ‘What have I done wrong?’

‘Nothing!’

‘Then why are you crying?’

She shook her head, her words coming out between gulps of swallowed air. Words he could hardly make out but which included ‘always’, quickly contradicted by ‘never’ and then, when she’d managed to snatch enough breath back, finishing rather inexplicably with ‘hopeless’.

Eventually, she raised a tear-stained face to his. ‘Don’t you understand, you stupid man?’ she whispered. ‘I think I love you too.’

‘Then why are you crying like that?’

‘Because it can never work!’ she said fiercely. ‘How could it?’

‘Why not?’

‘Because our lives are totally incompatible, that’s why.’ She rubbed her hand over her wet cheek. ‘You live in Samahan and I live in London. You are an oil baron and I’m a flaky artist.’

‘You think those things are insurmountable?’ he demanded. ‘You don’t imagine these are the kind of logistical problems which other couples might have overcome?’

Sara shook her head as all her old fears came crowding back. She thought of her own mother. Love certainly hadn’t brought her happiness, had it? Because love was just a feeling. A feeling which had no guarantee of lasting. She and Suleiman had both experienced something when they were fixed at a time and in a place which was light years away from their normal lives. How could something like that possibly survive if it was transplanted into the separate worlds which they both inhabited?

‘Listen to me, Suleiman,’ she said. ‘We don’t really know one another.’

‘That’s completely untrue. I have known you since you were seven years old. I certainly know you better than I know any other woman.’

‘Not as adults. Not properly. We have no idea if we’re compatible.’

His hand tightened around her waist; his thumb traced a provocative little circle. ‘I think we’re ve-ry compatible.’

‘That’s not the kind of compatibility I was talking about.’