The Sheikh's Destiny (13 page)

It was a validation of how right she’d been about him all her life. He was everything she’d ever admired and respected. He was her hero in every way.

She couldn’t imagine how anyone could contemplate anyone else for the throne of Azmahar. In her opinion, no king in history had ever been more qualified.

“I just want a bed,” she said, coming up for breath from his last kiss.

Passion blazed in his black eyes, but his voice betrayed some lightness. “I just gave you carte blanche. Do it justice,
ya ameerati,
use it well.”

“I did tell you I’m no good at asking for or accepting stuff. I’m no good at
wanting
stuff. I really want nothing else. So...I’ll just keep this carte blanche to use well in...other areas.”

“In
those
areas, you already have carte rainbow. But in
this
area, I’m ahead of you. I’ve already ordered everything that will turn this place into the sensual wonderland where I can do your voluptuous magnificence justice, with all the props that will give me every...variation to pleasure and service you into oblivion.”

If he was already redecorating his place for her, this had to be serious, and long-term. Oh, sure, he’d already asked her to marry him. But that had been driven by honor as much as passion.

This
was all passion.

Overwhelmed with joy, she whispered, “I want one more thing.”

“Name it.”

She ran hands trembling with longing to and fro over his head, the dense, cropped silk covering it feeling like velvet beneath her aching palms. “Grow your hair back.”

His caresses stilled, his expression shuttering closed.

Had she tripped one of his proximity sensors? Did he find it easy to give her material things, let her come as close as could be sexually, but when it came to emotional intimacy, he balked?

Just as she was kicking herself for presuming too much, too soon, he pulled her closer, flattening her breasts against his chest, his eyes searing into her soul.

Then he said, “Done.”

Forgetting her decision to never again make such demands of him, she whooped, jumped in his arms, deluged him in kisses before pulling back, letting her greed take over. “Mid-back? In a ponytail?”

His lips twisted. “How about we take it an inch at a time?”

“That’s payback for my ‘day at a time,’ isn’t it?”

He wouldn’t admit to it, but she knew. He wasn’t thrilled about waiting. But it thrilled her that he wasn’t badgering her into an early acceptance. That he was letting them experience this phase of their relationship, enjoy its wonders.

He rose, swinging her up in his arms, making her feel weightless. “Let’s explore some of the new props.”

“You mean you already have some here?”

“You mean you didn’t notice the new additions? I thought they’d stick out in the void downstairs.”

“With you meeting me at the door and taking me against it, before hauling me here semiconscious with pleasure? I wouldn’t have noticed if said void had been engulfed in a meteor crater.”

“Now that might not be a bad idea. A crater I’d fill with perfect temperature water.” Somehow holding her with one arm as he descended the stairs, he smoothed his knuckles against her cheek tenderly. “Would you like an indoor swimming pool?”

Afraid she’d pour through his arms, she sighed. “A huge tub with you in it? Well, duh!”

He sat her down on what she realized was a swing.

As her imagination flooded with erotic possibilities for
that
“prop,” he gave her lower lip an approving nip. “Duh it is, then.”

* * *

“So why is Laylah not staying with you?”

Mira’s question caused Laylah to look at Rashid intently as he drove all three of them back from an excellent dinner out.

For the past three weeks he’d been sharing something new with her every day. Picnics, hikes, business trips, museums, shows. Intimate rendezvouses at his place and then at secluded hideaways while the pool had been installed. Tonight he’d taken her—and Mira—to an incredible restaurant for another unprecedented experience.

“I mean,” Mira went on from the backseat, her voice half an octave higher as always in Rashid’s presence. “You return her so late every night it’s always after I go to sleep.”

Rashid looked at Mira in the mirror with that tranquility that Laylah knew indicated unending patience with her for being
her
best friend. It still amazed her that there wasn’t the least bit of male appreciation in his eyes for the fiery and statuesque beauty who turned heads wherever they went.

He inclined his head in gallant apology. “I am sorry if I’ve been the reason for disturbing your sleep.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Mira spluttered, as always out of her depth around Rashid.

Laylah could sympathize big-time. Rashid’s larger-than-life vibe could mess with anyone’s balance. Especially those with XX chromosomes. It had to be loving him that much, and his unlimited indulgence with her, that made her function somewhat normally around him.

Mira elaborated, “Hey, I’ve been having the time of my life with you guys these past weeks. I love the ride home every day from work in this wonder car, and in the company of my favorite couple in the world. And I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all that wish-fulfillment stuff you keep pulling—flying me in private jets, getting round-the-clock medical attention for Dad at home and taking me out with you to places I didn’t know existed, not to mention the magic wand you’ve touched our business with. I’m just wondering, since you’ve been condensing your working hours to the bare minimum to make more time for each other, why not stay in the same place to have even more time together?”

“According to Laylah,” Rashid said, “it’s because I’m terminally archaic and can’t evolve beyond my Azmaharian programming.”

Yeah. She’d told him that. And a few more elaborate frustrations. He would be with her only during “appropriate” hours. But he wouldn’t hear of her spending the nights at his place, or her reputation would evidently disintegrate to ashes. The only time she’d spent the night with him had been that first night.

But that paled in comparison to another matter.

Tonight was their one-month anniversary.

At least it had been. Now after midnight, the day had passed.

And Rashid hadn’t asked her to marry him again.

She’d remained on pins and needles all day, thinking he’d say something during their late lunch. He hadn’t. Then at dinner, he’d invited Mira along and had so far said nothing.

Because Mira was around? Why invite her if she’d cramp his style? What did it all mean?

Had he rethought his offer? Decided it had been rushed and rash? With her being so free with her favors, maybe he thought he’d been wrong to worry about her “honor” when she wasn’t worried about it herself. Maybe he thought he should just enjoy what they had.

She’d want that, too, as long as it was long-term. But what if his change of heart meant that whatever he thought they had wouldn’t last long? What if he started winding down gradually to an inevitable end? Maybe he’d made that decision early on, and that was why he’d been adamant about her not moving in or even staying the occasional night. Maybe he didn’t want to cloak their intimacies in any kind of permanence.

She tried to shake off her doubts, listen to the almost one-sided conversation between Mira and Rashid. She couldn’t.

He pulled up to their building and said good-night to Mira, who responded with the self-possession of a starstruck schoolgirl, before she exited the car, murmuring for Laylah to take her time.

She didn’t. After a kiss that she initiated and he ended too soon, Rashid said that he had to rush away.

She stood on the sidewalk watching him drive off, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the weather creeping into her bones. She hadn’t thought twice about what it meant any other night when he’d dropped her at her place and driven off. But tonight...

Could it be he didn’t realize what tonight was?

No. No way. Rashid forgot nothing. And since he’d said nothing, maybe he just had nothing to say.

It was a long time after he’d disappeared that she’d dejectedly turned and entered the building.

Unable to face Mira again, she waited outside their apartment, struggling with tears, until she heard silence inside.

Once in her room, she rushed into the shower, dissolved the hot tears she could no longer hold back in hotter water, as suspicions overtook her thoughts.

Why had he insisted on Mira’s presence tonight of all nights? Had he needed her as a buffer against any possibility of intimacy? Today
had
been the first day without any form of that. Had he considered today, instead of being the beginning of a new phase in their relationship, to be the beginning of the end? Had her prophecy come to pass? A month in her company had been more than enough, and she’d started to grate on him?

But last night he’d made love to her with as much hunger as ever. Was that not enough anymore, and being the chivalrous knight that he was, he was trying to find a painless way out of this mess? What would she do if this was true?

After a night in a hell of uncertainty, morning brought with it the searing light of realization. Why Rashid was pulling away.

It had to be because she’d told him she loved him.

At first, it had been in the throes of passion, then gradually afterward she’d said it at every opportunity. She hadn’t worried when he hadn’t said it back. She’d thought it had been too soon for him, but she had been certain it was coming.

What if, instead of being truthful with him about her emotions, as she’d thought she should be, she’d only pressured him? And his response to her fervor, when he believed he couldn’t reciprocate it, was to pull away?

Unable to hold back anymore, anxiety and urgency eating through her restraint, she snatched her phone up, dialed his number.

He picked up on the second ring. She recognized the background sounds. He was in his car.

“Laylah—”

She cut him off before he could say anything more. “I didn’t...didn’t mean anything when I said I loved you. Please, just forget I said it.”

Eight

A
cacophony of sounds was all Rashid heard after Laylah told him to forget she’d told him she loved him.

It wasn’t until a policeman knocked on his window that Rashid realized the noise was a storm of honking.

He’d braked in the middle of the street.

He didn’t remember ending the call with her, or what exactly he said to the policeman. He only knew he found himself parked in front of the entrance of her building, staring up at her window, one thing pummeling through him.

She’d come to her senses
.

He’d been dreading she would. Almost waiting for her to.

He
shouldn’t have waited. He should have pushed for marriage sooner. But he’d been terrified he’d scare her away, yet it had been hell trying to pull back. But it had also been a heaven he hadn’t known existed, being with her. Being loved by her.

For she
had
loved him. Her love had been so pure and intense, had permeated him from her every touch and word and action, he’d basked in its unbelievable blessing with every breath. He hadn’t known how or why she’d loved him, but she
had.

He’d been trying to tell himself that, with Laylah being so overt about her emotions, when she agreed to marry him, no one would suspect that their marriage was not for the right reasons. That it would serve his purpose, get him everything he’d planned.

But with every hour in her company, every other consideration had ceased to exist. Nothing mattered anymore but her. Everything from her, with her, had overwhelmed him, undone him. With her he’d finally understood what happiness was.

But he’d left it too late. Even when he’d done everything in his power to stop her from realizing the truth about him, time had exposed him to her for what he was. A damaged, dangerous monster.

What had he expected? He shouldn’t have been in her heart in the first place. He didn’t deserve to be there.

Without knowing how, he found himself on her apartment doorstep just as she opened her door.

A huge gasp escaped her at the sight of him, the streams of tears already pouring down her face thickening.

Feeling sorry for him? Regretting that she had to let him down?

He couldn’t bear for her to feel bad. Never on his account. He’d sacrifice anything for her to never shed another tear.

Before he could say anything, she dragged him inside, her eyes all over him before she hugged him with all her strength, smothering her face in his chest.

“Rashid,
ya Ullah,
Rashid...you’re okay, you’re okay...”

Struck to his core at feeling her against him again, he stood, unable to move in her embrace, everything inside him demolished.

“I went insane when I heard that commotion and the line went dead and I couldn’t call you back. I thought you had an accident...”

Her voice broke on a sob that fractured his muteness, made him choke, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“What matters is that you’re okay.” Suddenly, she undid her frantic hold on him, embarrassment in her every line as she moved away. “I—I meant what I said, Rashid.”

That she wanted him to forget that she’d said she loved him.

He owed her the complete truth, if only in this. “How can I ever forget the one real honor and profound joy I ever had? The memory that you once loved me will fuel the rest of my life, and at its end, will be my one worthwhile achievement.”

Confusion then stupefaction gripped her loveliness.

Then she blurted out, “What do you mean ‘once’? You think I...? Oh, no, Rashid, I only meant I wasn’t pushing you to reciprocate when I said I love you. I had no other purpose behind it but telling you how I feel. I thought you felt pressured by my confessions because the month I asked for is up and you didn’t—didn’t...”

It was his turn to be flabbergasted.

“You thought...” He stopped, hope too joyous, too brutal. “You thought your declarations of love made me
reconsider my proposal?
”