praying Khalil understood what she was saying with her body.
* * *
Sleep was a long time coming that night. Khalil stared up at the canopied bed, his arms around Elena as her breathing evened out, and he wondered why on earth he’d told her so much, had said things he hadn’t admitted to anyone, not even Dimah or Assad. He hated to think of anyone knowing the truth of his utter humiliation as a child, yet he’d willingly told Elena. In that moment he’d wanted to, had wanted someone to understand and accept him totally.
And her response had nearly undone him. The sweet selflessness of her touch, the giving of her body... He still wasn’t sure he knew what love was, but he imagined it might feel like that. And, if it did, he wanted more. He wanted to love someone and know he was loved back.
Foolish, foolish, foolish. Insanity. This was a marriage of cold convenience, not love or trust or intimacy. He’d told Elena he wanted none of that, and he’d meant it.
How had he changed?
Yet he knew he had. He’d been changing since the moment he’d met her, since he’d seen a reflection of himself in her. She’d begun changing him even then, softening him, opening up his emotions, unlocking his heart.
How could he go back to the cold, barren life he’d once known?
How could he not?
He’d learned to trust her with so many things—with his feelings. With the truth. Could he trust her with his heart?
* * *
Their wedding took place in the palace chapel, with only the Council members and their wives, as well as a few ambassadors and diplomats, in attendance.
Elena wore a cream silk sheath dress and a matching fascinator, no veil or bouquet, or really anything bridal at all. She’d picked the outfit with the help of her stylist when she’d arrived in Thallia, thinking only of what image she wanted to present to her public. She’d wanted to seem like a woman in control of her country and her destiny, perfectly prepared to begin this businesslike marriage.
She hadn’t wanted to look like a woman in love, yet she knew now that was what she was. And as she turned to Khalil to say her vows she wished, absurdly, perhaps, for a meringue of a dress and a great, big bouquet, a lovely lace veil and a father to give her away.
Never mind, she told herself. It’s the marriage that matters, not the wedding. Yet what kind of marriage would she have with Khalil?
Last night had been so tender, so wonderful and intimate in every way, physically and emotionally. Yet this morning he seemed his usual, inscrutable self, stony-faced and silent, dressed in traditional Kadaran formal wear, a richly embroidered thobe and loose trousers. He looked magnificent—and a little frightening, because Elena had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.
The ceremony passed in a blur. Vows were spoken, words read, then Khalil drew her to him and pressed his mouth against hers in a cool kiss.
She still had no idea what was going on behind those veiled eyes.
Elena circulated through the guests at a small reception after the ceremony, her gaze tracking Khalil’s movements around the room, even as she chatted with councillors who oozed satisfaction now that she was wed and taken care of.
She felt as if everything had changed for her—but had it for him? Should she even hope it had? It might be better—wiser, safer—not to let things change for herself. Not to open herself up to all of the pain and possibility that loving someone meant.
It was too late for that, she knew. She couldn’t stop what she felt for Khalil, just as she couldn’t keep the waves from crashing into the sea or the moon from rising that night. Her love for him simply was.
After the reception they retired to a suite of rooms in its own private wing, as much of a bridal chamber as the palace had.
Elena took in the champagne chilling by the canopied bed, the fire crackling in the fireplace, the frothy nightgown some accommodating member of staff had laid out for her.
‘It’s all a bit much, isn’t it?’ she said with an attempt at wryness. She felt, bizarrely, as if they were pretending, as if they were going through the motions of marriage and love when last night she’d felt they’d known the real thing.
‘It’s thoughtful,’ Khalil answered with a shrug. He hesitated, his gaze pinned to hers even though Elena had no idea what he felt or what he intended to say. ‘You looked beautiful today. You still do.’
A thrill of surprised pleasure rippled through her. ‘Thank you.’
‘I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’
‘I couldn’t take my eyes off you, either,’ she admitted with a shy smile.
His answering smile was assured. ‘I know.’
‘Oh—you!’ Elena gasped with a shocked laugh. ‘You sound unbearably arrogant, you know.’
‘But it’s true.’
‘It would be more gentlemanly for you not to remark on it.’
‘Why?’ he asked as he reached for her. ‘When the feeling is mutual?’
She stared up at him, suddenly breathless. Just how much was mutual?
He feathered a few kisses along her jaw. ‘And this is what I’ve been wanting to do all day long.’
‘Why didn’t you, then?’ Elena managed as she tilted her head back to give him greater access.
Khalil pressed a kiss to the tender hollow of her throat. ‘What do you think your stuffy councillors would have thought if I’d dragged you out of that ballroom and returned you with messed hair, swollen lips and a very big smile on your face?’
Elena let out a choked laugh, her mind blurring as Khalil’s mouth moved lower. ‘I think they would have been pleased. I’d have been put in my place as a dutiful wife.’
‘I like the sound of those duties,’ Khalil answered as he tugged at the zip of her dress. ‘I think you need more instruction on just how to carry them out.’
Her dress slithered down her body, leaving her in nothing but her bra and pants, her whole body on fire from the heat of Khalil’s gaze. ‘I think I do,’ she agreed...then they didn’t speak for quite a while after that.
Later they lay in bed just as they had last night, hands linked and limbs entwined. Sleepily, utterly sated, Elena thought how this did feel like for ever. Maybe they could be this happy...for ever.
‘I need to go to Paris,’ Khalil said. His fingers tightened briefly on hers as he stared up at the bed’s canopy. ‘To see my Aunt Dimah. She moved there a few years ago. She should hear of our marriage from me. And I’d like you to meet her.’
‘Of course,’ Elena said simply. She was glad to share in any part of Khalil’s life that he wanted her to.
‘And after that,’ he continued, ‘we will return to Kadar. I received a message from Aziz today, just before the wedding. He has agreed to meet with me.’
