had said that he had had to endure surviving without the taste of her lips, the intimacy of her body against his … Gina didn’t even know how to start telling him she felt the same. All she could do was demonstrate her wildly hungry feelings by matching him kiss for ravenous kiss, her hands as greedy for the touch of his skin as his for hers. His body was hard as iron beneath his flowing robes, his mouth a passionate burning brand that left her heart no choice but to be enslaved by him for ever.
Breathing hard, he broke off the kiss to cup her face between his hands. ‘I must have you in my bed tonight. After this, can you still deny me?’
Thinking was hardly possible right then, while Gina’s body still throbbed from the delicious intimacy of Zahir’s passionate embrace, and her senses were frustrated at not having her craving for him completely fulfilled. But, like a serpent in paradise, an unhappily wounding thought reared its dangerous head and wouldn’t be ignored.
‘Release me.’
‘What?’ Confusion and not a little frustration filled his eyes.
‘You have to let me go. I—I need to sit down for a minute.’
As soon as Zahir set her free Gina sank down onto the brocade couch, her mouth drying uncomfortably at the question that had reared commandingly inside her head—a question she desperately needed an answer to.
‘Your sister told me today that you are soon to be married. She said it is to be an arranged marriage to an Emir’s daughter. Is that true, Zahir?’
His glittering gaze considered her bleakly for a moment, then he spun away to pace the floor again. A couple of feet away from her he stilled. A shaft of sunlight beaming in through a narrow window alighted on the mane of long hair that spilled across his shoulders, and the copper lights deep within the fiercely glossy ebony strands glinted like dark fire. In her wildest dreams Gina couldn’t have dreamed up a man more magnificent—or more unattainable.
‘It is true … But what has that to do with us? I am not marrying her for her beautiful body, or her wit and charm, so there is nothing to be jealous about if jealousy is what you feel—not when you possess all those attributes in abundance. It is, as you say, merely an arranged union for dynastic purposes only. The arranged marriage is common enough amongst titled landowners in these parts.’
‘The last time you explained about that you hadn’t found anyone suitable. Obviously things have moved on quickly since then?’
‘Look … whether I marry this woman or not has nothing to do with what we share. Absolutely nothing! Why can you not see that?’
Capturing a strand of the bright hair that drifted round her shoulders, Gina coiled it round her finger, then let it spring free. ‘Why can’t I see that?’ A soft, wounded sigh escaped her. ‘Perhaps because I firmly believe that marriage should be one man for one woman, and that the relationship should have love as its foundation … not convenience or—or sex!’ Gathering up her scattered papers from the cushion beside her, she pushed to her feet. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must get on. I’ve promised to meet up with your sister again, and I need to pop up to my room for a book first.’
Zahir was back in front of her in an instant. A myriad of passionate emotions swirled and flickered in the silken depths of his long-lashed eyes. ‘Know this … I do not ask you to become my mistress because I do not care for you. Even though you hurt me with your false promise to return, there is no other woman I desire or want to be close to but you, Gina.’
Biting down on her lip, she resisted the strongest urge to touch her hand lovingly to his high-contoured cheekbone. She hadn’t forgotten that he’d recently been shot at and might have lost his life. ‘I believe you, Zahir.’
‘Then why shut me out as you clearly are doing?’
‘Because even though you say you care for me, it’s not enough to persuade me to either share your bed again or become your mistress. I don’t want to play second fiddle to another woman, even though you might not hold her in high regard and your marriage would be just a formality … a convenience. I would be betraying my own integrity and hers if I do that, and that’s important to me. I’m sorry, Zahir, but that’s just how I feel.’
Leaving him standing there, his expression stunned and sombre, she moved across to the door and went out.
After Gina had so shockingly deserted him, Zahir bellowed for Jamal and gave him orders to get his Arabian stallion saddled up, ready for his immediate use. Less than half an hour later, ignoring his concerned manservant’s plea to not ride too far lest he tear open his wounds, he mounted the magnificent ebony steed and rode off into the hills.
What else could he do with all the restless and unsatisfied desire that thrummed through his veins? He had to burn some of that raging fire in him away or else he would certainly go mad. And he couldn’t abide staying at the palace and twiddling his thumbs for the afternoon just because his doctor had advised him to rest … not after Gina’s unbelievable rebuff.
Why was the woman being so stubborn? It seriously perplexed him. There was an old saying: patience is beautiful … Right now he was far too frustrated and furious to contemplate the wisdom it was no doubt meant to impart. What would entice her to become his mistress, to realise it would give her far greater access to his body and his time than any plain, unimaginative eighteen-year-old wife, who would rather giggle with her girlfriends and feed her face than learn how to pleasure a man?
When Zahir glanced round to see a palace bodyguard following him on another steed, he let loose an oath. Giving the horse his head, he stirred him into a brisk canter. Then, when they were out in more open country, into a full heart-pounding gallop.
‘Turn around.’ Farida’s look of quiet concentration was endearing as she watched Gina model the black hijab and dress that she’d loaned her, so that she could accompany herself and a male servant to the market.
After that emotional scene with Zahir in his study earlier, the unexpected trip Farida had suggested was the perfect antidote to the melancholic feelings that kept washing over her. It hurt deeply that she was apparently good enough to be Zahir’s mistress but not his wife. Yet, underlying the sensation of despondency, she held on to the fact that he had at least declared he cared for her. Maybe that knowledge would give Gina something to work with? Thinking of the personal search she had started in the library, she yearned to get back there soon.
‘From behind you will look just like any other young woman visiting the marketplace. It is only when people see your fair skin and sapphire-blue eyes they will know you are not a native from Kabuyadir.’
‘I rather like the anonymity these clothes give you,’ Gina remarked thoughtfully, running her hand down over the smooth black silk. ‘Back at home women are bombarded daily by the media with what we should look like, what size we should be and what clothes we should wear—usually revealing ones. It’s a refreshing change not to worry about that for once.’
‘Well, I am glad they make you feel more at ease. We will have a good visit … You will enjoy it and so will I. This will be my first outing for a long time. Now, if there is anything you want at the marketplace—for instance souvenirs or a length of silk or brocade to make a dress—let my servant barter for you. That is how it is done here, and it will ensure you get a good price.’
The marketplace was a sensation overload. Turning her head this way and that, Gina endeavoured to absorb as much of the sights and sounds as possible. When she was back in the UK, doing her
