in her breast at the prospect and her fingers clenched on the goblet. She had heard terrible things of Malouf, a man who seemed to possess neither mercy nor kindness. This man hardly seemed like a minion of Malouf...but who was he?
The man must have noticed the fear tensing her fingers and flashing in her eyes, for he leaned forward, his gaze blazing silver for one heart-stopping second. ‘I have told you, you need never be afraid of me. I know we have had an inauspicious beginning, but you can trust me on that.’
‘You kidnapped me from the palace,’ Olivia pointed out, glad her voice didn’t tremble as her insides did. ‘Why shouldn’t I be afraid of you? And why on earth should I trust you?’
‘Such means were necessary. Unwelcome, I grant you, but very much necessary.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I had waited long enough and I could wait no longer. But we need not concern ourselves with politics tonight, hayete.’
My life. The endearment caught her by surprise, made her feel weirdly exposed, as if the careless words had revealed a need in her she’d been trying to hide. Olivia blinked at him, wishing she hadn’t drunk so much of the arak. Her whole body was buzzing, but not just from the alcohol. The effect this man had on her was far more intoxicating than the arak. It hardly seemed possible that she could react so instantly and overwhelmingly to a stranger, and a dangerous one at that, yet...
She could not deny it. He affected her, and he knew it.
With a small smile flirting with his lips, he leaned forward and cut off a wedge of cheese from the platter with a small, wicked-looking knife. He handed the wedge to her, his lids half-lowered, his smile glinting, making Olivia feel another insistent throb of desire, a pulse going through her whole body. ‘You should eat something. You have drunk much of the arak, considering you have never tasted it before.’
‘I—oh.’ Fumbling a bit, Olivia replaced the glass on the table. She would drink no more. After a second’s hesitation she took the slice of cheese from him, her fingers brushing his once again, and nibbled it. It was delicious, fresh and tangy, and made her realise how hungry she was. The hours of riding had sapped her strength and given her an appetite.
‘Good, yes?’
‘Yes, it is very good.’
He cut a wedge for himself and popped it in his mouth. ‘Have some grapes,’ he said after he had swallowed, and he took a bunch from the table.
Olivia finished her cheese, mesmerised by the sight of his long, lean fingers tearing off a bunch of the grapes. Everything about the man was sensual, sexual. She couldn’t escape it, couldn’t ignore the heat snaking through her, pooling low in her belly, the tension and expectancy shimmering in the air. It was all so unfamiliar yet felt so...wonderful.
There was no other word for it, strange as it seemed. She felt as if she’d imbibed some secret elixir and it now flowed through her veins. She craved even more of it, the fizzing fireworks, the slow, molten uncurling inside her, even as a part of her insisted she stop, she back away, she stay safe.
She reached for the grapes but with a smile the man gave a little shake of his head and plucked one from the bunch, holding it out between his fingers, a sleepy challenge now in that heavy-lidded gaze. Olivia stared at him uncertainly.
‘Open your mouth,’ he said softly, and her eyes widened with shock. The invitation was so blatant, except it wasn’t an invitation at all. It was a command, and one she should most certainly refuse. She should demand he release her; she should be acting outraged and angry, or even just afraid. Anything but this meek and wilful obedience, already enslaved to her own desire, and yearning for his. She was complicit in whatever was happening here, unspooling between them in a golden thread of sensation. Wordlessly, her gaze fixed on his, she opened her mouth.
* * *
Triumph and desire flared white-hot through Zayed as Halina parted her lips. She really was the most beguiling creature, seemingly without artifice...and perhaps she truly was. Perhaps he should take her at face value, although heaven knew that was not something he did, ever. He trusted no one, not even those closest to him. He could not afford to. But his bride’s innocence seemed total, her wide blue eyes utterly without guile, every reaction refreshingly honest, even a little gauche. She hid nothing. Perhaps he could at least trust that.
Letting his gaze linger on hers, letting her see the heat and need in it, he slid the grape into her mouth, brushing her full lower lip with his thumb. Halina gave a soft little gasp as she jerked back, her lips closing over the grape, her eyes heartbreakingly wide, reflecting every emotion as sensations chased through her—the taste of the grape, the touch of his fingers.
‘Delicious,’ Zayed said, his voice caressing the syllables, his gaze still on her. Her dark hair tumbled in silken waves about her shoulders, sooty lashes sweeping down to hide those stormy eyes. Where her tunic top gaped he could see the shadowy curves of her breasts and hips and it made him ache. She was utterly delectable, and he found he couldn’t wait to taste her.
And wait he would not... With every minute that passed, Zayed knew Sultan Hassan could be coming closer, sending out soldiers to rescue his daughter. Zayed needed their marriage to be unimpeachable by then. He needed it to be consummated. And, judging from Halina’s trembling reactions, she was not averse. Shy, perhaps, and undoubtedly innocent, but most certainly not averse.
She swallowed the grape with a gulp, lashes lifting as she gazed at him in obvious confusion. ‘Why are you doing this?’
Zayed leaned forward again. ‘Because I find you so very desirable, hayete.’ The endearment came naturally—she was his life, the key to all his ambitions, all his desires. And, while his body stirred and strained with sexual need, that was what he had to remember. This marriage was essential to retrieving his throne. His inheritance. His life.
‘But...’ Her tongue darted out to moisten those full, lush lips. Zayed nearly groaned at the artless gesture that had lust arrowing through him. ‘But you don’t even know me.’
‘I know enough. And this was always going to happen, hayete, was it not? It was decreed long before now. It was written in the stars.’ Flowery language for what had been a businesslike betrothal when they had been both so young, but it was a means to an end. His bride’s eyes widened and she seemed startled, and then shyly pleased. The words worked.
‘Was it?’ She shook her head to clear it. ‘Was that why you kidnapped me?’
‘But of course.’ He had taken her out of desire, but of a different kind. ‘Come,’ Zayed said and, standing, he reached for her hand and drew her towards him, letting his fingers slide along and then twine with hers.
Her whole body trembled as she stood before him, her head lowered, her lashes fanning her cheeks. ‘What...?’ Her voice was no more than a thread of sound. ‘What do you want with me?’
‘I want to make love to you.’ Zayed rested his hands on her shoulders, felt how impossibly slender she was, how fragile. ‘Slowly and sweetly.’ He bent his head to brush a kiss against her temple; her skin was soft and cool. ‘Is that what you want?’ His lips moved lower to press a kiss to the side of her neck. A shudder went through her body.
‘I...I don’t... I haven’t...’ In her nervousness she stuttered, and Zayed laughed softly, kissing the nape of her neck, letting his mouth linger. She smelled of lemons.
‘Hayete,
