sleep. I’ll check on Nadeena in a minute.’
She wanted to protest, she wanted to say that she needed to do it because she always had and Nadeena’s safety was her responsibility but Nadir rolled her onto her side and spooned her, his big body swamping hers and cocooning her in the most delicious warmth and a deep lassitude invaded her already weakened limbs and turned her limp. It was blissful, this feeling of being utterly taken care of, and no doubt—if she let it—highly addictive.
OR IT COULD have been highly addictive if it had continued. But of course it had not, Imogen thought glumly as she stretched to place her nose against her knee, her groin muscles protesting the once effortless stretch.
They had made love twice more during the night, once fast and another time slow and indulgent, his fingers drifting and stroking over every inch of her body as if he couldn’t get enough of her and then in the morning she’d woken up to find him gone.
At first she’d not minded, stretching her overused muscles and indulging in sensual recall. Then she’d realised that she couldn’t hear anything and that she’d overslept for the first time since she’d become pregnant and had raced out of bed, pulling on her T-shirt that had been wedged half under his giant bed and set off down the hallway to find Nadeena’s cot empty.
Slightly panicked, she’d then rushed into the living area to find Tasnim and Maab taking care of Nadeena at the outdoor table. Relieved, she’d pulled up, taken her smiling daughter into her arms and hugged her, the rush of relief bringing with it the subtle aches and pains in her body that brought her awareness back to how well loved she had been the night before. Then she’d glanced around for Nadir. Tasnim said that he had given Nadeena the small amount of milk left over from when Imogen had expressed the night before and told them not to wake her unless it was absolutely necessary.
As if on cue, her breasts had tingled and she’d sat in a shaded lounge chair and fed her daughter. And waited for Nadir to return.
She’d sat there with a secret smile on her face and thought that maybe she’d been wrong to leave Paris so hastily fourteen months ago. That maybe she’d been wrong not to have realised that he would want what was best for her and the baby.
That had been yesterday morning’s thoughts. Now, another day and a half later, Imogen was wishing that she had run further fourteen months ago and that he’d never found her because, apart from a note sent to inform her that he would be in late last night, she hadn’t seen or heard from him since.
It would have been the classical wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am scenario except for the fact that she still had an enormous ring on her finger that she was sure someone would hack off to obtain if she ever ventured out into a public place with it on.
She glanced at it now, wondering why she still wore it.
It wasn’t because she was under any illusion that the man who had given it to her genuinely cared about her. And it definitely wasn’t because she thought he craved her company as much as she stupidly craved his. Not that he’d ever know that was how she felt. No, she might have felt her heart crack open a little when he was touching her, kissing her, making love to her, but his behaviour over the last two days had sealed it back up with more precision than a blowtorch. And to think she’d imagined that she was falling for him all over again. Thank goodness she’d disabused herself of that errant notion.
And yes, on some level she knew she was being unfair to him because of his current issues in Bakaan but she knew he had a reputation for working hard. Working hard and playing hard. So she knew this was just a sign of her life to come and she didn’t like it. He made her feel like an afterthought while she found herself wanting so much more from their relationship. More than he clearly did.
The realisation was emotionally debilitating and if he thought that giving her a couple of extraordinary orgasms would be enough to make her comply with his every wish then he had another thing coming. Especially since she’d had at least a day now to stew over the news that they were to be married at the end of the week.
She doubted she would have taken the news that well if it had come from Nadir, but since it had come from Tasnim asking what style of dress she would like to wear she felt like telling Nadir to go to hell. That she’d been right all along and this was nothing but an enormous mistake they would both live to regret.
A slight noise from behind her had her hackles rising as she recognised the subtle shift in the air that told her it was him. Pride kicked in and fortified her spine. There was no way she would let him know that his actions had hurt her. Determined to be cool and dignified despite her racing heartbeat, she finished off a leisurely stretch and then stood up as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
He walked towards her, his eyes raking over the casual clothing she had found in amongst the clothes he had provided for her. She hadn’t wanted to wear them but then she hadn’t really had any choice. Nadir was garbed in traditional white robes that emphasised his regal bearing and sun-bronzed skin. How a man could make robes look sexy was beyond her, but unfortunately they only seemed to enhance Nadir’s physical perfection rather than detract from it.
He ran a hand through his hair and she realised that he looked tired beneath his natural tan. ‘Where’s Nadeena?’
Of course he would ask after their daughter first. It was why she was even here after all. Stupidly, it hurt.
‘Having a late afternoon nap.’
He nodded. ‘Has she been okay?’
‘Great.’
‘Okay then it’s you.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s wrong?’
She kept her expression bland. ‘What could possibly be wrong?’
* * *
Nadir didn’t know, but something was. He’d spent the last two days meeting with members of the UAE to determine Bakaan’s future membership into the federation and he was exhausted. It had been a frustrating endeavour because his father had never been interested in political or economic alliances and instead had treated Bakaan as a lone wolf. Naturally enough that made some of the members of the federation highly suspicious of what Bakaan’s intentions were and what the benefit was in including them into the federation at all. When he had explained his and Zach’s vision of the future—drawn up and refined over many years and many lagers—he’d had a breakthrough and all but one had signed the new treaty.
Reform would be slow, he knew, and arduous but intensely satisfying once it started to take effect. And it was also supposed to be Zach’s job—not his. Zach, who had still not returned any of his phone calls.
Now Nadir was supposed to travel to Sur, a Northern city, and present the terms of the agreement to the outer tribal elders who still held a lot of influence in certain sectors of Bakaan.
First, though, he’d wanted to stop off and see Imogen and Nadeena. He’d been frustrated the past two days that he hadn’t been able to see them at all but the federation members had been due to leave and Nadir had needed to strike while the iron was hot. When he’d returned to his suite late last night, even though he’d sent a note telling Imogen when he would finish up, he’d been disappointed to find her already in bed. And not his. After their lovemaking two nights ago he’d assumed that things between them would improve. Seeing the look on her face
