down that line of thought as Imogen wove her way through the crowd, Bjorn keeping a discreet but alert distance. She’d chosen to wear a traditional abaya for their night out and the thoughtfulness of the gesture wasn’t lost on him. She could just as easily have worn something shockingly skimpy to embarrass him but it wasn’t in her nature. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen from the start that she wasn’t manipulative or two-faced, as many of the other women he had dated in the past had turned out to be. Women who would simper and preen and bend any which way he asked them to. He smiled as his memories of the other night came back on a rush. He was already looking forward to the end of this evening and bending Imogen to his will again.
‘Wow—this looks delicious.’
Nadir followed her gaze to the table. He’d forgotten all about the food.
‘I hope you didn’t wait for me to start.’
‘Of course I did.’
‘Oh, thanks.’ She leant forward and sniffed appreciatively. Her eyes closed and a look of total bliss swept across her face and he very nearly called for his car.
‘Is that cardamom and cinnamon I can smell?’
‘And vanilla and honey,’ he said roughly. Like her skin.
‘What’s this dish?’
Shelving his sexual appetites for now, Nadir turned his attention to the food. For the next hour they ate and talked and when it was time for the music to start the tables were cleared to make room for the dancers to take the floor. Of course he and Imogen were given a central position and moments later a lute started playing. Then a flute joined in along with a riqq. Imogen started swaying in time with the music.
She leant closer to him so that she could be heard above the music and revelry of the excited audience, her lips so close to his ear he could feel her warm breath. ‘What’s that instrument?’
Nadir turned his head, his gaze snagging with hers, their mouths inches apart. He thought about kissing her but knew he couldn’t. Public displays of affection were currently considered a crime in Bakaan. Instead he inhaled her fragrance and reminded himself that he was a man reputed to have wonderful self-control. ‘Which one?’
She swivelled her head and pointed towards a group of musicians and he breathed in her tantalising scent.
‘The one across that man’s lap that looks like a harp.’
‘A qanun.’
She smiled up at him. ‘It’s beautiful.’
No, she was beautiful and he wondered how it was possible for his heart to feel so light when Zach’s continued lack of contact was starting to worry him and insurgents were right now threatening to disrupt industry in the north.
She tapped her feet in time with the music and the lead dancer noticed. With a smile on her face she headed their way and Nadir knew what was coming.
‘Would the new Sheikha like to join in the line-up?’
Imogen’s face lit up and she said, ‘Shukran,’ which impressed everyone within earshot, and joined them.
The audience cheered when they realised what was going on and the female dancers surrounded Imogen, much to Bjorn’s consternation, and wound shimmering skeins of fabric around her to match their own costumes.
She stood with her feet together, toes turned out and he grinned as he remembered the time he had teased her about looking like a duck. She’d quacked and told him that after years of dancing she couldn’t help it. He’d kissed her and told her he loved it. He still did.
Missing a step, she laughed and delighted the other dancers with her unaffected nature and he tensed as he wondered how any man looking at her could fail to want her as much as he did. Immediately following that thought was the one that said he should bundle her up right now and take her back to the palace. Back to his bed.
Only the dance had started and he couldn’t turn away from her as she mastered the routine. His gut tightened and then the dance changed and the men joined in.
They looked at him with an air of hope rather than expectancy because, of course, his father had never mixed with his people like this, preferring to rule from the lofty heights of the palace walls. If he were to take the job he wouldn’t rule that way and neither would Zach.
And then he realised what dance they were about to perform. It was the dance a man did when he was courting a woman and his instinct was to beg off but then he caught Imogen’s eyes, her swaying figure. To hell with it. He moved to stand opposite her. He had never performed it before but he had seen it done many times as a boy. She looked up at him with a shy expression. Did she know what this performance represented? That it signified undying love?
His steps faltered as he circled her. Was that what he was feeling? Love? He immediately discarded the idea. He’d never wanted to find love in his life because—as he’d learned from first-hand experience—deep emotion brought even deeper mistakes and he liked his mind clear and sharp. Not that it was exactly clear or sharp right now but that was just lust and lust could be sated.
Imogen’s words about how she only wanted to marry for love came back to him. What would it be like to have hers? Something tightened in his chest. He didn’t want that from her. It was enough that they were compatible in bed. That they enjoyed each other’s company. He stepped closer to her than he should have. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he growled in her ear.
She looked up at him with big eyes and he thought to hell with it and kissed her before dragging her off the dance floor amidst the shocked gasps of his countrymen. Things would be changing soon enough in Bakaan. He’d just add PDAs to that long list of improvements.
* * *
Imogen could feel the tension radiating from Nadir’s big body in the car and desire made her blood grow sluggish in her veins. That dance they had performed back at the restaurant had been highly erotic even though they’d never actually touched. And Nadir had performed it like a professional. She’d guessed that it was some sort of mating ritual and she wondered if Nadir had ever danced it with another woman before. She wanted to ask, but she wouldn’t.
Instead she thought about how much his people had loved it when he’d joined in and she wondered yet again why he didn’t want to be King. He would be exceptional in the role. Was it because of his father? His sister who she didn’t feel comfortable enough asking him about? And when would she start to feel comfortable enough with him to be able to freely discuss what was on her mind?
‘Did you have a good time?’
‘Yes.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re biting your bottom lip. What’s wrong?’
Imogen glanced at the driver of the car. ‘Nothing.’
‘By now I understand that nothing inevitably meant something.’
‘You’re not that clever,’ she said, smiling in spite of her misgivings. But he was and it was a bit disconcerting to think that he knew her so well already.
Fortunately he let it drop as the car swung through the palace gates and stopped at the front steps. They both got out and
