‘‘Why?’’
Tears burned in her eyes and she looked at him so overwhelmed by emotions she hadn’t expected to feel that she didn’t even think she could find her voice.
‘‘Why?’’ he demanded yet again.
The rest of Nic’s control snapped. ‘‘Because I like you. I don’t want you to be mean. Or petty. I don’t want you to be cruel just because Nicolette isn’t your idea of the perfect woman. No one’s perfect, King Nuri, and even those of us who aren’t perfect, are still pretty worthy of love, and loyalty.’’
‘‘I was apologizing—’’
‘‘Not really. Not enough.’’ Her lip quivered. She felt so wretched she couldn’t even bear it. ‘‘It’s her birthday today, and I don’t think she deserves this—’’
‘‘I know it’s her birthday!’’ He nearly shouted, his voice echoing. ‘‘That’s why you’re here with me this morning. I wanted to celebrate with you.’’
She fought to regain control and her chest rose and fell with each deep shuddering breath. ‘‘How did you know it’s her birthday? You don’t even like her.’’
He stood, leaned across the table, cupping the back of her head, and kissed her. ‘‘Because I like you,’’ he said, kissing her again. ‘‘I like you so much I’ve tried to learn everything I can about your family.’’
The tears shimmered in her eyes, making it very hard to see, but if she blinked, the tears would fall. ‘‘How old is she then?’’
‘‘Twenty-seven.’’ He reached up with the tip of her finger and caught the tears clinging to her lower lashes. ‘‘And I know you’re worried about her because she’s getting old and she’s still not married—’’
Nic batted away with his hand. ‘‘She’s not that old.’’
‘‘But she should be married, shouldn’t she?’’
And to show her he was teasing, he kissed her yet again, a light kiss, but something happened when his lips touched hers this time. The restraint was gone. The pure intentions disappeared. Instead emotion sizzled and the slow, tender kiss blazed into pure, raw, unadulterated desire.
Nic had felt desire, but this desire took her breath away, turned her belly inside out, made her ache with need.
She reached for him, fingers twining in his shirt, and his lips ruthlessly parted hers, his tongue stabbing at the softness of her mouth, tasting, teasing, making her aware that he’d been gentle with her so far, but he could also be fiercely hungry, and demanding.
Nic clung to him, welcoming the intensity, finding release in the violence of emotion. All her life she’d craved passion, and to find it here—and now—with Malik stunned her.
He lifted his head, stroked her cheek. ‘‘Forgive me. Please?’’
‘‘Of course.’’ And she managed a tremulous smile, something of a feat considering the intense desire still coiling inside her. It hurt to kiss. It hurt even more to end the kiss. She’d never felt so unfulfilled. ‘‘And Nic forgives you, too.’’
‘‘Then we can still have breakfast to celebrate her special day?’’
She grinned ruefully. ‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘And can we start over, pretend nothing’s happened?’’
Her laugh was soft, husky. ‘‘Are you that good of an actor?’’
‘‘Depends. Are you that good of an actress?’’
Nic thought of the past week at the palace. ‘‘No.’’ She laughed yet again, making fun of herself. ‘‘I’m a terrible actress. I’ve never been picked to play a lead in any of our school theatre productions.’’
He held her chair for her, and slid her chair into the table once she was seated. ‘‘Not even though you were a very famous princess?’’
She made a face. ‘‘I’d like to say there was a bias against princesses, but that isn’t the case. My sister, Joelle, is a fantastic actress. She also inherited Mom’s voice. Joelle’s voice is like an angel’s. You have to hear her sing one day—’’ Nic broke off, blushed. ‘‘Listen to me. You’ve turned me into a chatterbox.’’
He gestured for coffee and a steward instantly appeared, filling their cups. ‘‘You’re far from a chatterbox, Chantal. I have to work to make you talk.’’
Nic reached out to touch the floral arrangement, her fingertip brushing across one crimson rose petal. The damask roses in the floral arrangement made the air smell spicy and sweet. ‘‘Men like quiet women.’’
Malik spluttered on his coffee. ‘‘I can’t believe you say these things.’’
‘‘At least it makes you smile.’’
‘‘I’m just glad you’re smiling again.’’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEIR eyes met and held. Nic saw the sincerity in his lovely silver gaze, and felt little ripples of pleasure hum through her. They were making small talk and yet below the surface the most intense attraction simmered, and the awareness that they both felt so much, fueled the desire.
‘‘So what is on your calendar today?’’ he asked, sitting back as a serving girl set a plate of fresh sliced, peeled fruits before him—mangos, papayas, kiwi, pomegranate. The colors were vivid, wet, glistening. Like jewels drenched by the rain.
Nic’s mouth watered. She was hungry. But not just for food. She wanted his mouth again, wanted his tongue and the spicy taste of his skin.
‘‘It’s busy,’’ she answered, knowing perfectly well that her schedule was packed with appointments, including another fitting followed by two hours in the kitchen with the master chef learning about Baraka’s cuisine before being given her first instruction in how to prepare the sultan’s favorite dishes.
‘‘Perhaps we’ve kept you too busy. The strain is showing.’’
She made a wry face. ‘‘Apologies, Your Highness.’’
He smiled. ‘‘Do you need a holiday?’’
‘‘No books? No activities? No homework? What would I do?’’ She feigned shock.
‘‘I suppose you’d have to enjoy my company. If such a thing is possible.’’ He speared a circle of kiwi and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly, letting the ripe sweet fruit dissolve even more slowly.
She watched his firm, mobile mouth take the succulent fruit, watched his jaw move once, twice, saw the long strong column of his throat swallow and she exhaled in a tight, thin stream of air. A day alone with Malik wasn’t her idea of relaxing. She couldn’t relax around him. She’d begun to crave contact with him too badly. ‘‘I know you’ve many state appointments—’’
‘‘Too
