eyes, just like you do in bed.”
She blushed. It was true that she liked to sleep with her head on his chest, her arms and legs spread over him, but she hadn’t realized that he’d noticed her preference. She raised her hand and stroked his jaw, which was shadowed by his white head covering. “Thank you, Tariq.”
“You are welcome, my wife. Come, it is time to go.”
Sometimes, Jasmine thought, as Tariq helped her mount the sway-backed creature, her husband could be the most thoughtful of men. He mounted behind her before she could begin to panic. For the ride, both of them were in wide-legged pants and tunics, their heads and necks also covered from the harsh sun.
Her stomach lurched at the camel’s first step, but she kept her eyes resolutely forward, determined to conquer this fear if it killed her. The endless desert vista was an unexpected ally, tranquil and beautiful. By the time they stopped for the day, she was watching everything with wide eyes. The camel’s rolling gait was a little disconcerting, but as long as she didn’t look directly at the ground, no nausea arose. And in truth, her husband’s strong grip around her waist almost gave her the confidence to do that as well.
However, she understood that even he couldn’t help her with a sore rear. They had stopped at a hidden desert oasis for the night when she discovered just how bad it hurt. After they arrived, she excused herself and walked until she was out of sight of the men. She quickly took care of her needs and then stood in the shadow of a small tree, rubbing her sore behind.
Tariq’s low chuckle made her spin around, face flaming. He was standing less than a foot away, his arms crossed over his chest, a wide smile on his aristocratic face.
“What are you doing here?” She dropped her hands and started to walk past him, embarrassed.
He caught her around the waist with one arm and swung her against his hard body. She turned her face away. Tariq nuzzled her neck affectionately. “Don’t be angry, Mina. I was worried when you didn’t return to camp.”
Mollified, and melting from his warm touch, she decided to be honest. “It hurts.” For the first time since she’d arrived in this land, she felt ill at ease, a foreigner unused to the ways of these exotic people. She needed Tariq’s comfort. What she got was something totally unexpected.
His hands dropped to her bottom and began to massage her aching flesh with soothing strokes. “It will get worse before it gets better. I believe that’s a Western saying.”
She groaned, too relieved to be embarrassed. His hands felt like magic, but she knew that if he kept going, she’d do something silly like ask him to make love to her. Shoving at his chest, she backed away, her legs shaky.
“We, um…better return or we’ll miss dinner.” She didn’t look him in the eye, afraid of her own hungry desire.
His disappointed sigh was loud in the silence. “You are correct, Mina. Come.” He held out his hand. Jasmine slipped her palm into his and they made their way to camp.
Her wicked husband leaned over and said, “I promise to soothe your sore muscles tonight, my Jasmine. I wouldn’t have you so aching from riding that I couldn’t ride you,” just as they reached camp. A blazing blush stole over her.
The other men took one look at her and smiled knowingly. Ignoring them, Jasmine sat down next to Tariq. He sat to her left and a little in front of her, protecting her from the curious looks. Jasmine almost smiled at his possessiveness, but didn’t challenge him. Aside from the fact that she was relieved she didn’t have to face everyone in her current state, she would never dishonor Tariq in front of his people. In private, she felt free to question him, but deep instinct told her it would be a betrayal to do so publicly.
It wasn’t just that Tariq was sheik in a desert land, where men possessively protected their women even as they cherished them. It was him. He was a very private man, a man who met the world wearing a mask. His pride was tied to his inherently private nature.
To his people, Tariq was approachable and kind, but he maintained an aristocratic reserve that was appropriate to his role. However, in New Zealand, he’d utterly frozen out her family, his contempt for their manipulative games completely undetectable. Yet with Jasmine he’d been warm, playful, teasing and, most of all, loving.
Four years later, she understood that only she had seen the man behind the mask. He’d trusted her. Even now he was really himself with her only occasionally—times when he seemed to forget the past. The rest of the time, he wore a mask for her, that of a man who would “own” his woman. It was a mask, she told herself. Her Tariq was hidden behind it.
After the evening meal, there was a short discussion in the native language of Zulheil. It was a beautiful language, but one she hadn’t yet mastered.
“You were discussing sleeping arrangements?” she asked Tariq, when he turned to her. His eyes were hooded by the edge of his headgear, but she could see the campfire reflected in their depths. Her body began to burn with an inner blaze that was hotter than anything the desert could create.
“Yes. We carry tents with us if you wish to use one.”
Jasmine shook her head. “No, I want to see the stars.”
He smiled, as if she’d made him proud. “We will sleep away from the rest of the men.”
Remembering his promise, she blushed. “Won’t that be a problem?”
He raised an aristocratic eyebrow. “No man would let his woman bed down where other men may look upon her sleeping face.”
“That sounds very…”
“Primitive? Possessive? I am all those things where you are concerned, Mina.”
With the wild desert surrounding them and the night sky sparkling overhead, his words sounded exactly right. He was a warrior into whose keeping she had given her life, and she knew that he would always protect her.
“What, no arguments?” he asked, when she remained silent.
“How can I argue with a man who has promised me a massage?”
For once, her controlled husband looked disconcerted. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough. The desire between them was mutual, a living, breathing thing. Unlike the loneliness of her love, when he took her in his arms, they were very much partners.
“I think it is time to retire.” As he spoke, Tariq’s eyes glowed with inner fire, not reflected flames.
They left the others soon afterward, carrying their own bedding. Tariq waved off offers of help, saying that if he couldn’t make a bed in the desert, he wasn’t worthy of being sheik. His men nodded solemnly, pleased with their leader.
He made Jasmine wait while he lay the bedding on top of a thick patch of some springy vegetation that would cushion their bodies from the hard ground. Then he held out his hand. “There is one thing, Mina.”
“What?”
“Tonight, you cannot make a sound. We are too close to the others.” He’d already removed his headgear. Now he took hers off and put it aside, before tangling his hands in the heavy fall of her hair. A rough sigh betrayed his pleasure. “Not a single sound, my Jasmine.”
“Not
