The Desert Lord’s Bride

Nine

He reentered his quarters, theirs now, covering the long distance to their bed slowly, to savor the image she made, naked and tangled in the sheets, one breast jutting out, nipple still erect, just because he was there, existed, her thighs pressed together on the ache of satiation and the renewed need he knew must be gathering in her body as it was in his.

He stood over her and she opened her eyes, the look of total desire and delight there skewering through him as she held up her arms, spreading herself for his ownership.

He surrendered, filled her arms with a pained groan. She rained kisses over his face, his neck, his shoulders and he shuddered, drew back. The hungry, playful look in her eyes gradually turned uncertain, then anxious.

“What is it, darling?” She came up on one elbow, a quiver that thrummed in his heart permeating her voice. “Is something wrong with your family?”

He squeezed her shoulders, forgetting anything but what had churned inside him like slow poison since he’d laid eyes on her, the one thing he had no answer for. The one thing he needed answered. Now. “Only one thing is wrong. One thing I need to know. When you leave here, will you go back to your lover?”

She fell back on the bed as if he’d backhanded her.

“H-how did…?” She gulped, squeezed her eyes shut, her color rising until she almost glowed in the dimness. At last she opened her stricken eyes. “W-was that what this phone call was about? You’ve investigated me?”

“Did I need to investigate you, Farah? After all the things we shared, you couldn’t have told me yourself?”

She scrambled up to her knees, her eyes filling, with tears and beseeching. “I should have, but I couldn’t. I was so thankful you hadn’t heard the rumors…”

“Rumors? Are you telling me Bill Hanson isn’t your lover?”

“Oh, God, no. He’s the only one of Dad’s acquaintances who stood beside us when Dad died and all our assets were lost. He offered to give us whatever we needed to regain them. But my mother admitted her lack of business acumen was what led to our losing Dad’s fortune in the first place, and that she’d only lose whatever Bill gave us again. I was too young to take over and soon realized that I wasn’t cut out to be the CEO of a multinational corporation. So I asked him for a job instead. He offered me one at a huge salary, and I worked my tail off to earn every cent. He soon promoted me to his personal advisor and analyst. When I accused him of being charitable again, he insisted I was the best person for the job, having been taught by Dad, who was the best, not to mention that he trusted me implicitly, something he couldn’t buy with all his money.

“The rumors started the day he promoted me almost two and a half years ago, and Bill asked me to let people think they were true, said it was a mutually beneficial arrangement. I wanted to keep suitors away, and he wanted revenge on his wife, who’d left him for a man their youngest son’s age. I was content with the arrangement until I met you, and I was so happy you hadn’t heard about it as I just wasn’t up to explaining, was even afraid you might not believe me.”

She fell silent, out of breath, her eyes seeking his reaction anxiously. He doubted he had any outward reaction. He felt as if he’d turned to stone.

After he’d become certain she hadn’t been sexually active, his mind had taken off on ugly tangents to explain how a woman could manipulate a man like Hanson without using her body.

But he’d dismissed each explanation as impossible. Not her. Not Farah. And now this. This demolished every doubt. Made her a total innocent. Made his deception infinitely worse.

For he believed her. Without question. She was only telling him what his every instinct had been telling him from the first moment. She didn’t have one exploitative cell in her body.

But there was one thing. He grabbed at it to yank him out of the mire of realizations and guilt. “Why didn’t you want suitors, a woman of your youth and beauty?”

“Suitors was the term Bill used. Mine is predators. I’ve had them circling since Dad died, first for my inheritance and then since I became Bill’s right hand, because of my position.”

“That’s why you…?” He choked on his question, memories bombarding him.

“Why I accused you of having some sort of agenda the night we met? Yeah, my insecurity reared its ugly head. I was so stupid, it even crossed my mind that you might have something in common with those petty men who wanted a piece of Bill.”

“But surely you realize that you, alone, without any other incentive, are enough to drive men wild?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Yeah, right.”

“How can you even doubt it? Don’t you see what you do to me? What you did to me since that first look?”

“I think it’s a miracle, that you want me as much as I want you. But before you, I didn’t care if there were men who might want me for myself. I never wanted a lover again, after my one experience left me convinced I was incapable of enjoying sex.”

One experience. So she’d been as inexperienced as he’d felt. Her first real intimacies, her first pleasures, her first abandon had been in his arms.

But the elation of this confirmation was dampened by everything else. The expanding knowledge of how much his initial preconceptions-no matter that they’d been backed up by photographic evidence-had caused him to misjudge her. They’d polluted his thoughts and feelings, kept him resisting logic and the evidence of his own senses and intruded upon the precious moments with her, moments he hadn’t fully appreciated, believing what he had about her. And now this. And he had to know the rest, everything. Struggling with a dozen reactions, he said, “Tell me about this experience that led you to believe such a ludicrous thing about yourself.”

She looked as if she’d rather dig a hole and hide.

Just as he was about to tell her she shouldn’t recount it if it upset her at all, she squared her shoulders, gave him such an adorable look of embarrassment and determination.

“I was nineteen and I was still trying to cope with losing Dad, with being the strong one for my mother’s sake. Dan was one of Dad’s executives and he kept working on convincing me that I needed someone, that that someone was him. His research of me was so thorough he knew what to do, what to say, to project the image of a soulmate for the embarrassingly green girl I was. But then, as a shrewd businessman, he would have sunk that much time and effort into far less than the half-billion-dollar deal I still was at the time. He was ready to do anything to land me. Then he did, and it was-” she winced, the perfection of her lightly tanned skin turning coppery with embarrassment “-horrible. It wasn’t even painful, for he was-uh…” She put two fingers about four inches apart, turning positively red. “Anyway, it was just awkward and gross. And he told me it was OK, that some women aren’t capable of enjoying sex, but he would keep trying to-to…”

“Cure you?” he spat.

She winced at his sharpness, nodded. “Something like that. Seemed he counted on me being so ashamed of my shortcomings, I would let him steer me whichever way he wanted. But you know me. I’m incapable of hiding what I feel. So I said, if I couldn’t enjoy it, didn’t want it, why bother? He tried to humor me for a long time, but his act started to crack. Seemed that when all the work he’d done wasn’t paying off, his endurance started to give. Then one day I blurted out, why not just be friends? And he erupted. Just like a volcano. Kept spewing for an hour, honest. Who would want to be my friend? He’d only endured my inexperience and my odious character for the money, which he thought he deserved, not a brainless idiot like me. I was amazed. I’d aggravated him to the point where he threw away half a billion dollars rather than put up with me. Then, when said money was lost, he even called me, gloating over his lucky escape and over the fact that I was now not only a cold bitch but a penniless one, too.”

Shehab glowered at his hands, feeling his every nerve charging up with murderous intent.

But was he any better than this man? Hadn’t he done the same to her? Manipulated her to an end unconnected with her? As she’d felt from day one?

No. His cause was just. And he’d started his own manipulation under false impressions about her, the worst. And he’d pleasured her, would die before he hurt her in any way. While that man, who’d deceived her, scarred her for life…

He rose, stood on the bed, looked down on her. “I’ll find that scum. Then I’ll send him on a one-way trip to hell.”

She blinked in alarm, then gave a nervous giggle. “Oh, Shehab, he’s not worth one drop of this magnificent machismo. Save it all for me.”

“You’re not buying him mercy like you did the paparazzi,” he bellowed. “The man who made you think being hounded by them was preferable to being exposed to his species, the man who convinced you you had something lacking, when you only have extra endowments, the least of which was the sense to feel repulsed by his dirty soul’s touch, when there’s no woman who has more sensitivity, or is more capable of being ignited and pleasured than you. He robbed you of your innocence when he didn’t even want it, when he reviled that incomparable gift. And he’ll pay, slowly, for all his crimes.”

She gave a huge sob, launched herself at his legs, hugged them. “Oh, Shehab, if you want to avenge me, you just did. More fully and fantastically than you can ever know. Just forget him, or you’ll make me scared to tell you anything from now on.”

He looked down on her, grappling with aggression, with the raging emotions at seeing her like this, at his feet, the cover pooling on her thighs and exposing the sweep of her graceful back and flared hips in a pose out of his deepest erotic fantasies. He felt his turmoil leveling as his aching eyes glided over the luxurious waterfall of her sun-kissed hair cascading between his rigid thighs, her lips almost buried in his erection.

He took all he could then snapped, sank to his knees before her, hauled her to him, mingled her with his limbs and lips.

He came up from the endless kiss, looked down at her as she lay in his arms, her eyes drugged, her trembling hands pushing his abaya off, exposing him to her hunger.

She started talking again as she pushed him to his back, to start the exploration she’d claimed a right to, one of the events he now lived for. “But this guy was right about one thing. I did experiment with physical intimacy after him…” He stiffened, and she soothed him. “I didn’t go beyond kisses, with good-looking men I found nice enough, agendas and all. I’d decided to go in with my eyes open and have fun. I thought if the kisses went well, I’d go further.” He started to growl and she dipped her tongue into his navel. “I hated the first’s scent and taste. The second’s voice, his breathing, the noises he made in his throat made me want to slap him. With the third, when I found myself thinking when I can get this over with so I can go back to that donut I was eating, I knew Dan was right about me being unable to enjoy physical intimacy.” He came off the bed when she buried her face in his erection, inhaled him, moaning long in enjoyment. Then she raised her head and looked him straight in the eyes. And her eyes. Ya Ullah, her eyes.

This was Farah, letting him see into the very depths of her heart and soul. Then she told him.

“But I realize now I can’t feel physical passion without an emotional one. And that’s why you’ll always be the only one to ignite and pleasure me. Because I love you.”

Everything ceased. To matter. Ceased, period.

Because I love you.

He stared at her, paralyzed under the onslaught of every contradictory emotion in existence. She loved him. Loved him.

And she was taking his hand, her trembling lips burying in its spasticity, her eyes glittering with so many emotions, he felt inundated. “I loved you at first sight, and I’ve been falling deeper every moment since.”

Was this how necrosis struck in someone’s heart? With emotions that actually generated damaging heat, like a laser? Could he have been blessed by so much, the love of this incomparable woman, her total trust…when he deserved none of it?

But no. He deserved it. For she’d seen through the thin layer of manipulation to the emotions that had blossomed toward her unchecked, unstoppable from the first, every spark of it true. That was what had made her fall in love with him. She’d been reciprocating his feelings.

And though he felt he deserved to lose her in atonement for how he’d led her on, how he still couldn’t confess everything, since it wasn’t only his life or fate in the balance, he had to reach out and take all she offered. And she was offering her all. And he needed it all to live, to exist. He would throw his own need at her feet.

He slipped off the bed, pulled her to its edge until he had her sitting up, then kneeled between her legs. He wanted to pour it all out. But he couldn’t. He was overcome. She had overcome him. He lowered his head to her knee, reiterating her name raggedly, as if in deepest prayer.

She cried out, tried to pull his head up, her fingers trembling in his hair. He put his on top of hers, pressed them to his head, showed her he wanted to be cradled in her lap, needed to be held to her heart, surrounded by her generosity, blessed by her love.

And his magnanimous Farah complied, hugging and hugging him, spilling hot love and tears all over his face and hands.

“Please-” she hiccupped “-don’t make me sorry I told you. Don’t feel as if you owe me anything. I know how honorable you are, and I’d die if I made you feel bad, or compromised. I knew what I was doing, and I never expected anything in return. I’m just happy I’m normal, that I found you, a man who deserves my total trust and love. When it ends, I’ll go on knowing I experienced true fulfillment. That for once I had what my name proclaims me to be. Joy. You gave me that, and I’ll always cherish the memory of our times together.”

He stared up at her, struck at the horror of what he’d inflicted on her. She might have subconsciously felt his emotions, but she’d been unable to believe they existed. And she still hadn’t protected herself at all. She’d given him all of herself, trusted him, expecting nothing, believing she’d have nothing of him in return, convincing herself the morsels he’d given her so far would be enough.

He surged, clamped his lips over hers, unable to bear one more word. “B’Ellahi, ya habibati, er’ruhmuh…have mercy, my love. Ahebbek, ya farah hayati, aabodek, I love you, joy of my life, I worship you. It’s I who loved you on sight, who wanted everything to be perfection for you, wanted to give you time to know me as I prayed you might come to feel a fraction of what I feel for you. You own my heart, by right of being the first to ever wake it. You own my body and life, by right of offering yours for them. And now you own my soul by right of giving me your essence in all selflessness. But you say you don’t expect anything of me. Does this mean you don’t want it? Won’t you take it, when I offer it? Everything that I am? Will you not make me complete, give life reason and texture and purpose? Will you not marry me?”

Farah had gone still with his first words, her eyes, those emerald heavens like pools in an earthquake, their waters welling, shaking in place. When his heart emptied of blood and wouldn’t fill again, silencing him, she gasped as if she’d been underwater, was coming up for a life-saving breath. Then the pools of her eyes turned to rivers, and her face shuddered out of control with jubilation and disbelief. And finally, belief.

And he was in her arms, crushed to her breasts, surrounded by her delirium and joy and the absoluteness of her love.

And she sobbed it all to him, the one thing he craved to hear, her happiness as she consented. “Yes, yes…yes, yes, I’ll be your wife, I’ll be with you always…” She withdrew, her eyes wide with wonder and love so fierce it was painful. “Oh, God, you really love me.”

He reared up, spread her on the bed, came over her. “Ana aashagek-I…I…there’s no word for it. Esh’g is a concept that has no equivalent in English, more selfless than love, carnal as fiercest lust and as reverent as worship and as impossible to shake. I always thought it part of the innate hyperbole of my culture. But it isn’t, it’s the one thing that approximates how I feel for you, about you, with you. Aasahagek. Enti mashoogati. What I feel, and what you are to me.”

She melted beneath him, nerveless, overwhelmed. “It’s too much…oh, darling, too much…”

He consumed her gasps, drained her tears. “Nothing will ever be too much for you, everything I have or do or feel or am is yours. Enti rohi, hayati…my soul and life…”

She arched beneath him, in a fever, opening her legs around him, clamping them high on his back. “Please, my love, I can’t take anymore…just take me when I know it’s in love this time. Love me, let me love you…”

He stroked into her, invaded her, surrendered, and that was all it took to bring them to ecstasy. This time, when he jetted his seed into her womb, he roared his love. And he was freed, free, completed, complete.

“Of course I know it’s been six weeks…” Farah bit her lip as she put the phone away from her ear at the tirade that exploded on the other end. “Bill, will you calm down?” She raised her voice into the mouthpiece before venturing to put the receiver to her ear again. “I will do the analysis today, promise.” She paused, and Shehab couldn’t hold back anymore, walked to her, swept her up in his arms, took her to the couch, sat down with her on his lap, smoothed her, soothed her. She gave him a look that was a cross between gratitude at his solicitude and aggravation at Bill’s fit. Then she finally exhaled. “OK, OK, Bill. Don’t give yourself another coronary. I’ll come back. As soon as I can arrange it.”

She ended the call, looked up at him, apologetic.

He only growled. “You don’t have to take orders from him anymore. As my wife you can buy him out a dozen times over.”

A look of bliss came over her face the moment he said wife. She melted in his arms, memories of their tempestuous, magical night written in her expression, fusing his insides with love and longing for a continuation.

She came up from another surrender to their deepening bond, gasping, and chiding him. “First of all, I’m not marrying you for access to your limitless funds and power. Second, this isn’t about money. Bill is sort of the only friend I have, and he needs me.”

He grappled with the need to tell her to let Bill go to hell. “I accept and understand that.” And he did. He knew he was enough for her, but if others enriched her life in any way, struck an extra ray of happiness in her heart, he’d cherish them, too, do everything so she’d have them in her life. But…“He won’t raise his voice to you again, though, or he’ll suffer.”

“Oh, he’s just all bark. With me, at least. In fact, he’s sort of comforting. Dad used to be the same, and it’s sort of nostalgic having a father figure with the same audio effects.”

“You keep stopping me from defending you, with all this misguided compassion.” She started to protest and he only kissed her. “And though it aggravates me, since I can’t let my wrath loose on all who’ve ever given you a moment’s discomfort, it’s one of the endless things I love about you.”

“Oh, do you think you can arrange for me to have a list of those, in writing?” He gave her a hard, long kiss, swearing he’d arrange for her to have the moon if she only wished for it. She pulled back, panting. “So you’ll arrange for me to go back to L.A.?”

Shehab’s heart convulsed with trepidation. After the enchantment of the past six weeks, confessing their love had catapulted them to a higher level, one that kept getting higher with each moment of knowledge of each other’s love. And he dreaded the least change. But how could he deny her?

He couldn’t. He’d always give her anything before she even wished for it. “You think I’d send you back alone?”

She jumped in his arms, whooping in delight. “You’ll come with me?”

“To the ends of the earth, to hell and back, or even if there was no return ticket. So what’s a tiny skip to L.A.?”

The tiny, twenty-hour skip, reprising their memorable flight from L.A. to his island, was the reverse of everything that had taken place then. While then they’d spent it talking, and strictly outside the bedroom, this time they headed there the moment they boarded and didn’t come up for breath all through the flight.

But through the sensual delirium and emotional overload, Shehab felt anxiety and the need to pour out everything he was withholding from her, everything that was eating at him.

Yet he’d look at her, see and feel her adoration and bliss, and have his purpose defeated again and again. How could he cloud this perfection by bringing up the charade that had started it all? How could he cause her pain and disillusion if only for moments, before she believed she’d long stopped being an instrument for securing the throne of Judar?

It was only as he finally watched her walking into her work-place, turning every two steps to wave at him, that he knew.

He couldn’t put it off any longer.

As soon as he saw her again, he would divulge his identity, confess the whole truth, beg her forgiveness for the deception that had ceased to be one almost from the start.

And his magnanimous Farah would forgive him.

She turned around one more time before she disappeared behind the mirrored glass of the skyscraper’s entrance, blew him a kiss. He caught it, pressed it in both his hands to his lips, before taking it to his heart, where it took it and soared.

Yes. He’d confess, and she’d forgive and forget.

Then their lives would truly begin.