Strangers in the Desert (9 page)

Had it always been like this between them? She wanted desperately to remember, and yet she couldn’t. A trickle of memory here and there was all she’d been allowed, when what she wanted was for the floodgates to open and everything to come back.

He moved up her body then, his mouth tangling with hers once more as he gripped her buttocks in a broad hand and positioned her beneath him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her whole body shaking as he began to push inside her.

“You must tell me if I hurt you,” he said, his muscles corded with the tension of taking his time.

Isabella swallowed a gulp of fear. She wanted him so desperately, in spite of her release a few moments ago, and yet she was frightened of him, too. Frightened of what this would mean.

“I don’t really know what to do,” she confessed shamefully. “I’m trying.”

He kissed her again. “You’re doing everything right,
habibti.
Everything.”

He moved forward relentlessly, and for a moment she thought he would be too much for her, that she would have to tell him to stop. Her fingers curled into his arms, her nails digging into him as he filled her.

And then her body opened to him as if it had always done so, and he slid the rest of the way home with a groan. He was so deeply inside her she could feel the pulse-beat of his body within hers.

He didn’t move, and she gazed up at him in wonder and shock. Had it always felt this way? The amazing sense of fullness and anticipation sent little electrical charges across her skin until she was dying for him to move, to take her even higher.

How could she feel so much pleasure when he’d done nothing more than enter her body?

The look on his face was equally awed and bewildered. It was as if time stopped while they stared into each other’s eyes, as if the world ceased to turn, and no one existed except the two of them.

I love you
echoed inside her heart—but her head insisted it wasn’t true. How could you love a man you’d forgotten, a man you hadn’t yet gotten to know again?

You couldn’t. It was simply the overwhelming emotions she felt at being joined with him this way.

“Isabella,” he said softly, and his voice held a kind of amazement that she recognized. As if he too were blown away by feelings he couldn’t explain.

Another tear dropped down her cheek. He caught it with a finger.

“It would be the hardest thing I have ever done, but if this hurts you, we can stop,” he told her. “Pain should not be a part of this. Ever.”

She couldn’t tell him that pain was a part of it for her, but not physical pain. Never physical pain.

“No,” she said quickly. “Oh, no. Don’t stop, Adan. Please don’t stop.”

With a soft exclamation, he began to move inside her. He took his time at first. Her body instinctively knew his, knew the rhythm, and she rose to meet him as he withdrew again and again, his thrusts gaining power each time they met.

It didn’t take long for their lovemaking to slip into the danger zone, to become something so hot and intense that they were no longer in control of it. At some point, their hands twined together on the ground above her head. Though it was cool in the garden, sweat slicked their bodies as they tangled together in the center of the labyrinth.

Everything Adan did, she realized, was designed to spin out her pleasure for as long as he could make it last. But it was inevitable that it had to end. Isabella caught the fine edge of the wave, and then plunged into the depths of a shattering release that had her sobbing his name as she shoved her hips upward to meet him.

Adan gripped her bottom in both hands, lifting her to him as he made her pleasure last and last and last. By the time it was over, she was wrung out, spun out, shattered beyond repair. She would never be the same again.

“Look at me, Isabella,” he said.

Her eyes snapped open.

“I want to watch you come for me.”

“I can’t possibly—”

“Believe me, you can.” And then he began to move again. For the barest second, she wanted to beg him
to stop—it was too much, too intense, and she would never survive it a second time. When he’d brought her to orgasm with his mouth, it had been amazing and wonderful.

But this … this was earth-shattering not only to her body, but also to her soul.

And then, just like that, the feeling caught again, spinning up inside her in one long pleasurable wave that she could no more deny than she could stop breathing.

This time when she shattered, he went with her. He gripped her hips, holding her to him, and plunged deeply into her body, shuddering inside her with such force that he cried out sharply as he came.

Eventually he rolled to his side, taking her with him until he was on his back and she was lying on top of him. She laid her head against his damp chest, breathing harder than she would have believed possible, and closed her eyes.

His fingers traced up and down her spine, softly, rhythmically, until she felt herself drifting. They stayed like that until their bodies cooled and the night air sent a shiver tiptoeing across her.

“We should go in,” Adan said. His voice sounded sleepy, as if he, too, had been drifting.

Isabella pushed herself up, yawning. “I need my clothes.”

Adan got to his feet and helped her up. “Forget the clothes,” he said. And then he swung her into his arms and carried her into the house.

A
DAN
woke sometime around dawn and reached for the woman in his bed. She came to him instantly, opened to him, and then he was stroking into her body and losing his sense of place, his sense of self, as he got lost inside her lush sensuality. He thrust into her with more force, more rawness, than he ever had before.

She’d been so naive and sweet when he’d married her. He would not have considered making love to her like this, riding her body hard, glorying in the answering urgency of her need. She drove him to this, drove him to want to possess her again and again.

He hadn’t intended to take her to his bed. Hell, he hadn’t intended to make love to her at all. When he’d gone outside earlier, it had been more out of curiosity than anything else. He hadn’t thought they would end up naked and making frantic love in the center of the labyrinth.

But they had. And when it was time to come inside, he’d thought they would part ways when he carried her to her bed and left her there.

Except that he’d gone straight to his room instead. Once there, he’d been delighted when she’d wrapped her hand around him and let him know she was ready
for another round. He’d lain on his back and thrust up inside her while she ground her hips against him, her beautiful breasts bouncing in the moonlight, her glorious hair tickling his chest when she leaned forward to suck one of his nipples.

Now, her breathy moans filled his ears, made him crazy. He took her lips, caught her moans in his mouth and gave them back to her when he exploded inside her a short time later.

Adan fell asleep again, his arms wrapped around the quivering, sighing woman beside him. When he awoke much later, light was streaming through the windows and across the bed—and he was alone.

He sat up, half wondering if it had all been a dream. But, no, his body could attest to the fact it had not. He showered and dressed, then went in search of food, coffee and Isabella.

He found her in the kitchen with Rafiq and Kalila. She carried Rafiq on her hip as she floated around the kitchen island, gathering ingredients from the refrigerator, and pots and pans from the hanging rack above. She looked beautiful, radiant, her entire body glowing with that special look of a well-pleasured woman.

She smiled when she looked up and saw him. “Look, Rafi, there’s your daddy. Say hi to Daddy.”

“Dada,” Rafiq yelled.

Adan’s heart twisted. He loved Rafiq so much, and yet he couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy that stabbed into him while Isabella held their son. He should be pleased the boy liked her, and yet, part of him was not.

Adan stepped forward and held out his arms, gratified when Rafiq went straight into them. It was petty of
him, he knew, and yet he was delighted his boy wanted him more than he wanted to stay with Isabella.

When he caught her eye, he was surprised to see that she didn’t seem disappointed. In fact, she was smiling at him as if they shared a secret.

Which, he supposed, they did. She crooked an eyebrow, and he found himself thinking of last night—of her lips, her sighs, the catch in her throat, the feel of her sex surrounding him, of that warm, wet, amazing place he wanted to spend hours exploring.

He broke eye contact with her and kissed his son on the cheek. He needed to stop thinking about Isabella before he grew hard in the middle of the kitchen. Before he handed Rafiq to Kalila and dragged his wife—
his wife
—back to his bed for the rest of the morning.

“Did you sleep well, Your Excellency?” Isabella said teasingly.

“Not as well as I would’ve liked.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps you should get a new mattress or something.”

“The mattress is fine,” he said. “It just needs to be broken in a bit more. Rigorous bouncing might do it.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. She glanced at Kalila, who seemed oblivious to the undercurrents as she worked a puzzle in a magazine. Adan grinned as Isabella cut her gaze back to him.

Rafiq bounced in his arms then. “Bell!” he exclaimed. “Bell, Bell, Bell!”

Bell indeed, Adan thought.

“Yes, baby boy?” Isabella said.

“Bell!”

Isabella laughed, the sound as sweet and pure as spring water. “I’m sorry to hear you did not sleep well,
Your Excellency. Perhaps you should return to bed and catch up on your rest. We wouldn’t want you to be unable to, um … keep up, as it were …”

“I think I can manage,” he said, shooting her a grin. “Especially if I get some breakfast. Who’s in charge of cooking around here?”

Isabella smiled. “The cook is shopping at the local market for a few things. I am making breakfast.”

“You can cook?”

Her green eyes were filled with humor. “I had to learn a thing or two recently. Cooking was one of them.”

He was doubtful, but she set about scrambling eggs and making toast. Before he knew it, she’d plopped plates of food in front of him and Kalila. Kalila looked at the blackened edges of toast doubtfully.

“It’s American,” Adan said helpfully. Kalila cut her eyes at him while Isabella’s back was turned. Adan shrugged. Then he picked up a fork and dug into the eggs. Kalila followed suit, though she looked apprehensive.

Isabella came around and took Rafiq, placing him in his high chair and giving him a plate of food, as well.

Adan popped the eggs into his mouth. His taste buds rebelled instantly. He would have spat the eggs out, but Isabella was watching him hopefully.

“Good, right?”

“Um … yes,” he replied. The eggs weren’t inedible so much as overcooked. Any moisture had been leached out of them a while ago. They clung to his tongue like dust. Salty dust.

“The toast got a little burned, but I scraped it off,” she said. “You won’t even notice, I promise.”

Kalila put her fork down as Rafiq spat out the eggs
and started banging on his tray. “He wants his usual, Your Highness,” she said by way of explanation.

Isabella’s expression fell. “I can get it for him. What does he want?”

“It’s okay,” Kalila said, hurrying to the pantry and grabbing the baby cereal Rafiq preferred. Within a few moments, she’d set a bowl in front of him and handed him a spoon. Somehow, Kalila found a way to busy herself without returning to her plate.

Adan took another bite while Isabella smiled and fixed her own plate. Then she stood across from him and lifted a forkful of eggs to her mouth. Her frown was immediate.

“I overcooked them,” she said, dropping the fork onto the plate and setting it on the counter.

“They’re fine,” Adan replied. “Just a bit dry.”

She reached across the island and gripped his wrist. “Don’t, I beg you. If you keep eating, you’ll get a stomachache. And then your imperial guard, or whatever you call them, will be marching me off to jail for an attempted assassination.”

Adan set his fork on the plate. “You aren’t used to this stove,” he offered helpfully. “Or the toaster.”

She sighed. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it. Or maybe I just can’t cook as well as I thought I could. I didn’t do it that often, actually. I ate takeout quite a lot, in truth.”

Adan stood. “Come, let us go out onto the terrace. Kalila will whip something up in no time.”

Isabella sighed her disappointment. “Can I help you, Kalila?” she asked.

Kalila shook her head. “Go, Your Highness. This will take me ten minutes. It is very simple. I will be pleased to teach you later, if you like.”

“Thank you,” Isabella said before following Adan to the terrace. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat heavily.

“I can do nothing right,” she said.

Adan grinned as he took the seat across from her. “I don’t know about that. I can think of a few things you do exceedingly well.”

She didn’t seem mollified. “I hate that Kalila has to fix breakfast now. She has enough to do.”

“Yes,” Adan said, his heart twisting with the familiar grief and love for his old nanny. “This is not too much for her, though. It will be fine.”

Her green eyes searched his face then. “You love her, don’t you? I thought she was a bit old to be Rafiq’s nanny, but then it occurred to me that she must have been yours.”

“She is the mother I never had,” he replied truthfully, stunning even himself with the admission.

“Your mother died when you were young?”

Adan’s laugh wasn’t humorous. “Oh, no. She is still very much alive, holding court in her magnificent house, and telling all her friends how proud she is that her son is a king. If she could trot me out for them and pinch my cheeks, she’d be even prouder.”

“I’m sorry, Adan,” she said softly, frowning.

He shrugged self-consciously. “Her children were prizes. Possessions to be displayed for others to admire. Children made her nervous, so she preferred to see us when we were at our best. And to send us away again once we’d made an impression.”

“So Kalila raised you.”

“Yes. She was the constant in our lives, the one who held our hands, patched our scrapes and hugged us when
we needed it.” He sighed. “She should be enjoying her retirement, but there was no one else …”

He broke off when she looked away and pressed a hand to her mouth. When she turned to him again, her eyes were glistening, but she did not cry. Her smile wavered at the corners.

“I did tell you I can’t do anything right,” she said. “Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t found me after all.”

It wasn’t so long ago he’d thought that, too, but he wasn’t about to say it. He’d been angry for so many things, but he was tired of being angry.

“Why don’t we worry about the present,
habibti?
The past cannot be changed.”

“Are you truly that forgiving?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or are you just enjoying the fringe benefits?”

In spite of his wish otherwise, a skein of anger began to unwind inside him. And guilt, because he
was
enjoying the sex. Too much, perhaps.

“We’ve spent one night together, Isabella,” he said. “Don’t start redecorating everything to your taste just yet.”

Isabella didn’t know why she’d pushed him. Why hadn’t she just gone with the flow and enjoyed breakfast and the sensual afterglow of a night of amazing lovemaking?

Because she was frightened, she admitted to herself. Frightened of what was happening between them, and frightened of her feelings for him and their son. Already, she felt as if leaving would rip her heart from her chest. She’d been attempting, in her own stupid way, to interject reality into the situation.

The reality was that they’d had sex. Mind-blowing sex, but still just sex. One night of pleasure, even if he had been celibate for the past almost three years, was not enough to make him want her to stay forever.

She knew it, but she’d needed to hear it in real terms. She’d needed his censure instead of his warmth so that she could keep her feet firmly grounded. This man was not about to fall in love with her and beg her to stay. He hadn’t been in love with her before, so why would he fall now?

If sex were the magic potion, then it would have worked on him years ago. Besides, she was a different person than she had been when they’d married. She didn’t need his love. She only needed to be in her son’s life. She knew what it was like to grow up without a mother, and she didn’t want her son to experience the same. Nor did she want him to be shuffled between parents who used him as a pawn in their relationship.

She would do anything to prevent it.

“I wouldn’t dream of redecorating a thing,” she said crisply. “I—”

Kalila emerged with a tray just then and Adan shot to his feet to help her. He took the tray from her gnarled hands, admonishing her for not sending one of the serving girls.

“They were busy, Your Excellency,” she said. “And it is no problem.”

“Adan,” he said firmly. “You promised.”

The old woman glanced at Isabella, then nodded. “I did. Now be a good husband, Adan, and serve your wife,” she said before rambling back into the house.

Isabella bit the inside of her lip as he turned. She wondered if he knew how much emotion showed on his
face when he talked to Kalila. She could see it all written there: the love, the guilt, the pain, the frustration.

Her heart throbbed as he came back to her and set the tray down. She wanted to rise to her feet and put her arms around him. To hug him tight and let him know it would all be right. He was a man with so many burdens, and she felt guilty for adding to them.

The food was simple but filling. A copper pot held hot coffee, and Isabella took the handle and poured into two cups. They ate in silence. Isabella looked out over the garden as she chewed. The labyrinth in daylight was a far different place than it had been last night. Less magical, more ordinary.

She thought of their clothes, probably still spread out in the center, and found herself blushing at the memory. Not only that, but a shiver pulsed through her. A pleasurable shiver.

She’d tried not to think too much about what had happened between them—and yet, in truth, she’d hardly thought of anything else. The memories had been playing in the back of her head like a movie reel since she’d awakened this morning. All she could see was Adan’s naked body covering hers. All she could feel was the incredible heat and emotion of their lovemaking.

Every stroke of his body into hers had been a revelation. Every kiss, every sigh, every caress. How had she lived each day without knowing that kind of simple joy?

And how had she committed the colossal mistake of allowing last night to happen? It would have been far better had she not. Except that she’d had no will to resist when she’d turned to him in the labyrinth. No will to do anything but see where her feelings took her.

Was that what she’d done two years ago, at her father’s house? Followed her feelings to some dark, terrible place that separated her from her baby and her husband? Would she ever know what had truly happened?

“You said that your mother was relieved when you moved out of her house after your recovery,” Adan suddenly said, startling her. “Why was that?”

Isabella spread jam on a piece of bread. It had always been hard to think about the many ways in which her relationship with her mother had gone wrong. But perhaps she owed him, since he’d shared his past with her.