At last he snatched up his shirt and strolled over to the tent flap, pausing briefly to glance back at her-still spread on the satin bedcover with her hair tumbling in fiery disarray around her shoulders. ‘Never tell me again that you don't want me,' he warned softly, his black eyes boring into her as if he could see inside her head. ‘Because now we both know it's not true.' And with that he dipped his head in a mocking salute and stepped outside into the desert.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PALE rays of sunlight filtered through the tent flap and slanted across Zahir's face, rousing him from sleep. As always, he was instantly alert, and turned his head to find Erin curled up next to him, her glorious hair spread like a fiery halo about her head.
Last night when he had joined her in bed, long after she had fallen asleep, he had been struck by how young she looked-and how innocent. Her pillow had been drenched, and the streaks of tears on her cheeks had tugged hard on his conscience. Usually he had no patience with women's tears, but Erin had cried alone and silently-he had been standing just outside the tent and hadn't heard her-and the idea that she had sobbed herself to sleep had forced him to evaluate his treatment of her.
It was nothing to be proud of, he'd acknowledged as he had stretched out beneath the sheets and tried to ignore the fact that she was lying inches from him, her delectable body barely concealed beneath the sheer grey silk chemise she must have donned after he had stormed out of the tent. Now, in the light of a new day, he was besieged by a nagging sense of shame.
She was no longer innocent. He had taken her virginity with as much finesse as a barbarian. It was impossible to believe he had not hurt her, and the thought filled him with such bitter self-disgust that he flipped back the sheet and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, raking his hand wearily through his hair. Whatever Erin might have done in the past, she had not deserved such brutality, and the fact that she had responded to him so fervently did not excuse his behaviour.
He was suddenly conscious that the rhythmic sound of her breathing had changed, and he glanced round to find her watching him with big, wary grey eyes. For the first time in his life he did not know what to say. None of the usual glib compliments that formed part of his practised routine when he woke with a woman in his bed came to his lips. The silence ached with emotions he did not understand, with a faint feeling of regret he felt helpless to express, and yet despite his self-loathing he could not tear his eyes from her face.
She was his woman, his wife, and his desire for her this morning was, if possible, even more intense than last night. But he would have to control the fire that licked in his veins and had already caused him to harden in eager anticipation. He had vowed in the pre-dawn hours when he'd stalked restlessly in front of the tent that he would not touch her again until she'd indicated that she wanted him to. He would not force himself on her like a coarse boor. He was a prince, for heaven's sake, and it was time he exerted some of the iron self-control for which he was renowned.
‘I need to apologise for last night,' he said stiffly, his clipped tone shattering the uneasy quiet.
Erin's eyes widened even further. ‘For what last night? For making love to me?'
He could feel her surprise-as if an apology was the last thing she had expected-and his jaw clenched. ‘I was rough with you,' he grated. Apologies were not easy, but this one had to be made. ‘I have spent the past week anticipating our wedding night, and my impatience made me careless. By the time I discovered it was your first time it was too late to restrain my hunger for you. If you had told me-' He broke off, clearly struggling to contain his impatience. ‘If I had known, I would have acted differently-been gentler,' he expounded at her confused frown.
‘If you had known I was a virgin you wouldn't have made love to me at all,' Erin murmured. ‘You would have had our marriage annulled and asked the courts to award you custody of Kazim-wouldn't you?' she added uncertainly.
Zahir's gaze meshed with hers, and the tension between them changed subtly as awareness wove its sensual spell. ‘Kazim was not the only reason I married you,' he said harshly. ‘And you credit me with more self-control than I possess-certainly where you are concerned. The knowledge that you were a virgin would not have lessened my desire for you,' he said with a self-derisive laugh, ‘but I would not have forced myself on you like some clumsy youth at the mercy of his hormones.'
Erin watched in fascination as dull colour highlighted his incredible cheekbones. Zahir was a royal prince, and fiercely proud, but previously she had mistaken his pride for arrogance and hated him for it-or so she had tried to kid herself, she thought ruefully. With a sigh she rolled onto her back and stared up at the canopy of rich burgundy silk that was draped above the bed. ‘You didn't force me, she said flatly. ‘I wanted you as much as you wanted me.'
Colour stole into her own cheeks as she recalled her wanton behaviour last night, the way she had practically begged him to make love to her. If anyone should feel ashamed it was her. But her pride seemed to have deserted her for good, and she only wished he would lie back down, next to her, and work his magic on her eager body once more.
But, far from reassuring him, her words seemed to anger him-although she had a strange feeling that he was angry with himself rather than with her. He jumped to his feet and paced the floor of the tent-all powerful, muscle-packed masculinity, with his bare chest gilded from the morning light, a pair of thin cotton trousers tied with a drawstring around his waist.
‘Your honesty humbles me,' he said tersely. ‘Nevertheless, I am not proud of my behaviour on our wedding night, and I want you to understand that you have not married a brute intent only on his own selfish pleasure. I will wait until you feel ready to share my bed again, and when that time comes I will temper my desire and make sure you are fully aroused and ready for me before I make love to you.'
Just the thought of him ensuring that she was ‘fully aroused' was having a profound effect on her, Erin thought frantically, feeling her breasts tingle in anticipation of his touch. And she didn't want him to temper his desire; she wanted him to kiss her in all the places he had explored last night, especially the secret, silken heat between her thighs, and then move over her and enter her with the hard, rhythmic thrusts that she already seemed to be addicted to.
Zahir had been prowling the tent like a caged tiger, but now he came over to the bed and stared down at her, his keen gaze taking in the hectic flush that stained her cheeks. He had told her he would not make love to her again until she was ready, but the gleam of undisguised sexual hunger in his eyes made her long to throw back the sheet and tell him she was ready now, this minute, and couldn't wait.
‘I am aware that we had little opportunity to get to know each other in the days before our wedding,' Zahir muttered abruptly, forcing himself to step away from the bed.
Despite all his good intentions, Erin was an irresistible temptation, lying there with her hair tumbling in silky disarray over her shoulders, the firm swell of her breasts visible above the neckline of her chemise, beckoning him to slide the strap down so that the deliciously soft mounds spilled into his hands. He strode over to the tent flap and unfastened it, so that more sunlight poured through the gap, standing with his back to her so that she would not see the confusing whirl of emotions in his face.