Date with a Surgeon Prince(36)
He led her to the gate and unlatched it, ushering her inside onto a path between what seemed like a jungle of palm trees. The path was lit by lampposts placed at intervals, and the palms were lit from below by soft floodlights.
‘It’s like an enchanted forest,’ she whispered as they walked through shadows.
‘It has been here for thousands of years,’ Gaz explained. ‘There is a spring, and our ancestors built a series of narrow canals out from it so the palms would thrive. It is here for all our people to enjoy, and the dates are free to anyone who wishes to pick one or many.’
The soft air smelled sweet, and a slight breeze ruffled the fringed palm leaves, so it seemed as if they walked through a world apart.
‘Will you pick one?’ Marni asked, enjoying the sight of the palms growing so closely, and the little paths that led this way and that but still wondering what they were doing here, given the late hour and the marriage conversation, which seemed to have been forgotten.
‘Of course, that is why we are here.’
He held her hand and was leading her to the right then to the left, taking paths seemingly at random. Yet when he answered, she’d heard something in his voice—something that was Ghazi, not Gaz. This place must be special to him—like the desert—part of who he was…
Why?
‘Dates and camels, these have kept my people alive down through the ages,’ he said quietly, apparently answering her unspoken question. ‘The date is especially miraculous as it can be eaten fresh, or dried and kept for months while the tribes travelled across the desert. The pulp makes sweets and bread, the seeds can be ground for flour, the fibrous mass that holds the dates is used for brooms, the palm leaves for thatch. But it is the legend that brings us here tonight.’
‘A legend?’
‘A story like your Cinderella. You reminded me of it when you told me your fairy-tale. The date grove is the one place a betrothed couple may walk together without a chaperone.’
Marni looked around and smiled.
‘I can understand that—they can hardly get up to much with the narrow pathways and the little canals and the prickly fronds of the date palms pressing in on all sides.’
‘Ah, but they walk together for a reason,’ Ghazi said, stopping by a heavy cluster of ripening dates drooping from a palm. ‘Our legend says if they find the perfect date, ripe and ready to eat, and they feed it to each other, not only will their marriage be fertile but they will live long together.’
‘Just live?’ Marni queried. She knew she should be protesting the marriage thing again, yet here she was querying a single word.
Had she been hoping the legend would say live and love?
Of course she had! It was the silly lump that kept forming in her chest causing this sudden longing for—
Love? Get over it, Marni! Love was never the issue here! It’s the marriage thing you should be worrying about!
She knew he was talking marriage now so they could go to bed together—a marriage dictated by lust. Although she hadn’t seen much of her mother since she’d abandoned her daughter to Pop and Nelson, she had memories of her mother’s desperate search for love, and understood now how lust could be mistaken for it.
Did she want that?
No!
‘Of course live,’ Ghazi said, his attention still on the cluster of dates. ‘Aha! I have it.’
He plucked a date and turned towards her, holding it to her lips so she could take a bite.
‘Just a bite,’ he warned. ‘You must then feed me.’
Ghazi was watching her, his eyes intent, his fingers moving closer to her lips.
It’s only a legend, she told herself, but her heart was pounding and suddenly being fed a date—well, half a date—by this man was the most erotic thing that had ever happened to her.
Her body afire, she opened her lips and bit into the sweet, juicy flesh. Ghazi’s thumb brushed her lower lip and she felt her nipples peak beneath her tunic and a near orgasmic heat between her thighs.
‘Now you,’ he said, his voice so husky it rasped against her sensitised skin.
He handed her the date and she lifted it towards his lips, her fingers trembling as he opened his mouth and his even white teeth bit into it, taking it and her finger and thumb into the moist cavern of his mouth, suckling at them while her body pulsed with need.
He released her fingers, disposed of the seed then drew her close so they embraced within the heady scent of the dates, and her body pressed against his, feeling his reaction to the tasting, wanting him so badly she was beyond all rational thought.
Never had he held such a responsive woman in his arms—never felt a need that matched his own in its ferocity, and he’d gone and betrothed himself to her and so put her off limits for the moment. He could not tarnish her name with his family or his people by sneaking in or out of lodgings or hotels, and both the palace and Tasnim’s place were off limits for the same reason.