“I wasn’t hiding anything. You’re just blind unless a woman puts on a tight dress and makeup.”
His eyes glittered. “Perhaps I am,” he said without apology. “And now that you’ve got sexy down, I need you to be passionate. For me. Can you do that, Emily?”
Emily felt a rush of heat beneath her skin. “I said I’d try. I assume you don’t want me to crawl beneath the table at dinner and minister to your needs?”
He looked shocked. And then he looked intense. She’d thrown it out there because she was irritated, but she now realized it had been the wrong thing to say. It put an image in her head—and most certainly in his—that was incredibly arousing.
“Perhaps you can save that for when we are alone.” His voice was a low growl that stroked over her skin.
She waved a hand breezily, though her body sizzled with fresh heat. “I doubt that, but thank you for clearing it up. No public sex then.”
“Another time.”
He was silent for a long moment but she didn’t dare to look at him. She didn’t want to see what was going on in those eyes.
“There is something else you need to know,” he said. “There will be those who are not happy I’ve married you, which was of course the goal. But do not be surprised if you are treated less than kindly by some.”
Her stomach hollowed. “I should have asked for more money.”
“Perhaps you should have. But it is too late now. We have a deal, remember?”
* * *
It was night when they arrived in Kyr, but two things struck Emily at once. First, when Kadir emerged from the back of the plane, where he’d gone shortly before they landed, he was wearing the white desert robes of his people and the dark headdress with the golden coils holding it in place. His face was all that was visible in the frame of the headdress, but it had a startling effect on her.
Emily swallowed, her mouth utterly dry. She had never seen Kadir in desert garb. His home base for the last four years had been Chicago, and they’d traveled the globe building his skyscrapers. But they’d never come to Kyr. Indeed, when she thought back on it, the few times he’d come to the Middle East at all had been during her time off. Always a quick trip, never anything he needed her for.
Oh, she’d seen his picture in native clothing before, certainly. She’d recognized that beautiful, aristocratic face and his piercing eyes scrutinizing her from the headdress.
But the real thing was a completely different experience. Kadir was tall and commanding and regal—and the desert robes made him seem even more so.
She felt underdressed and puny next to him. Panic set in. This was not going to work. No one in his or her right mind would believe Kadir had chosen her for his wife—plain Emily Bryant who cleaned up nicely but was nothing compared to the beautiful women he usually dated.
The second thing that struck her—aside from the heat of the night air—was the delegation waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Men garbed in desert robes, waiting as a group. She was accustomed to walking out of airports, discreetly following Kadir, while cameras flashed and popped into the air.
There were no cameras here. Only hard desert nomads. Emily chided herself the instant she thought it. Kyr had industry, and people did not live in tents on the edge of the harshest deserts. Some did, certainly, but most people had houses and apartments in the major cities. These were their traditional robes, but that did not make them nomads.