His attention shifted to the double bed. On it she’d laid out her clothes for the day, and lacy underwear. Heat pooled low and hot in his groin and Brandt’s mind went back to her room at the safari lodge in Zimbabwe, to how he’d touched her silky underwear in her drawer while he’d been resenting the fact he’d even answered Omair’s phone call.
A lot had happened since that call. His life had changed.
Dalilah switched suddenly from Arabic to English while shooting another glance at him.
“Because he’s here, yes,” she said into the phone. “I do want him to hear what I’m going to say.” Eyes on Brandt, she continued, “I spoke to Haroun, Omair. I told him the wedding contract is off.” She closed her eyes as she waited for her brother to finish.
“Yes, I spoke to him privately first, then we had a conference call with the respective heads of state, including Zakir’s representatives from the King’s Council. There’ll be compensation, since I was the one who broke the deal. But Zakir extended an offer to continue with other aspects of the treaty. Haroun is interested in pursuing talks in that regard.”
She was silent, her eyes shining with a bright passion as she listened to her brother’s response.
“It was amicable,” she said. “Haroun’s father might have been an old-school traditionalist, Omair, but I really get a sense Haroun wants to move Sa’ud in a new direction.” She paused. “I’m not sure he wanted to marry me any more than I did. He might even be relieved.”
Brandt’s chest went tight as hope, possibility, began to race wild through his blood.
“No,” she said quietly, holding his gaze. “I didn’t break it off because of Brandt. He— This mission, my trip to Zimbabwe, the fact you all withheld knowledge of Amal from me, it all brought to a head something that has been coming for a long time, Omair.”
Another pause. “I know, I should have told you about my reservations years ago. I just...” She closed her eyes. “I felt I’d done so little, that the marriage was one thing I could offer after you all had given up so much for the future of Al Na’Jar. And I wanted to honor our mother and father. But now I’ve done that, with Brandt’s help—Amal is gone. That war is over. We owe Brandt for that, Omair.”
She was silent while her brother spoke, then, meeting Brandt’s gaze, she said, “I also need to tell you that while he is not the reason I broke the treaty, I have fallen in love with him.”
Brandt stilled, coffee cup clutched tight in his hand.
She said her goodbyes, put the phone down, stared at him.
Brandt carefully put the cup down before his hands started shaking with the pressure building inside him.
“What did Omair say?” His voice came out hoarse.
Emotion pooled like ink in her eyes, and she swiped at a sudden tear. “He said...he understands. He never knew I felt this way, Brandt. Zakir said the same. All this time, all these years...” She brushed another tear away quickly. “I’m sorry. It’s...it’s just such a relief. I finally feel free, like this huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders that I didn’t even realize was there.”
“So he’s not going to send a team of assassins after my ass?”
She smiled through her emotion, came up to him.
“No,” she whispered, taking his hands in hers and leaning her head against his chest. “He said he owes you for this mission. He just didn’t think I was the price you’d exact.” She paused. “I think my brother likes you. I think this is going to work.”
A sweet poignant ache filled his entire body. This thing between them still felt so fragile and he was so worried he’d break it under the strength of his passion for her.
Gently, he tilted her face up to his and whispered, “Are you ready to go home now?”
“Almost,” she said, eyelids lowering. She opened her robe—naked and smooth underneath and rounded in all the right places. Brandt tried to swallow. She wrapped her arms around him, bare breasts pushing against his chest, her nipples tight.
His erection pressed hard and sudden against her pelvis as she drew him backward toward the bed. He bent down, kissed her, and she opened her mouth under his. Warm, the taste of mint.
But as the backs of her legs bumped up against the bed, he pulled back, breathing hard, burning up inside. This was too special. He did not want to take her virginity here in this hotel-room bed.
“Not here, Dalilah,” he whispered, cupping her face. “Not in a hotel.” His voice was hoarse, thick, low.
“Come back with me, to my farm.” He slid his hand down her arm. “I want to make love to you there, in my bed. I want you to sleep in my arms.” He paused. “I promised I’d take you home, Princess—and I never break a promise.”