“So, we’re actually going to visit the people who refused to become part of Surhaadi as a nation?”
“Yes, but as I said, while they do not like to give me too much deference, for obvious reasons, we are quite friendly with each other. And they will not let me die out in the middle of the sands. At least, I hope not.”
“Your confidence astounds.” She accepted the scarf from him and surreptitiously studied the way he had draped his own over his head. She did her best to try and copy the fashion. She hated asking for help more than just about anything. She always wanted to step right in, and pick something up by observation. Never revealing the fact that she didn’t simply arrive knowing how things work.
That stubbornness again, and yes, a bit of misplaced pride. But it came with a lot of long-held anger over what might have been. That if her father weren’t a philanderer, or if he were at least honest about the fact that he was, she might have been treated like a child, and not a dirty secret. That if she’d been part of her family, raised in that glittering home upstate, she would have absorbed social graces, would have known how to navigate university and different social situations. Instead, she’d had to conduct herself with trial and error, and she had learned to fear the error.
So she had observed those around her, painstakingly so, in order to look as though she belonged. She hated asking for help. Hated admitting her shortcomings.
“Let me help you.” He took a step closer to her, and she took a step back.
“I have it.” She knew she was being stubborn, she didn’t care.
“You do not.” He extended his hands, and gripped the fabric, adjusting it where it sat on her head, drawing a swath of it around and bringing it beneath her chin before tucking it into the folds of fabric at the base of her neck.
His thumb brushed against her jaw, the heat from his skin a shock to her system. She looked up, her eyes crashing into his. The expression she found there intense, dark, hinting at things she could scarcely understand. She wondered if he always operated at this level of intensity, or if it was something about her. If he was reacting to the touch, in the same way she had.
She should look away, and she knew it. She should pretend that this hadn’t happened.
That he had touched her, but that it hadn’t registered as anything. But she couldn’t look away, she couldn’t pretend. Because something about his gaze held her fast, something about it called her, tugged at something deep inside of her that had been previously unknown, previously untouched. And it didn’t matter how much she wanted to ignore it, because her body simply wouldn’t let her.
And she found she still couldn’t look away.
She needed to. Oh, Lord, she needed to. This dark, yawning chasm that opened up in her stomach when he looked at her had to be covered up and never looked in. Never examined.
The idea that his could be attraction was unthinkable. That she could find herself interested in a man who was so far above her, who was engaged...
It would make her no better than her mother. And she could never allow that to happen.
Not to mention the fact that she should hate him on principle for forcing her hand and bringing her here.
Why was it so hard to hate him?
He cleared his throat and straightened. “There, that is more secure. You will find you have better protection against the elements.”
“I appreciate that.” It sounded so insipid, so forced, and she had a feeling he knew it. But it was the best she could do. Because her throat had gone drier than the desert sand outside, and all of her words seemed intent on sticking to it.
“I do strive to be of service to those who are in my country.” His voice was rough, yet smooth at the same time, like velvet. It slid over her skin, leaving a strange sensation behind, causing goose bumps to rise up on her arms.
“Well, given the fact that I am currently in your country for an unforeseeable amount of time, I do take that as a comfort.”
“I’m glad.”
“I suppose we should leave?” She had no idea if they should leave, if they were on any kind of timeline at all, but anything seemed better than standing here in the entryway feeling like the tile was shifting beneath her feet, feeling like she might die of heatstroke in spite of the cool air around them.
“Certainly.” He turned sharply and headed toward the double doors, which opened when he approached. She followed him closely, blinking against the harsh light as they stepped outside.
There was a large SUV parked near the doors. There was no driver, which surprised her.
“We aren’t going by ourselves, are we?”