His Defiant Desert Queen(48)

Things were becoming more complicated. She’d begun to feel things and if she wasn’t careful, she’d make a mistake. A terrible mistake. And enough mistakes had been made.

“My pleasure,” he answered.

She glanced up at him, hoping he wouldn’t see her chaotic emotions. “Did you just return to give me this?”

“No.” He took off his robe, and tossed it onto a low chair in the corner. “I forgot something.”

“You did?”

“Yes. You.” He went to the gold lantern and turned off the light before returning to the bed. “Scoot over. And don’t worry. You can relax. You are safe. Nothing is happening tonight. I just want to sleep near my beautiful wife.”

In bed, he drew her close to him, his arm loose around her waist, his hand resting on her hip.

For a moment she couldn’t breathe. For a moment she waited, wondering if panic would hit. If she’d become nervous or uncomfortable.

If she’d dislike being held by him, held close to him.

None of those things happened.

He felt good. He felt warm. She felt safe.

* * *

Jemma woke up alone.

She told herself she didn’t mind. Told herself she was glad. She needed space. She liked her independence. But it’d felt good having Mikael near her last night. She’d slept deeply for a change and she woke rested, and anxious to see him.

But Mikael didn’t put in an appearance that morning. Instead there was a purple bikini and delicate violet silk cover-up waiting for her, along with a note telling her that tonight she’d sleep in the Amethyst Chamber.

Jemma changed into the pretty purple bikini and slipped the delicate silk cover up over her head, letting the light fabric settle against her tummy and thighs.

Purple was a good color for her. It flattered her skin. She wondered if Mikael would have a gift made from amethyst gems for her tonight. A necklace, a ring, or possibly earrings. She didn’t want it, or need it, but it gave her something to think about, rather than her emotions.

She missed Mikael.

She didn’t want to be alone.

But she had breakfast outside and then paced the courtyard, swimming when she grew too hot.

Lunch came and went, with her again eating by herself inside one of the air conditioned pavilions, needing the shade.

It was a long day waiting. She grew restless and angry. She peeled off the filmy violet cover up and swam again, and then stretched facedown on a lounge chair, the high desert temperature drying her purple suit almost instantly.

She buried her face in the crook of her arm, telling herself to relax, and calm down. She was getting herself worked up over nothing. Mikael would join her when he could. He’d be there as soon as he could manage it. There was no reason to feel so desperate, or lonely...

And then he was there.

Just like that.

His shadow stretched over her lounge chair, blocking the sun, and she turned over onto her back and looked up at him.

He gazed down at her with dark, smoky eyes. He was dressed in his robes. She suspected he’d had business earlier. But she didn’t ask and he didn’t tell her.

She raised a hand to shield her eyes and she let her gaze wander over him, up over his chest, to his neck, his hard jaw, the chiseled cheek and then to his eyes. He had ridiculously beautiful eyes. She’d kill for his lashes. It would save her a fortune in eyeliner and mascara.

“You smile.” Mikael’s deep husky voice vibrated between them, coloring the air, filling the space around them.

Heat danced through her, little sparklers lighting nerve endings beneath her skin. She flexed her feet, feeling her toes curl.

Amazing how little it took for him to turn her on.

Just a long glance from his dark eyes.

A word from his lips.

A certain pitch in his voice.

That’s all it took and everything within her melted, wanting. Wanting him and what he did to her, and what he could make her feel.

Jemma drew a slow breath, and then exhaled just as slowly, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart. “You have the longest, darkest eyelashes,” she said, hating the slightly breathless note in her voice, knowing he’d notice. He always did. “I should steal them. You don’t need them. I’m the model, not you.”

The edge of his mouth lifted. He sat down on the edge of her lounge chair, his hand settling on her knees and then sliding up a couple inches on her thigh. “No Saidian queen has ever held a job.”

“Are you saying I can’t work if I am your queen?”

“You are my queen, and I haven’t made any decisions with regard to your career. Although truthfully, it would be very unusual in Saidia, and would probably create a great deal of controversy, if you did continue working.”