A more comfortable silence fell between them. The hands on her stomach began to move, lightly stroking her. She let him, her body beginning to wake into life again.
“What does habibti mean?” she murmured, the breath leaving her body as his fingers stroked lower.
“Darling,” he murmured. “It means darling.”
“I’m not your darling, Isma’il.” Her breath caught as his fingers pushed down between her thighs.
“You are, Lily.” He kissed her neck. “You are.”
* * *
When she opened her eyes next, it was to find the tent walls glowing with light and the other side of the bed empty. In fact the whole tent was empty. Isma’il wasn’t there.
She sat up, holding the sheet around her.
So, apparently she’d spent the night in Isma’il’s bed. It hadn’t been her intention. She’d thought she’d probably get back to her own tent at some point but really, there hadn’t been a moment. Not when they’d spent most of the night making love.
Shivers of heat slipped over her skin at the memory and she shifted on the bed, restless and hot, a delicious soreness between her thighs. Lily smiled.
Now, was probably not the time to be thinking about that though.
Now was the time to start thinking about the fact that she was in the sheikh’s tent, naked, and she didn’t quite know what to do next. They hadn’t exactly held back the night before, which meant people would probably be aware of what had gone on between them.
Last night, she’d been okay with that but now . . .
Actually, now she was still okay with that. Maybe being with Isma’il would hurt Harkness’s bid for the contract. Yet, she found herself comfortable with the thought. What had happened between them had been too special for shame or denial. And she was done with being afraid of her sexuality and her femininity. She was free now. Isma’il had helped her discover the woman she truly was and there would be no going back.
And speaking of . . . she frowned at the empty tent. Where was Isma’il? And, more to the point, where were her clothes?
Drawing the sheet around her, she slipped off the bed, scanning around for the tunic and trousers she’d worn the night before. There was no sign of them, but folded neatly on a nearby chair were another stack of clothes. Her clothes. A note sat on top of the pile.
For you, Habibti. From your tent. Torn silk is hardly appropriate work-wear.
Everything she needed was there. Underwear, shirt, trousers. A small, warm glow unfolded inside her. At least, she wouldn’t have to walk naked back to her tent.
Dropping the sheet, she dressed, only to notice something else once she’d done so. On the low table near the entrance of the tent was a tray, breakfast laid out on it. Coffee, fruit, flat bread, cheese and a small pot of jam. She went over to it and found another note.
I kept you up late last night. You’ll probably need sustenance.
Lily smiled, the warm glow settling deeper inside her. Clothes. And now food. He was very thoughtful.
She sat down on the cushion near the table, poured herself some coffee, and began putting some of the food on her plate.
At that moment, the tent flap opened and Isma’il’s tall figure stepped inside.
Lily’s heart gave a peculiar little leap. “Good morning,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I wondered where you’d got to.”
“I had work to do.” He didn’t smile, the expression on his face unreadable. “You are required at the meeting tent, Ms. Harkness. The chiefs have made a decision.”
Lily blinked. Both at the formality of her name after being ‘Lily’ for most of the night and at his news. “Already? But I thought you told me they’d take a few days?”
“So did I. Apparently not.”
She got to her feet, wanting to say something, wanting to have the closeness of the night before between them again. Yet, a strange sense of distance seemed to emanate from him.
“Isma’il? What’s wrong?”
But he was already turning away. “We will speak of that later. Right now, we need to hear what the chiefs have to say.” Then, he went back outside again, leaving Lily staring at the canvas.
The warm glow she’d had early began to evaporate, leaving a cold, empty feeling in its place.
She’d wanted more, she realized. Wanted that warmth in his blue eyes she’d seen the night before. Wanted the heat. Wanted to be ‘Lily’, not ‘Ms. Harkness.’
But now was not the time to examine why she wanted those things.
Leaving the coffee and the questions for later, Lily went out to see what the tribesmen of Dahar had decided for her company.
* * *
The speed of the decision had taken Isma’il by surprise. The chiefs normally liked to take their time with a decision of this magnitude, especially because they liked to argue about it. But it seemed as if they’d had a strong enough consensus to make a decision far earlier than expected.