“Good morning.” She gathered her shredded composure and found a distant smile. “I thought you would be across the palace by now.”
Silence.
She had the sense he was waiting for her to look at him, but she pretended to take enormous care with selecting cut fruit to add to her yogurt. She brushed away the serving hand that would have poured date syrup over her flatbread.
When she reached for the coffee urn, one of the staff hurried to fill her cup, but Karim said sharply, “I’ll do it. Leave us.”
His tone was so hard, Galila started, then remained on her guard, gaze on her untasted breakfast.
The room cleared in a quick shuffle of feet and a closed door.
She sat with her hands in her lap, discovering she was afraid to move. Not because she feared him, but because she had silently wished they were alone and now discovered the downside of that. No one to hide behind. She didn’t want to move and draw his attention.
“You’re angry with me,” he said.
She was angry with herself.
“Why would you think that?” she murmured, picking up her spoon.
“You’re not looking at me.”
She should have looked at him then, to prove she wasn’t avoiding it, but her eyes were hot. She feared he would read the anguish in them. She had poured out her heart to him last night. She had shared her body in a way she had never done with any other man and now...
“Even if I were...” It wouldn’t matter, she wanted to say, but couldn’t face that harsh reality so head-on. It would hurt too much. “Just go, Karim.”
“I would have made love to you all night, Galila,” he said through his teeth. “Until we were both too weak to move. As it was, I was far too rough with you. How do you feel?”
He hadn’t sat down again and she only had the nerve to bring her gaze as far as the embroidery that edged his robe.
“Fine.”
He sighed in a way that made her flinch, he sounded so impatient. Then he threw himself into the chair and his eyes were right there, leveled into hers like a strike of sunlight off water, penetrating so deep it hurt. Her eyes began to water and she blinked fast.
Through her wet lashes, she still saw the accusation behind his eyes. The way he searched her face as though trying to find a reason to hate her.
“I know a prevarication when I hear one,” she said, her voice a scrape against the back of her throat. “You left because you’d had enough of me. Just go, Karim. It will be easier to stand being ignored if you’re not doing it in person.”
His hand closed into a fist. With a muttered curse, he unfurled it, then reached to take her wrist, the one that held her spoon. He tugged her to her feet and around the table where he pulled her into his lap.
She landed there stiffly, one elbow digging with resistance into his ribs, face forward as she gritted her teeth.
“What is this?” she demanded. “Some new form of torture where you assume that if I succumbed to you once, I’m yours whenever you want me?”
She very much feared she was. Her bones were already threatening to soften, her whole body wanting to relax into supple welcome, longing to melt into him, skin tingling for the sensation of his hands stroking over her.
“Definitely torture,” he said, rubbing his beard into her neck so she shivered and squirmed in reaction.
His arms stayed locked around her, keeping her on his lap.
She put a little more pressure behind the sharpness of her elbow. “I’m actually hungry,” she said pointedly.
“Eat, then,” he invited, opening his arms and relaxing beneath her, but the way his hands settled on her hip and thigh told her he would restrain her if she tried to rise. “I will hold my wife and consider my inner failings.”
“Sounds like I’ll have time for dessert and a second cup of coffee.” She didn’t relax, still defensive even though his hands were settling, smoothing and massaging in a way that was kind of comforting, as though he wanted to offer and take pleasure in equal measures.
“Karim—”
“This is new territory for me, Galila. Don’t expect my ease with this to happen overnight.”
She let out a choke of humorless laughter. “Even though it was the deal you agreed to for that particular type of night? Are you just angling for more sex right now?”
His hands stalled. “Sex can wait until tonight.”
Disappointment panged inside her even as he sighed toward the ceiling.
“I can stand depriving myself. Hurting you so badly you won’t even look at me? That I cannot bear.” His hands moved again, reassuring now then clenching possessively on her curves. “This level of passion isn’t normal, you know. If you had had other lovers, you would know that and be as wary of it as I am.” He dipped his head forward so his mouth was against her shoulder, whiskers tickling her skin.
She considered that as she spooned yogurt into her mouth. He wasn’t offering her the open heart she wanted, but he was talking, at least. He had dismissed their audience. It was a small step, she supposed. One that allowed her to relax a little on his lap and enjoy the way he cradled her.
“You resent desiring me? That only makes me begrudge feeling attracted to you. That’s not healthy, is it? Are we supposed to apologize for the pleasure we give each other?” She set petulant elbows on the table while she scraped at her yogurt bowl, deliberately jamming her buttocks deeper into his lap at the same time.
His hands gripped her hips and he drew a harsh breath.
She sent a knowing smirk into her bowl.
“Do you understand what you’re inviting?” he asked mildly, opening his thighs a little so the shape of his aroused flesh dug firmly against her cheek.
“I believe you demonstrated that in great detail last night. Why do you think I’m so hungry? You’ll have to let me finish my breakfast, though, before we satisfy other appetites. Otherwise, I’m liable to faint on you. Tell me something about yourself while you wait. What was your childhood like?”
“I didn’t have one.”
She started to rise, wanting to shift back to her own chair so she could look at him and gauge his expression as he spoke, but his hands hardened, keeping her on his lap. Keeping her with her back to him, she suspected.
“I didn’t mean that to be an insensitive question,” she said gently. “I thought, well, I supposed you might have played with cousins when you were young? Perhaps traveled when you were finishing your education?”
“My university was the throne of Zyria. When I wasn’t with my tutors, I sat with my uncle, learning how to run my country. What did you do as a child?”
“Compared to that, it seems beyond childish. One of my favorite pastimes was learning pop songs. I have a decent voice and performed them for my mother’s friends. I’m good with languages, too, which was another parlor trick she liked me to show off. I rode horses with my brothers and we camped in the desert with family sometimes. My childhood was fairly ideal. My teen years were more challenging.”
“Why is that?”
She bit into the flatbread. It tasted like cardboard. For a moment, she thought about changing the subject, but maybe if he understood why she found his distance so hurtful...
“That’s when she began to criticize me. I became obsessive about earning back her approval. I spent a ridiculous amount of time learning about fashion and makeup, trying to look more like her, thinking it would please her. I asked her to make every decision from my shade of lipstick to the shoes I wore. I kept thinking she couldn’t disapprove of the way I looked if she made all my choices, but then she would say I was badgering her. Too needy. Everyone said it, my brothers especially. I felt like everyone hated me. It was awful.”
Her scalp tickled as he idly played with her hair. “Did she send you away to Europe?”
“I begged my father to let me finish my schooling there. I couldn’t take her moods. Even then, I was so careful to only be in the tabloids for good reasons. Helping a children’s hospital or whatever. Anytime I received good press, though, she would say I was upstaging her. Begging for attention. There was no pleasing her.”
She tried to twist and look at him, but he didn’t let her. He continued playing with her hair, lightly tugging, dipping his nose to inhale, breathing out against the side of her neck.
“How are we talking about me?” she asked. “Tell me what you like about ruling Zyria.”
“I like providing stability. No ruler can make an entire populace happy all the time. The best I can do is avoid war and ensure my people are not suffering in poverty. If they can eat and send their children to school, get the care they need and a new refrigerator when the old one breaks, then I am winning the game.”
“That’s true. You can’t make someone happy. Do you ever wish you had brothers or sisters?”
He didn’t answer. When she tried to turn her head to look at him, his hand tightened in her hair, preventing her. She gave a little shrug of warning, but he wasn’t hurting her. He didn’t let go, though. After a long minute, he answered.
“There are times I have thought my life would have been easier if I’d had an older brother and the responsibility I carry had gone to him,” he spoke with a hint of dry humor, but his tone was also very grave. “Perhaps a lot of things would have been different. I don’t know. But I can’t make a sibling happen, so there’s no point wishing for it.”