Sheikh's Princess of Convenience(22)

She waited, but he didn’t say anything else.

She pushed aside her emptied plate and sipped her coffee. When she set it down, he shifted her sideways so her legs were across his and they were finally looking at each other.

His face was impassive, difficult to read, but she understood him a little better. He carried a country on his shoulders and had for a long time. If he was lonely, he had made it his friend. That was why he was having such trouble turning to her.

Smoothing her hand over the silky hairs on his jaw, she said very sincerely, “Thank you for telling me that.” She pecked his lips with hers.

The light kiss turned his dark eyes molten. “Are you sufficiently rejuvenated?”

“I could be talked into returning to the bedroom.”

“Here will do.”

* * *

Karim had to be extremely careful with his inquiries, but he had learned more about Adir. In the three weeks since Zufar’s wedding, Adir had married Amira, the bride who had been promised to Galila’s brother. Rumor had it they were expecting.

An odd pang had hit him with the news. For years, Karim had been ambivalent about procreating. More than one of his cousins had the temperament to rule. Was it latent sibling rivalry that prompted a sudden desire to make an heir?

“What’s wrong?” Galila’s soft voice nudged him back to awareness of the view off her balcony as her scent arrived to cloud around him.

He glanced back into her apartment and discovered her maids had finally left them alone.

In another lifetime, which was mere days ago, he would have brushed off her inquiry with a brisk and conscienceless “Nothing.” He wasn’t required to explain his introspective moods to anyone.

But Galila’s slender arms came around his waist as she inserted herself under his arm. Her pointy chin rested on his chest and she gazed up at him. The pretty bat of her lashes was an invitation to cast off his pensiveness and confide in her.

“There are things I would discuss with you if I could, but I can’t,” he said, surprised to discover it was true. He wanted to confide in her. It was yet another disturbing shift in his priorities. “It’s confidential.” He stroked the side of his thumb against her soft cheek to cushion his refusal.

“Hmm,” she said glumly. “Bad?”

“Not violent, if that’s what you mean.”

“Trade embargoes or something,” she guessed.

Did not acknowledging his potential successor to Zyria’s throne count as an embargo? “Something like that.”

“You can trust me, you know. I know I behaved indiscreetly the night we met, but I’m not usually so reckless. That was a special case. With a special man,” she added, lips tilting into the smile that he fell for like a house of cards.

She hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since the night they met, he had noted.

She shifted so they were front to front and rested her ear on his chest, sighing with contentment. His hands went to her back of their own accord, exploring her warm shape through the silk robe she wore over her nightgown.

This was becoming the norm for him—holding her. He wasn’t a dependent man, but she was so tactile and affectionate, seeming to thrive on his touch, he couldn’t resist petting and cuddling her.

“I don’t regret telling you about him that night. Adir, I mean,” she murmured.

He stalled in stroking across her narrow shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re willing to listen. That I can trust you,” she went on. “I’m still so shocked by Mother’s affair and Adir. I keep wondering about Amira. How she even knew Adir well enough she would run away with him.”

He almost told her the woman was married and expecting, but she would wonder how he came to know it.

“Did you know her well?” he asked instead, resuming his massage across her back.

“Her father is one of my father’s oldest friends. She was promised to Zufar since she was born. I was looking forward to having her as a sister-in-law. And Zufar—you saw him on a really bad day. He can be gruff, but he would have done his best to be a good husband. I’ve asked him what he has learned of Adir, but he’s so angry, he wants nothing to do with it. I don’t know what to do. I want to be sure Amira is well and happy with her decision, but I can’t very well make inquiries without spilling our family secrets, can I?” She leaned back to regard him. “See? I am capable of discretion.”

“I’ll see what I can learn,” he promised, pleased when she grew visibly moved.

“You will? Thank you!”

He was growing so soft. He very much feared he was becoming infatuated with his wife, constantly wanting to put that light in her expression and feel her throw her arms around him like he was her savior.

He picked her up and took her to the bed, distantly wondering what she would say when he told her he had learned her friend was pregnant.

I don’t desire your children.

He didn’t know why that continued to sting when they made love so passionately every night. It was early days in their marriage and he ought to be pleased they were making love frequently without morning sickness or other health concerns curtailing their enjoyment of each other.

Still, as they stripped and began losing themselves in each other, he was aware of a deeper hunger that went beyond the drive for sexual satisfaction. Beyond his need to feel her surrender to him and take such joy at his touch. He wanted all of her. Every ringing cry, every dark thought, every tear and smile and whispered secret.

He suspected he wanted her heart.

* * *

Do I look pretty, Mama?

Galila was in the gown she intended to wear to stand next to her mother at the children’s hospital gala. This used to be one of their favorite events, but for months now, her mother had been growing more and more critical. Galila didn’t understand why.

She had tried very, very hard this time to be utterly flawless. Her gown was fitted perfectly to her growing bust and scrupulously trim waistline. Her hair fell in big barrel curls around her shoulders. Her makeup was light, since her mother still thought she was too young—at sixteen!—to wear it. Nail polish had been allowed for years, though. She had matched hers to the vibrant pink of her gown and wore heels, something the queen had also been arguing were too old for her.

She thought she looked as beautiful as she possibly could and smiled with hope, trying to prompt an answering one from her mother’s stiff expression.

Her mother winced and gave her a pitying look. I expect you to have better instincts, Galila. The green would be better and a nude shade on your lips.

Rejection put a searing ache in the back of Galila’s throat. She turned away to hide how crushed she was, waiting until her mother went back into her own closet before she reached for a tissue on the shelf and dabbed it beneath her eyes, trying to keep her makeup from running.

Why was her mother being so cruel lately? She stared blindly at the bookshelf, trying to make sense of her mother’s change in attitude. She used to be all purrs and strokes, now she was claws and hisses. Just like...

The object before her blurred eyes came into focus. It was a bookend. Two slabs of ebony with a bright gold figure upon it. A lioness. She stood on her hind legs, one paw braced against the upright wall as she peered over the top, as if looking for her mate—

* * *

Galila sat up with a terrified gasp beside him, jolting Karim awake.

“What is it?” He reached out a hand in the dark, finding her naked back coated in sweat. The bumps of her spine stood up as she curled her back, hugging her knees protectively. Her heartbeat slammed into his palm from behind her ribs, drawing him fully out of slumber.

“Nightmare?” he guessed. “Come here. You’re safe.”

She only hugged herself into a tighter ball, tucking her face into her knees, back rising and falling as she dragged long breaths into her lungs, as though she was being pursued.

He came up on an elbow, and rubbed her back, trying to ensure she was as awake as he was. “Are you in pain?”

“Just a bad dream.” She didn’t let him draw her under the covers, though. She pressed a clammy hand to his chest and pushed her feet toward the edge of the mattress. All of her shook violently, her reaction so visceral, his own body responded with a small release of adrenaline. He caught at her arm, ready to protect her against frightening shadows and monsters under the bed.

“What was it about?”

“I need a minute. Let me—” She left the bed and found her silk robe, pulling it on before she disappeared into the bathroom.

He was sleeping inordinately well these days, thanks to their regular and passionate lovemaking. The sated, sluggish beast in him wanted to lie back and drift into unconsciousness again, but he heard water running.

Concerned, he rose and followed her into the bathroom where the light blinded him. She had turned on the tap and buried her face in a towel to muffle her sobs. The cries were so violent, they racked her shoulders.

His scalp tightened. This reaction was off the scale. “Galila.”

She hadn’t heard him come in and gasped, lifting a face that was so white, his heart swerved in his chest.

“You look like a ghost,” he said. Or she’d seen one. He tried to take her in his arms, but she wouldn’t allow it.

“I’m sorry. I can’t—” Her words ended in a choke. She set aside the towel and splashed the water on her face, then dried it only to hide behind the dark blue cloth again.