Sheikh's Princess of Convenience(9)
She tightened her fists at her sides, throat aching while the backs of her eyes grew hot, but she refused to let him see she was terrified.
“You are an educated man with intelligence and—I would hope—a shred of honor.” Perhaps that wasn’t true, considering he’d used her at the wedding and seemed to have no conscience about behaving like a barbarian from centuries ago. Realizing that made her tremble even harder. “You can’t just declare us married and force yourself on me.”
“I’m not going to attack you,” he said sardonically. “Quit sounding like a terrified virgin.”
“I am a virgin.” She spat it out with as much angst as anger.
He froze, then dropped the cloth and rose, pivoting so neatly on the ball of his foot, the rug gathered beneath him into a knot.
“How?” he asked, sounding very casual with his inquiry, but the intensity that seemed to grip him caused the hot coil in her belly to tighten and glow while her heart teetered and shifted. It thumped in wavering beats, unsure whether to feel threatened or excited under his laser-sharp regard.
“What do you mean, ‘how’?” She grew prickly with self-consciousness, face scorched even though virginity was nothing to be ashamed of. “The usual way. By not having sex.”
“You’re twenty-five.”
“Six.”
He gave his head a small shake, as if he didn’t understand the words passing between them.
“How have you not been with a man?”
“I’ve dated. Had boyfriends. I’m not...completely inexperienced.” None of her relationships had lasted, though, because she didn’t put out. Not much, anyway. She confined things to kissing and a bit of petting. She knew what happened between the sheets. Girlfriends had described the process in profound detail over the years, which truth be told, hadn’t always been a selling feature. The process sounded both incredibly intimate and kind of ridiculous.
“Weren’t you curious?”
“Sure.” She shrugged, trying to appear offhand when this conversation was equally intimate and awkward. “But not enough to sleep with a man just to know what happens. It’s not a book where you can skip to the end and make sure it will satisfy before you wade through all the exposition.”
He made a noise that might have been a choke of amusement, but his face remained a mask of astonishment.
“What?” she demanded. She had wanted more. So much more than the tepid feelings that most men inspired in her. Even when her suitors had been adoring and dazzled by her, it hadn’t been enough. She hadn’t trusted their infatuation to last. She needed more.
Karim hung his hands off his hips. “You were going to take me to your room last night,” he reminded.
“I was drunk,” she claimed, even though with him, it had been different. She had felt the “more” that she’d been craving. At least, she’d thought she had. Now she was so confused, she didn’t know what she felt.
He barked out a single harsh, “Ha!” and came toward her.
She stumbled backward in alarm only to have him catch at her arms and steady her.
“You’re about to step into our dinner.”
She shrugged off his touch, disturbed by the way her whole body was now tingling, and lowered to the rug with him, the food between them.
He stretched out on his side, propped on an elbow. His stern face relaxed a smidge. Maybe. She watched him closely, but wasn’t sure.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“No.” He reached for an olive in a dish. “Us, maybe. I don’t care for lies,” he stated. “Tell me now if it’s not true. You’re really a virgin?”
In the low light, his eyes were more black pupil than brown iris as his gaze came up to take hold of her own, refusing to let it go.
“I am,” she said, wondering why her voice had retreated behind a veil and came out shy and wispy. She cleared her throat, searching for the confident woman who usually occupied her skin. “Are you?”
“No.” Flat and unapologetic.
She managed to break their stare by rolling her eyes. She had fully expected that answer, but a pang struck in her chest all the same. Jealous? That would be a ridiculous response when she kind of hated him.
Didn’t she?
He ate another olive, still watching her. “Be thankful I’m familiar with writing compelling exposition.”
“Don’t be smug.” The pang went through her again. She wanted to splay her hand over his face and give him a firm shove.
His mouth twitched. “You’ve been living in Europe for years. I would have thought you would have been drunk before last night.”
She had, but she ignored the dig inside his comment and asked, “How do you know where I’ve been living?”
He shrugged. His gaze lowered to scan the food, but it seemed like a subterfuge.
“Big fan of gossip sites, are you?” she prompted.
“My advisors have kept you on my list of prospects for years. Ours has always been seen as an advantageous match. I would have thought it had been viewed that way in Khalia as well. Your father never suggested me when discussing your own marriage plans? Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still single, never mind a virgin.”
“Names came up, yours among them,” she admitted. “I wasn’t interested in marrying so I never bothered to look at photos or read any of the advisements I was sent. Being in Europe, I didn’t attend many events to meet any bachelors, either. My mother always sided with me that I didn’t have to hurry into marriage.”
“That seems odd. Why not?”
Galila shrugged, curling her knees under her, trying to get comfortable but feeling as though she sat on sharp stones. It wasn’t the ground beneath the floor of the tent, however. It was the rocky relationship with her mother that was poking at her.
Karim reached a long arm to the bed and handed her a cushion.
“Thank you,” she murmured and shoved it under her hip.
“Your mother didn’t encourage any match? Or just not ours?” He seemed to watch her with hawk-like attention.
“It wasn’t personal.” She told herself she was reading more intense interest from him than the topic warranted because she was feeling so sensitive. She took her time arranging her nightgown so it covered her feet, not wanting him to read the layers of mixed feelings she carried when it came to her mother. They were far too close to the bone to share with a stranger. She wasn’t drunk tonight, and she had learned the hard way that he used every weakness for his own gain. “She was sensitive to the signs of age. Preferred to put off being called Grandmother as long as possible.”
It hadn’t been about her daughter’s well-being, but it had suited Galila to avoid the shackles so she had been grateful.
He made a noncommittal noise and accepted the bowl of stew she served him.
“Karim,” she said, boldly using his name and finding it a caress in her throat. “I am a modern woman with a liberal education. You cannot expect me to give you my virginity simply because you declare us married.”
“Galila.” Somehow, he sounded as if he mocked her solemnity, yet turned her own name into an endearment. “You caught fire in my arms when your senses were dulled by alcohol. Your sober brain is now regretting your impulsiveness, but I expect we’ll be even more combustible when we lie together. You will give me your virginity because you want to.”
She couldn’t move, felt caught in amber, her whole being suffused with thick honey that suffocated with the aim of creating something eternal.
“I had hoped that would be tonight,” he added in a voice that seemed to roll into her ears from far away, barely discernible over the noise outside the swaying walls of this tent. “But your inexperience changes things. We’ll wait for your trust in me to grow. I’ve given my staff two weeks to arrange a wedding ceremony and reception at the palace. We can wait until then.”
She choked. A whole two weeks? Wow.
“How am I ever supposed to trust you when you tricked me into this?” she asked, voice cracking with emotion. “How am I supposed to feel confident—proud—to be your queen when I’m only a strategic political move?”
* * *
That was his cue to profess a deeper interest in her as a woman. It wouldn’t be a lie to say he was intrigued by the facets she kept revealing. He had thought her impulsive and spoiled, not given to thinking of others. That was certainly the impression she had left last night. Her brother’s disparagement of her actions this morning had more or less confirmed it.
But she had put his mother at ease and it didn’t escape him that she had ensured the family ring stayed in his possession while she plotted her foiled escape.
He had been prepared to let loose with his riled temper when he confronted her on the highway, but she hadn’t kicked up a fuss at their emergency takeoff. She had evacuated with as much awareness of their danger as required. She wasn’t balking at camping with the Bedouins, either. Instead of acting like she was above these rough conditions, she had ensured they contributed to the community food supply, guaranteeing she reflected well on him and the union he had made and knowing full well it would affect his country in subtle, unalterable ways.