‘You tried that, habibti.’
‘And you found me.’
He took a deep breath. ‘I wouldn’t have. Not without Malik. I still think he only told me because of my father’s death.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘How did you do it?’
‘Do what?’
‘Manage to convince one of the most loyal men I know to betray me.’
A sad smile covered her features. Almost conciliatory. As if she knew how much that betrayal had hurt. ‘Would it help if I said it wasn’t about you?’
‘That man’s whole life has been about me.’
She sighed. ‘He knew about Jarhan.’
‘Sweet Lord—am I the only one who didn’t?’
‘No,’ she said lightly, almost affectionately. ‘No. But Malik knew because the protection detail knew. It was part of Jarhan’s main concern. That he might give Farrehed’s enemies a weakness in your rule.’
‘But that is not why Malik obtained the passport, Eloise.’
‘No... He followed me after you had told me to leave. Found me. It must have been quite a shock for him. I was throwing things into a suitcase and my father was on speaker phone. I was asking to come home, but he wouldn’t allow it. Said that if I set foot in England he would have my mother transferred to a clinic—that he would bury her under the weight of the world’s press. Ensure that I never saw her again.’
Odir heard the tremor in her voice and could only imagine what her fear must have been like then, on that night.
‘I’ve... I’ve never felt more helpless in my life, Odir. There I was—a princess, wife of a sheikh soon to be a ruler of nations—and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t come to you. I couldn’t go home. Malik cut the phone call, sat me down and made me tell him everything. For five hours we talked about different options and came up with a plan. I asked him. I asked him why he was willing to help me.’
‘Did he tell you?’ Odir asked.
He very much doubted that Malik would have revealed how close to the bone Eloise’s story would have cut him. The only people who knew about Malik’s past were Malik, his family, and Odir.
‘All he said was that so long as he knew where I was, what name I was under, then he would help. Now I see that the person he was helping was you.’
* * *
Eloise knew that she should feel hurt by that realisation. But she didn’t. She was pleased that there was someone who looked out for her husband. The husband who was surrounded by hundreds of people, all ready to serve and protect him, but none to care for him. None to put him first.
His mother’s death had left him adrift, in the hands of a father so cut down by grief he had been jealous of his son’s power. He had mistrusted and distanced himself from the first person he should have been caring for. And, God, did she know how much that hurt.
But she did care for her husband. She felt the knowledge settle within her, warm her, spreading throughout her body and mind like wildfire, energising her thoughts and actions.
Restless, she got up from the chair and walked through the suite, curious as to its layout and its luxury, until she found herself in an elaborate bedroom, designed with the same glory as the rest of the embassy.
The sight of the large, modern, sleek bed reminded Eloise of Odir’s promise earlier that evening, and in an instant her body was ready. She ran her fingers over lips that still felt bruised from their earlier kisses, wanting to cover her mouth, to stop the words that were filling her heart from falling from her lips. Otherwise they’d escape, and they’d speak of her feelings for him, of this new, delicate love she had found.
She knew he wasn’t ready to hear those words from her. Not yet. But perhaps she could show him. With her touches...with her kisses.
The ripple of desire lifted the hairs on her arms. Her body was throbbing between legs which she drew together to clamp down on the wet heat of need. How had she become so cravenly wanton in just a matter of hours?
Odir loomed behind her and the air about them which had so recently been full of confession was suddenly thick with desire. Eloise inhaled it deeply, wanting it to fill her, needing it. Her body moved of its own volition, pressing back against the hard planes of her husband’s chest. Someone groaned—whether it was her or him Eloise couldn’t tell any more.
His lips came down upon her bare shoulder and his arms wrapped around her breast and lower stomach. He gathered the silk of her gown in his hand, bunching it against the top of her thigh, whilst his fingers played with her nipple already hard beneath his touch.
‘I keep my promises, habibti,’ he whispered wickedly in her ear.
She heard the desperation that quivered in his words...rejoiced in the fact that he was as quickly undone as she. Her arms reached behind her, bringing him and his arousal closer against her body. The action reminded her of earlier that evening, when they had been beneath the night sky. And this time she knew it was she who groaned, the sensuality of the sound shocking herself.
‘When you make that noise it drives me wild, Eloise. Look what you do to me,’ he said, turning her in his arms to face him. ‘Look.’
The guttural tone of his words ran through her. She did see what she did to him. And she wanted to show him what he did to her. How he made her feel. What he’d given back to her in these last hours. The undoing of the past. She wanted to show him how it could be. What their marriage could be like.
He took her
