His smile was enigmatic and gave little away; nor did it reach the depths of his swirling, dark eyes. “You’ll see.”
And then, he leaned forward, just a fraction, as though he was going to kiss her. As though he was going to press a kiss to her lips and she braced for that sweet, unexpected gesture.
Yet it didn’t eventuate. He straightened again, blinking, his smile tight. He looked, she realized, like a man with the world on his shoulders – heavy with concern. “Goodnight, Sheikha.”
“Goodnight.” The word was cool enough, but there was nothing cold about the way she felt.
She tossed and turned all night, despite the exhaustion that had chased her back from Switzerland. It was no hardship to rise at dawn – she’d barely been asleep.
She dressed in a pretty robe, a pale blue with gold leaves printed across it, and her hair she styled into a simple bun. The sun was rising and the air was still cool, hanging on to the night’s respite from that desert sun.
He opened the door without knocking, and his eyes went straight to the bed, as though expecting her to still be asleep. Was that disappointment in his expression?
She arched a brow from where she stood, sipping a sweet tea near the balcony, watching day claim its place over the formidable lands of Ras el Kida.
“You’re awake.”
“As you asked me to be,” she pointed out archly.
He nodded. “Then let’s go.”
He gestured towards the door and with no hint of the confusion she felt, she walked through it.
He showed her through the palace, towards the garden that led to the cliff the palace backed against, to the trees and the river that Amit had skimmed stones over. But instead of pursuing that path, they turned in another direction, and within minutes, found themselves at a large stone building with several arches carved into its edges.
“What is this place?”
A loud neighing sound answered and she smiled. “Never mind.”
“Do you ride?”
Chloe lifted her brows. “I grew up in Seattle. The closest I ever came to a horse was the mounted patrol.”
“Your brother’s an excellent horseman,” Raffa said with a hint of disapproval in the words. Disapproval towards her? She flicked her gaze to her husband’s face, but saw something else there. Anger. Not with her – she didn’t know how she recognized that, but she did.
“My father had horses,” Chloe said, remembering wistfully the beautiful brown beasts that she’d seen photographs of when she’d been just a girl. Perhaps eight or ten?
“Yes.” There it was again! Disapproval! But why?
“Come.” He kept walking. “We have to hurry if we’re to beat the sun.”
She tossed a glance towards the horizon, where black was bleeding gold and pink, glistening with the promise of the new day.
“Beat it where?”
He sent her a glance that was teasing and birthed a million butterflies in her tummy. “You’ll see.”
When they rounded the corner, several servants stood, dressed in black with silver threads at their cuffs. It was a different uniform to what she was used to seeing.
“My stable team,” he said, waving a hand towards them. They bowed low; no one looked at her.
Chloe was used to that.
Raffa spoke in Ras el Kidan, the words fast so that Chloe – although proficient – caught only the gist of what he was saying. Saddle. One. Bag.
She followed the hasty movements of the men, as they led one horse away and focused on the other, removing the saddle, leaving only clips around his spectacular middle section, and a rolled bag on either side.
She had often thought Raffa was like a wild beast, and looking at this beautiful animal, the comparison was impossible to miss. The rippling, dark muscles, the intelligent, all-seeing eyes rimmed with dark lashes, the unmistakable strength and energy.
Within minutes, the servants were standing in a line. Raffa spoke to them curtly, “Away now.”
Chloe almost chided him for his rudeness, but when he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the horse without warning, she understood why he’d dispatched with the audience.
“Apparently there’s no elegant way to mount a horse in a dress,” she said, using humour to deflect her embarrassment. What must she have looked like as he settled her on the beast? She didn’t have long to recover. Within seconds he was right there with her, his own body easily lifting up onto the horse, so that he sat tightly behind her, his legs locking hers to the animal’s sides, one arm curling around her waist to steady her.
Every single nerve ending reverberated with awareness.
“Where are we going?” The question was husky and she was glad he wasn’t looking at her to see the way she’d sucked her lower lip between her teeth, the way her pupils were dilated in her eyes.
“You’ll see.” He breathed the words against her neck, and goosebumps chased themselves over her body in response. “Ready?”
“How can I be ready if I don’t know where we’re going?”
“You strike me as someone who’s ready for just about anything.”
It wasn’t necessarily a compliment and yet it fired pleasure inside of her. Before she could respond, he kicked the side of the horse and made a grunting sound, so the animal lurched forward. His other hand came around Chloe, taking the reins, so that she was firmly imprisoned by his body, held tight in a way that made every part of her aware of him.
And it wasn’t only his nearness, it was the magic of the morning. The clearness of the sky as he brought her out of the stable yard and down a narrow track that gave way to sand. It was the twinkling of stubborn stars overhead and the fragrance of the desert, the musty smell of the horse, and the man behind her, yes.
He rode hard and fast, racing the sun’s progress. It must have been at least an hour without a single word passing from him to her, and yet she
