“This is a museum, of sorts. Look at how you felt, stepping into this other world.”
“It’s like walking into the past,” she murmured with a small nod, going from room to room, marveling at the enormous cushions that were scattered on the floor, tables made of dark timber, copper drinking vessels and shishas, and in the corner, a sita.
“I can close my eyes and see this as it would have been, hundreds of years ago.”
He was right behind her. “It’s just how I feel.”
“Do you come here much?” she asked, as she moved towards stones that were carved into steps.
“Less so now,” he said, the words deep and husky. “But as a child, I would ride out whenever I could.”
“Unaccompanied?”
His smile was distracted. “Yes. Not by design, but I was skilled at escaping.”
She lifted a brow. “You didn’t like being told what to do even then?”
“Never,” he agreed. “I worry for you, because I have no doubt our child will be just the same. Then you’ll have two of us to deal with.”
Chloe almost missed her footing. “You never know,” she said lightly. “Our child might take after me. I always did as I was told.”
Chloe moved ahead of Raffa, who froze on the bottom step. A metallic taste filled his mouth at her idle, throwaway comment.
Chloe was right; she was the quintessential good girl. She’d done everything that had been asked of her, including marrying him.
And now, giving him a baby.
God, how had he not seen it sooner? He was every bit as responsible as her father for this. He had taken her good-natured compliance and used it to his advantage every step of the way.
“Raffa! Look!” She squealed, and he knew why. The bedroom upstairs was the most well-preserved room in the town.
She was examining the delicate items on the dressing table when he joined her. Little vials and copper containers. He watched her from the doorframe, wondering why he’d never seen her in this guise. Why he’d never realized how keen her intellect was? How interested she was in just about anything?
He had planned this day to show her parts of his kingdom that he knew she would love, and he had relished that prospect. But now, bad humour settled on his shoulders.
When she looked at him, he tried to hide it, but the darkening of her expression, the visible suppression of her joy showed he hadn’t been successful.
Inwardly, he cursed every word he knew.
Was she afraid of him? Did she see his displeasure and worry it was aimed at her? Had he given her any reason not to feel that way?
“There are several other bedrooms,” he said gently, moving towards her, hoping that he could say with his eyes what he didn’t know how to offer verbally. “This one is most well-preserved.”
“I feel like I could sleep here,” she said, looking around, the wonderment gone but her interest still obviously in place.
“I wouldn’t,” he cautioned. “The bed is fragile enough that even someone as petite as you might fall straight through.”
She arched a brow at him. “Let alone if you were to join me.”
And the air in the room was sucked out, leaving them in a vacuum. Only the sound of their breathing filled it, harsh and fast, her eyes locked to his in a way that he knew to be challenging.
She was daring him to act on this rush of awareness, to put his body against hers in this ancient room, in the middle of the desert.
Raffa’s hungry gaze devoured her, drifting down her body, seeing her naked despite the gown she wore. He knew he could strip her quickly, pulling at the shoulder to lower one side and then the other. She would step out of the skirt and she would be his.
His arousal jerked against the fabric of his pants. He needed her in a way that was a form of torture. The only thing worse was having faced the realization that he had done this to her – he had made her crave sex in place of anything else. He had made her think it was the only way they could relate to one another.
This day was supposed to be about redressing that. If they were to be parents together, if they were to live as husband and wife, then they needed more than just this desire that was impossible to satiate.
He smiled as though he wasn’t contemplating ways in which to rip her dress from her body. He smiled in a way designed to postpone the throb of desire that was weakening them both.
“There are other buildings you will enjoy seeing. I’ll wait downstairs until you’re ready to move on.”
And he turned and left, his body taut and his craving unfulfilled, but his self-pride beginning to slowly stitch itself back together.
Raffa hadn’t been exaggerating. The town was an exquisite window into the country’s past. Each relic had offered something new. Rudimentary knives, made from animal bones, tapestries and carpets of colours that remained bright despite the sun’s assault, and in one house, a woman’s necklace, made of oddly shaped stones that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight.
It was hunger that eventually brought an end to their tour. Her stomach grumbled and when she looked at the sky, she saw the sun was high overhead.
“There’s food in the bags,” he said with a laugh. “I hadn’t realized the time.”
“I’m sorry,” she returned his grin. “I got so caught up in this place. It’s unlike anything I’d ever imagined.”
“You can come back anytime you like,” he heard himself offer. “A helicopter makes the journey in under twenty minutes.”
“You’re not offering to ride me out any time it takes my fancy?” She asked, the words holding the same challenge that had filled the first
