The Sultan's Choice. Эбби Грин
when she’d told him about her stuttering and shyness. She’d never told anyone about that before, and had done so with him purely in a bid to repel him. But it hadn’t worked. He’d empathised. It was almost like a betrayal to witness the sudden ease with which she was finding herself talking to him now, albeit about superficial subjects.
He was disarming her enough to make her forget for a moment who he was. It was seductive evidence of a self-deprecating side, and of the undeniable bond they shared in both coming from the same part of the world, from a similar background. Everything he had already pointed out. She had not expected self-deprecation from this man, or any kind of feeling of kinship with him. She hadn’t expected him to defuse the tension like this.
They were finishing their coffee when Samia looked at Sadiq, somewhat emboldened after the meal and a glass of wine. ‘You’re very good you know,’ she said.
He quirked a brow, his eyes breathtakingly blue against the olive tone of his skin. ‘Good? In what way?’
Samia had to concentrate. It was like sitting across the table from a Hollywood heart-throb, not a head of state. ‘At charming people.’
He shrugged minutely, and for a second Samia saw something stern flash across his face and into those eyes.
Immediately the warm bubble of fuzziness that had been infusing her dissipated. Of course. How could she have been so silly? This was all an act—an act put on her for benefit and his, to get to her to acquiesce to his plans for marriage. Of course he was charming her. And she was falling for it and believing it like any other woman with a pulse would.
She made a point of looking at her watch, even though she didn’t register the time, and then looked back at Sadiq, tensing herself against his effect on her.
‘I have to be up early tomorrow. I’m still handing over to my successor.’
Sadiq sat forward. ‘You like working in the library here?’
That rebellious streak rising again, Samia said defiantly, ‘Yes. And a queen who is more at home surrounded by books is hardly the queen for you.’
Sadiq had to quell the sudden urge to wipe that prim look off Samia’s face by kissing her. He’d had her in the palm of his hand during the meal—he knew it. She’d been more relaxed than he’d seen her. And with that had come the realisation that he had grossly underestimated her appeal. The spark of desire that had lit earlier had erupted into full-on lust as he’d watched her natural effervescence emerge.
She’d blossomed quite literally before his eyes—like a flower being exposed to heat and light after being hidden in a dark corner. It was the most amazing thing. She reminded him of a dimond in the rough. Actually, he amended, more like a dark and glowing yellow diamond. A rare jewel.
But now she’d clammed up again like an oyster shell, protecting the bounty within. Those full lips were once again a thin line, the eyes downcast. He signalled discreetly to his staff and rose smoothly to his feet once his wayward body felt more under control. A dart of satisfaction went through him at seeing Samia look confused for a moment, as if she’d expected him to challenge her. And then she rose to her feet too, somewhat less assuredly, and that protective instinct surged again. Sadiq had to clench his hands to fists to stop himself reaching out to steady her.
He couldn’t understand his physical response. The last woman he’d been with had been hailed as the most beautiful woman in the world three years running. And there had never been one moment when he’d felt protective of her. When he tried to picture her now all he remembered was that his desire for her had waned long before he’d admitted it to himself. And yet this woman, whose appeal was more wholesomely pretty than beautiful, was having a more incendiary effect on his libido than he could remember.
As Samia preceded Sadiq out of the dining room, he thought of something to test her. She got to the front door and turned around. Clearly she was hoping he wouldn’t challenge her again. He almost pitied her for her blind optimisim. He handed her her jacket and watched her expression closely.
‘You know,’ he mused, ‘perhaps you’re right after all. Perhaps you’re not suitable to be my wife.’
Something suspiciously exultant moved through him as he caught the split second of a reaction she couldn’t hide because her face was just too expressive.
Samia opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She stilled in the act of putting her jacket on. He’d completely surprised her. And, to her utter chagrin, instead of feeling relieved she had the absurd desire to contradict him and tell him that she could be a good wife for him. What was going on?
She tried desperately to hide her confusion as she continued putting on her jacket. ‘You mean if I was to walk out of here right now you wouldn’t stop me? Or pursue this matter?’
Sadiq smiled, but it was the smile of a shark. ‘You don’t really believe I’m just going to let you walk away, do you?’
Anger rose bright and rapid at the realisation that he was playing with her. Samia grabbed for the door and tried to wrench it open, but it wouldn’t budge. She turned back, exasperated at being trapped. ‘If your door worked you could watch me walk out right now, and there wouldn’t be one thing you could do about it.’
Samia was mortified, because she knew well that he’d caught her out. She’d shown her reaction before she could hide it. He knew how conflicted she was about this.
‘The door works fine, Samia. I just wanted to see how you’d react if you got a sniff of freedom, and your face told me all I need to know.’
Acting on a purely animal instinct to escape a threat, Samia turned back to the door and this time it opened. She stood in the doorway, breathing deep, and almost simultaneously lights exploded all around her.
The paparazzi.
Samia heard a colourful Arabic curse behind her even as she registered big burly bodyguards materializing as if from thin air to hold the photographers back. Strong arms came around her and pulled her into a lean and hard muscled body. Samia was plastered against Sadiq’s length as he all but carried her back over the threshold and into the house.
It took a second for her to register that it was quiet again and the door was shut behind them. Samia’s breath sounded laboured, and she realised that she was still clamped to Sadiq like a limpet. Breasts crushed to his chest. She scrambled backwards, face flaming.
Sadiq raked a hand through his hair. ‘Are you okay? I’m sorry about that. Sometimes they lie in wait once they know I’m here, and the bodyguards can’t do anything.’
He could still feel the imprint of her body—the firm swells of her breasts pressed against him just for that brief moment. How delicate she’d been. She’d fit into his body like a missing jigsaw piece. For someone used to women who almost matched him in height, it had been a novel sensation.
She was standing there, looking dishevelled and innocently sexy with colour high in her cheeks, and he knew that she had no idea how alluring she was—which only inflamed him more, because he was used to women being all too aware of their so-called allure.
‘You knew about that.’
He frowned, not liking the accusatory tone in her voice. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You just said that you know they lie in wait. I’m going to be all over the papers with you. Leaving your house.’
Samia realised she was shaking violently. She heard another curse and felt Sadiq take her arm in a firm grip. ‘Come back into the study. You’re in shock.’
Once in the big stately room, Sadiq all but pressed Samia down into a chair and went to get a tumbler of brandy. He came back and handed it to her. ‘Take a sip. You’ll feel better in a minute.’
Hating feeling so vulnerable, Samia took the glass and a gulp of the drink, coughing slightly. She watched Sadiq pour himself a drink and come to sit opposite her on a matching chair.