Marguerite Kaye - Hot Arabian Nights

He missed the sound of her laughter, and the tone of her voice. He missed the almost guilty expression she wore when she was about to tell him something she thought he didn’t want to hear. He missed the frown of concentration that wrinkled her brow when she sketched and the way she pressed her lips together when she painted—to prevent herself nibbling on the end of her paintbrush, she had once confessed to him. He missed the silkiness of her hair strewn across his chest after lovemaking, and the way her mouth curved then too, into an unashamedly satisfied smile that made him unaccountably proud to have been the cause of it.

This morning she would most likely be in the Fourth Court painting what she called the secret garden, since he had sent word that he would not be there. He would like to see how her work was progressing. Would she give him one of the paintings if he asked? He’d like to have something tangible to remember her by.

The Council had moved on to the menus for the various feasts, which they were debating with some gusto. The coronation was to take place in three days’ time, almost four weeks exactly since he and Julia had made their agreement. The desire to see her was painful. He had known from the moment that he had decided to stay, how vital it was that Julia left, how deeply improper it would be for him to consort with her after his coronation.

But would it really be such a sin for him to see her again before he was crowned? He had not informed her of the arrangements he was making on her behalf for her journey, and he ought to. In fact, his time would be far better spent doing that, than worrying about what people would eat on the day he handed his life over to his kingdom.

He was not fooling himself. Azhar sighed in irritation. He did not need an excuse to spend time with Julia. He had not handed his life over just yet. He had the right to claim one more day of freedom, and to spend it with the woman who was about to leave him for ever, to claim freedom for herself!

Azhar jumped to his feet, startling his Council into silence. ‘I have decided to entrust the final details of the ceremony to you,’ he said ‘In three days’ time I will dedicate my life to Qaryma. I require some time to prepare myself for this solemn undertaking, time to close the door on my old life, to ensure that when I begin this new life as your King, I come to you unburdened.’

This last remark drew some murmurs of approval and knowing looks that reminded Azhar of Kadar’s warning. No one would dare question Julia’s presence here, but everyone would be speculating. Until he was formally crowned, Julia’s position in Azhar’s life was none of their business but after—surveying his Council, he could see the relief in some of the older faces.

They wanted their King unburdened of the Englishwoman. Despite the fact that it merely confirmed what he already knew, it sickened him to be faced with this evidence of the silent pressure, the unspoken rules and traditions he would be forced to conform to in the future. It also fixed his resolve and decided him to grasp not one but every day he had left. ‘Until the eve of the coronation, my time will be exclusively my own. Any decisions to be made on anything other than the ceremony must be deferred.’

He waited, but not a single man seemed inclined to suggest the most logical alternative, which was to hand matters over to Kamal. None had questioned his brother’s sudden absence from council meetings either, nor that of the Chief Overseer, though they must know that Kamal was under informal house arrest, that the Chief Overseer was confined to the Cage. They would no doubt speculate as to the reasons for this.

He sighed. For the time being it would have to remain just that, idle speculation, until he was in a position to implement his planned solution. But that, and everything else, would have to wait. In three days’ time he would be King of Qaryma. Until then he would be simply Azhar.

* * *

It was dusk by the time they reached the oasis. ‘It is known as Little Zazim, not because it is close to the Zazim Oasis, but because it is...’

‘Almost a perfect replica, in miniature,’ Julia exclaimed, surveying the spot from her vantage point on the seat of her camel.

The lagoon was small, elliptical in shape, the water had the same silver-green sheen she remembered from the oasis where they had first met. A belt of lush vegetation encircled the waters almost entirely, leaving only one end of the lagoon exposed where the soft desert sands met the waters in what looked like a small crescent-shaped bay. Julia stared around her in wonder. ‘There is no one else here. Did you...?’

‘I wanted to ensure our privacy. There are some advantages to being a member of the royal family,’ Azhar said drily.

‘But people will know that you are here with me. They will be talking, Azhar, and—and they will be wishing me gone. I had no idea until Aisha said...’

‘I wish that Aisha had kept her mouth closed.’ Azhar leaned across to press her hand. ‘We discussed this before we left. I do not deny that your remaining here in Qaryma after the coronation would be unacceptable to my people, Julia, but I am not theirs to command just yet. I am sacrificing everything in three days’ time, I will not sacrifice this final opportunity to spend time with you, unless you have changed your mind. Do I ask too much of you? Would it have been easier for you if I had done as I said I would, and left you alone?’

‘No.’ She clutched his hand tightly. ‘If you can brazen out the scandal of my presence, then I can bear the shame of being the subject of palace gossip.’

‘I will not have you bear any shame,’ Azhar said fiercely.

Julia laughed. ‘You are not my King, Azhar. My feelings are my own to command.’

He smiled, twining his fingers in hers. ‘Your feelings and your life will be yours to command entirely very soon. You should be proud of yourself, Julia. I am proud of you.’

‘Thank you.’ The words were bittersweet, reminding her of all that she would be leaving behind, reminding her of all that Azhar would be giving up. She had wrestled with her conscience when he had come to her rooms this afternoon, having escaped his Council meeting, but her conscience had been no match for her heart. He did not love her, he would soon enough be duty-bound to love another woman, but for these next few precious days he would be hers alone.

Carefully holding on to the pommel, Julia leaned closer to Azhar and kissed him fully on the mouth. ‘There,’ she teased, ‘that is to prove that you were wrong when you said it was not possible to make love on a camel.’

‘I will accept that it is possible to begin to make love on a camel,’ Azhar replied, ‘but as to whether or not we can continue...’ He moved so swiftly that he left her breathless, commanding both beasts to their knees before sweeping Julia from the saddle, holding her high against his chest. ‘I prefer not to have to worry about controlling a camel, when I have sufficient to worry about, in controlling my appetite for you, Julia.’

She laced her arms around his neck. ‘Are you hungry, Azhar?’

His smile made her blood fizz. ‘Ravenous, Julia.’

‘Then please, abandon any attempt at controlling your appetite for me,’ she whispered into his ear, ‘because I too am starving.’

Her words made his eyes darken. Grabbing a blanket, leaving the mules and camels which formed their little caravan still tethered together in the care of his Saluki hound and his hawk, Azhar carried her swiftly across the sand, to the point where the trees and shrubs screened them from the rippling sands of the desert. Lying down on the blanket beside her, he kissed her softly, but Julia desired kisses as fierce and as wild as her love. She rolled on top of him, trapping his body underneath hers, and claimed his mouth, kissing him urgently, until his mouth and his hands became urgent too, pulling her tightly against the pulsing length of his erection.