Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 2 - Susan Mallery Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

Скачать книгу

him pain.

      By force of will, he buried that part of him that had become entranced by her. It shocked him just how close he’d come to laying his heart at her feet once again, even when it was clear that she didn’t trust him. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice. He couldn’t. Not when his vulnerability to her ran so deep it had become his greatest weakness.

      Seven

      The next few days felt as if they’d sprung fully fledged from Jasmine’s worst nightmares. Tariq had withdrawn so completely from her that it scared her. No matter what she tried—humor, anger, pleas, protestations of love—none of it reached him. The strength of will implied by such total emotional excision was a huge blow to her fragile confidence. Tariq could apparently cut her out without a thought.

      “Tariq, please,” she said, in the car on the way back to Zulheina, “talk to me.” She was frantic to make him respond.

      “What do you wish to talk about?” He looked up from his papers, his eyes holding the mild interest of a stranger.

      “Anything! Stop shutting me out!” She was close to tears, which horrified her.

      “I do not know what you mean.” He bent his head again, dismissing her.

      With a cry torn from deep inside, she pulled away the papers and threw them aside. “I won’t let you do this to me!”

      His eyes flashed green fire as his hand snaked out and gripped her chin. “You have forgotten the rules. I no longer follow your demands.” No anger, no fury, only calm control. Even his touch gentled and then he let her go.

      “I love you. Doesn’t that mean anything?” she asked in a broken whisper.

      “Thank you for your love.” He picked up the papers she’d hurled aside, and sorted them. “I am sure its worth is the same as it was four years ago.”

      The subtle, sardonic barb delivered in that smooth, aristocratic voice hit home. “We’re not the same people as we were then. Give us a chance!” she begged.

      He met her gaze with eyes so neutral they were unrecognizable as her panther’s. “I need to read these.”

      He’d beaten her. Tariq’s anger she could deal with, but she had no defense against this cold, inaccessible stranger. It was clear that he regretted the indulgences he’d allowed her in Zeina, the small things that had caused her guard to slip. She could imagine his thought processes. He probably thought that she believed she could control him now, because he’d allowed her so much, been so open.

      Despite that knowledge, she didn’t buckle. Tariq was stubborn, but she’d realized that when it came to loving him, she was obstinate beyond belief.

      Their first night back, she was tempted to sleep in her own room, hurting and unsure of her welcome. Instead, she brushed her hair in front of Tariq’s mirror and lay down in his bed. And when he reached for her, she went to him. In this place, they connected. Their loving was always wild, always passionate. It gave her hope, because how could he touch her like that, how could he whisper, “You’re mine, Mina. Mine!” as he moved inside her, if only lust was involved?

      A week later, Jasmine pinned some silver cloth in place and picked up her scissors.

      “I wish to talk to you, my wife.”

      Startled by the deep rumble of Tariq’s voice, she dropped the pins she’d been holding in her mouth. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She put one hand on her T-shirt, above her heart. “And stop looming.”

      He frowned, and she knew he was about to remind her that he gave the orders around here. Since their return from Zeina, he’d been more autocratic than usual, and colder. It was hard to battle this warrior every day, but his anger strengthened her resolve. Anger this powerful had to spring from deep emotion.

      And, she realized, she was willing to fight the warrior because he was a part of the man she loved. The ice that tempered the fire.

      Mentally rolling her eyes, she raised her arms and smiled in invitation. Loving him was the only way she knew to prove that she’d changed. For a moment, she thought that he would refuse, and her heart clenched in anticipation of another bruise. But then he came down on his haunches beside her.

      She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He let her be the aggressor, remaining quiescent in her arms, but Jasmine couldn’t forget the power humming just under the surface. He could have taken over at any second, but he let her control the kiss, seemingly content to taste her.

      When she drew back, he removed her hands and clasped them between his own. “I am going to Paris for the week.” Any fire that her kiss might have aroused was carefully hidden, if it existed at all.

      “What?” She couldn’t conceal her surprise. Her hands curled into fists in his grasp. “When?”

      “Within the hour.”

      She blinked. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

      His jaw firmed. “I have no need to tell you such things.”

      “I’m your wife!”

      “Yes. And you will stay in your place.”

      The unexpected verbal reprimand hit her like a slap. She bent her head and took a deep breath. “You know some of the French designers are putting on shows this week. If you’d told me earlier, I could’ve gone with you.” She’d come to expect his need for control, could even understand it, but he’d never treated her so harshly, as if he cared nothing for her feelings. She hadn’t known that he regretted what had happened in Zeina that much.

      He released her hands and gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to face him. “No, Jasmine. You cannot leave Zulheil.”

      She frowned. “You don’t trust me, do you? What do you expect me to do—run away at the first available opportunity?”

      “I may have been a fool once, but you will not make me one twice,” he nearly growled.

      “I came and stayed of my own free will. I won’t run.”

      “You did not know what you faced when you came.” His features were expressionless as he brushed aside her words. “I am not wrapped around your little finger, as you no doubt expected, and I do not intend to be. Because you know this, you will wish to escape. I do not intend to lose you.”

      She shook her head in denial, but he didn’t release her. “I love you,” she repeated firmly. “Don’t you know what that means?”

      “It means that you can turn your back and walk away at any time.” Rapier sharp, his jabs made her bleed. But she still wasn’t beaten.

      “How long are you going to act this way?” she asked him in desperation. “How long are you going to punish me? When is your revenge going to be complete?”

      His green eyes had darkened to the color of the deepest sea. “I do not do this to punish you. To want to take revenge, I would have to feel something for you beyond lust, which I do not. You are a possession, prized but not irreplaceable.”

      She felt the color leave her face. She couldn’t speak. Her heart felt as if it was bleeding. In a desperate attempt to hide her grief, she bit the insides of her cheeks hard enough to taste blood, and waited for him to finish.

      “I will be involved in matters of state. Hiraz knows how to get in touch with me.”

      She remained silent, barely able to hear him through the painful buzzing in her ears. When he bent his head and placed a possessive kiss on her lips, she accepted it dully, too stunned to respond. Tariq seemed to take her reaction as subtle defiance because he moved his hand to her hair and tangled his fingers in the long ponytail, gripping her head.

      “You will not deny me,” he growled against her lips. Because he knew her every sensual weakness, he was right. She couldn’t deny him. Not

Скачать книгу